The Songbird (34 page)

He came round the counter and she noticed that the door to the medication cupboard was slightly ajar. He pulled the trunk into the shop and straightened up. ‘Looks as if you're staying for a bit?' he said.

‘Yes,' she said. ‘I am. I'm appearing in the pantomime at the Grand. You say that my father's in bed? I'd better go up. Where's Lena?'

‘She had to go out. She's had to do the ordering and the banking and things while your pa's been laid up.' Albert shuffled his feet whilst he was talking and occasionally glanced up at the cupboard. ‘We've had to manage as best we could.'

‘You're not very busy, though,' she commented. ‘The coffee shop is usually full at this time.' She looked round. The tables had cloths on them but were not set with cutlery or flowers as they always used to be.

‘No,' he agreed. ‘Folks don't seem to be coming in.'

‘I'll go up then,' she said. ‘Will the trunk be in the way?'

He said that he would bring it through into the kitchen and she thanked him politely and went into the private quarters. The fire in the kitchen range was low and the room seemed gloomy. She reached for a match from the mantelpiece to light the gas lamp. One of the mantles had a hole in it and it pop-popped, so she turned to the oil lamp which was always kept on the dresser and lit that instead, turning it up so that there was a warm glow in the room. Then she turned to the stairs door and went quietly upstairs.

‘Pa,' she whispered. ‘Are you asleep?' Her heart gave a sudden lurch when she saw his hunched form beneath the covers and she was reminded forcibly of when her mother was ill in this same bed. Hot tears sprang to her eyes. What would she do if her father should die? How would she ever bear it?

‘Papa!' she said, more urgently, and she heard a sigh and saw a slight movement. She came nearer the bed. ‘It's me! Poppy.'

He turned over and put one arm above the coverlet. ‘Poppy! Am I dreaming?'

There was no lamp lit and only a grey light coming in from the window, but she saw his pale face and reddened eyes. ‘You're ill,' she said. ‘Why didn't you send for me?'

He struggled to sit up. Beads of sweat were on his forehead, his chin was bristly and his hair stood on end. ‘I've onny been sick for a few days, and besides, I wouldn't have bothered you.' She reached to hold his hand but he pulled it away. ‘Don't,' he said. ‘In case it's something catching. Lena said it might be. What're you doing here?' He licked his dry lips and she glanced at the empty water glass on the bedside table. ‘Oh,' he sighed. ‘I'm so glad to see you, Poppy. I can't tell you how glad.'

She opened a window, for the room smelt stale, and then went downstairs to fetch a bowl of warm water for him to wash with, and a jug of cold for him to drink. She poured him a glass and sat on the side of the bed whilst he drank thirstily.

‘I've been gasping for a drink since dinnertime,' he said hoarsely. ‘I hadn't ‘strength to get up. I called for Lena but she didn't hear me. She must be busy in 'shop.'

‘She's out,' Poppy said. ‘Albert said she's had to see to the ordering and banking whilst you've been ill.'

He turned a puzzled frown towards her. ‘I've not been ill that long. There can't have been over-much to do.' He gave a weak grin. ‘I feel better already now that you're home. Have you come for Christmas?'

‘Yes.' She smiled. ‘I have, and listen to this! I'm going to be in the pantomime at the new Grand Theatre and Opera House!'

‘At 'Grand! Why, that's grand!' He gave another grin. ‘Champion!'

‘Have you had anything to eat?' she asked. ‘Could you manage something light?'

He hesitated. ‘I'm not sure. Doctor came and he said I'd eaten something that was off, though Lena swears that I've caught an infection from somebody.' He shook his head. ‘I reckon it was that joint o' pork. I don't think she'd cooked it enough.'

‘Let me make you some gruel,' she said. ‘That's what Ma used to give Tommy or me if we were sick.'

‘She did, didn't she?' he said pensively. ‘I still miss her, you know, Poppy. Three years, and I still reach out for her in bed every morning.' She saw tears flood his eyes and she reached for his hand and this time he didn't pull away.

‘I know,' she said huskily. ‘I do know.'

She put the bowl of water by his bed and left him to wash and shave, and went downstairs. She had taken off her jacket and washed her hands, but still had her hat on as she stirred the gruel, when Lena came in.

‘Well,' Lena acknowledged her. ‘Never expected to see you so soon! Had enough of treading the boards, have you? I suppose it's not the same away from home where nobody knows you? You won't have had the same acclaim?'

Poppy glanced at her. She looks slovenly, she thought. Whatever made Pa take her on? Surely there must have been other bakers. Or did she catch him at his most vulnerable after her mother had died?

‘I've had a very successful season, thank you,' she answered calmly. ‘And I have another engagement here in Hull.' She wondered why Albert hadn't told his mother, but perhaps he hadn't thought it mattered. ‘What do you think made my father ill?' she asked. ‘He doesn't seem at all well. He's lost weight.'

‘Don't know,' Lena answered casually. ‘It's not something he ate as he seems to think, cos I ate the same. I reckon he's picked up a contagion from somebody. There's all sorts of things going about.'

‘Are there? I didn't know. Perhaps we should ask Nan to give everything a good scrub with carbolic!'

‘Nan isn't working here any more.' There was a hint of defiance in her voice, a warning against Poppy's challenging her authority. ‘She left.'

‘No!' Poppy was incredulous. ‘Why?'

‘She wanted to leave.' Lena's mouth turned down. ‘She told your father she was leaving and went the same day. Didn't even work a week's notice, which in view of the length of time she's worked here, I thought was very paltry. Just left us in the lurch.' She folded her arms in front of her. ‘I've not found anybody to take her place as yet, but I'm asking around. At the moment I'm doing everything. Baking, cleaning, and Albert's looking after the shop.'

‘What about the coffee house?' Poppy frowned. There was too much to do for two people, though she hoped her father would soon be up and about.

‘We don't seem to be doing much there. I've stopped baking cakes, doesn't seem worthwhile, so I'm just offering coffee and biscuits.'

‘Oh.' Poppy paused with the spoon in her hand. ‘But Mazzini's was known for its cakes!'

‘Can't be helped.' Lena was dismissive. ‘I've only got one pair of hands.'

‘Pa! Why did Nan leave? I can't believe that she just walked out as Lena said.' Poppy placed the tray with the dish of gruel on his lap, and then plumped up his pillows.

‘She and Lena didn't get on,' her father said wearily. ‘And it just came to the crunch. I said I'd had enough of them arguing and Nan said she was leaving, and it was best if she went straight away. I was feeling ill on the day she left or I might have found some solution.'

‘Like sacking Lena,' Poppy said bitterly.

‘And then Albert would have gone too and I would have had to shut up 'shop. I was too ill to manage on my own.'

‘Lena said she isn't baking cakes any more. Could we get another baker to supply us?' Poppy's forehead creased. ‘We can't have a coffee shop without cakes!'

‘Don't you worry about it, Poppy. I'll sort things out when I'm up and about.' He spooned the gruel into his mouth. ‘But that's enough about 'shop. Tell me about 'pantomime. When do you start?'

‘I'm to go in tomorrow to meet John Hart, or Fred Vine if he's arrived. They're producing it. It's Aladdin, by the way.' She smiled. ‘And I'm going to be the Good Spirit of the Pantomime. At least, I hope so. Dan Damone was a little vague about it.'

‘Is he a good agent?' Her father finished off the bowl of gruel and sat back on the pillows, satisfied.

‘Yes. I trust him. And he's come up with a suggestion for me. He doesn't think, and I agree with him, that I'm a suitable type for the music hall.'

As she told her father what Dan had said, she reasoned that if his business wasn't doing well, she definitely couldn't ask him to pay for singing lessons. I'll take the engagements in London, she mused. There are lots of small theatres that would probably have me as a fill-in act. I shall pay for the coach myself.

‘A singing coach?' Joshua repeated. ‘And where will that lead you? Where will you sing then?'

‘Theatres,' she said. ‘Or pantomimes like the one at the Grand. I think Dan has offered me this engagement to see how I like it.'

‘But pantomimes are onny a short season! What will you do for 'rest of 'year?'

‘I'm not sure,' she confessed. ‘Perhaps I'll work as a single performer, or in operettas – not grand opera,' she added hastily. ‘I haven't got the voice for that.'

‘So you'll be guided by this coach, will you?' he asked. ‘Do you know who he is?'

‘He's a she, Pa.' She smiled. ‘So you don't need to worry – and it's Dan Damone's sister.'

‘Ah!' His face cleared, then he said, ‘I do still worry about you, Poppy. I think of you all by yourself in these unfamiliar places, mixing with I don't know who!'

She patted his hand. ‘I have to grow up sometime, Pa. I'm having another birthday in a couple of weeks.'

‘Grown up!' He nodded thoughtfully. ‘And I suppose you'll be meeting up with young men and falling in love before we can wink an eye!'

She smiled. What would her father think if she told him she already loved Charlie? ‘Yes,' she said. ‘I suppose I will.'

When she arrived at the Grand Theatre the next morning she found John Hart in his office. He seemed surprised to see her so soon. ‘We're still in production with
Pepita
,' he said. ‘It's going very well. Have you seen it?'

She confessed that she hadn't, and told him that she had just returned from a season at Brighton. He immediately gave her two complimentary tickets for the comic opera. ‘Another week before Fred Vine and the company arrive, and then we'll start rehearsals. You'll be glad of a week off, I expect,' he added. ‘You'll have had a busy time in Brighton. Have you enjoyed the experience? I came to see you at the Mechanics. You've a lot of talent and it's good to know that you're trying out other shows and not just music hall.'

‘That's what my agent says,' she replied, thanking him for his compliments. ‘He wants me to take further singing lessons.'

She told him that she would see him the following week and decided that she would put the days to good use. On the way back from the theatre, she went to see Miss Eloise to tell her what she was doing. She was sure she would be interested to know. Miss Eloise was thrilled to hear that she was to be in pantomime.

‘It will give you a chance to stretch your voice,' she said. ‘Aladdin is not quite operetta as Rossini's
Cinderella
is, but nevertheless is a good vehicle for a pure voice.' Poppy explained that she would have only a small part, but Miss Eloise said she would book tickets immediately they came on sale and would buy one for Miss Davina, who was away at present.

Poppy called back at home and found that her father had risen from his sickbed and come downstairs. He was sitting in his chair by the range and Lena was scurrying round him, clearing up from the morning's baking, her face set and her mouth pinched.

‘I have to go out again,' Poppy told Lena. ‘Is there anything I can get for you? Do we need meat for supper? Chops or anything?'

‘No,' Lena said sharply. ‘I'll get it. I've ordered some mince. The butcher knows what I like. You can help Albert in the shop when you come back,' she sniffed, and glancing at Joshua she added, ‘That's if you're not too proud.'

‘I'll never be that,' Poppy said quietly. ‘I know who I am and where I belong.'

Lena flushed and turned away. ‘I need some help,' she muttered. ‘I've a woman in mind to come in and do the rough. I'll slip out and see her a bit later.'

‘Fetch her here, why don't you?' Joshua said in a low voice. ‘I'd like to see who she is before we tek her on.'

Lena put her hand on her hip. ‘Well, if you don't trust my judgement!'

‘It's not that,' he began, but Lena had turned and gone to the sink, and Poppy could see how her father was worn down by the pettiness and so was giving in to Lena. She too felt powerless, for if she argued with her she might leave, taking Albert with her as her father had said, and then there would be no-one to help him.

She made coffee for her father and Lena, and then prepared to go out again. ‘I won't be long,' she told him. ‘I just need a few things.' But she didn't tell him that she was going to see Nan.

As she went through into the shop she heard raised voices. ‘Look at this!' a woman's voice complained. ‘Why, I wouldn't chuck it out for 'pigeons, let alone eat it myself. I don't know what's come over this place.'

Albert was staring sullenly at the customer and fingering a soggy bread loaf. ‘Looks all right to me,' he muttered. ‘We've not had any other complaints.'

‘Not yet you haven't,' the woman stated. ‘You wait till dinnertime when folk come to eat it.' She looked up as Poppy came through the door. ‘Poppy!' she said. ‘About time you came home! What's going on here? Can't get a decent loaf o' bread. Can't get a cup o' coffee.'

‘Hello, Mrs Thomas.' She was a long-standing customer of both the grocery and the coffee shop. ‘What's the trouble?'

Mrs Thomas took the bread from Albert and handed it to Poppy. The outside of it was crisp, but the inside where it had been pulled apart was soft and doughy and uncooked. ‘That's the trouble. Can't expect Mr Thomas to eat that! It'll make him right badly. It's not 'first time it's happened,' she said. ‘I'll start making my own again and tek it to 'baker to be cooked!'