The Songbird (46 page)

She sent a
carte de visite
to Anthony to tell him that they would be returning to England after she had completed the engagements in Lyon, and he had written back to say how pleased he was to receive it. ‘I see that you are no longer a child,' he'd put, ‘but a charming and beautiful young woman.' He also expressed regret that their paths wouldn't cross in Europe, and hoped that they would meet up again when he returned to London in the New Year.

He says I'm a beautiful young woman, she mused, smiling as she read his letter. Many of the reviewers in the newspapers had declared their astonishment at such a pure clear voice in one so young, and at her command of range and tone. Her age, according to the critics, ranged from thirteen to eighteen.

The last two weeks were very tiring, for Michel Auber, having been told that she was returning to England, had pleaded to be allowed to book several more engagements, and she was forced to sing less taxing roles in order to save her voice. Nevertheless she was applauded wherever she went, though she always refused to sing an encore on the advice of Mrs Bennett.

‘Your voice is still immature,' she warned her. ‘Don't overstrain it.'

She took her final bow at a theatre in Lyon after singing Anthony's song, ‘Beneath the Greenwood Tree', and once more was given rapturous applause. Flowers were thrown onto the stage, and she took one rose from a bouquet and threw it into the audience. A young man in the second row reached high above everyone else's head and caught it.

He was waiting at the door of the theatre as she left with Mrs Bennett and the other members of their party. ‘Mademoiselle!' He bowed and spoke to her in fractured English. ‘Please, you will come back to France one day?'

She said that she hoped so, and he pressed the rose to his lips and declared he would keep the flower for ever.

‘You've made several conquests during your time here,' Mrs Bennett drily remarked as they were driven away in the brougham. ‘But you are a sensible young woman and I can't see such adoration going to your head!'

‘It's very flattering,' Poppy said softly. ‘But my heart is already spoken for.'

Poppy was tense with nervous exhilaration when she arrived back in England. She chattered animatedly to Mrs Bennett about what to do first as they boarded the train to London. ‘Do I go first to see Dan? Should I stay with the Marinos? I must go home for Christmas. And I want to get in touch with Charlie! How will I find him if he's moved premises?' Mrs Bennett had met Charlie when he had visited Poppy at her house before their departure for France. Reading between the lines she had realized there was an attraction, on Poppy's part at any rate.

But Poppy was also extremely tired. Her voice was croaky and although she had dashed to buy some refreshments and magazines for the journey, when she sat down in the ladies' compartment she put back her head and closed her eyes and tears trickled down her cheeks.

‘What is it, Poppy?' Mrs Bennett leaned across from her seat and touched her arm. ‘Why are you crying? You've had a great success. You can go back, you know. When you've rested, that is.' She looked anxiously at her as Poppy opened her eyes and she saw the glistening tears.

‘I don't know why I'm crying,' Poppy choked. ‘I just—' she swallowed. ‘I just feel that I want to. I'm not unhappy or anything. It's all been just wonderful!'

‘I think you're overtired,' Marian Bennett said. ‘You've had a great deal of excitement, and then all the travelling too. I must admit that I feel quite exhausted, and I haven't been on show as you have.'

Poppy nodded. Right now she longed for her own little bed above the shop. She wanted her father to give her a hug the way he used to when she was a child, but more than anything else she wanted Charlie to be waiting for her at the barrier when they arrived in London. She had sent one last letter to his old address, telling him of her arrival, and had written on the envelope a request that the Post Office forward the letter if necessary.

But he wasn't there, and Mrs Bennett, seeing her obvious disappointment, insisted that she went home with her to rest that evening and then think about what to do the following day. ‘Dan will want to see you, of course. I will send a first class letter to him in the morning, asking him to call.'

He came the next evening, bearing flowers, chocolates and champagne. He also brought newspapers with reviews and articles saying that Poppy Mazzini had returned to England from a triumphal tour of Europe. Charlie will surely see these, she thought, as she scanned the reports, even if he hasn't received my letter. Surely someone will tell him? The uncertainty was making her feel quite dizzy.

Dan saw how tired she was. ‘I'm putting you on the first train home tomorrow,' he told her. ‘You need peace and quiet. I've had letters from your father. He's most anxious to see you after so long.' He looked steadily at her. ‘You are a very lucky young woman to have such a supportive father, concerned for your well-being.' Then he added, ‘Will a week be enough? I can get bookings for you whenever you're ready.'

‘Two weeks at the minimum,' Mrs Bennett insisted, ‘and then only one performance, just to let people know that she's back in England. Then she needs to give her voice and herself a complete rest.'

‘Well, that's fine,' Dan agreed. ‘You've made sufficient money to be able to take time off if you want to, Poppy.'

Part of her wanted to say she'd keep on singing. But another part of her knew that she would have to rest or her voice would fail her. ‘I'll see,' she said. ‘When I get back from visiting my father.'

She dozed on and off during the whole journey to Hull, only waking when she heard the shout of the guard to change trains. She gathered her personal belongings together as the train reached Hull, and realized that she hadn't even opened the magazine that she had bought to read. The porter carried her luggage; she had brought only hand baggage, having left her trunk at Mrs Bennett's, and as she followed him to the gate she saw a crowd of people carrying a banner and heard the sound of a brass band playing.

Welcome home, Poppy Mazzini
, the banner proclaimed, and as she neared the gate there came a loud ‘Hurrah'.

Her father stood there, his arms open wide to greet her and his eyes glistening. ‘Here she is!' he shouted, as if no-one else could see her. Nan stood beside him, clapping her hands and beaming. ‘Welcome home, Poppy. Welcome home!'

The crowd gathered round her, calling to her and thrusting theatre programmes towards her that she might sign her name. Her father gathered up her luggage and propelled her towards the exit. There was a hired cab waiting to take them home and as she stepped out at the shop in Savile Street she saw another banner over the shop window.
Welcome home, Poppy. International Singing Star
.

She laughed. ‘I'm not quite international, Pa! I've been to France!'

‘It's all 'same to me,' he said. ‘France is onny 'stepping stone. It'll be America next, you mark my words.'

The door to the shop was open and Tommy and Mattie were waiting to greet her. Mattie was all smiles, her eyes sparkling. She looked very well and had put on weight since Poppy had seen her last, as had Nan. They were both wearing neat plain gowns and not the shabby garments they used to wear. Tommy had a huge grin on his face as he gave her a hug. ‘Been waiting for you to come,' he said. ‘We're going to shut up early, and have a celebratory supper.'

But that was easier said than done, as customers old and new kept coming in to greet Poppy and say how they had kept up with her progress. Finally, her father shooed everyone out and said to come back in the morning, when Poppy would talk to them.

‘I'm not supposed to talk too much,' she said huskily. ‘I've got to save my voice.'

‘Well, we'll do 'talking,' Tommy said. ‘But first we'll pull 'blinds down, and then we'll set a table and eat.'

Poppy admired the new décor. The grocery side had been painted cream with brown doors and window frames, and there was a new glass counter. The coffee shop side had been decorated in green, with simulated stage drapes round the walls and windows, a dark green palm tree painted on one wall, and high up in the corners white clown masks depicting smiles and despair. Theatre posters, day bills and photographs of Poppy adorned the walls.

‘Can we eat in the kitchen?' she asked. ‘The way we always used to do.'

‘Aye, if you like.' Tommy was buoyant and merry, whilst Mattie, although smiling as she glanced at Poppy, wasn't quite as chatty as usual, which was unlike her.

She went up to her old room. Nan had obviously cleaned it, for it looked fresh and cosy. There was a posy of winter jasmine on the window sill and a fire burning in the grate. She sat on the bed and gave a sigh. How good it was to come home. She had missed everybody so much.

After washing and changing out of her travelling clothes, she went downstairs. A bright fire burned in the range, the table was set and there was a smell of cooking beef. Her father was already seated at the table.

‘Come and sit next to me, Poppy. You don't have to talk; I just want you by me. How long can you stay?' he asked.

She was grateful to him for realizing that she would be going back, that she would be continuing with her career. She smiled. ‘I can stay for Christmas, maybe one week, maybe longer,' she said softly. ‘I have to rest my voice, but I will sing at just one performance in London. Then I shall take some time off.'

‘Then why sing at one performance?' He frowned. ‘Why not wait?'

‘It's so that the theatre managers know I'll be available later. They need to see and hear that I'm back in England.'

‘Supper's ready.' Tommy put the joint of beef on a platter, and Nan and Mattie placed the dishes of vegetables and a jug of gravy on the table.

‘I'm not very hungry.'

‘I can see that you've not been eating,' Tommy declared. ‘Just look at you – nowt on you.'

‘She was always slender,' Mattie said. ‘She's not meant to be fat.'

‘Not like you, eh?' Tommy grinned. ‘Don't you think our Mattie looks bonny, Poppy? That's what good food does for you!'

Poppy nodded, noting the
our
Mattie. ‘You do look well, Mattie, and so does Nan.' She smiled at Nan who had taken the seat at the other side of Joshua. ‘You all do,' she added. ‘You too, Pa.'

‘Aye, well I'm a lot easier in my mind now that I've got folks I can trust about me.'

Tommy stood poised with the carving knife and glanced down at Mattie, who smiled up at him. ‘Ah!' he said. ‘Well, on that subject I've summat to say.' He chewed on his lip and looked at his father. ‘I have to ask your permission, Pa, as I've not yet reached my majority, but – well, Mattie and me are going to get wed.' He put down the knife and rested his hand on Mattie's shoulder. ‘She's been 'best thing that's ever happened to me, and I know we're both young, but we're prepared to wait if we have to. There's no rush, nobody need think there is, but it's what we both want.'

Poppy and her father both stood up, Poppy to kiss Mattie and give Tommy a hug, Joshua to shake his son's hand and offer congratulations and give Mattie a kiss. Nan sat smiling, and Poppy realized that she already knew when she saw her and Mattie exchanging glances.

‘Well, Nan.' Joshua bent down and patted her shoulder. ‘So what about that, eh? I suppose you knew all along, did you?'

Nan blushed. She admitted that Mattie had confided in her, and that they had decided to wait until Poppy came home before breaking the news.

Poppy squeezed Mattie's hand during supper. ‘I'm so pleased, Mattie,' she said. ‘You're just right for Tommy.'

Mattie pressed her lips together. ‘Are you? Really?' she said. ‘I've been so worried. I was afraid that you might have come back so – grand . . .' She blinked her eyes. ‘I should have known better. I should've known that you'd be just 'same. It's just that we're nobody, Ma and me, but we're so fond of you and your pa, and I've always loved Tommy.'

‘Mattie! How can you say that you're nobody? You and Nan have always been special people. You've always been like family.' She squeezed her hand again. ‘And now I've got a sister.'

She glanced across at Nan who was in a quiet conversation with her father and at the same time helping him to a slice of beef and vegetables. She turned to Mattie and raised her eyebrows. Mattie gave a grin and Poppy turned again to look at Joshua and Nan. She took a deep breath. How lovely that would be, if Nan and Pa— And then, she thought wistfully, there'd just be me.

Poppy visited Mr and Mrs Chandler in the vain hope that they would know whether Charlie had moved premises, but they told her in their usual disgruntled manner that they hadn't had a letter from him for months. ‘We heard you were back in Hull,' Mrs Chandler said. ‘We'd hoped that you'd know where he was.'

Poppy said she was sorry that she didn't but once she discovered his whereabouts she would let them know.

Nan and Mattie were still living at the house in Stewart's Yard, and Mattie told her that the rent had been paid in advance. ‘Your pa's been so generous,' she said. ‘He's paid 'rent up front for us so that we'd feel secure and has promised that he'll increase our wages as soon as he can, though when Tommy and me get wed he won't have to pay me and I'll be living above 'shop.'

‘But what about Nan?' Poppy asked. ‘She won't want to live there alone. I wouldn't mind her having my room.'

‘She won't move in, not like Lena did. She said it wouldn't be proper. She won't let me either, not until Tommy and me are wed.'

The five of them spent a quiet Christmas, and on the day following her birthday she received a telegram from Dan. The message read that he could secure a performance for one night only at the Savoy Theatre in three weeks' time. ‘Shall I say yes or no?' he queried.