Forgotten Dreams (31 page)
Merle examined her list. ‘I think we’ll try Bon Marché next,’ she said. ‘Goodness, I’ve only bought two presents! We shall really have to get a move on.’
The girls managed to do all their shopping, separating for a short while in Bunney’s in order to buy a present for each other, and then they made their way home.
That evening, Lottie gave Merle several openings in which she could have admitted that she intended to go back to her family for a couple of days before Christmas. Merle, however, failed to take her up on any of them. She was very quiet, replying in monosyllables when anyone spoke to her and telling Baz, quite snappishly, that if he asked any more prying questions about their shopping, he would be lucky even to receive that chocolate.
‘Oh, Merle, you are in a bad mood,’ Lottie said reproachfully. ‘And you’ve not told anyone – except me – that you’re going back to Blackpool to see your family.’
Baz, looking thunderstruck, exclaimed at this. ‘You can’t abandon me so near Christmas,’ he said. ‘It’s all very well you making threats about chocolate bars, but two can play at that game. Tell you what, though: if you’re set on going, why don’t I come with you? I doubt it would cost me more than a few bob since I work for the railways, so if your mam and dad could let me lie on the floor in a blanket . . . ?’
‘No they couldn’t. There’s scarcely room to swing a cat in the caravan. Even my going back will be awkward,’ Merle said crossly, then she rounded angrily on Lottie. ‘See what you’ve done? I haven’t said anything ’cos I’ve not let me parents know what’s happening yet, but you had to go and spill the beans, didn’t you?’
Lottie was bewildered. ‘You never said you wanted it kept secret. And anyway, what difference does it make?’ she demanded. ‘I dare say Baz would have suggested going with you whenever he found out that you were going away . . .’
‘And that means missing a performance and alerting your understudy,’ Louella said, her voice cold. ‘Really, Merle, how can you be so thoughtless? And when, pray, do you intend to return to the fold? I’m sure Mr Quentain will be at least as interested as I am in your intentions.’
‘Now, now, Louella, there’s no need to be so sharp,’ Max said. ‘Merle has a perfect right to want to see her family at Christmas time. As for letting her understudy know, isn’t that the whole point of having an understudy? If Merle was took ill on a Saturday lunchtime, her understudy wouldn’t get much advance notice, would she?’
Louella sniffed. Lottie knew her mother hated it when Max took Merle’s side, but for her part she realised he was right. Understudies were always anxious to step into their principal’s shoes and Betty, a mere member of the chorus, would treat the news of Merle’s absence with delight, not apprehension. But it was different for Baz. Ever since Merle’s return from Yarmouth, he and she had just about been inseparable, and being calmly told that Merle would not be around must be hard indeed. What was worse, his suggestion that he might accompany her had been scorned. Yes, it was hard on Baz.
The whole family were sitting round the kitchen table with their food in front of them and Lottie looked covertly from face to face, realising as she did so that the usual comfortable friendly atmosphere which accompanied mealtimes had been completely dissipated by her revelation and Merle’s response. Louella was upset because she felt Max had snubbed her, Max was cross because Louella had found fault with his niece, Baz was upset because his offer to accompany Merle had been rejected and Merle herself, frowning darkly, was cross with just about everyone. Lottie began to wish that she had not opened her big mouth, but told herself that if Merle had wanted the secret kept, she should have said so. And anyway, now that she considered the matter, Lottie realised that whenever the revelation had come it would have brought dissatisfaction in its wake.
Quietly, she began to eat her meal again and after a moment or two the others followed suit. Max, ever the peacemaker, began to talk of other things and suddenly Merle put down her knife and fork and reached across the table to take Baz’s hand. ‘I’m real sorry I was so horrid to you, chuck,’ she said softly. ‘You’re the best pal I’ve ever had and it were mean to say there wouldn’t be room for you. Tell you what: next time I go back I’ll take you with me, I promise. I don’t really want to leave the panto but me mother keeps askin’ when I’ll be comin’ home. So you see . . .’
‘Whyever didn’t you tell us that at once, darling?’ Louella said. ‘I’m so sorry I reproached you; I simply didn’t understand. But you are quite right, of course. Families are very important over Christmas and I’m sure your Uncle Max and myself are proud to think of you going to such trouble.’
Max, vastly relieved, leaned across and kissed her cheek. ‘That’s very generous of you, Lou,’ he said, beaming. He got to his feet. ‘Who wants apple pudding and custard?’
Chapter ElevenIn the end, Merle left them one day and returned on the next. Not knowing which train she would be catching, Lottie had been unable to meet her at the station but she went down to Lime Street on the off chance. Baz was delighted to see her, though he was not able to advise her from which train Merle would descend. ‘It were nice of you to come along, queen,’ he said. ‘Tell you what, me dinner hour’s due in twenty minutes. What say we slips out and goes along to the café further up the street? I’ll mug you to a cup o’ tea and one o’ them giant sausage rolls, then we can have a bit of a chat. It seems ages since you and I had a chance to talk.’
Lottie said, rather tartly, that there had been plenty of chances only Baz had been too busy with other things – or people – to take advantage of them, but Baz only told her not to cry over spilt milk, which did not seem a particularly apt reply. Then he led her out of the station and they hurried along Lime Street, which was as busy as usual, and into the café of his choice.
As soon as they were comfortably settled, Baz began to question Lottie about her dreams, but on this occasion she decided not to satisfy his curiosity. ‘I haven’t had a dream for ages,’ she said firmly, crossing her fingers beneath the table. ‘I dare say they were all nonsense anyway. I mean, Louella had never heard of a boy called Troy, and . . .’
‘What d’you mean, Troy?’ Baz asked, his face alight with interest. ‘D’you mean that boy you saw at the pleasure beach in Yarmouth? I knew he was the boy you’d met in your dreams, of course, but you never got near enough to ask him his name.’ He leaned across the table and gave her a shake. ‘You met him again, didn’t you? C’mon, tell your Uncle Baz.’
Lottie was beginning to say, coldly, that she did not know what he was talking about and that he should jolly well mind his own business, when she suddenly gave a squeak and jumped to her feet. ‘It’s Merle! Her train must have come in a few minutes ago!’ Baz, who had half risen to his feet, was looking round wildly, so Lottie pushed him down into his chair once more. ‘I’ll fetch her in here; no doubt she’ll be glad of a cuppa and a bite to eat,’ she flung over her shoulder as she made for the door. ‘You sit tight or the waitress will think we’re leaving without paying our bill.’
She hurried out of the café and along the pavement and soon caught up with her friend, who was hampered by her suitcase. Merle jumped when Lottie grabbed her arm but did not object when the younger girl seized her case and told her that she and Baz had a window table in the Black Cat café and had been looking out for her. ‘How were your mam and dad and the cousins?’ she asked, as they turned in to the café. ‘I bet everyone were really thrilled to see you. Did you get some nice presents? I’m sure your suitcase is heavier than when you left.’
‘Oh, presents . . . Christmas,’ Merle said vaguely. ‘I said I’d not open ’em until the twenty-fifth . . . yes, I had a grand time, ta.’ She greeted Baz with a smile, but pushed him back into his seat when he tried to stand up. ‘Have you ordered me a pot of tea, chuck? I’m gaspin’ for a drink; I’ve been travellin’ since the crack of dawn so’s I’d be in time for the show. I take it everything went off OK?’
‘Yes. And I ordered another pot of tea and a sausage roll, because I know you like ’em,’ Baz said. As Merle sat down beside him, he leaned across and kissed her cheek. ‘It’s good to have you back, queen; we’ve missed you, haven’t we, Lottie?’
The waitress arrived with the tea and sausage roll, and Merle began to pour herself a cup. ‘It were nice of you to come an’ meet me,’ she said, addressing herself to Lottie. ‘When I got off the train I looked everywhere for Baz, ’cos I knew if he were on duty he’d keep an eye open for me, but of course no luck. Then I saw young George and asked him where you were,’ she continued, now addressing Baz. ‘In fact I thought he were you for a moment; two young porters looking very much alike.’ She gave Baz a cheeky grin, and Lottie realised it was the first time her friend had smiled since her arrival in the café. ‘He said as how it were your dinner hour an’ you’d gone off with a young lady. I were just about to call you a rotten flirt, to take up wi’ someone else while me back were turned, when he said as how it were Lottie Lacey, so that were all right.’
Lottie and Baz both laughed. ‘If you’re going to make a habit of headin’ for home every time we get a bit of holiday, then you’ll find I will take up with someone else,’ Baz said, mock-threateningly. ‘I can’t have me best girl leavin’ me in the lurch all summer and then again at Christmas.’
‘Oh, I doubt I’ll do it again,’ Merle said. ‘As for next summer, who knows? When the panto finishes everyone has a fortnight’s holiday and then things are pretty slow until Easter. At least, that’s been my experience, and I reckon the Gaiety is no different from other theatres once the bad weather sets in.’
‘You’re right there,’ Lottie said. ‘But I’m sure management will want you once the winter holiday’s over. Oh, Merle, don’t go running out on us! I’ve missed you something rotten. Isn’t it funny how things change? When you first came I didn’t think I was going to like you much – you did snub me whenever you got the chance – but now you’re me best friend and I’d hate it if you went away. Besides, “The Three Lacey Sisters” is ever so popular and everyone loves your modern dance routine.’
‘Oh, Lottie love, you aren’t the only one who likes things the way they are,’ Merle said. ‘By the way, how did my understudy do? She’s nice is Betty but I don’t believe she would even try to take my place as a Lacey sister if I quit the show.’
Lottie smiled reassuringly. ‘No, of course she wouldn’t; taking the part of Cinderella was just about all she could manage. Her actions were fine but her voice wasn’t really strong enough to reach the folk in the gallery, so we’ll all be glad to have you back.’
‘That’s nice,’ Merle said. She finished off her sausage roll, dusted her hands, and reached for the teapot. ‘Just one more cuppa and then we’d best be off. I want to get rid of my suitcase before we go to the theatre.’
‘I wish I could walk you home and carry your case,’ Baz said rather wistfully as the three of them stood on the pavement outside the entrance to the station. ‘But I dare not be late. Can you make a note of the dates when you’ll be takin’ your winter holiday, queen? I’ll try to get some time off during that fortnight; it should be easy enough because no one else on the station is going to want a holiday in the middle of winter.’
He had carried her suitcase and, when she reached for it, retained his grip. ‘It’s all right, love. I’ll put it in the ticket office and bring it back with me when I come home after work.’
Merle, however, told him that this would not do at all. ‘There’s stuff in there I need now, before the next performance,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ll see you after the show, Baz, but thanks for the offer.’
Lottie thought that Baz meant to argue the toss, but at that moment a loud voice shouted: ‘Porter! Come along, young O’Mara, let’s be havin’ you! There’s work to be done,’ and Baz sighed, squeezed Merle’s hand, and disappeared into the busy station.
As Lottie had said it was good to have Merle back, for though Betty had done her best she was not a natural actress, which Merle had proved herself to be. So it was a relief to all concerned when Merle slipped back into the role. Lottie was pleased to notice that Louella, who had seemed unimpressed by Merle’s performance, now said openly that Max’s niece was a real trouper and one with whom she was happy to share centre stage.
Despite the fact that all the theatres in Liverpool were showing a pantomime, the Gaiety had full houses for every performance. Many members of the audience came back several times to see the show again. Lottie could not help wondering why and thought it might be due to the presence of the Shetland ponies, but Louella disabused her. ‘It’s Jack, not the ponies,’ she assured her daughter. ‘Haven’t you noticed how he keeps changing his routines? It used to drive Max mad, but he’s grown accustomed and now he even adds his own two penn’orth when he can think of something appropriate. Liverpool folk have always loved Jack, him being as much a Liverpudlian as they are themselves, so they’ll come to see him again and again, and lucky for us that he’s with the Gaiety and not at the Rotunda or the Royal Court.’
After that conversation, Lottie had kept an eye on the audience and often stood in the wings to listen to Jack and Max as they joked and fooled around. Jack was the nicer of the Ugly Sisters, who would have helped Cinderella if that had been possible; Max was merely very foolish indeed. Mr Carstairs, as the wicked baron, would come sneaking across the stage, intent on capturing Jack’s hand puppet, a toy dog named Fluff, which Jack used as a foil in several of his routines. Jack would say innocently: ‘Well, the wicked baron’s gone off to Blackpool today, so Fluff and I needn’t look out for him.’ Then he’d sit down on a very low stool and begin to chat to the audience. Naturally, at this point, the wicked baron would come creeping across the stage in order to give the children the opportunity to shriek: ‘He’s behind you!’ Whereupon Jack would activate Fluff who would leap up and down and bark, whilst Jack looked over the wrong shoulder, fell off the stool with wails of pain, or simply told the children they were all mad as hatters, since everyone knew the wicked baron was many miles away.
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