Entertaining Death Page 2

  She found the company sitting around in the tiny backstage area where she had installed a small stove for their convenience. They were all still in the evening dress they wore for the second half of the show.

  ‘I just wanted to warn you,’ she started without preamble, ‘I’m about to audition a prospective new member of the company.’

  ‘Girl or boy?’ asked Aramantha.

  ‘A lady, as it happens,’ said Dorinda with a smile. ‘A former pro, like yourselves, who wants to rejoin the business. Do you want to come out and listen to her?’

  Aramantha was, predictably, scowling, but the others all looked interested and stood up to follow Dorinda into the auditorium on the way to her office. A few moments later, she came back followed by Lady Washington, Ivy and Mariah Belting.

  Amelia stopped dead.

  ‘Ethel Small,’ she said.

  ‘Amy LeBon!’ shrieked Aramantha.

  Chapter Three

  Everyone looked confused.

  ‘I didn’t recognise you in the show,’ said Amelia, coming forward slowly, as Aramantha stood in an attitude of distress, as though she were about to run away as fast as she could.

  Dorinda stepped hastily into the breach. ‘Ethel is Aramantha Giles, now, Amelia, and we know all about her former career.’ She turned to Aramantha. ‘This is Lady Washington.’

  ‘Oh.’ Aramantha sat down again, eyeing Amelia nervously.

  The other four girls, Maisie, Phoebe, Patsy and Betty, were whispering together excitedly, the men, Will, Ted and Algy, looking interested.

  ‘Would you like to go up, Amelia?’ Dorinda indicated the steps at the side of the stage, and herself took her normal seat at the piano.

  ‘I’ll give you a chord, then you can go into the verse – or would you like to sing the chorus first, then go into the verse in the middle?’

  ‘That would be better,’ said Amelia, taking up a position in the centre of the stage. Dorinda played a couple of test chords until Amelia nodded, then, together they launched into the first line: “There was I, waiting at the church, waiting at the church, waiting at the church …”

  By the time Amelia was going into the verse, with Dorinda vamping quietly beneath, it was clear to everybody that she was extremely talented. A soubrette of no mean accomplishment, with the saucy, cheeky delivery that endeared her to both sexes. The men loved her for her obvious attractions, the women because they could see underneath the surface her less obvious mockery of the men. At the end of the final chorus, in which they all joined, including Dorinda, everyone clapped and cheered with gusto. Even Aramantha.

  Amelia, flushed and happy, climbed down from the stage with the eager help of Ted and Algy. Dorinda glanced at where Mariah Belting sat at the rear of the auditorium and caught the positively furious expression on her face.

  ‘Was I all right?’ Amelia asked, a trifle breathlessly.

  ‘Of course you were.’ Dorinda smiled at her, then led her to where the other girls sat on the front row.

  ‘We recognised you, miss!’ said Phoebe.

  ‘Did you?’ Amelia smiled. ‘And I recognised you, Ethel.’

  ‘Yes.’ Aramantha, very pink about the face, put her chin in the air. ‘And I’ve changed now.’

  ‘I can see.’ Amelia gave her a friendly smile. ‘Do you think you could work with me?’

  There was a chorus of agreement. Maisie said, ‘Amy could go in Velda’s place. We could revive those spots, couldn’t we?’

  The other girls looked uncomfortable, and even the men were seen to sidle towards the backstage area.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure we can work up something a bit different for Lady Washington,’ said Dorinda, ‘and she may have some ideas of her own.’

  ‘Oh, sorry, Amy – Lady Washington!’ said Maisie.

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Amelia. ‘I’m back in my own element here, so I’m Amy LeBon again.’

  ‘But,’ said Aramantha, in an unusually diffident manner, ‘wouldn’t it be nice if we kept just one of the old ones. In – I dunno – sort of memory of Velda.’

  Dorinda, who knew what they would say, asked ‘Which one?’

  ‘The Fairies!’ shouted the whole company, and Dorinda and Maude smiled.

  The Fairies, a set piece sung by the girls as a sextet, had been immeasurably improved by Velda Turner when she joined the company, and was a hit with audiences. Amelia turned an enquiring eye on Dorinda.

  ‘Come back into the office and I’ll tell you all about it,’ Dorinda told her.

  Between them, Ivy and Dorinda told the story of Velda, who had joined at the beginning of the season, which was now half over.

  ‘Yes, Ivy told me some of it,’ said Amelia, ‘although not all. It’s partly why I wanted to come and see you.’ She looked thoughtfully at Dorinda. ‘You see, I’m in a bit of a pickle.’

  Mariah made a noise like a steam kettle.

  ‘Ivy mentioned something …’

  ‘Oh, it’s hardly a secret.’ Amelia made a face. ‘It’s Harry’s two bloody daughters. If Ivy and Sir Fred lived in the world they’d have heard by now. They’re putting it about that I knocked off old Harry.’

  ‘Jealousy?’

  ‘I’ve got the money they were hoping to get.’ Amelia’s vowels were beginning to broaden. ‘Both of ’em married and got plenty, if you ask me, but oh no. They ought to have had mine, too. They get it when I die, o’ course. If I’d have had a baby …’

  Mariah hissed again.

  ‘Anyway, then there was Jeremy.’ Amelia stared broodingly at Dorinda’s desk.

  ‘Jeremy?’ prompted Dorinda, not wishing to admit that Ivy had already told her about Jeremy.

  ‘The Hon. Jeremy Coutts. He’s a younger son.’

  ‘And part of the same world as Sir Harold?’

  ‘Oh yes. Good mates – friends – they were. Harry liked old things. Called himself an antiquarian, and the Hon. Jeremy liked ’em, too. There’s some ruins at his place in the country.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Amelia sighed. ‘Well, his father’s place. The Earl of Hawksley. That’s in Kent, too. Up near Rochester somewhere.’

  ‘Lot of nonsense,’ Mariah suddenly exploded. ‘Young puppy.’

  Amelia looked at her. ‘No he isn’t, Mariah, you know he isn’t.’ She turned back to Dorinda. ‘But after Harry died, he just kept turning up.’ She shook her head. ‘Didn’t look right, and so I told him, but it didn’t make no – any – difference.’

  ‘So they’re saying Amy knocked off the old boy so she could marry Jeremy,’ said Ivy, obviously tired of the rambling. ‘Only it ain’t like that, is it, Amy?’

  Amelia shook her head mournfully. ‘Not a bit of it.’

  ‘So how will we help?’ asked Dorinda, when she didn’t seem inclined to go on.

  ‘Well, I’ve booked into the hotel under my old name, Amy West. If anyone thinks of looking for me at all, they’d look under Amy LeBon. So I can sort of keep out of sight for a bit. It’s not as if the police think I did anything. It’s only those hateful old biddies.’

  ‘They’re not that old, Amy!’ said Ivy, amused.

  ‘They’re older than I am,’ said Amelia. ‘That’s partly why they hate me so much.’

  Dorinda thought she could see why. It couldn’t be pleasant seeing your elderly father enraptured by someone younger than yourself.

  ‘Well, you couldn’t appear here as Amy LeBon in that case,’ she said out loud.

  ‘Oh!’ Amelia looked surprised. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

  ‘Aramantha recognised you as Amy West,’ Dorinda went on. ‘Are you sure no one else would connect you to that name?’

  ‘It’s my real name, but I used it when I worked the halls with Ada and Mariah, when I met Ethel – Aramantha – so maybe anyone who saw me then, but it was a long time ago.’

  ‘We could risk that, then.’ Dorinda stood up from her perch on the windowsill. ‘Would you like to come tomorrow morning and go through some of the material and w
e could decide where to slot you in. You know we do two or three different shows a week, don’t you?’

  ‘I can see you would have to,’ said Amelia. ‘More than we did in the halls.’

  ‘It’s because people on holiday come two or three times and they don’t want to see the same show each time,’ explained Dorinda. ‘Especially if it’s wet and they come in the afternoon. There isn’t anything else to do really.’

  ‘There’s Mickey Bennett’s Magic Minstrels down the other end of the beach,’ said Ivy.

  ‘And Marvello the Punch and Judy man,’ added Dorinda, ‘But that’s not enough to keep the visitors happy for a rainy week in Nethergate-on-Sea.’

  ‘Could I learn a few numbers and slip in sort of gradual?’ said Amelia nervously.

  Dorinda regarded her thoughtfully. ‘If you join The Alexandrians you have to be prepared to work.’

  Mariah snorted.

  ‘Oh, I can work.’ Amelia sighed. ‘I suppose I’ve just got out of the habit.’ She, too, stood up and held out a hand to Dorinda. ‘Thank you so much, Dolly. I won’t let you down, honest I won’t.’

  Dorinda saw them off the premises and locked the front door.

  ‘What about that then,’ said Maude from behind her.

  Dorinda turned round. ‘What did you think?’

  Will, his arm round his wife’s shoulders, shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Seems real odd, to me.’

  ‘It is odd. I’m not sure why she’s doing it myself.’

  ‘What did she say, then?’ asked Maude curiously. ‘Must be a reason.’

  ‘To get away from gossip in town,’ said Dorinda. ‘If she’d been able to use her former stage name it would have been good for business, but she can’t do that because she’d be found.’

  ‘Why would that matter?’ asked Will.

  ‘I suppose she thinks the gossip would follow her down here.’

  ‘We don’t get lords and ladies round here,’ said Maude. ‘Leastways, not except Ivy and Sir Freddie.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Dorinda’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. She didn’t think it was her place to tell anyone else about Sir Harold and The Honourable Jeremy Coutts.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Is there anything to eat? Or I might faint before this evening’s show.’

  Backstage, she explained that she had asked Amelia to come in the following morning to go through some material. The girls agreed to come in early, although Aramantha grumbled, but as their landladies didn’t hold with girls “‘angin’ around in their beds all day”, they spent most of their days at The Alexandria anyway.

  ‘And she’s going back to the name Amy West,’ she said, ‘so just get used to calling her Amy, and forget the Lady Washington.’

  ‘That Mariah won’t like that,’ said Aramantha.

  ‘Oh, you remember Mariah Belting too, do you?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Thick as thieves, they was.’ Aramantha sniffed. ‘There was talk.’

  ‘Talk?’

  Aramantha’s eyes slid away. ‘Oh – you know.’

  Dorinda frowned. ‘No, I don’t.’ Then she remembered something Ivy’s sister Ada had said about Aramantha and Velda. ‘Close,’ she had said. ‘Too close, some said.’ She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. No point in bringing that up when it was over and done with.

  ‘So we’ll rehearse her in some of the numbers, and see what else she’s got to offer of her own, and put her in each of the shows next week, shall we?’ She spoke firmly and the company agreed. ‘Good. Now what is there to eat?’

  The following morning, Dorinda was surprised to find Amelia waiting at The Alexandria when she arrived, accompanied, of course, by a disapproving Mariah. This morning the quietly but beautifully dressed society widow had been replaced by a young working woman, in a flannel skirt and blouse similar to Dorinda’s own, a flat-crowned straw hat on her head. In fact, Mariah looked better dressed than her employer. Amelia also carried something draped over her arm and a large carpet bag.

  ‘You’re keen,’ said Dorinda, unlocking the door. ‘And what have you got there?’

  ‘Me props.’ Amelia had turned into Amy overnight. It wouldn’t surprise Dorinda if Amelia was gone for ever. ‘And a coupla frocks. And I’ll have to have one o’ those silver pierrot costumes, too, won’t I?’

  Dorinda looked at her in surprise. She’d thought things through.‘Yes, you will. I don’t know if we’ve got another, but I know Maude has some of the material left.’

  ‘That’s fine. Mariah’s good with a needle. She can knock one up real quick.’

  Mariah looked as though she was anything but pleased with this accolade. Amelia put her things down on the floor and stretched luxuriantly.

  ‘Oh, you can’t know how good it is not to have to pretend anymore!’

  Chapter Four

  However long the newly reborn Amy had been away from the theatre, she had lost none of her professionalism. She picked up the routines quickly, never upstaged, and appeared able to turn her hand to anything. She could sing a sentimental ballad as well as a risqué comic song and was a self-effacing but important member in the chorus numbers. After two days’ rehearsal, Dorinda felt comfortable putting her into the afternoon show.

  ‘She’s remarkably good,’ Dorinda said to Mariah, who sat stitching a silver pierrot costume in the small backstage area.

  ‘Of course she is. Gaiety Girl, wasn’t she.’ Mariah sniffed.

  ‘Ivy told me you used to perform, too,’ said Dorinda. She had tried to draw Mariah out over the last couple of days with no success, but if the woman was to be part of her company for the season, however peripherally, , she had to keep trying.

  ‘Long time ago,’ said Mariah.

  ‘So you knew Ivy’s sister Ada, too?’

  A brief nod. Dorinda sighed.

  ‘Aramantha recognised you both the other day.’

  ‘Aramantha!’ Mariah almost spat. ‘Plain old Ethel Small, she was. Her and that Martha Trafford.’

  ‘Well, Amy did change her name, too,’ Dorinda offered gently.

  Mariah sniffed again.

  Dorinda gave up.

  Amy was nervous that afternoon.

  ‘I don’t know what’s come over me,’ she said to Phoebe, who was adjusting her ruff round her neck. ‘I never used to be nervous.’

  ‘You’ve been out of the game for too long, that’s what it is,’ said Phoebe, giving the ruff a final pat. ‘There. Now the hat. Remember, keep your hair tucked underneath as much as you can.’

  Amy screwed up her face. ‘I’ve got too much.’

  Phoebe laughed. ‘Do what Dolly does, then. Let it down. Then it’s easier to tuck it all under.’

  Amy looked horrified. ‘But then I’ll have to put it back up in the interval.’

  ‘You’ve got Mariah here, haven’t you?’ said Maisie. ‘And your hair down will look much better for the Fairy song at the end of the first half.’

  Amy sighed. ‘All right.’ She went over to where Aramantha sat at the rather flyblown mirror and tried to peer over her shoulder.

  ‘’Ere! what’re you doing?’ said Aramantha.

  ‘Trying to take my hair down,’ said Amy.

  ‘Sit down here, Lady Washington.’ The sharp voice broke in and Mariah appeared wielding a comb. ‘I’ll do it.’

  Amy sat down meekly and the other girls exchanged glances. Strangely, none of them resented Amy for having the services of a maid-come-dresser, but they resented Mariah herself.

  Dorinda had kept out of the way in her office. She frequently made her entrance from there, through the auditorium, and today, given Amy’s nerves, she decided not to add to her worries. She knew Ivy would be in the audience, although Amy didn’t, and had asked her not to be too conspicuous. An effort, with Ivy’s statuesque beauty, but looking through her window, she saw her friend coming down the slope from Victoria Place wearing a small hat with only one feather, and an almost subdued dark blue outfit. She smiled.

  Despite
the fine weather, the hall was packed. Members of the audience who had attended previous shows were used to a varied programme and didn’t seem in the least bit surprised to see a new face on stage or new solo items, all of which went down very well. As she stood to take a bow at the end, Dorinda was conscious of a sense of relief that she hadn’t made a mistake by hiring Amy West.

  As she made her way backstage, Ivy caught her up.

  ‘Went well,’ she said. ‘Pleased?’

  ‘Very. Amy’s an asset. You were right, Ivy. Although I still don’t really see the need for all this secrecy. Or why she wanted to go back on the stage.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Ivy laid a hand on Dorinda’s arm. ‘I wanted to tell you this before we saw Amy. I overheard a few people in the audience saying they recognised her, and at least one of them mentioned the Gaiety.’

  Dorinda looked shocked. ‘But I thought you said she was just a chorus girl at the Gaiety? Or was she in the ballet? Surely no one would recognise her from that?’

  ‘She was getting on well so she had a couple of spots. She would have ended up a star, I reckon.’ Ivy made a face. ‘Shame she gave in to old Sir Harry.’

  ‘I can’t say I would prefer marriage to an old gentleman,’ said Dorinda, ‘but it’s a more certain future than the stage, isn’t it?’

  Ivy grinned. ‘O’course! Look at me! Thing is, do we tell Amy or not?’

  ‘I say not,’ said Dorinda. ‘Let’s not upset her today.’

  Amy was bubbling with excitement, and went on to perform in the evening show with just as much enthusiasm. Even Mariah looked less formidable and gave a brief nod of approval.

  By Saturday, changeover day, everyone seemed to have settled into the new routine. The revised programmes had all been performed, and Amy had given all her solo numbers. She proved to be a talented and instinctive comedienne, able to exchange banter with the audience without putting up their backs. But she asked to be excused the usual duty of the company on Saturday, which was to walk through the town dressed in their silver pierrot costumes to say goodbye to this week’s holidaymakers and greet the newcomers, handing out the leaflets Dorinda had, at last, had printed.