by Pamela Brown
‘Thank you, Mrs Seymore,’ said Maddy gratefully. ‘I’m sorry you’ve got to take all this trouble.’
‘And will you come round on Sunday afternoon and meet the chaperone? After all, it would be awkward if I engaged someone and you disliked each other at first sight. If there are several applicants I’ll narrow them down to two or three.’
‘I’d love to come,’ said Maddy. ‘What time?’
‘About four. And I’ll provide something a little more filling than Academy buns.’
Mrs Seymore’s fine eyes twinkled as she noted the empty plate.
‘Oh, sorry,’ said Maddy guiltily. ‘French dictée always makes me hungry.’
‘Well, you’d better hurry back before the lesson’s completely over,’ smiled Mrs Seymore. ‘You know where my flat is, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Maddy. ‘You had us there for the carol rehearsals.’
‘So I did. Well, four o’clock then, on Sunday.’
Maddy worked on her script throughout Saturday, and found that it was not too difficult to learn after all, as it was in a very easy conversational style.
‘I don’t expect I’ll have to keep exactly to the script later on,’ she said to Zillah. ‘But for this first one I’d better, just to make sure.’
On Sunday morning they went to St Martin-in-the-Fields, then Maddy did some more study, and at a quarter to four she set off for Mrs Seymore’s flat. It was within easy walking distance, and she reached it promptly at four. It was a first-floor flat in a tall house in a quiet square, and had large spacious rooms—somewhat austerely but tastefully furnished—that came as a pleasant relief after ‘The Boshery’, as Maddy sometimes called 37 Fitzherbert Street.
‘I’ve narrowed them down to two,’ Roma Seymore greeted her, ‘a Miss Chittock and a Miss Mackenzie should be here at any minute.’
Just then the bell rang.
Mrs Seymore went to answer the door, and Maddy looked round the room hopefully. She could see the tea things, but no food—and Mrs Seymore had promised something solid.
Mrs Seymore reappeared shortly, talking over her shoulder to someone. She was rather pink in the face and not nearly as composed as usual.
‘This is the girl for whom we are wanting a chaperone,’ she was saying as she came in. And then Miss Mackenzie entered, and Maddy’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. For Miss Mackenzie was a black lady.
She was a tall woman, broad and plump, wearing a red patterned dress and a blue hat, but the most noticeable thing about her was her smile. It was wide and warm, and her large black eyes sparkled with good humour.
‘Good afternoon,’ said Maddy in a rather subdued voice.
‘Why, hullo, honey—I thought it was going to be a grown-up young lady wanting a chaperone,’ she said, with a slight American accent.
‘No, you see, it’s like this,’ Mrs Seymore began, offering Miss Mackenzie a chair, and proceeding to explain the situation. When she had finished Miss Mackenzie asked candidly:
‘And you would not mind having a lady of colour to look after her?’
Maddy and Mrs Seymore glanced at each other and then back to Miss Mackenzie.
‘Of course we wouldn’t mind,’ said Maddy promptly, for she had taken to Miss Mackenzie on sight.
‘Well, we’d never really considered…’ began Mrs Seymore. ‘It’s a little unusual in England, but…’
‘I know, I know. I came here with an American family five years ago, looking after the kids. Now my young ’uns they’ve growed up and go to school, but this family they’re so kind to me they say, “You stay here, live with us still, but find some little job during the daytime to keep you busy.” So I says to myself, “Sunny”—that’s my name—“Sunny, this is just the job for you.”’
‘H’m.’ Mrs Seymore looked at her speculatively. She seemed eminently suitable, but just a little startling.
‘’Course—my lady, she’ll give me some lovely references.’
‘I’m sure of that,’ said Mrs Seymore. ‘Now do have a cup of tea. I have a few more applications to see.’
Maddy was longing to say, ‘Please let’s have this one.’ But knew that it would be tactless, so contented herself with beaming at Miss Mackenzie and plying her with the cakes which Mrs Seymore had produced from the sideboard.
‘I sure would like to do this job for you, ma’am,’ said Miss Mackenzie earnestly, biting into a bun. ‘This T.V.—it sounds great—I’d sure like to…’
‘How many children are you used to looking after?’
‘Three—two boys and a girl.’
‘Then I think you could just about cope with Maddy,’ smiled Mrs Seymore.
Miss Mackenzie laughed heartily and turned to Maddy. ‘So you’re going to be an actress?’ she said. ‘My, my. And you just a scrap of a girl—I’d a thought you was too young…’
‘Oh, no,’ said Maddy. ‘You see, I shall still have to do my school lessons during term. But there aren’t many more weeks of term. Then in the holidays I’ll be able to do as much rehearsing for television as they want.’
‘Yes, after the end of term she would probably be needing someone all day, instead of for mornings only, and all day Saturdays,’ explained Mrs Seymore. ‘That would be all right with you?’
‘Fine, just fine.’
Miss Mackenzie got up to go.
‘Well, I hope you decide to take me ma’am. You call my lady. Here’s the phone number. She’ll tell you I’m the honestest, God-fearingest gal. And I know we’d be mighty happy.’
‘Goodbye, Miss Mackenzie,’ said Maddy. ‘I do hope I’ll see you again.’
Miss Mackenzie gave Maddy an enormous wink while Mrs Seymore wasn’t looking, and sailed out of the room.
Mrs Seymore saw her to the door, then came back into the room and flopped on to the sofa, laughing.
‘Well, what a surprise! When I opened the door you could have knocked me down with the proverbial feather!’
‘But isn’t she heavenly?’ cried Maddy. ‘I do like her. Can’t I have her Mrs Seymore?’
‘Well, I don’t know.’ Mrs Seymore seemed quite at a loss. ‘I liked her too. She’s a real character. But I’m afraid she’d cause rather a stir. You really should have someone—less noticeable.’
‘But people would get used to her,’ Maddy argued desperately. ‘It’s only because of her colour, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Maddy. But people can be so unkind. And you’re going to have enough to worry about without having to wonder if your chaperone is meeting with approval,’ said Mrs Seymore sensibly.
‘Yes, I see what you mean. But I feel sure she can look after herself.’
‘Um—but the point is, she’s supposed to look after you. However, we’ll see what the other one is like before deciding. What’s her name? Miss Chittock.’
‘I don’t like the sound of it,’ said Maddy. ‘I like Miss Mackenzie’s name—Sunny. It suits her—it’s like her smile.’
Just then the bell rang, and Mrs Seymore hurried off to answer it. When she returned with Miss Chittock, Maddy’s heart sank. Miss Chittock was small and dried up, and wore a grey coat and a very unbecoming brown hat. She had no make-up on, and wore a sour expression as though she had just sucked a lemon.
‘And this is the child?’ she demanded, looking at Maddy up and down disapprovingly. Maddy looked back equally disapprovingly.
‘Yes, this is Madeleine,’ said Mrs Seymore in a forcedly cheerful voice. ‘And as I explained to you on the phone, it would mean chaperoning her to the television studios, and anywhere else she might have to go.’
‘H’m, I’ve never done any of this chaperoning business. I’ve been a governess for twenty years. There wouldn’t be any lessons to give?’
‘No, I’m afraid not,’ Mrs Seymore said firmly. ‘Maddy receives her education at the British Actors’ Guild Junior Academy. She has acting lessons for half the day and school lessons for the other half.’
‘School lessons for only half the day? I
shouldn’t have thought that would be sufficient.’
Miss Chittock’s long nose quivered disapprovingly.
‘Our examination results are excellent,’ said Mrs Seymore sweetly, ‘so it would seem to be adequate. Do have a cup of tea.’
Maddy looked closely at Mrs Seymore. She suspected that they both disliked Miss Chittock, but Mrs Seymore was being so charming that it was difficult to tell.
‘Of course, I don’t know that I approve of a child acting on television.’
‘Good,’ thought Maddy. ‘That settles it—Mrs Seymore will never have her now.’
‘Oh, that’s a pity,’ said Mrs Seymore in a rather brittle voice. ‘Then you wouldn’t consider the post, I take it. Oh well…’
‘No, no, I don’t say that,’ replied Miss Chittock hastily. ‘It’s just that it seems—well—a little unusual.’
‘It is,’ agreed Mrs Seymore. ‘You see, Maddy’s parents don’t live in London, otherwise her mother would be able to chaperone her. What we really want is to find a nice dependable person to take the place of her mother.’
‘Well. I’m sure I’m dependable enough.’ Miss Chittock bristled, as though her honesty had been questioned. ‘I worked for ten years in the same situation until my charge went to finishing school. My references are impeccable.’ She made a sort of pecking movement as she said ‘impeccable’ that almost made Maddy laugh.
‘Oh, I’m quite sure they are, but—er—do you think you would be quite happy in the atmosphere of—er—the entertainment world?’ asked Mrs Seymore.
‘I’ve always managed to interest myself in whatever strata of society I have found myself,’ said Miss Chittock, pursing her lips into a self-righteous expression.
After that the conversation flagged. Miss Chittock refused a cake, but just sat there, making no effort to go. At last Mrs Seymore said with an air of finality, ‘Well, thank you very much for coming along, Miss Chittock. I have some more applicants to interview, but if you will leave me your address and phone number…’
Miss Chittock wrote it down, in a rather spidery handwriting, that Maddy thought looked exactly like her. Even then she did not seem anxious to go, and began talking about ‘Young people these days’, and airing her pet theories on education. Maddy kept very quiet, for she knew that if she spoke she would say something impolite, and Mrs Seymore would not like it.
At last Miss Chittock gathered up her drab handbag, pulled on her meticulously darned grey cotton gloves, shook hands with Maddy in a bony grip and was gone. When Mrs Seymore returned from seeing her out, looking rather worried, Maddy said, ‘Are those the only two who are coming?’
‘Yes, Maddy, I’m afraid so. I didn’t weed them out very well, did I? But all the others either asked too high a fee, or else could only manage the weekday mornings, not Saturdays. It’s really most difficult. And you simply must have someone by tomorrow.’
‘Couldn’t I have that nice Sunny Mackenzie?’ begged Maddy. ‘I did think she was so nice.’
‘Certainly, compared to Miss Chittock…’ Mrs Seymore left the sentence unfinished. She thought for a few minutes and then said, ‘Well, Maddy, let’s ask Miss Mackenzie to do it for a trial week. Of course, Morgan Evans may not like the idea.’
‘He wouldn’t object to Sunny,’ said Maddy. ‘As long as she is over twenty-one he wouldn’t care if she was tartan. Shall we ring her up now and tell her?’
‘Don’t rush me, Maddy,’ smiled Mrs Seymore. ‘She may not have had time to get home yet. Oh well, I could ring her employer, and ask for a reference.’
‘Yes, that’s a good idea,’ said Maddy eagerly.
Mrs Seymore dialled the number, and a high-pitched American voice answered. To all Mrs Seymore’s questions there came a flow of praise for Miss Mackenzie that was absolutely overwhelming. When Mrs Seymore put down the phone she appeared to be entirely satisfied.
‘Well, that seems quite all right. Sunny has been with them for several years, and they have found her to be just as nice as we felt she was. Her employer says they consider her almost one of the family, and can’t bear the thought of losing her, even though the children she used to look after now go to school.’
‘Oh, how heavenly,’ cried Maddy, clapping her hands. ‘I just couldn’t have had that terrible Miss Chittock.’
‘I’ll ring Miss Mackenzie as soon as she’s had time to get in, and tell her to meet you—where? Outside the Academy tomorrow morning. You know where the rehearsal is to be, don’t you?’
‘Yes, in Russell Square,’ said Maddy. ‘I’ll show her the way. Don’t you worry, Mrs Seymore, I’ll look after her all right.’
Mrs Seymore laughed.
‘That is not really supposed to be the idea, Maddy. As I’ve told you, the chaperone is supposed to look after you—that’s why I’m a trifle worried. After all, she is a foreigner and mayn’t know all our ways.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Maddy repeated. ‘I’m sure it’ll be O.K. And she’s been in England a long time, hasn’t she?’
‘Oh, yes, yes.’
‘And we couldn’t have had Miss Chittock. Why, she didn’t even approve of acting. She’d have hated the television studios.’
‘Yes, you’re right, Maddy. I just wonder whether we ought to advertise again.’
‘Well, let’s wait and see how dear Sunny gets on,’ urged Maddy. ‘Isn’t it a suitable name?’
‘Yes, Maddy, but you must call her Miss Mackenzie, unless she asks you to use her Christian name.’
‘Yes, Mrs Seymore,’ said Maddy meekly, although her eyes were beaming with delight at having got her own way. ‘I think I’d better go now and study some more of my part. Thank you ever so much for giving up your Sunday afternoon on my account.’
‘It’s been very interesting,’ laughed Mrs Seymore. ‘Well, I hope you get on all right tomorrow morning. Whatever happens, don’t be late for school in the afternoon, because if the television work appears to interfere with your schooling Mr Whitfield won’t let you do it at all, you know.’
Maddy could not really imagine Mr Whitfield behaving so cruelly, but she said meekly, ‘No, I won’t be late. They’ve arranged the rehearsals to fit in with school hours, so I should think they’re sure to let me off in time.’
‘Well, good luck, Maddy. I know you won’t let us down. Don’t forget to take a nice sharp pencil with you tomorrow and mark down on your script your moves and things that the producer tells you.’
‘No, I won’t forget. Though it’s funny how pencils will break just before a first rehearsal.’
‘Yes, I’ve noticed that too,’ laughed Mrs Seymore, as she walked down the stairs with Maddy. ‘Well, take more than one and be on the safe side.’
Maddy said goodbye with renewed thanks, and added, ‘When you ring Sun—er—I mean Miss Mackenzie—tell her I’m very glad it’s her, won’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Seymore. ‘I will.’
Maddy went happily back to Fitzherbert Street, and entertained Zillah and Mrs Bosham with imitations of the two applicants for the post of chaperone.
‘Sunny’s a lady of colour,’ explained Maddy. ‘That’s what she called herself, and that’s what she is. You’ll simply love her.’
All that evening Maddy studied her lines, with Zillah hearing her and prompting gently in her soft low voice, which was gradually losing its country burr.
When she went to bed Maddy was so excited that she could not sleep. She kept thinking how awful it would have been if she had had Miss Chittock instead of Miss Sunny Mackenzie—and then she would start wondering about the next day’s rehearsal. She was extremely grateful to have had some training with Mr Manyweather, as without it she would have felt at a complete loss.
Next morning she awoke early for fear of oversleeping, and was soon wandering round the room getting her things ready.
‘I’m sorry I can’t go in my slacks, but Morgan Evans said the press photographers will be there,’ she told Zillah. ‘I must wear the dress I’ll have on for
the actual programme. That’ll be my pale blue. Oh dear, I’ve got to press it, and I simply must do something about hair ribbons—or do you think slides will be all right?’
‘Oh, don’t fuss so,’ murmured Zillah sleepily. ‘Don’t fuss.’
‘It’s all very well for you,’ snapped Maddy. ‘This isn’t the most important day of your life, but for me it is—or very nearly.’
Throughout breakfast she repeatedly urged Zillah not to be late if she wanted to walk to the Academy with her, but finally it was Zillah who was kept waiting, for at the last minute Maddy couldn’t find her script.
‘I do hope Sunny will be there,’ Maddy kept saying as they set off. Sure enough as they rounded the corner there was Miss Mackenzie’s tall, broad figure planted firmly outside the Academy. She wore a royal-blue dress of rather strange cut, and a red hat with a large pigeon perched on top of it. ‘Evidently red and blue are her favourite colours,’ thought Maddy.
Zillah almost stood still in amazement. ‘So that’s her, Maddy!’ she breathed.
‘Yes,’ chuckled Maddy. ‘There’s no chance of missing her, is there?’
‘Hullo there, honey,’ Sunny greeted her. ‘I sure am glad to be seeing you today. I was half afeared that nice lady of yours might have chosen someone else.’
‘And I’m glad to see you too,’ said Maddy. ‘This is my friend Zillah. She goes to the Academy, but she’s not coming to the television rehearsal. Not today, anyhow. But I’m going to try and work her in at the very first opportunity. Come on, though, we’ll have to get a move on. Bye, Zillah. See you this afternoon and tell you all about it.’
They walked through to Russell Square: Sunny with her long loose strides and Maddy hurrying along beside her, giving a hop, skip and a jump every now and then in order to keep up.
‘That person who came after you was awful!’ Maddy told her. ‘She looked like a—a vinegar bottle. And she didn’t approve of television, and she didn’t approve of children acting, and I’m sure she wouldn’t have approved of me.’
