by Pamela Brown
‘I’ll do my best,’ said Mrs Fayne. ‘And then I’ll hand her over to Miss Mackenzie’s tender care.’
There were a lot of details about passports and so on to be settled, and Morgan Evans’s secretary was scurrying about like a beaver, trying to get it all sorted out. At last everything was arranged, though Maddy was still wondering what exactly it was she had to do in Paris.
When the other people had departed Morgan Evans turned to Mrs Fayne and said, ‘Will you and Maddy do me the honour of dining with me?’
‘We should love to, shouldn’t we?’ Mrs Fayne turned to Maddy.
‘Gosh, yes. Anything’s better than a meal at the Boshery. No, no, I didn’t mean it like that…’
‘I shouldn’t try to improve on it,’ laughed Morgan Evans.
‘We’d like to go home first and freshen up,’ said Mrs Fayne. ‘It’s amazing how dirty one gets in London.’
‘Well, suppose you go home now and I’ll pick you up about seven-thirty.’
Maddy and Mrs Fayne hurried back to 37 Fitzherbert Street and washed and changed. They told Mrs Bosham that they would, unfortunately, have to go out, and she replied, ‘There now, and I’d made you a lovely ’ash.’
‘Lucky escape,’ whispered Maddy to her mother when Mrs Bosham was out of hearing. ‘’Er ’ash is ’orrid.’
Morgan Evans arrived punctually in a taxi and took them to a Soho restaurant only a few streets away. During dinner he told them all about his boyhood in a mining village in South Wales, and they both listened spellbound, though Maddy did not forget to eat at the same time.
When she finished the last drop of her fruit salad she said, ‘It’s nice when you come up to town, Mummy. I’ve had more good meals since you came than I’ve had in all the rest of term put together.’
‘You do say charming things, Maddy,’ laughed her mother. ‘But I’m glad you haven’t lost your interest in food.’
‘Wait till we get to Paris, if you want good food,’ Morgan Evans told her. ‘But mind you don’t eat so much that you’re not in a fit state to work.’
‘What exactly have I got to do in Paris?’ Maddy wanted to know. ‘I don’t quite understand about the filming.’
‘Well, we’ve arranged with a French family that you and Sunny shall stay with them, and they will take you round Paris and show you the sights, and we shall have a film cameraman recording it. There won’t be any sound on the film; it will be silent, because it’s so much simpler, and when the film is shown next Saturday—isn’t that an awful thought!—you will have to speak the commentary. Now do you understand better?’
‘Ye-es,’ said Maddy. ‘There’s just one drawback. I don’t speak French and neither does Sunny.’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ said Morgan Evans. ‘We’ve chosen the family very carefully, and the children speak quite good English.’
‘Oh, thank heavens,’ said Maddy. ‘I couldn’t bear having to talk about the pen of my aunt, and the gardener’s penknife all the time.’
When they had finished their coffee Mrs Fayne noticed how tired Maddy looked. ‘I must tuck you up early tonight, Maddy,’ she said.
‘Yes, and see that she has a really good rest tomorrow,’ added Morgan Evans. ‘Next week is going to be extremely hectic, and I don’t want to knock her out in the last week of the series. She’s stood up to it very well until now.’
‘Yes.’ agreed Mrs Fayne. ‘And when the excitement of next week is over she’s coming back to Fenchester, and will be able to have a good rest before term starts.’
‘Oh, can’t I do some shows at the Blue Door Theatre?’ cried Maddy. ‘I thought there might just be time…’
‘No!’ said her mother very firmly. ‘You’re going to have a real rest. And haven’t you any holiday tasks to do?’
‘Er—yes—I believe I have,’ said Maddy vaguely.
‘Then you’ll have a chance to get on with them.’
‘I thought you said I was to have a real rest?’
‘I meant physically.’
Maddy was so sleepy after the long transmission day and then the enormous meal, that she was nearly asleep on her feet, and Morgan Evans insisted on hailing a taxi outside the restaurant to take them the short distance to Fitzherbert Street.
‘It’s been a delightful evening,’ said Mrs Fayne sincerely as they arrived at number thirty-seven. ‘And I must say that I have no qualms at all about Maddy going to Paris, now that I have seen the people she is going with.’
The next morning Mrs Fayne made Maddy stay in bed for breakfast. In fact they both had breakfast in bed, as Mrs Bosham appeared with trays before Mrs Fayne was fully dressed, so she went back to bed and revelled in the doubtful luxury of underdone eggs and overdone toast that she had not had to prepare herself.
She managed to keep Maddy in bed until about eleven, but then the sun was shining so brightly that Maddy leapt out of bed saying, ‘I can’t stay here another minute. Let’s go for a walk in Regent’s Park.’
She showed her mother all the favourite spots where she and Zillah learnt their parts, and then they came back to ‘The Boshery’ for an indigestible Sunday lunch with the other lodgers.
When the meal was over they were so full of soggy Yorkshire pudding that they went and lay down. Maddy intended to read, but fell asleep, and did not wake until Mrs Bosham brought up cups of tea at four o’clock.
‘Now this evening I really must do your packing for you, Maddy,’ said Mrs Fayne, ‘so that you’re all ready to start off early tomorrow.’
Maddy was secretly a little amused that her mother should take it for granted that her packing must be done for her. By this time Maddy was so used to packing up her things for transmission day, and for shows at the Academy, that preparation for a trip to Paris seemed hardly more serious. However, it was nice to have someone to do the necessary repairs that became apparent as the packing proceeded.
‘Maddy! How long have you had a safety pin in here?’ demanded her mother, holding up her dressing-gown.
‘Weeks,’ said Maddy calmly.
‘Oh dear, oh dear, and all your shoes need heeling!’
‘I’ll only take my new white sandals,’ said Maddy.
‘Don’t be silly, dear. Suppose it rains?’
Mrs Fayne had bought Maddy a suitcase. It was a special lightweight one for air travel, and was grey with a few red stripes. Maddy thought it was the smartest she had ever seen.
At last it was neatly packed with all her new clothes, and her faithful blue dress ‘just in case’. She was to travel in her grey skirt and the new red blazer.
‘And my suitcase is all to match,’ Maddy said, delighted.
Somehow, although they had intended to have an early night, it developed into quite a late one, for Mrs Fayne kept on discovering last-minute things to be done.
They found that Maddy’s brush and comb had been left out, and after an inspection Mrs Fayne decided that they must be washed. Then she remembered that she must do her own packing, as she did not want to have to come back to Fitzherbert Street after seeing Maddy off.
At last they were ready to go to bed, but Maddy could not get to sleep for excitement. She had never been in an aeroplane. Neither had she been abroad before. The prospect of doing both the very next day made sleep impossible.
She was in the throes of thinking that she could never get to sleep before morning, when suddenly it was daylight and the alarm clock was ringing.
At first she was so sleepy that she felt that she could not be bothered to go to Paris that day—but suddenly she leapt out of bed, nearly tripping over her new suitcase.
‘Mummy, it’s today,’ she cried, and then raced into the bathroom, remembering half-way to try and be quiet and not disturb the other lodgers.
Mrs Bosham had insisted on getting up to give them their breakfast, and was slopping about in bedroom slippers and an incredible dressing-gown with her hair in metal curlers.
It was all a mad rush, because they had to be at Waterloo
at six. The street still had a very early-morning look as they climbed into the hire-car that had been sent by the studios.
‘Goodbye! Good Luck! Or should I say, “Bong voyagey”,’ cried Mrs Bosham from the front doorstep, waving one of the milk bottles that she had picked up.
‘Now, do be good, Maddy,’ her mother urged her as they drove through empty streets. ‘Do just as you’re told, and don’t wander away from the others. And don’t eat too much rich food. And don’t drink wine, even if you see the French children doing so. You can’t afford to have an upset stomach when you’re going to be so busy.’
‘Yes, Mummy. No, Mummy,’ said Maddy dutifully all the way to Waterloo.
When they got there they were met by Morgan Evans, his secretary, Guy his assistant, a film cameraman and his assistant, and Miss Tibbs, all looking rather pale and early morning-ish, and Sunny—looking as cheerful as ever.
By this time Maddy was so excited that she could hardly keep still. There were a few formalities to go through, and then they had to pile into the bus that would take them to the airport. Mrs Fayne was not coming to the airport as she was anxious to get back to Fenchester in good time.
‘Goodbye, dear, and do be good,’ she begged. ‘And come back to Fenchester as soon as you can next week, won’t you? And send me a card the minute you arrive in Paris.’
‘Goodbye, Mummy,’ said Maddy, as she kissed her.
‘Thanks for coming to get me off. Give my love to Daddy and tell the others I’ll see them soon.’
Somehow, London looked very different and quite exciting from the window of the airline bus. Maddy sat beside Morgan Evans, and chattered sixteen to the dozen.
‘Really, Maddy,’ he said rather weakly, ‘I don’t know how you can…’
‘Can what?’
‘Talk at such a rate at this hour.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m just excited.’
When they got to the airport it was even more exciting—for there were the beautiful silver planes lined up on the tarmac.
‘Are we going in one of those?’ demanded Maddy. ‘Which one do you think?’
There were long delays while their passports were checked and they went through the Customs. But Maddy was thrilled with the enormous clean airy halls and the smart air hostesses hurrying about in beautifully tailored uniforms.
When she was asked if she had anything of value in her suitcase Maddy replied, ‘Yes, I’ve got a new sprigged cotton dress, and a Swiss cardigan, and…’
‘No watches, cameras, typewriters, jewellery?’
‘Only my string of corals that Sandra gave me.’
The official smiled kindly and made a chalk squiggle over her brand-new suitcase. Maddy promptly licked her finger and rubbed it off again.
‘Hey, you mustn’t do that,’ the official told her. ‘That’s to show it’s been checked.’
‘Well, do you mind doing a very small one. You see, it’s new,’ said Maddy.
Obediently he made a very faint scribble on it.
They had to spend a long time waiting in the lounge, where they drank cups of tea and Maddy surprised everyone by eating two doughnuts. Even Sunny felt bound to say, ‘Now, honey, remember you’re going in an aeroplane.’
‘I’ll be all right,’ said Maddy. ‘These will stop that sinking feeling.’
It seemed ridiculous to have to get up so early in the morning and then wait for so long. The cameraman, whose name was Bill, and his assistant, an elderly man called Charles, both had ‘forty winks’, and Miss Tibbs started making notes for her script.
‘We don’t want any shots of you getting into the plane.’ Morgan Evans told Maddy, ‘because, if you remember, in the script you’re not supposed to be coming from England—you’re on your way there. But I want a shot of you and Sunny getting off the plane at Orly Airport. So remember to tidy up before we actually arrive.’
At last the loudspeaker blared out that their flight was ready, and they all trooped along behind an air hostess, who led them out to a bus which took them some distance to the waiting plane.
‘Oh, isn’t it a lovely little thing!’ breathed Maddy.
And it did look quite small because of the neatness of its design. Maddy walked up the gangway feeling so excited that she felt she might take off on her own accord before the plane did. She shared a seat with Sunny this time, saying, ‘I think I was a little too much for Mr Evans in the bus.’
The air hostess came round, showing them how to fasten their safety belts before the take-off.
‘Will it be bumpy?’ asked Maddy hopefully.
‘It shouldn’t be,’ said the hostess. ‘The weather report is good, so it should be pretty smooth. But have some barley sugar if you’re doubtful.’
Maddy accepted the barley sugar gratefully.
‘That’ll settle the doughnuts,’ she told Sunny.
She and Sunny were the only passengers who had not flown before, so they compared symptoms.
‘My inside is feeling funny already,’ complained Sunny. ‘So please don’t talk to me about doughnuts and barley sugar…’
‘That’s just imagination,’ Maddy told her.
When the engines started up and the plane vibrated Maddy thought that they were about to take off, and sat forward in her seat to look out of the window, as she did not want to miss a moment of her first flight.
‘We’re off, we’re off!’ she shouted to Sunny as the plane taxied into position. Then suddenly the roar of the engines seemed to stop.
‘Oh, Miss Maddy, Miss Maddy,’ gasped Sunny. ‘It’s gone wrong, it’s gone wrong!’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Morgan Evans, leaning over to her, ‘that was only to warm up the engines. We’ll be off in a minute.’
It was difficult to tell the exact moment when the plane became airborne, for when its engines roared again it taxied a long way before, suddenly, Maddy could see that there was some distance between the plane and the earth.
‘We’re off!’ she shouted again so loudly that the other passengers smiled. Fascinated, she watched the earth fade farther and farther away, until the houses and buildings looked like toys. And then they were up among the cotton-wool clouds that came so close to the plane that Maddy longed to lean out and touch them.
Surprisingly soon, the novelty faded, and when breakfast trays were brought round Maddy was able to devote all her attention to the meal. Nobody else in their party had more than coffee and rolls, and Morgan Evans said warningly, ‘Maddy, do be careful. You’ll probably be expected to eat quite large meals in Paris.’
‘Flying makes me hungry,’ said Maddy as she finished her fruit juice and cereal, and proceeded to attack the deliciously crisp fresh rolls and marmalade that the hostess had just brought round.
It was an amazingly short journey. While breakfast was being served they crossed the Channel, seeing the blue stretch of sea below; and scarcely was breakfast over than they were again instructed to fasten their safety belts, and there, stretched out all silver and grey in the morning mist, was Paris.
Maddy and Sunny tidied their hair frantically, and Sunny powdered her face. Maddy begged to be allowed some powder as her face was all shiny with excitement, but Morgan Evans said sharply, ‘Certainly not, Maddy. We’d never match you up in the studio if you had any make-up on now.’
Bill and Charles were busy getting the camera ready to take shots of the arrival, but Maddy was too thrilled at the thought of being in a foreign country to think of filming.
She walked reverently down the gangway thinking, ‘At last I set foot on foreign soil,’ but was rudely awakened by Morgan Evans saying, ‘Yes, do you mind going back again—Maddy and Sunny. We’ll get lined up on the shots then give you the cue.’
12
CHEZ LEFÈVRE
Maddy found it was the same all the way through the trip. Whenever she had just done something important for the first time she had to go back and do it again for the film camera to take, which made everything seem rather an anticlimax
.
After they had taken shots of Maddy and Sunny descending the gangway, they had to go into the airport building and go through the passport checking and the Customs again.
‘Rien à déclarer?’ shouted a fierce little man with an equally fierce moustache, right in Maddy’s face.
‘Eh, what?’ she spluttered.
‘Rien!’ Morgan Evans replied for her with great energy.
‘Oh, I see,’ said Maddy. ‘Anything to declare.’
It was all so bewildering, because everybody talked so fast and waved their arms about so much. Instead of the orderly queue that there had been for the Customs when they left England, everyone was pushing and jostling, and doing their best to get attention before everyone else.
‘Now, when we get into Paris.’ Morgan Evans told them, ‘Maddy and Sunny and I will go by taxi to the Lefèvres’. Everyone else will go to the hotel, dump their baggage, get some lunch, and then come over to the Lefèvres’. Guy’s got the address. Now don’t for heaven’s sake get lost, or we shall waste the whole afternoon.’
Going into Paris from Orly in the airport bus Maddy was terribly excited to see all the advertisements printed in French.
‘What does that mean? What does that mean?’ she kept clamouring, and her triumph knew no bounds when she recognised a word or a phrase.
When they got off the bus at the air terminal they stood in an untidy group trying to hail a taxi. The traffic swooped round them.
‘All on the wrong side of the road,’ said Maddy.
Morgan Evans found a taxi at last and bundled Maddy and Sunny into it. He gave the Lefèvres’ address to the driver, who protested that he had never heard of it until he saw it written down, and then drove off at a fantastic speed. Maddy and Sunny clung together squealing, as the taxi raced round corners on two wheels and the driver leaned out of the window to shout at other drivers.
It seemed a very long ride to the suburb where the Lefèvres lived and Sunny kept worrying about the way the meter was ticking up.
‘Don’t worry,’ Morgan Evans told her. ‘The firm’s paying.’
