‘We do,’ Aurora said, no doubt to protect Mabel. ‘Eight men from Qu’Appelle have been killed now, and many more wounded.’
Clover stopped herself from answering, streaming lines of ghosts in her mind. At that one hospital in Wandsworth, floors and floors of them, twenty boys in every room who ought to have been killed, who’d come out wrecked and maimed. The lucky ones. ‘How I hate the idea of sacrifice!’ she said, and then, her face burning, said to Mabel, ‘I mean—that it is asked of them, of us. I’m sorry, I have heard from Aurora about your fiancé being wounded.’
Mabel had retreated into herself, and Clover tried to repair it. She put a hand on Mabel’s muslin sleeve, warm with sun. ‘I know what that is like, the waiting. Aside from the war, London is—oh, beautiful. A riot of flowers, and the air! Like here, you know. The water is sweet too.’ She turned to Aurora. ‘I loved it there, and I love Victor’s mother, but I cannot work there. They will never let me be English, I’ll always be a colonial. Variety is vulgar, too, nothing like true vaudeville. In variety you must be a coquette, good at engaging rowdy crowds, and enjoy being ogled. It is much better here.’
In town, Mabel suggested they show Clover the Opera House, one of Qu’Appelle’s sights. Miss Peavey was closing the clinic door as they entered; she knew where the Opera House key was kept, and came along to keep them company.
The little theatre was charming and clean, with a border of advertisements round the proscenium stage—Clover laughed, her spirits rising, and pulled Aurora’s hand to go closer. ‘It’s like the David Theatre, in Camrose, do you remember?’
Their steps made no sound as they ran down the slight rake of the hall and up the side steps to the little stage. ‘Spring Song,’ Aurora said, and they wafted on, imaginary wreaths held high, and circled round and round, arms at each other’s waists, la-la-ing the tweedling melody.
‘We need Bella,’ Clover said, when they paused to make the bridge for Bella to pass under—it was this number they’d been doing, and just here that they’d stopped, when the Muse was flooded and destroyed. ‘Or waterfalls of rain …’
Aurora laughed, her face glowing. ‘We’ve had quite a good time, haven’t we?’
Here is what I have been missing all this time, Clover thought. She embraced Aurora, whispering, ‘You are my sister!’ as she kissed her velvet cheek.
Mabel and Miss Peavey broke into applause, and a man’s voice added, ‘Encore!’
Aurora’s arm tightened a little around Clover. She murmured in her ear, ‘Lewis Ridgeway, the schoolmaster. And Miss Frye, from the school. Come, I will introduce you.’
Miss Frye said excitedly, ‘Oh, Mrs. Mayhew! Is this your sister? How wonderful! We must have you both—do say you will!’
Mr. Ridgeway put a calming hand on Miss Frye’s elbow. ‘This is a lucky meeting. Miss Frye has an idea of getting up a concert for Dominion Day.’
‘You know Mrs. Gower thought of it last year, but then with her son’s tragic end—I thought, let’s us do it for her! Funds to send to our boys overseas, you know, war bonds, that sort of thing. But it would be meaningless without you, Mrs. Mayhew, so if we can persuade or entice you, or beg of you …’
Clover thought Miss Frye was shy, beneath the chatter. Aurora took pity on her, and said that since by lucky chance her sister (bows and introductions all round) was visiting, perhaps they could revive one of their old numbers? Miss Frye bubbled over in ecstasy and began to enumerate the other acts they had in mind: the dear girls’ chorus from the high school, a highly talented child flautist, and an exhibition of embroidery. Perhaps not a bill calculated to sell a superfluity of bonds.
Lewis Ridgeway gave Clover a penetrating look and took her hand. ‘Your sister has told me a little of your trouble—I’ve looked forward to meeting you and Mr. Saborsky.’
Clover nodded, examining his face as he did hers. Sombre, not much humour. Difficult to read. She hoped he had not been making Aurora unhappy.
Overflowing
On a sudden inspiration, Aurora cabled to Bella. Nothing but a brief line on a postcard had come from her since Easter, never more than Very well, happy, don’t be worried, more soon. The last note had been scribbled on the back of a list of tour dates, so she had some idea where Bella must be, and sent the cable to the Pantages theatres in both Edmonton and Calgary.
CONCERT TROOPS JULY I WITH CLOVER AND VICTOR, CAN YOU JOIN?
Many theatres went dark in July, there was a chance. She sent a prepaid answer, hoping that might ensure a reply, but did not mention it to Clover or Mama, for fear Bella would refuse. She did not allow herself to think how badly she wished for Bella’s wildness, her bountiful overflowing energy—and for her to see Avery, and Harriet.
And Bella would help Clover, who seemed sunk into an understandable despair that Aurora could see no way to lift.
Like a Soldier
Clover watched as Uncle Chum and Victor walked down to the garden, turning at the bean-row hedge; back up to turn again at the lilac bushes that sheltered the south porch, over and over. Clover sat on the porch with Harriet sleeping on her knee, screened from view but able to see her beloved as he walked to and fro.
Nearing the lilac bushes she heard Chum say, ‘What amazes me is that you were able to survive. I suppose the thought of your wife and child …’
She did not expect Victor to answer that. But as they reached the turn, she heard his voice: ‘I survived by acting like a soldier.’
That was like opening a letter, one Clover could not quite read. Perhaps he meant that he’d shut off his questioning, curious, independent self. That he had yielded to his training.
Chum said, ‘Yes.’ Nothing more. They turned and walked away.
All men who had been in battle knew things she would never know. She was eavesdropping. But she, waiting without word for weeks, being with Victor when the visions plagued him, knew things that men did not seem to remember.
Harriet stirred and sat up, bewildered and afraid. ‘It is all right, dear heart,’ Clover told her. ‘We are here in Saskatchewan.’
‘Dama?’ Harriet asked; she missed Madame still.
‘Come, let’s find Avery.’
The men were down at the hedge, Chum on the wooden bench and Victor standing, a cigarette in one thin hand. Harriet pulled on Clover’s hand, and they went inside.
Aunt Elsie had invited several people for dinner, wishing to present their guests to the town—and there was the Dominion Day concert to discuss. Mrs. Gower was coming with Lewis Ridgeway and Miss Frye from the high school, and since it was a dinner, the doctor and the Dean might as well be included.
Clover went to talk to Uncle Chum in his study that afternoon, remembering how he had seemed to understand Victor’s silence in the garden.
He put an arm over her shoulders, as if they knew each other well. ‘Don’t fuss, my dear. Victor will get along very well.’ As Clover hesitated, not even knowing how to ask for help, he added, ‘It’s nobody but the doctor, the Dean and Lewis Ridgeway—the Dean was in the Boer War, you know, distinguished himself. I’ve seen a deal of trouble myself, in various ways. If he is having difficulties, I’ll bring him in here for a bit of quiet. We won’t make the poor fellow uncomfortable, I can promise you. Men understand these things better than you’d think.’
But they didn’t know this war, Clover thought. She went away.
To Correct Myself
The doctor and Lewis Ridgeway were the first to arrive for the dinner party, while Aurora was still arranging tiger lilies in the big silver vase for the dining table; Clover and Victor had not yet come downstairs. Chum took Dr. Graham off to his sanctum; Aunt Elsie, smelling the cheese straws burning in the kitchen, pushed Lewis into the dining room, making a pleading face behind his back and saying, ‘Dear Aurora, here is our first guest!’
‘Hello, Mr. Ridgeway—will you mind if I carry on with these flowers?’ Aurora said, tension making her slide into ridiculous formality. Aunt Elsie vanished again.
&
nbsp; Lewis stood against the wood panelling, not fully entering the room. ‘I would like to correct myself,’ he said. ‘I misspoke, about your sister.’
Oh dear, thought Aurora. ‘Lewis, that was so long ago! I promise I have forgotten it.’
‘Well, you have not forgotten,’ he said, looking at her carefully. ‘Or you would not have known which sister I meant.’
Aurora looked at his sharp, unhappy face; at his tired eyes. ‘It is I who ought to apologize,’ she said. ‘I am tigerish in defence of my sisters. I’m sorry I spoke that way.’
‘Your sister’s—Mrs. Saborsky’s—sterling quality is plain to see,’ Lewis said. ‘I made a wrong assumption about Miss Bella.’
He had better stop talking, Aurora thought. And always perceptive, he did.
She took up the last tiger lily, careful of its dusty black pollen. ‘Bella is flirtatious and rascally—that is her beauty, her goodness. More than anyone in the world, she is entirely honest!’ Unlike me, unlike Lewis, she thought.
He remained stiff. ‘I hope we can be friends again.’
Aurora put out a hand, smiling at him. ‘Yes, thank you, let’s. It will be much more comfortable for Aunt Elsie.’
Dinner was surprisingly peaceful, for all the tension beforehand. Mrs. Gower was in a lighter mood these days, interested in the concert and wanting to hear all the plans. She took a fancy to Harriet’s shining walnut curls, and offered to put up Victor and Clover if there wasn’t enough room here. ‘Don’t want your guests to feel cramped,’ she said, impervious to Elsie’s bristling.
The concert was the central topic of conversation, led by Mrs. Gower, with interpolations from Lewis and Aurora in turn. Mrs. Gower had decided that Mrs. Mayhew and her sister should sing several numbers, not just one, ‘Being as you are, in a way, semi-professional,’ she said. Aurora understood that to be a form of compliment, as one might say semi-professional prostitutes, and—not looking at Clover—she promised that they would work up a few songs.
‘Do a monologue.’ Victor raised his rusted voice to carry around the table.
Clover touched his sleeve and gave him a twinkling smile. ‘I will, if you’ll let me,’ she said to Lewis. ‘To keep my hand in. Perhaps Miss Sunderland, the thieving opera singer.’
Aurora burst out laughing and clapped her hands, saying it had to be in; Lewis promised to add her to the bill.
In a kind way that made Aurora like him afresh, Lewis talked to Victor, not troubling him for much of a reply but holding the burden of conversation himself; genuinely interested in what Victor did say. Uncle Chum nodded at Aurora once, when he caught her checking the progress of their talk, to let her know he was keeping tabs as well.
During the length of dinner, as Victor remained calm, Clover seemed to allow her vigilance to relax; a glass of wine brought a little tint of colour to her cheeks. Aurora looked at her—then at Lewis. She found herself smiling with him and erased it from her face. She liked him very much, but she had had three glasses of wine.
Another Gig
The Pantages in Regina was an old hell-hole. With a new Pantages set to open in the fall, no repairs were being carried out. Ropes regularly failed, letting massive Diamond Dye drops fall slithering to the ground. Nando spent hours before every show checking his and Bella’s equipment, with the professional fury he reserved for incompetence. He paced the dressing room nightly threatening to quit this tired outfit and haul Bella back to the movies, where if things were gimcrack and slipshod they’d know how to deal with it, and you’d only use a set once anyhow before you shot it to bits or burned it down or had a locomotive crash into it.
Then they’d go on and do their number to wild applause and find a bouquet in their dressing room from the manager, and he’d calm down again for the night.
‘Are you turning into your dad?’ Bella asked him one evening in mid-rant. ‘Just that I’d like to know.’
He glowered at her. ‘No!’
‘A week more, and we’re off. Do you think we’ll live that long?’
‘I don’t guarantee a thing.’
She threw herself into his arms and locked her mouth passionately on his, saying, ‘Then let us live tonight, my darling!’
He laughed then and stopped fussing, and sat in the armchair to hold her more freely; but they were interrupted by a knock on the dressing-room door.
A black bowler hat came into the room, trembling, and was joined round the edge of the jamb by another, lower down, and then the door burst open—to reveal East and Verrall.
Bella jumped up. ‘Back! I thought you had two more months!’
‘Australia, not a place you’d want to stay for long,’ East said. ‘But I got good boots there—see?’ He stuck out a pudgy leg and waggled a shining black pull-on boot.
‘Welcome home, welcome home,’ Bella said.
Verrall climbed in around East—the dressing rooms none too large in this antiquated house—and handed Bella a pair of fine leather gloves. ‘Doe kangaroo,’ he said. ‘Or I was terribly cheated.’
Nando was watching with a glint in his eye, and enjoyed the double-take when East discovered him. ‘You! Here!’ Verrall said, bemused, and East yelled, ‘Unhand that girl, sir!’
‘Can’t,’ said Nando. ‘We’re wed.’
That called for champagne. East sent one of the placard boys round to find beer at least, if champagne was not available, and they settled in for a good visit. Verrall told them that the tour had been cancelled halfway through, and they’d been lucky to get back. ‘This war puts a crimp in everything,’ he said. ‘And now, what with the conscription here and the U.S. jumping in, it’s enough to curl your liver. So I’m going to join up,’ he said. They had landed in Vancouver on the only steamer they could get, and were making their way to Minneapolis, which was where Verrall planned to enlist. ‘They won’t take East—his feet, you know,’ Verrall said. ‘But they’ll take me, and I think I shall enjoy it, in a quiet way.’
‘He’s all for adventure, you know Verrall,’ East said, looking so miserable that the joke fell flat.
Then they had to be told about Julius, which cast a pall over the party. Bella did not want to dwell on it, so she told how she and Nando had come to be touring together, and the new numbers they were working on now; they went through all the vaude news, and who was where: Nando said that Jimmy Battle was in town, for one, with a solo song-and-dance act, comedy songs and fancy footwork.
‘Finally pried himself loose from that harpy?’ East said. ‘She was a word, if you like.’
The placard boy came back with four bottles of beer, and a cable that had been forwarded for Bella. She opened it and laughed. ‘Boys,’ she announced, ‘you’ll have to pause one more time on your way to Minneapolis—we’ve got another gig.’
The Sweet Gay Life
Aurora watched the concert plan race like a riptide, once word came from Bella that not only she, but the famous comedy duo East & Verrall would donate their time to the cause. East sent a long telegram to Aurora, detailing what they’d need and what they’d bring with them, including a roster of musicians he promised to vouch for, travel only to come off the top of receipts (East was always practical). Band call was arranged for the morning of July 1; he and Verrall would arrive the night before, with Bella et al. A package came on the train with songs and music, new things East and Verrall had picked up on their travels—a George M. Cohan, written for the U.S. entry to the war in April, which East thought should be a company number at the end. ‘Big finale, use all the kiddies, and the soldier-happy old ladies will shell out’ was how he put it. Aurora planned to phrase it more circumspectly to Miss Frye and Mrs. Gower.
Clover and Aurora put their heads together over the bill, and showed it to Victor when he came through the empty dining room. ‘Not Danny Boy,’ he said. ‘Too hammer-nail now.’ So they cut that and replaced it with their true favourite, the limpid Per Valli, Per Boschi. As they worked they sang, in a trickle of sound that was very pleasing to them both.
Miss Frye was staggered when they took the proposed concert bill in to her at the lunch-hour next day. ‘This is! Far too—! East & Verrall!’ She wiped her mouth with a hanky. ‘I saw them in Regina in ’09. Are they particular friends of yours?’ Clover assured her that the stories of East and his thousand young ladies were merely apocryphal, publicity stunts in fact.
‘It’s rude to take over like this,’ Aurora told Lewis, keeping the paper close for a moment. ‘I think it’s the pleasure of performing together again that has taken wing.’
She placed the bill before him.
DOMINION DAY CONCERT
Hello, Hello, Who’s Your Lady Friend? Qu’Appelle High School Girls’ Chorus
On the Banks of the Saskatchewan Mr. Geo. East, High School Girls’ Chorus
Per Valli, Per Boschi Miss Aurora Avery & Miss Clover Avery
A Recitation Mr. Lewis Ridgeway
Bella’s Flying Machine Miss Bella Avery
A Monologue Miss Clover Avery
The Golf Lovers East & Verrall
They Didn’t Believe Me Miss Bella Avery
Over There (a new song by George M. Cohan) East & Verrall, the Company
Lewis cast a cool eye down the sheet, and laughed. ‘A nine-item bill! You’ve turned our concert into polite vaudeville, Mrs. Mayhew.’ His own name caught his eye. ‘A recitation?’
‘I know you are a skilled elocutionist,’ Aurora said, seeing that he was pleased. ‘A valuable addition to the bill, if you could favour us.’
He bowed his head and said he would be honoured. ‘I may choose my material?’
‘Of course, you will choose best.’
‘And you’ll want to work with the girls beforehand?’
‘Yes! They’ll be wet rags by the time we’re finished with them. We’ll start this afternoon, learning the words and music—in a one-off revue like this their number should be more than just an opener.’
The Little Shadows Page 51
