Cecily groaned. ‘You sound so Victorian, Mama.’
‘Nonsense! Once a woman is married, she must devote herself to being a good wife and mother. I mistakenly did not do that.’
‘How brave of you to admit that, Mama. What was it you did wrong?’ Cecily asked, surprised to hear her confess this fault.
‘There were times when I felt as if life was treating me like a piece of rubbish. I encountered endless problems, not least the lack of love from my husband. I have no wish to remember his dismissive attitude towards me. You should do what is right and proper in order to find happiness and prosperity.’
Cecily had constantly asked questions about what sort of a man her father was and why he had left them and tragically drowned, receiving no response. Both girls felt bereft at losing a father of whom they had very little memory. There was no point in harassing her further on this subject. ‘Please don’t assume that because your marriage failed, mine will too. Ewan and I are happy together and will make a success of it. If you made the wrong choice of husband, do tell me why?’
Frowning, Queenie again turned away, avoiding meeting her enquiring gaze. ‘Your father was not an easy man and I was most thankful to see the back of him.’
‘If that is the case, why do I still find you crying for him sometimes, even in your nightmares?’
‘I’m not weeping for him or longing for his return. I’m merely furious at the mess he made of my life, which is why I advise you to ensure yours is better. When I was young, I was entirely naïve and dreamed of a perfect marriage. Nothing worked out quite as I’d hoped. Dean ruined my life and I was left feeling in desperate need of love and care. As a consequence, I am extremely thankful for my success on stage and have no desire to discuss this issue further, with you or anyone.’
Cecily stifled a sigh. Was that because her mother had little patience with other people’s points of view, being obsessed with her own opinions and insisting upon complete control of her life? She suspected Queenie might have acquired the art of adjusting her life story by making up false tales in order to avoid revealing certain heart-rending facts. Cecily found it so frustrating that she refused to confide in them about what went wrong with her marriage, and whether their father had suffered an accident or killed himself.
THREE
JANUARY 1917
CHRISTMAS PASSED in a blur, then as the New Year dawned, Johnny the drummer called round to ask if Queenie was feeling any better. ‘I thought you’d like to know that I’ve now spoken to the director and persuaded him to allow Queenie to carry on working for him,’ he told Cecily.
‘Oh, how very kind of you,’ she said, giving his hand a little shake to thank him. He was a lively young man and a smartly dressed dandy. ‘Mama will be delighted. I’m so grateful you brought her home in your Ford car, as the theatre’s chauffeur was not around at the time. And you thankfully called the doctor. He has assured Mama that it is a sprained ankle, not broken.’
‘Thank goodness for that,’ he said, beaming at her.
‘She’s resting in the parlour. Would you like to see her, so you can tell her this wonderful news?’
‘I would indeed. She’s a lovely talented lady, as are you, so why wouldn’t I be glad to help? I have to say that I was greatly impressed with your performance, managing to see some of it before taking your mother home. I do hope to hear you sing again. You’re not only beautiful but could be the next star.’
Aware that his gaze was sliding over her, his eyebrows twitching as he gave her an admiring wink, she recalled how Johnny Wilcox did have something of a reputation for attracting women. Not that she had any interest in him, her heart enraptured with another young man. Carefully avoiding any response to the compliments he was paying her, Cecily merely chuckled and led him across the hall in a most practical fashion. ‘If Queenie is to be allowed to continue working at the Palace Theatre, I doubt the director would ever make me another offer.’
‘Then put yourself forward for auditions in other theatres or at the Pavilion on the Pier. I’m sure they’d be delighted to welcome you.’
‘I’m not convinced they would, but I will give it some thought. Now do come and see Mama. I’m sure she’ll want to thank you too.’
Her mother’s face had been most gloomy lately, but lit with interest as he entered. ‘Ah, you’ve brought this lovely young man to see me. What a treat.’ When he cheerfully explained how he’d managed to recover her role at the theatre, she clapped her hands with joy, smiling at him in delight. ‘What a wonderful treasure you are, dear boy. I am most grateful for your assistance.’
He grinned. ‘Should I also attempt to gain a role for your lovely and talented daughter? She’s a brilliant performer.’
‘Nonsense, she’s never had a singing lesson in her entire life,’ Queenie retorted.
‘I was provided with lessons at school, Mama, and joined the choir. You are unaware of that as you were commonly away on tour.’
‘There you are then,’ Johnny said. ‘This girl does have talent and experience you can be proud of. I’ve suggested to her that she should perform again.’
‘Indeed not! She already has an important job to do while this war is on, one she’s much better at than singing.’
‘Really, how could that be?’ he asked, looking puzzled.
‘Mama could be making a valid point. I work as a tram conductress and it is an important job with so many men no longer around.’ Recalling her mother’s furious attitude over that unexpected performance, Cecily was unsurprised to see her lips tighten and her smile vanish in another surly fit of jealousy. It destroyed any sign in her of kindness or compassion, qualities Cecily firmly believed in. She made a vow to steadfastly avoid such envy herself, viewing it like a plague. Nevertheless, as she only worked part-time, she would love to take part in the occasional evening concert, possibly in some place other than the Palace Theatre.
Merryn entered at that moment, carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. Turning to smile at her sister, Cecily said, ‘Johnny has suggested I apply for an audition at the Pavilion on the Pier. Would you join me, lovey, if I were ever granted a performance?’
Merryn blinked with excitement. ‘Ooh, do you think that might happen?’
Queenie’s face lit with fury. ‘It most certainly will not, Merryn. Not for a moment would I ever allow Cecily to perform in a rival theatre.’
‘Why ever not?’ Merryn asked, looking surprised. ‘She surely has a right to a good career.’
‘She has no right to compete with me. I shall contact the director and make it clear that he must never invite my daughter to take part in a concert, otherwise I will not agree to appear on stage for him ever again.’
Cecily’s hopes instantly died. How controlling her mother was, still viewing herself as a star even though her talent was beginning to fade, and obstinately refusing to allow Cecily the right to fulfil her own dreams. Queenie had taken part in several concerts at the Pavilion in the past. Not much recently as she was busily engaged at the Palace Theatre. Feeling a stir of resentment flicker within her, Cecily warned herself that this was not the moment to enter into a dispute when her mother was still unwell. Dampening this sensation, she gave her a conciliatory smile. ‘Don’t fret, Mama. I doubt it would ever happen. Thank you, Johnny, for this suggestion. I won’t pursue it right now. Maybe one day.’ And giving him and her sister a warning glance, she caringly smiled at Queenie and poured out the tea.
In the weeks following, Cecily received no further invitations to appear on stage. She felt a swell of disappointment that singing for the soldiers at the Palace Theatre had achieved nothing. This was exactly what she’d expected to happen. Oh, but how she longed to perform again. Could it be that she hadn’t performed well enough to impress the director? Although, Queenie could have talked to every stage manager in Plymouth, ensuring they never allowed her daughter to perform, dismissing her as a foolish amateur. Thankfully, Queenie had fully recovered within days and as a consequence of Johnny’s support was s
oon back to her normal routine at the theatre. Cecily and Merryn must now try harder to keep her off the gin.
Urging herself not to fret about the loss of her own dream, Cecily concentrated upon her job. It was not an easy one. Each morning or evening she was required to scrub and clean the tram in her charge, and make sure that her smart jacket, long skirt and peaked hat were also respectable and clean. She spent hours studying the routes, timetable and stops she’d have to deal with each day. Then when the tram set off, she concentrated on collecting fares and giving out the right tickets, carefully noting who’d paid and who hadn’t. Some passengers might try to sneak off without paying their fare, and Cecily would find herself caught up in conflict with them. She was happy to help old ladies, children and injured soldiers get safely on and off the tram – not easy on cold winter days when everywhere was wet and slippy. And she enjoyed many of the places they visited, in particular the Theatre Royal in George Street, trips to Saltash and Devonport, Plymouth Argyle football ground, and most of all Little Ash Tea Gardens, where a brass band would sometimes play once spring came.
Today, being a much-needed day off, she walked along the limestone cliffs of the seafront, then up the slopes on the Hoe to where Francis Drake had played bowls before sailing out to defeat the Spanish Armada. From here she could see a marvellous view of Drake’s Island and Plymouth Sound. Gazing down at the Pier, a part of her recalled Johnny’s suggestion that she should apply to take part in an audition here at the Pavilion. Would it be worth the risk?
Unable to decide, she couldn’t resist walking along to the Pavilion to hear music playing and somebody singing. She quietly slipped in to listen and, looking around, saw the man in charge with a queue of people waiting to audition. She watched folk come and go, noticing the director sitting mainly with his eyes closed, only occasionally glancing up to view the person on stage in order to wave his hand and dismiss them. He looked extremely bored and Cecily doubted he’d be interested in her either. Fearful of offending her mother, which could drive Queenie into another jealous tantrum and more drinking, Cecily quietly slipped out, promising herself to concentrate upon more important issues in her life.
Spring was now upon them, the March weather quite warm and sunny, with fluffy white clouds filling the skies that sometimes delivered the usual showers. At weekends, in order to give themselves some exercise, Cecily and Merryn would walk along to Smeaton’s Tower, past the Citadel and go to the Barbican to enjoy the fish market and stroll along the harbour to Mayflower Steps, from where the Pilgrim Fathers sailed to America. On warmer days, they would take longer walks along the sandy beaches and over the cliffs. They would hear the singing of buzzards and kestrels and enjoy the glow of violets and primroses. On rare occasions, the sight of dolphins playing out at sea would captivate them.
Cecily felt reasonably content with her work on the trams, banishing all disappointment over her inability to sing from her mind. Merryn too was happily doing her bit for the war, being employed part-time at Dingles drapery store on Bedford Street. Neither of them was well paid, yet revelled in this new sense of independence, so much more interesting than sitting endlessly at home for no real purpose. In this respect, the war had proved to be an advantage to women.
This afternoon, being a Saturday, they were attending a suffragist meeting, which offered much satisfaction. Cecily had worked alongside this organisation from before the war, taking part in parades and demonstrations. She’d always felt a sore need to help, as she strongly believed in the rights of women. She’d spent every evening the previous week happily delivering notices to encourage people to come to this meeting.
‘The place is packed,’ Merryn softly remarked, seated beside her on the front row and glancing around. ‘You did an excellent job encouraging so many to come.’
‘Thank goodness there are plenty of women here.’ This had been helped by the fact that Annie Kenney, a most special lady, was attending the meeting. As a working-class factory girl who started to follow the Pankhursts, she was now almost as famous as them and she certainly gave excellent talks, being very down-to-earth. ‘Unfortunately, some working women are unable to attend these suffrage meetings because they have families to feed after they finish work, or else they fear to offend their bosses or family. Irritatingly, the occasional sour-faced father or husband would toss away the notice I delivered!’
‘Men can be very commanding,’ Merryn agreed.
‘I would never allow one to control me,’ Cecily sternly remarked.
‘I can understand that your sense of independence is partly the reason you enjoy working with the suffragist movement to help them seek the vote. Me too, although I am in favour of marriage and willing to be a fairly obedient wife to make my husband happy.’
Cecily chuckled. ‘Hang on to your rights, darling. I have no doubt that we will both achieve the vote one day and find the love of our life.’
‘Exactly.’
Stifling their giggles, they listened to Annie Kenney explain how Lloyd George, who had always been supportive, was now helping ladies achieve their goal, having finally replaced Asquith as Prime Minister last December. ‘We have every reason to believe that a vote will soon be granted, if only to women of a certain class who own property and are over thirty,’ she announced.
‘Why is that?’ Cecily quietly asked her sister, only to find herself hushed.
She firmly disagreed with her mother’s attitude against the working classes, particularly regarding her beloved Ewan. It seemed politicians were equally disapproving. How would she, Merryn, and most other women, ever achieve the right to vote unless they succeeded in improving their status and raised enough money to buy themselves a house? Deep in some secret part of her soul, there lurked the hope that by stimulating the new talent she’d discovered in herself during that one performance on stage, it might happen again one day and earn her an independent income. Shutting down these dreams, she realised Annie Kenney was explaining the reason for this puzzle.
‘The government is wary of the fact that women are in the majority. Men have been in short supply for some years. Many went to work in the colonies before the war in order to find employment, a situation that could grow worse once this war is over, as so many young men have already been killed. Therefore, the number of surplus women will increase.’
‘Is this lack of a vote for all women, whatever their age or income, because the government has no wish to be taken over by us?’ Cecily asked with a wry smile. Others in the audience laughed and cheered at this remark.
‘I’d say that is the reason, yes,’ Annie replied with a cheerful nod. ‘As a young Yorkshire lass wishing to help women get the vote, I packed my little wicker basket, put two pounds safely in my purse – the only money I possessed – and started my journey to London to join the Pankhursts. Fortunately, Lloyd George and Asquith both now agree that the heroism of hard-working women doing men’s jobs during the war has made them reconsider our situation. This bill will make a start on improving our rights. Given time and more effort, we will hopefully succeed in widening its scope.’
As the meeting came to an end, Cecily joined the group of stewards to help collect donations from those women able to contribute. Some carefully ignored this appeal, not being well enough off, but she did manage to gather a fairly large sum.
‘That was a most inspiring meeting,’ she said to Merryn as the two sisters walked home, arm in arm. They went on to talk about how one day they too might be granted the vote, even if they weren’t as fortunate as their mother and able to buy a property. Putting her key in the slot, Cecily was startled when the front door burst open and they found Nan waiting for them in the hall. Leaping forward, she wrapped her arms around Cecily, pulling her close to give her a hug.
‘Goodness, don’t tell me there’s another problem with Mama?’
With an expression of pity she shook her head, then, wiping tears from her eyes, handed her a telegram. ‘Sorry, dear, this has just been delivered to you.’
Cecily stared at the telegram in complete shock, her hands starting to shake as she opened it. Then her knees buckled and she fell to the ground, sobbing in anguish as she read that Ewan had drowned.
FOUR
CECILY FELT numb with grief and horror, so utterly devastated that her mind became completely blocked, leaving her quite unable to think or speak, as if she’d fallen into a dark pit. Merryn held her sister tight in her arms as she sobbed, tears running down her cheeks, sharing her grief. Nan rushed to fetch Queenie, who came within seconds.
‘Oh, my dear girl, I’m so sorry.’
Taking her to bed, Queenie hugged her as if she were a small child. ‘I know how it feels to lose a loved one,’ she said, as her hesitant smile rippled with compassion. ‘My heart goes out to you, my dear. I do hope you will manage to build yourself a new and better life, and find yourself a new man.’
Cecily felt utterly speechless at this tactless remark, unable to imagine planning a future without her darling Ewan. Yet she was deeply moved by her mother’s sympathy and lay in her arms for the entire night, the closest they’d been in years. When Cecily had learned of the death of her father, she’d felt an aching void within, loneliness in her heart and a need to know more. Now she felt far worse, but was pathetically grateful for her mother’s support.
Finding the right words of condolence for Ewan’s family when she went to see them the next morning was heartbreaking. His mother held her tight in her arms as they both wept, then bravely attempted to recall the activities he’d taken pleasure in throughout his life, his ability to swim, fish and sail, even in a stormy sea. Cecily then learned from his father that the ship, upon which Ewan was a part of the crew, had sunk after being hit by a German submarine. The Kaiser continued to flex his military might, determined to challenge Britain’s dominating presence on the seas and destroy their brave young sailors and soldiers.
Girls of the Great War Page 3
