A True Love of Mine

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘Good, good,’ said Percy. ‘How about you, Pete and Nancy?’ Percy, in fact, had already mentioned his plans to Pete, who might be called his second-in-command, and he already knew that he and his wife were in full agreement. ‘You think we would be making the right move, do you? It’s a big step, but I’m hoping it’s the right one for us.’

  ‘Yes, we’re both of us right behind you, Percy,’ said Nancy.

  Peter and Nancy Pritchard were a childless couple, both in their early forties. Their home was in Bradford and they had been with Percy almost since the Pierrot show had begun. They were both good all-rounders, the sort of performers who were an asset to a group, being able to dance, sing and act, in addition to which Pete was the comedian and Nancy had her act with the performing dogs. Pete was also the ‘bottler’, collecting the money at each performance and exchanging wisecracks with the crowd in his inimitable manner. It was well know that they had private means, or were ‘not wi’ out a bit o’ brass’, as Yorkshire folk might say. They owned a detached house in Baildon. Pete did not seek employment during the winter, but used his leisure time to help out with amateur dramatic performances, and to write humorous articles, some of which were published by newspapers and magazines.

  The only other member of the troupe was Frank Morrison, who was also a man of several talents, the chief of which was as a musician. He played both the banjo and the concertina and could sing quite passably.

  ‘And how do you feel about this idea, Frank?’ Percy asked him now. ‘Or perhaps I should say, how will your wife feel about it?’

  ‘Oh, she’ll get used to it no doubt,’ said Frank, grinning. ‘She hasn’t much choice, has she, if I say it’s what I intend to do? And I’m right behind you an’ all, Percy. The wife’s got her own little business anyroad, so there’ll be no need for her to complain about what I’m doing.’

  Hilda Morrison ran a second-hand clothes shop – a rather exclusive one, though, Frank always said – on the outskirts of York. The rest of the troupe had seen her only occasionally when she paid a rare weekend visit to Scarborough to see her husband. He was not noted for his faithfulness to his wife and was often to be seen about the town with a lady on his arm, a different one each week or fortnight. But Hilda was by no means the downtrodden little wife. She was a striking-looking woman in her mid-forties, Frank being a few years older, and it seemed more than likely that they each went their own way, keeping up their marital status mainly for appearance’s sake.

  ‘Very good. We all seem to be agreed then that this is the way ahead,’ said Percy. ‘I shall keep you all informed about our plans, and I’m hoping we will be able to get enough bookings to keep us busy for the best part of the winter.’

  ‘It’ll involve a lot of travelling, won’t it?’ said Nancy. ‘To-ing and fro-ing across Yorkshire. You’re not thinking of going any further afield, are you, to Lancashire…or to the Midlands or the south of the country?’ Anywhere south of Sheffield, say, which was on the very fringe of the West Riding, was foreign territory to most of them.

  ‘No, not yet at any rate,’ smiled Percy. ‘But who knows what might happen if we find we make a success of it. Aye, it’ll mean a good bit of travelling, but we’ll be on the move on Sunday, won’t we, like the rest of the theatrical folk?’ It was a well-known fact that the trains and railway stations, especially the junctions like Crewe or York were crowded on Sundays with travelling companies moving from one booking to the next.

  ‘Ooh, it all sounds terribly exciting!’ said Susannah, clapping her hands together like a little girl. ‘I can hardly wait!’

  ‘Do you intend us to perform as Pierrots?’ asked Pete. ‘You know, in our Pierrot costumes? Would that be appropriate, do you think, when we’re not at the seaside?’

  Percy scratched his head. ‘Aye, I know what you mean, Pete, and it’s summat I’ve been puzzling about. Happen we could do an opening number dressed in our costumes – and a closing one an’ all, maybe – but wear different clothes for the rest of the acts. And if anyone can think of a suitable name for us in the winter months rather than “Uncle Percy’s Pierrots” I’ll be glad to hear of it. I’ve been wracking me brains but I’ve not come up with anything yet.’

  ‘Very good, boss,’ said Frank, giving a mock salute. ‘We’ll put our thinking caps on.’

  ‘Talking about costumes,’ said Letty, ‘I can’t help thinking that ours are not quite as fresh-looking and crisp as they used to be. Of course, I know we’ve had them a good few years, but they need a lot of keeping up to, washing and ironing and starching them.’

  ‘And every time they are washed some of the life goes out of them, doesn’t it?’ said Nancy. ‘Yes, Letty, I agree with you. Maybe it’s time we were thinking of replacing them. Is that what you have in mind?’

  ‘Hey, steady on! Hold yer horses!’ Percy broke in. ‘We’re not made of money. I think the ones we’ve got will see us through to the end o’ t’ season. And in the meantime happen we can be thinking about new ones. Had you got anywhere in mind, Letty, love? We sent away for the last lot and I know some of ’em don’t fit as well as they might.’

  ‘As a matter of fact I do know of someone,’ said Letty. ‘There’s a little shop near the bottom of Eastborough, quite near to the Market Hall, and I know that the lady who owns it is a really skilled dressmaker. She altered a skirt and jacket for me soon after we arrived. I’m afraid they both wanted letting out a little…’ She laughed, patting at her hips, slightly more rounded now than when Percy had first met her. ‘Miss Montague, she’s called, Louisa Montague. She’s quite an elderly lady now but she’s still making fashionable garments; they’re in show in the window. She has some younger assistants, of course. So I thought perhaps we could give her a try. She’ll be more reasonable, I’m sure, than the big firms.’

  ‘Sounds like a good idea,’ said Percy. ‘And I trust your judgement as always, my dear.’ He noticed that Charlie Wagstaff, who had earlier announced his intention of retiring, had gone rather quiet and pensive-looking. Was he having second thoughts already? wondered Percy. He had always loved being involved in everything the Pierrots did or planned to do.

  ‘Everything all right, Charlie?’ he asked in an aside, as the older man was sitting quite near to him.

  ‘Aye… I’m all right,’ Charlie replied. ‘I’m just sitting here and listening, quietly like. It’ll be strange not to be a part of it all no more, but don’t you worry; I’m doing the right thing. I don’t think I could cope with all that dashing about, Bradford one week, Barnsley the next and all that carry-on. And I know Ada’d tell me it was too much for me. We’ll come and watch you though, me and the missus, when you’re performing in Leeds. We shall insist on t’ best seats, mind.’

  ‘You’ll be the guests of honour, Charlie,’ Percy told him. ‘And we will be holding a benefit performance for you, of course, towards the end of your time here, you can be sure of that.’

  It was the custom amongst seaside entertainers to hold benefit concerts at the end of the holiday season, the proceeds going to the performer who had been named for that particular evening. He – or she – often received gifts from patrons and from delighted members of the audience in addition to the benefit money. It was not something that Percy often did, believing that his artistes received sufficient reward for their efforts, although he sometimes held a benefit performance and gave the proceeds to a worthwhile charity. However, he felt that Charlie was worthy of receiving such an honour. And there were ‘Hear, hears’ from the rest of the caste.

  ‘Well, I never expected that,’ said Charlie, and Percy could see that his kindly brown eyes, a little faded now with age, were starting to fill up with tears. ‘But I’ll not say no to it. Thank you… Thanks very much indeed. I’ll invite the missus to come for it an’ all. She’ll be tickled pink, will my Ada.’

  ‘And how about a real slap-up farewell concert during our last week?’ suggested Henry Morgan. ‘For the local folks, I mean, rather than the visitors, alt
hough we can’t keep ’em away if they want to come. I know the landladies would appreciate it, an’ if it were Friday night, the guests’d be getting ready to go home the next day.’

  ‘Good idea, Father,’ said Percy. ‘Best bibs and tuckers for that an’ all, of course. By that I mean evening dress, and happen a slightly different programme from our usual Pierrot routine. A foretaste of what we’ll be doing when we start our concert party. Now – does anyone have any other matter they’d like to bring up? Any more ideas?’

  ‘Song sheets,’ said Frank. ‘That’s something else that Catlin’s troupe has. Song sheets with the words of all the songs. They sell ’em for a penny or a penny ha’penny. Perhaps we could do that, come next year?’

  ‘Mmm… I don’t see why not,’ said Percy. ‘But if we sold the music as well as the words, that’d be even better,’ he pondered. ‘Anyway, thank you, Frank. Something else for me to look into.’

  ‘I must say that the sandcastle competition was a great success,’ said Susannah. ‘The children all enjoyed it, and we enjoyed watching them as well. Do you intend to have another one, Percy?’

  ‘Yes, in a couple of weeks’ time,’ he replied. ‘I must admit it was very popular and it was grand to see the kiddies’ happy faces, bless ’em.’

  He smiled fondly, remembering particularly the golden-haired little girl and her friend with the fiery red hair who had won the second prize. Those two were on the front row of the audience at many of the performances. Percy found himself looking out for them and missing them if they were not there.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘We’ll win next time. You just see if we don’t,’ said Maddy to Jessie after the prizes had been awarded for the best sandcastle in the competition.

  ‘Aren’t you pleased that we’ve come second?’ asked Jessie. ‘I think we’ve done really well.’

  ‘And we helped as well, didn’t we, Tilly?’ said Tommy. ‘You couldn’t ’ve done it without us, could they, Tilly?’

  Tilly shook her head, clinging tightly to her bar of Fry’s chocolate with the picture of five boys on the wrapper, which was her prize. The prizes that had been handed out were really only tokens, the main object of the competition being the enjoyment in taking part and the honour of winning. The first-prize winners had each been given a slightly larger bar of chocolate, that was the only difference, and all the children who entered were given a lollipop.

  ‘It’s a splendid castle,’ said Faith Barraclough, who had stayed with the children to await the results at the end of the afternoon. ‘You mustn’t be disappointed because you didn’t win first prize, Maddy. And, as you say, there is always another time. You can try again. But it’s been great fun, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it has,’ agreed Maddy. ‘I’m not really all that disappointed. I’d just like us to have come first, that’s all. ’Specially as it was those boys who won. They can dig faster than us and get deeper.’

  The winners were two brothers who had been building quite near to Maddy and Jessie, and the twins, of course, who had insisted on helping. During the snippets of conversation they had had with them they had learnt that the boys were on holiday from Darlington and would be going home the following day.

  ‘Perhaps we could ask your Patrick to come and help us next time,’ suggested Jessie, and Maddy noticed that her friend turned a little pink as she mentioned his name.

  ‘Oh no, I don’t think that’s a good idea at all,’ retorted Maddy. ‘We can manage perfectly well without him. You don’t know what he’s like. If we won he would say it was because of him. I’d never hear the last of it. Anyway, he might be working. He can’t just take time off whenever he feels like it, you know… What about your Samuel, though?’ she added casually, as though she didn’t really care either way. ‘D’you think he might be interested?’ She liked Jessie’s brother and hoped she would see him again before very long.

  ‘He wasn’t interested this time, was he?’ said Jessie. ‘All he thinks about is his fishing and his bloomin’ old fossils. No; I don’t think we want my brother there either, not if we can’t have yours.’ She sounded a trifle peeved and Maddy knew that it was because, secretly, Jessie liked Patrick.

  ‘Why don’t you ask both of them?’ said Mrs Barraclough with a knowing smile. ‘You never know; Patrick might be able to spare the time. I’m sure your grandfather would let him have an hour or two off, wouldn’t he, Maddy? And I feel sure Samuel won’t want to be left out of things. Maybe you would be able to have two teams then?’

  ‘You mean…our family and yours?’ asked Maddy. ‘But that would be four against two…’ And she certainly didn’t want to work just with Patrick.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said Mrs Barraclough. ‘It was only an idea. You could have two teams of three… Provided the boys are allowed to enter,’ she added as an afterthought. ‘They might be considered too old.’

  ‘Let’s go and ask Uncle Percy,’ said Maddy. ‘Quick, there he is; I think he’s ready to go home.’ She set off running across the beach, with Jessie following her, to where Percy and his wife, Letty, had just emerged from the bathing hut where they changed back into their ordinary clothes.

  They looked quite different when they were not in their Pierrot costumes. When Percy took off his pointed hat you could see that he was going bald on top and the rest of his fairish hair was turning grey. He had quite an ordinary face, but one that was able to change in an instant from serious to jovial. When he sang his songs about the sea and fishermen, or love songs to a lady he could look suitably sombre or romantic, but that expression could be replaced, very quickly, by one of jollity and friendliness.

  When he saw the two little girls running towards him and Maddy shouting, ‘Uncle Percy’ – that was what he liked to be called – he smiled broadly at them and his pale blue eyes shone in a friendly welcoming manner.

  ‘Yes, that’s me,’ he grinned. ‘And what can I do for you two young ladies? Maddy, isn’t it? And Jessie?’ He prided himself on learning the names of the children who made up their audience whenever it was possible. ‘You made a lovely sandcastle, the pair of you. A pity you were just pipped at the post, but better luck next time, eh? Although it’s not the winning that’s important, is it? It’s the taking part.’

  ‘That’s what my mother says,’ said Jessie, feeling more bold about speaking to him when she had her confident friend, Maddy, with her. ‘And we’re staying for a few more weeks, so we can have another try next time, can’t we? Maddy lives here though, in Scarborough, don’t you, Maddy?’

  Percy already knew that. He had made enquiries and discovered that the little golden-haired girl was the granddaughter of Isaac Moon, the undertaker. He recalled that many years ago when one of their troupe had died suddenly – it was in the days of the minstrels, of course – Isaac Moon had organised the funeral for them. It was Percy’s father, Henry, though, who had had most contact with them; but Percy remembered meeting William, the son, and his wife, Clara, when they had not been married very long. A nice family.

  ‘Yes, I know your grandfather, Maddy,’ said Percy, ‘and your father and mother. I met them a long time ago before you were born. Now…what was it you wanted to ask me?’

  ‘When you have the next sandcastle competition…’ Maddy began. Then she hesitated a moment. ‘You are going to have another one, aren’t you?’

  ‘Oh yes, most certainly we are. In a couple of weeks’ time, I hope.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right then. Well, we were wondering, me and Jessie, if our brothers could take part in it as well. Or are they too old?’

  ‘How old are they?’ smiled Percy.

  ‘Fourteen.’ It was Jessie who replied. ‘Both of them. My brother and Maddy’s, they’re both fourteen. My brother, Samuel, still goes to school. We could manage without them,’ she added, ‘couldn’t we, Maddy? But we thought it might be nice if they could be in it as well. We enjoyed it so much…’

  Percy looked at his wife and they both smiled.

&
nbsp; ‘I don’t see any reason why not,’ said Letty. She was a pretty lady with dark curls and kind brown eyes. ‘They could give you a hand, why shouldn’t they? It is supposed to be for children, of course…’ But both she and Percy had seen grown-ups helping in a surreptitious way, doing the more strenuous digging or adding a few final embellishments, although this was taken into consideration in the final judging. But what did it matter? It was meant to be fun for all the family.

  ‘And you two would be the ones in charge, wouldn’t you?’ said Percy, with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

  ‘Yes, of course we would,’ said Maddy, although she was wondering what her brother would have to say about that. ‘So long as they can help us if they want to. Actually, we thought we might have two teams. It’s something we have to sort out,’ she added seriously.

  ‘Yes, I can see that’s a matter of vital importance,’ agreed Percy, nodding in a thoughtful way. Then he grinned. ‘Well, off you go then, the pair of you. We’ll see you soon. And you tell your brothers, the more the merrier.’

  Both Patrick and Samuel showed an initial reluctance to the idea of taking part in a sandcastle competition.

  ‘Kids’ stuff!’ Patrick had remarked scathingly to Maddy; and Jessie reported that Samuel’s reaction had been pretty much the same.

  ‘I am far too busy,’ he had said, ‘to take part in such trivial pursuits.’

  Nevertheless, by the time the day of the contest arrived, two and a half weeks later, both boys had agreed to come along and lend a hand. Isaac had said that of course Patrick could have a few hours off. They were not very busy at that time, summer being the time when folk stayed reasonably healthy. And Samuel decided he was not too busy after all. There had been arguments, albeit friendly ones, about the fair division of the two teams, it being agreed that one team of six would be too many.

  ‘Boys against girls,’ Patrick suggested, but that was soon overruled.