Follow Your Dream

by Patricia Burns

  ‘Excuse me, but I’m here for the dancers’ audition. Who am I supposed to see?’

  The woman took her cigarette out of her mouth. ‘Dancers, love? Tha’s way too early. They won’t be doing dancers till this afternoon.’

  ‘This afternoon?’ Lillian wailed. ‘If I’d of known it was this afternoon, I could of got the first train this morning and not spent all that money at the guest house last night.’

  The woman clucked sympathetically. ‘Your first audition, is it?’

  ‘Second,’ Lillian said proudly. She wasn’t a complete beginner.

  ‘Oh, aye? But your first time here, I take it? You’ll like it here—’

  The woman, whose name turned out to be Elsie, then proceeded to give Lillian the lowdown on everybody working in the place. As she talked, which she seemed to be able to do without stopping, Lillian looked about her. The building was an ornate Victorian one decorated in dark red and cream, with plaster cherubs gambolling amongst forests of plaster foliage all over the walls and ceiling. Fat boxes swelled out from the side walls and the proscenium arch was a riot of pillars and swags and comedy and tragedy masks. It was all very different from the wooden structure at the end of the pier. As Elsie went on about the management’s shortcomings, the safety curtain went up, then the heavy crimson and gold stage curtains parted to reveal the set for the production that was playing that fortnight.

  The producer, a heavy man with a florid face, stood up and called for quiet.

  ‘That there’s Harvey Goddard. Produces the best panto in Yorkshire, he does,’ Elsie informed Lillian.

  The principal boys were called, the footlights came on with startling brightness and an attractive girl with long legs encased in fishnet tights strode onto the stage, announced her name and launched into a spirited rendition of Somewhere Over The Rainbow.

  ‘I’d best get some work done,’ Elsie said to Lillian. ‘If you fancy a nice brew, love, just come and find me over at the stage door.’

  Lillian thanked her profusely. She no longer felt so lonely. She had a friend in the theatre now. She settled down in a plush seat to watch the other hopefuls. As the day wore on, the prince and princess, king and queen, good and bad fairies and comedy parts were chosen. Lillian’s stomach began to rumble. The solid breakfast at the guest house seemed a long time ago now. Girls in their teens and twenties began to arrive in ones and twos and give their names to the producer’s assistant. Lillian jumped up and spoke to one of them.

  ‘Are you here for a dance part?’

  ‘’Sright, love.’

  ‘So am I. I’m Lindy.’

  ‘Maggie.’

  She picked up her duffel bag and gave her name and music to the assistant and then followed Maggie round the maze of dark dusty passageways to the female dressing room. The room was a heaving mass of girls in various states of undress, all busy changing, doing their hair, putting on their make-up and talking, talking, talking nineteen to the dozen. It was easy to see that this was going to be a different game altogether from her last audition. Artie had been desperate for two replacement girls mid-season. Harvey Goddard had his pick of all this lot. Lillian took a deep breath and broke in on the nearest conversation.

  ‘Hello, I’m Lindy. It’s a madhouse, this, isn’t it? You played here before?’

  A willowy girl with very pale skin answered her. ‘Hello, love, I’m Diane. Yes, I was here last year. I was hoping Harvey’d let me in on the nod. He knows I’m OK. But no, I’ve got to go through all this cattle market again.’

  While Lillian grilled Diane for inside information about what Harvey Goddard was looking for, the dancers were called out in lots of six. Some came back looking either tearful or angry and began changing back into their street clothes. Amongst then was Maggie, whom she’d spoken to earlier.

  ‘He gets rid of the ones he really doesn’t like, then there’s a second round to choose who gets the parts,’ Diane explained.

  The familiar sweaty sickness of stage fright gripped Lillian as her batch was called out to wait in the wings. The first two girls in her group didn’t even get halfway through their audition numbers before a bored voice called, ‘Thank you, dear. Next!’ from the darkness beyond the footlights. Supposing that happened to her? Whatever was she going to do? It wasn’t going to happen to her, she told herself. She was going to be chosen. She had to be. She shook out her arms and legs, keeping her muscles supple.

  Diane was called on, and chosen to stay.

  ‘Next!’

  Lillian held her breath as she skipped onto the stage. Miss Hill had told them that this gave the eyes an extra sparkle. She stopped in the centre and smiled winningly at where the bored voice was coming from.

  ‘Lindy-Lou Parker.’ Her voice came out as a stupid squeak.

  The pianist struck up the opening chords of her music. Lillian assumed the starting position and the stage fright miraculously dissolved. Her body obeyed her perfectly as she used the whole width of the big stage, exuding bounce and confidence out across the lights towards the jaded producer. To her delight, she got right through her number without the dreaded Next! being called.

  ‘Right. Well. Where was your last engagement?’ Harvey Goddard asked.

  ‘The end-of-the-pier show at Southend,’ Lillian told him, proud to be able to sound like a pro. This time her voice rang out clear.

  ‘Southend. Hmm. OK, Lindy, we’ll take another look at you.’

  Bubbling with excitement, Lillian rushed offstage to join Diane and the other girls who had got through the first cull.

  ‘Oh, he’ll take you all right. He likes fresh meat, as long as it’s got a bit of talent,’ one of the other dancers said.

  Lillian didn’t know quite whether this was good news or not.

  Soon about twenty of the original fifty dancers were left. In two batches of ten, they had to perform a high-kicking Tiller Girl routine. Lillian was delighted. She could do this. She’d been doing it all summer.

  The dancers gathered on the stage as Harvey’s assistant read out the final list of twelve. Diane’s name was second. One by one, the chosen girls squealed or clapped or merely nodded as they heard their names. Eleven had got parts. The assistant paused a moment, then said, ‘And Lindy-Lou Parker.’

  As those around her groaned with disappointment, Lillian jumped up and down for joy, then rushed up to Diane and hugged her.

  ‘We did it, we did it!’ she cried.

  ‘Yeah, well done, kiddo,’ Diane said. ‘C’mon, get changed before you get cold.’

  Walking on air, Lillian went back to the dressing room. It was only when she was back in her ordinary clothes that she came down to earth. She asked Diane for advice.

  ‘Do you know anywhere I can stay? The landlady at the place I stayed last night said she didn’t do theatricals.’

  Diane sighed. ‘You really are a tyro, aren’t you? You ask the management. They always have a list of theatrical digs.’

  ‘Oh, right, thanks,’ Lillian said. Now that she had a job, she felt ready to tackle anything.

  ‘I tell you what,’ Diane offered, ‘I’ll take you to where I stayed last year. Ma Frazer’s a nice old girl and she likes dancers. She used to be one herself.’

  ‘Oh, would you? Thanks ever so, you’re a real pal,’ Lillian cried, giving Diane another hug. ‘Look, do you mind waiting a bit? There’s something I got to do first.’

  ‘That’s OK. I’ve got to phone my aunty so she can tell my mam I got the job,’ Diane said.

  Lillian went off to find Harvey Goddard. She was still on such a high that she hardly felt nervous at all about what she had to do next. If he wanted her as a dancer, how could he refuse to give her an advance on her wages? She found him sitting in the bar going through a pile of paperwork with a glass of something clear with ice in beside him. He looked at Lillian over the top of his half-glasses.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I…er…’ Now that it came to the point, what she was about to ask did sound rather chee
ky. Gran had always drummed into them that they should neither borrowers nor lenders be. ‘You see, the thing is, Mr Goddard, I haven’t got enough to live on till we’re paid, so I wondered if I could possibly have a sub off my wages. Please. If that’s all right with you. Only—’

  ‘A sub, eh?’

  Harvey Goddard took his glasses off and looked her up and down. Something in the way he did it made Lillian blush and feel uncomfortable. She fidgeted from one leg to the other.

  ‘Yes. You see, I’ve come all the way from Southend and it’s cost me nearly all my savings and I didn’t know the call for dancers was for the afternoon so I had—’

  ‘All right, all right.’ He cut through her nervous gabble. A smile lifted his lips, showing his yellowing teeth. Close to, Lillian could see that his hair, which curled romantically over his collar, was in fact thinning on top. ‘I think I might be able to accommodate that. If you’re willing to accommodate me.’

  Lillian had no idea what he meant. She was just grateful that he appeared to be agreeing.

  ‘Yes, yes, of course.’

  Harvey’s eyes travelled over her again. They lingered on her small breasts, then travelled down to rest on her crotch. Then he stood up and caught hold of her wrist.

  ‘Come on, then,’ he said, and led her out of the bar.

  Mystified, Lillian followed him into the backstage area, till they came to a dressing room with a faded gold star on the door. Harvey took her inside and locked the door behind them. He flung himself down on the easy chair and gestured at her impatiently.

  ‘Come on, then, take them off. I’m not doing the work.’

  ‘What?’ Lillian said.

  ‘Your clothes, sweetie. Take them off. Nice and slowly.’

  ‘But—I don’t understand—No! Take my clothes off? I’m not—you said—’

  Harvey’s face took on a very unpleasant look. This time there was an edge to his voice. ‘We’ve a good old-fashioned saying round here, love. You don’t get owt for nowt. If you want to eat between now and payday, you’d better start stripping.’

  For a long moment, Lillian stared back at him. ‘I—I can’t—’ she whispered.

  ‘Oh, yes you can. Come on. I haven’t got all day.’

  Lillian looked at the door, then back at the producer. She wanted this job, but—take her clothes off? And it swept over her with horrible clarity that this was why the family didn’t want her to leave home. They knew about the Harvey Goddards of this world.

  ‘No. I—I can’t—I don’t—’

  Harvey groaned. ‘You’re a bleeding virgin, aren’t you?’

  Lillian nodded. She knew what a virgin was. It was someone who hadn’t done It. According to gossip at school, It involved a man putting his Thing in you. Just where in you, she had no idea, except that it was between your legs.

  ‘All right—’ Harvey’s voice was rough with something between anger and resignation. ‘I’m not a bleeding monster. Just come here and sit on my lap.’

  Slowly, reluctantly, Lillian went to him and perched on the very end of his knees with her back to him.

  ‘Not like that. Closer. Sit back. Let’s have a feel of that nice tight little arse.’

  With strong hands, he clasped her hips and pulled her towards him. She felt something hard against her backside.

  ‘That’s better. Now move. Like that. Yes—’

  Feeling sick and soiled, she did what he asked, thankful that at least she didn’t have to look at him. His breathing went harsh and ragged, and then he groaned and released her.

  ‘All right. You can stop now.’

  Lillian stood up. Harvey sat spreadeagled in the chair, looking limp and crumpled. He reached inside his pocket for his wallet, extracted a couple of notes and held them out to her.

  ‘Not the best I’ve ever known, to put it mildly. There you are; take that and consider y’self lucky. There’s not many that would let you off lightly like that. I’m too soft by half, I am. Now scarper, and remember, one word about this and you’re out. Understood?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Goddard.’

  Lillian was ready to agree to anything just to get out of that room. She snatched the notes from him, unlocked the door and escaped.

  Chapter Fourteen

  JAMES discussed Lillian’s disappearance with Susan as they drove round to the Parkers’ place in a borrowed car.

  ‘They all seem so angry. Much more angry than upset or worried,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes being worried makes people angry,’ Susan replied.

  James wasn’t so sure.

  ‘If you did something like that, poor Mum would be beside herself. She wouldn’t be going on about what a wicked and ungrateful girl you were; she’d want to know why you’d gone and whether you were safe.’

  ‘I know, but—the Parkers are different from us.’

  ‘You can say that again.’

  ‘Except for Bob, of course.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  Personally, he thought Bob was as bad as any of them, except for Wendy.

  ‘She did say she wanted to go off and get a dancing job somewhere. But she’s only a kid, she’s much too young to be leaving home. I thought I’d managed to persuade her not to,’ he said.

  ‘Ah, well, of course she talks to you,’ Susan said in a knowing tone of voice.

  ‘What d’you mean by that?’

  ‘Wake up, Jamie! She’s got a huge crush on you.’

  ‘What, still? That was before I went on my national service.’

  ‘You’ve only got to see her face when you come into the room.’

  ‘But—’ James refused to believe it. ‘No, you’re wrong there. I’ve always treated her like a little sister. Nothing more.’

  ‘I’m not saying you haven’t, but that’s got nothing to do with it. You know what I think? I think she’s run away because you’re going out with Wendy.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘But they’re sisters—’

  ‘Exactly. Lillian’s jealous.’

  ‘But I never gave her any idea that I might go out with her. I mean, she’s just a kid—’

  ‘She’s sixteen.’

  ‘Well, I think of her as a kid.’

  They arrived at the Parkers’ before they could discuss it any further. There, they found that a letter had arrived from Lillian, apologising for running off and assuring them that she had a job and digs and was quite all right. James ignored Gran and Doug and looked at Lillian’s mum. She was sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her hands, looking weak and pale. With Susan’s suspicions still fresh in his head, James was beginning to feel very guilty. If she was right, then he was at least partially responsible. He sat down by Nettie.

  ‘At least you know she’s safe now, Mrs Parker.’

  ‘Yes, yes—’ Nettie seemed to dismiss this thought. ‘What did she have to do this for? I don’t know how I’m going to manage with her gone.’

  James stared at her, appalled. He hadn’t believed Lillian when she’d said that her family would only miss her as a servant. But maybe she was right after all.

  Wendy appeared, looking stunning as usual and insisting that they went dancing at the Queen’s Hotel. This was more expensive than the Kursaal and meant that no savings would be going into James’s account that week, but he brushed that to one side. What Wendy wanted, Wendy got. She was worth it. He escorted her to the car, leaving his sister to chew over the Lillian situation with Bob and the rest of the Parkers.

  The Queen’s was a big Edwardian place with a grand ballroom.

  ‘I’d like a drink first,’ Wendy said, heading for the bar.

  She perched on a high bar stool, her shapely calves showing beneath her frothy skirts, and sipped the Babycham that James bought for her. He asked her about her latest Carnival court engagement and she chattered on, but her attention was not fully with him. All the time she was speaking, her eyes were ranging over the crowd
in the bar.

  ‘Are you expecting someone?’ James asked.

  ‘What? No—not at all. I’m bored sitting here, let’s go into the ballroom.’

  The average age of the dancers was much older at the Queen’s than it was at the Kursaal. If James hadn’t been there with Wendy, he would have thought it a dead loss. Everyone seemed to be in couples. It certainly wasn’t a place to find new dates.

  ‘Not exactly a bundle of laughs here, is it?’ he remarked to Wendy.

  ‘I think it’s very elegant,’ Wendy said. ‘And there’s room to dance properly.’

  But it wasn’t long before she was asking to go back into the bar. On their third visit, he saw her recognise someone in the crowd and quickly look away. Then she deliberately leaned towards him and laid a possessive hand on his arm, smiling into his eyes.

  ‘I think they’re playing a tango,’ she said. ‘I just love to tango. Come on.’

  She slid gracefully off her bar stool. James put his drink down and followed her.

  As they prowled and flounced their way round the floor, he became aware of a brooding presence just inside the door of the ballroom. He looked over Wendy’s shoulder. There, glaring at them with his arms folded across his chest, was Terry Dempsey.

  ‘Your ex-boyfriend’s here,’ he said.

  ‘Is he? Really? Where?’

  ‘By the—’

  But there was nobody there.

  ‘Well, he was. He’s gone now.’

  ‘Oh, well—’ Wendy’s voice was deliberately offhand ‘—who cares where he is?’

  James had the uneasy feeling he was being used. But it didn’t stop him from asking Wendy for another date at the end of the evening.

  Now that the Parkers had Lillian’s address, James and Susan expected that one of the family would be dispatched to bring her home. But no, it seemed that the general view was that she had made her bed, so now she could lie on it.