A Winter Love Song

by Rita Bradshaw

  ‘It is. Think what you’ve come through. If that’s not strength, I don’t know what is. You’re amazing, Selina Parker.’

  ‘So are you.’ Selina wiped her eyes and managed a wan smile. ‘To think you hit him with a candlestick. I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Neither can I.’ And that was true. What if she’d brought the candlestick down on his head as she’d intended? Bonnie shuddered. She might be standing here knowing she had killed a man. Not that he didn’t deserve it for what he’d inflicted on Selina for umpteen years, but still . . . ‘He won’t forget today in a hurry, that’s for sure, and to be honest I don’t feel a shred of sympathy for him. Do you?’

  The question was more than just about Llewellyn’s smashed shoulder and Selina knew it. She stared into her friend’s face for several long moments, and as Bonnie stared back she saw something lift from Selina’s countenance. It was like the sun breaking through the clouds. ‘No, I don’t,’ Selina said softly. ‘I’m free, aren’t I? I’m really free . . .’

  PART THREE

  Nelly

  1936

  Chapter Ten

  The small slight woman with thick gold hair cut in a fashionable bob paused in the foyer of the theatre. She was oblivious to the glances that came her way – interested, covert glances from members of the opposite sex, and mostly disapproving ones from their female partners. It might be the age of liberation for women, you could almost hear the bristling matrons thinking, but ‘nice’ girls still didn’t go to the theatre or into bars on their own. This was what came from giving women the vote – it had opened Pandora’s box.

  Nelly made her way to the ticket booth, bought a seat in the front row of the circle and went straight upstairs. Once seated she didn’t look around her; not from embarrassment at being unaccompanied but because her thoughts filled her mind to the exclusion of anything else and they were all about Bonnie.

  Could it be her Bonnie who was appearing here with the travelling troupe? She asked herself this for the umpteenth time since she had passed the theatre the day before and seen the picture of the girl next to the words ‘Bonnie May’. The name had caught her eye first – Bonnie was unusual – and then the picture on the poster. The artist’s sketch wasn’t particularly good but it had been enough like John’s daughter to rouse her interest.

  Nelly bit down on her bottom lip, a mixture of excitement and apprehension causing her stomach to flutter. If this girl was Bonnie, and of course she might not be, should she try and make herself known to her? After all, she and Bonnie hadn’t been on good terms when she had left the fair. Well, no, that wasn’t quite fair. They had been speaking but there had been a coldness between them for which she blamed herself entirely. She knew she hadn’t been the same when she had discovered that John always intended to take Bonnie and leave the fair for a new life. Leave her. Looking back, she had realized that Bonnie had never needed her more than in those first days after her father had gone missing, and she’d let the child down badly. It was her deepest regret. And then of course there had been Franco. She must have gone mad for a while back then.

  Nelly moved restlessly in her seat as the memory of the one night she’d spent with Bonnie’s step-grandfather intruded. She had been so ashamed, so desperate when she had left the fair but that was still no excuse for going without saying goodbye to Bonnie. Of course she couldn’t have explained the circumstances, and at the time that had seemed sufficient excuse for stealing away like a thief in the night. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  And even if this Bonnie May was John’s daughter, would the girl want to acknowledge her? She would be fully in her rights to pretend she didn’t remember a woman from her past who had turned her back on her when the chips were down.

  No, she hadn’t exactly turned her back on the child, Nelly told herself wretchedly, before admitting in the same breath – well, as good as. Yes, as good as. She had known what Margarita was like and she should have protected Bonnie from her grandmother. She had often wished she could go back to the fair and see Bonnie, but of course that had been out of the question.

  Self-recriminations continued until the lights went down and the band in the orchestra pit struck up a fanfare to introduce the compere, a dapper little man in top hat and tails. The variety show was typical of its type but Nelly couldn’t have told anyone afterwards what she had watched. Her whole being was waiting for the girl who was due to sing before the star of the show, a cockney comedian.

  Nelly stayed in her seat during the interval, pretending to read her programme over and over again so she didn’t have to make conversation with anyone, and then the lights dimmed once more and the second half of the show began. Her heart was pounding and she felt physically sick as the act before Bonnie May left the stage, and then the compere was saying, ‘And now a real treat, ladies and gentlemen. This little lady is making quite a name for herself, in the best possible way, of course.’ He waited for the laughter to subside and Nelly wondered what everyone would say if she stood up and shouted for him to get on with it. He waffled on a bit more and then announced, with ringing splendour, ‘And here she is, so please give your best Manchester welcome to the singing nightingale, Bonnie May.’

  Nelly leaned forward in her seat as the raven-haired girl in a simple white full-length gown walked onto the stage. As she gazed down at the beautiful face with the huge eyes she knew were violet-blue, her heart somersaulted and tried to jump out of her chest. It was her, it was John’s daughter. What should she do?

  ‘There’s a lady outside says she knows you, Bonnie.’

  Bonnie glanced up as Stuart, the compere, popped his head round the dressing-room door after knocking. The dressing room was squalid to say the least, and in the last two and a half years Bonnie had discovered that the modest but adequate accommodation in the working men’s clubs was often superior to the theatres. The digs they were all put up in could vary too, and the present one in Manchester was ‘cabbage and cat’s pee’ as Mabel, the conjurer’s assistant and wife, described it. Bonnie had often thought that Mabel and Betty were twin spirits.

  ‘A lady?’ She was sure she didn’t know anyone in Manchester. Since her debut that first Christmas she had never had to return to bar work, but she did have to travel far afield on occasion, as was the case with the present tour of theatres in York, Leeds, Manchester and Sheffield. She much preferred to stay in London; she could sleep in her own bed and go out with Betty and Selina when she had any free time. Selina had really come out of her shell in the last couple of years or so, throwing off the school-marm persona that she wore in the day and partying with Betty most nights. Bonnie didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, but she was so busy she didn’t have time to brood about it, although Selina’s frantic nightlife worried her.

  Besides the bread-and-butter engagements at working men’s clubs, Bonnie also regularly performed in carabets and private and public dances, as well as singing at firms’ dinners and anything from twenty-first birthdays to weddings. Enoch had impressed on her that she had to work the circuit and get her name well established, and she followed his advice to the letter. She trusted him, and had become good friends with him and his wife, a calm, sweet woman who was the perfect foil to her dynamic, restless husband. The pair had never been blessed with children, and had taken Bonnie under their wing.

  When it was possible, Bonnie had got into the habit of having Sunday lunch with Enoch and Gladys. Gladys always cooked an enormous roast and her Yorkshire pudding was second to none. Once the meal was over and she had helped with the dishes, Bonnie would wander down the little garden and find Enoch in his shed. The first time she’d entered his holy of holies she’d been amazed. A glass-blower by day and entertainments secretary by night, she wouldn’t have expected Enoch to have time for hobbies but his shed proved otherwise. Apart from being a self-taught carpenter and making fine pieces of furniture for friends and family, Enoch was a dab hand at mending shoes for all and sundry on his three-footed iron shoe last.
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br />   Bonnie had never seen one before and had been fascinated the first time she’d watched him at work, cutting the leather and hammering away on one of Gladys’s shoes, holding the nails in his mouth and working the edges of the leather with black heelball, a stiff wax that gave a professional-looking finish. As Enoch worked, he chatted about show business, regaling her with stories of some of the personalities he’d encountered, explaining the many pitfalls that were out there, telling her how things were done and – just as importantly – not done, and providing a huge wealth of information that was invaluable to someone like her, someone just starting out and who was as green as the hills.

  She thought of Enoch now. ‘“I tell you one thing,”’ he had warned her several times during their Sunday afternoon chinwags, ‘“and that’s if you make it – and I’d bet my right arm you will go to the very top of the tree – you’ll find yourself with friends you never knew you had. They’ll be coming out of the woodwork, gal, I can guarantee it. And when that starts to happen make sure you don’t get taken in. Remember that, if you forget everything else I tell you.’

  Was this lady who was waiting for her one of Enoch’s ‘woodwork’ friends? Bonnie glanced round the dressing room she shared with another of the acts, identical twins called Milly and Molly who danced rather better than they sang. They always had to double up in the theatres – sometimes it was three acts to a dressing room. Only Bart, the star, could command his own room. Everyone was presently waiting for Bart to finish so they could join him on stage and take a collective bow before going off to their respective lodgings, or – in the case of Bart who was a heavy drinker along with one or two of the other male performers – to the nearest bar.

  Aware that Stuart was waiting for her answer, Bonnie found her mind racing. Should she ask this person, whoever she was, to come into the dressing room so she could talk to her with other people present, or would it be better to see her outside in the corridor? She didn’t know why but she felt strange about this. She’d had other folk ask to meet her – it happened to all the artistes quite often – but somehow this felt different. And why ask to see her before the final curtain had come down? After all, Bart was the draw. He had regularly been featured on the radio and was very popular with the audiences.

  The decision was taken out of her hands in the next moment. A burst of cheering and clapping filtered through from the main theatre, indicating that Bart was drawing to a close, and immediately Stuart said, ‘That’s it, ladies. On stage, please.’

  As they filed out of the room after the compere, Bonnie saw a figure standing at the far end of the corridor with one of the two doormen. She paused, intending to call that she would be returning in a few moments if the lady wanted to wait, but the words died in her throat. She recognized Nelly instantly. As Milly and Molly followed Stuart to the door leading to the back of the stage, Bonnie froze.

  ‘Nelly?’ The words were a whisper at first, and then more strongly she said, ‘Nelly? Is that really you?’

  They covered the distance between them in a moment, and as Nelly took Bonnie’s outstretched hands, she was half-crying, half-laughing as she said, ‘I didn’t know if you would want to see me.’

  ‘Not want to see you? Of course I want to see you. Oh, Nelly, I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Bonnie, this is all very touching but your friend will have to wait.’ Stuart had come up behind her and now took her arm. ‘Come on, the others are waiting.’

  ‘Stay here.’ Bonnie was terrified Nelly would disappear again. ‘You will, won’t you? I won’t be long.’ And to the doorman she added, ‘This lady is an old friend and she can wait in my dressing room. You don’t need to stay.’

  The next instant Stuart had whisked her away to join the others waiting in the wings, before he went on stage. The audience were still clapping and cheering a smiling Bart. As Bonnie listened to Stuart reeling off his slick spiel before the curtain went up and they all moved forward to line up with Bart, nothing registered. Nelly. Of all people, Nelly. And she hadn’t realized until the moment she had seen Nelly’s face how much it meant to see her again. Nelly had searched her out. As this fact dawned on her, she felt euphoric. Nelly had cared enough to do that.

  She fairly flew back to the dressing room, ridiculously worried that Nelly might have gone when she opened the door but of course she hadn’t. This time they hugged, and when they drew apart as the twins came back they were both a little tearful.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ Bonnie said again, a catch in her voice. ‘I never expected to see you again.’

  ‘And I couldn’t believe the famous Bonnie May on the poster outside was my Bonnie,’ said Nelly, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘When did you leave the fair? Did your grandmother leave too?’

  Although Milly and Molly were changing, Bonnie knew their ears were flapping. ‘Look, let me get out of my dress into my ordinary things and we’ll go somewhere for a cup of coffee,’ Bonnie said quickly. ‘We can catch up then.’

  Nelly took the hint. Once Bonnie had changed and removed her stage make-up, she told the twins to let their landlady know she would be late back to the lodgings and the two of them left the theatre by the stage door. The August night was muggy without a breath of wind, and as they stepped into the street, Nelly said, ‘Why don’t you come home with me for a bit? We could have a pot of tea and a slice of cake and take our time having a chat. I only live a couple of streets away, it’s not far. And . . .’ She hesitated. ‘It will be more private. I – I need to explain why I left the fair so suddenly.’

  ‘You don’t need to.’ Bonnie felt embarrassed. There had been a note in Nelly’s voice she couldn’t describe to herself but it had made her uncomfortable.

  ‘Yes, I do.’ Nelly slipped her arm through Bonnie’s as they began to walk, and changed the subject by saying, ‘Oh my goodness, you are all grown up and taller than me now. Whenever I thought of you I pictured you as a little girl, not as an elegant young lady. When did you begin to sing professionally?’

  It was a moment before Bonnie answered. ‘About two and a half years ago.’ When Nelly had taken her arm she had noticed a wedding ring on the third finger of her left hand. So Nelly was married now, but then why wouldn’t she be? She was a beautiful woman, inside and out. Of course someone would have snatched her up. Carefully, so that Nelly didn’t think she minded, she said, ‘I see you’re married? Are you sure your husband won’t object to you bringing a stranger home unannounced?’

  ‘What?’ Nelly faltered and then regained her pace.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Bonnie wasn’t quite sure what she was apologizing for but Nelly seemed flustered. ‘I couldn’t help but see your wedding ring.’

  ‘Oh, oh, I see.’ After a split second of hestitation, Nelly continued. ‘That’s part of what I want to talk to you about but we’re nearly there now.’

  Nelly did think she minded about her being married. Bonnie deliberated whether to say more but decided against it. Nelly had always known that she would have liked her da to marry her, just as she had always known that Nelly was in love with him. With the benefit of hindsight she’d often thought that her da’s rejection of Nelly had been the cause of her succumbing to Franco’s advances that night when she’d found them together. That and losing her little dog. Franco would certainly have made the most of a momentary weakness on Nelly’s part. Bonnie’s lip curled. In the last years since becoming a singer she’d come across other men like Franco, predatory opportunists, and she had nothing but contempt for them.

  The street they now turned into was pleasant, certainly more pleasant than the one in which her lodgings were situated. There were large cherry trees between the lamp posts either side of it for one thing, and it was wider, with good pavements. The terraced houses were substantial with a well-kept air, and a few yards of front garden divided from the pavement with waist-high railings.

  Nelly stopped in front of a house with window boxes under the ground-floor windows and a blue front
door, opening the little gate that was painted the same colour. Some of the front gardens had been paved and others had bushes or a patch of lawn, but this one was crammed with brightly coloured flowers, the scent of which hung in the warm night air.

  They had walked in silence for the last minute or two since Bonnie had mentioned the wedding ring. Now Nelly’s voice was warm as she said, ‘Welcome to my little home, Bonnie. It’s not a mansion but it’s mine and I love it,’ and so saying she opened the front door, calling as she did so, ‘Hello, I’m back.’

  Instead of the husband Bonnie expected to see, a young girl of maybe fourteen or fifteen appeared from the front room, smiling widely. ‘Did you have a nice time, Mrs Harper?’ she asked with an interested glance at Bonnie which Nelly ignored.

  ‘Lovely, thank you, Cecilia.’ Nelly got out her purse and gave the girl some coins as she said, ‘Thank you for holding the fort. Tell your mother I’ll see her tomorrow for the church jumble sale.’

  ‘Righto, Mrs Harper, and thank you but you didn’t need to give me any money, not after getting them chocolates and magazines,’ the girl said, deftly pocketing the coins nevertheless, and closing the front door behind her as she left.

  Feeling more bewildered by the moment, Bonnie didn’t object when Nelly turned to her, saying, ‘There’s someone I want you to meet before we talk. It will be easier that way. Do you mind following me upstairs?’

  The stairs led up from the side of the hall, and like the hall they were fully carpeted. Nelly led the way, and as she reached the first landing, she said, ‘There are two bedrooms and a bathroom on this floor,’ before continuing to the second floor of the house. ‘These used to be two attic rooms but I had them converted into a bedroom and another bathroom before I moved in,’ she added, quietly opening the first door and beckoning Bonnie in.

  Bonnie stopped just inside the room, gazing about her in wonder, but it wasn’t the tasteful decor or largeness of the bedroom that caused her mouth to open slightly, nor the shelves crammed with books and toys. It was the young child curled up fast asleep in the single bed who looked to be about seven years old. He had a mass of short curly hair falling across his brow, brown curls that glinted golden in the light of the bedside lamp positioned on a small cupboard, and his lips were a full rosebud shape, like Nelly’s.