That night, Paddy couldn't sleep. He half expected the police to arrive at any moment and haul them all out into the street. He remembered his mother's stories of the evictions in Ireland, of families on the roadside, of ropes tied to the lintels of the house and the whole structure torn down. He tossed restlessly in his bed.
The next morning, Eddie was in the dining room by ten o'clock.
‘I hear you auditioned for Pollard's Lilliputians last year,’ he said.
‘What's it matter to you?’ said Paddy, pretending to busy himself with his porridge.
‘Well, Baby Pollard, he's an old mate of mine. He reckoned you might make a good actor even if you were too old for the Lilliputians.’
‘What are you getting at?’
Eddie stroked his chin thoughtfully and then pulled up a chair.
‘Look, boy. Everyone's got to clear out of here. Mum is going to need some dosh to get her started somewhere new. I reckon you and me both owe her a few bob. Ted Bowman is looking for another player for his troupe. He's already agreed to take me on, and if I put a word in his ear, he'll sign you too. We're heading up to Ballarat tomorrow. You go and see him and tell him I sent you.’
Paddy was too stunned to reply. To have to accept a job from Eddie was sickening and if he won the job, he'd be stuck travelling with Eddie for months. But to be on the open road again, away from the smoke and grime of the city, and with a proper theatre troupe – it was what he'd longed for.
Before the morning was out, Paddy was riding the tram down to the Queen's Theatre. He found Ted Bowman backstage, packing up gear for the tour.
‘Now you know, boy, a touring production needs everyone to pitch in and work. It's not like being in town. I only want lads who are hard workers, willing to turn their hand to anything and everything.’
‘I've worked with a travelling circus. I think I can turn my hand to most tasks, and I'm good with the horses.’
‘But I need players who can turn themselves to most parts too. Eddie told me you can do a fair Irish accent, is that right?’
Paddy laughed. ‘Now, you'd best be believing it! I'm as Irish as a leprechaun!’ he said in his broadest brogue.
‘You can speak like an Australian too, I hope,’ said Ted Bowman.
‘Lord strike me fat! I can speak like a larrikin as good as the next bloke and I'm no gutless wonder, neither. Game as a piss-ant if anyone tries to poke borak,’ said Paddy, pleased with himself that he could mimic Nugget Malloy so well.
Ted Bowman laughed. ‘Well, you won't need to play the larrikin but I do need someone to take the role of the Irish policeman in Lightning Jack. Tom Barrens, who played it for the Melbourne season, won't leave his family behind, so a boy like yourself is just the ticket.’
‘Do I need to audition? Do you want me to recite something?’
Ted looked him up and down appraisingly. ‘No, I don't think that will be necessary. I trust Eddie's recommendation.’
Paddy couldn't believe anyone would trust Eddie for anything but he wasn't about to argue.
‘I'll pay you five shillings a week plus your board. We leave tomorrow to play Bacchus Marsh on Saturday night and then to Ballarat. Then we'll show in Geelong and after that Colac before we take the road all the way to Portland. We'll be on tour for months. Are you prepared to be away from the city for that long?’
‘I'm looking forward to being back on the track.’
‘You organise your tack and be here tomorrow morning at ten a.m. sharp. Eddie has a copy of the script, so ask him to show you your lines. You can read, can't you?’
‘Of course I can,’ said Paddy.
‘And see if you can make sure Eddie is on time. Damned if I'll hold the whole troupe up for his sake.’
Paddy didn't like the sound of having to be Eddie's nursemaid, but he wasn't going to worry about that now. Walking back along Bourke Street, he wanted to shout with happiness. He grinned at every passer-by, not caring that people frowned back, puzzled by his giddy delight.
Paddy was so wrapped up in thoughts of the future that he had almost forgotten about the trouble at home. But when he turned into Atherton Road, he stopped dead in his tracks. Sitting outside Charity House was an old horse and cart, and piled up high on the back were all Bridie's possessions. A crowd of showgirls and all the lodgers were fluttering around the cart, tying pots and pans in place and fussing over Bridie, who sat on a chair that someone had placed on the footpath. She was drinking from a cup of tea that Flash Bill had brought her. Despite the air of carnival, she looked tired and defeated.
Eddie came staggering down the steps with Bridie's clothes dummy in his arms.
‘What are you doing?’ demanded Paddy.
‘Moving Mum,’ said Eddie.
‘But we've fixed everything,’ said Paddy. ‘We've both got jobs. We can pay Rupert Degraves rent and Mum can stay.’
‘I wouldn't give him the time of day, let alone cold hard cash. Anyway, you fool, don't you realise it wasn't about money? There's bad blood, and no amount of money can make up for that. I've found the old gal a room in the city. She won't have to run after this lot,’ he said, gesturing towards all the other actors, ‘and she won't have to walk so far to the theatres.’
Bridie's new lodgings were on the third floor of a dilapidated old building in Exhibition Street. They consisted of a small bedroom and a parlour where she could work. There was no proper kitchen, just a tiny sink and bench in one corner of the parlour. Bridie's pots and pans sat piled up on the floor, strangely out of place.
The furniture at Charity House had belonged to Sir Gilbert, so there were only a few wooden chairs to sit on. When all the other helpers had left, Paddy laid a fire in the small grate and put the kettle on. Eddie looked about the room with irritation.
‘It was the best I could find, at short notice,’ he said, defensively, even though no one had spoken.
‘It's lovely, Eddie,’ said Bridie. ‘But there's not much room for you boys.’
‘You won't have to worry about either of us,’ said Eddie. ‘We're off on tour with Bowman & Lytton first thing tomorrow morning.’
‘Both of you?’ said Bridie. ‘Not Billy as well? Eddie, what have you done?’
‘Don't put that tone in your voice, old woman. I've got the bludger a job, that's what I've done.’ He snatched up his hat and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. A dusting of dirt and plaster drifted down onto the bare floorboards.
‘Mum,’ said Paddy, putting his hand gently on the old woman's arm. ‘It's what I want. It's a chance to act. Why do you disapprove?’
Bridie lifted a hat box off a chair beside the window and sat down. ‘Come and sit here, beside me.’
Paddy pulled up an upturned crate and sat with her in the fading light.
‘The first time I saw you, with that rascal Nugget, I saw you had a good heart. You reminded me of both my small brothers and of Ireland. One day, you'll find that your homeland stays in your heart like a long-lost love.’
Paddy put his head in his hands, trying to listen patiently. ‘sorry, Mum, but I don't see what this has to do with me being an actor.’
‘Ireland is a land of saints and scholars. You're no saint, Billy. You have a quick mind and you have courage, but without learning you won't be able to make your mark.’
‘Actors can make their mark.’
‘But it's such a hard life. It wasn't a life I wished for Eddie and I don't wish it for you, Billy. I've seen how this old world works. There's no steadiness in the theatre. Sure there's the likes of Williamson and Tait and Coppin – old George Coppin, there's a good and great man for you. But the law, that's where a man can truly make his mark.’
‘Mum, I've read you Mr Brodzky's columns. It was solicitors and their like that broke this country. I couldn't be a man of the church for my mam and I can't be the man you want me to be either. But I think, perhaps, if I could get the chance, I could be a good actor.’
‘You're a worry, Billy Smith,�
� she said, shaking her head.
The shadows had fallen quickly and it was almost dark in the small room. Paddy lit a paraffin lamp.
‘You wait, Mum. One day, I'll be starring at the Princess Theatre and you'll be sitting in the front row and you'll shake your head in wonder and think to yourself, “Why, Billy has become a great man after all!”’
For the first time since Sir Gilbert had died, Bridie smiled.
28
Perfection
They took the road west out of Melbourne, and the open fields either side of the road were wide and golden. Paddy felt his heart lighten as soon as the city receded. For the first time in months, he felt he could breathe again.
The sets for the play were loaded into two wagons, and another carried the actors' trunks and all the equipment they'd need when they had to camp. The last wagon was the one Ted Bowman called ‘the omnibus’. Most of the cast travelled in the omnibus, including the three women – Mrs Lorimer Lytton, Mrs Clara Bowman and her daughter Kate. Paddy sat up front with the driver so that he could jump down and tend the horses when needed.
Mr Bowman had booked a two-week season of the show in Ballarat, and from there the troupe would head south to Geelong. Paddy spread the script open on his lap as the wagon rolled west. When he finally came to the role that he was to play, everything suddenly made sense. The Irish policeman he was to play was a buffoon. Apart from shouting ‘stop, in the name of the Queen!’ his single biggest moment on stage would be when he tried to kiss the heroine, who would then be rescued by Eddie playing Lightning Jack. Paddy couldn't help but groan when he read the lines. Now he knew why Eddie had said it was a perfect role for him. Night after night, Eddie would punch Paddy in the face and save the beautiful heroine. Paddy looked at the stretch of road ahead. It was going to be a very long tour.
They arrived at Bacchus Marsh in the early afternoon and Paddy leapt down to unharness the horses. When he'd finished, Ted Bowman called him over.
‘You need to have a go at rehearsing your part. We'll do a complete run through as soon as we've organised the gear and got the community hall set up, but in the meantime Eddie and Kate can put you through your paces.’
Paddy met the other two actors in the yard behind the community hall. Kate was the Bowmans' daughter, and although she was only just turned sixteen, she looked older. She wore her thick brown hair piled up under her hat, like a grown-up woman. Her skin was silky white and there was a quiet grace in the way she moved that Paddy found strangely fascinating. It was hard not to stare at her. He felt weak at the knees at the thought of trying to kiss her. He put his hands in his pockets and tried to look relaxed and professional.
‘All right, now,’ said Eddie. ‘You've memorised your lines, then?’
‘There wasn't a lot to memorise,’ said Paddy, grinning at Kate.
Eddie frowned.
‘Pay attention, boy. The thing you have to understand is that what you say isn't nearly as important as how you move about the stage. That's what will reveal your character. For instance, in my role as a misunderstood and wronged gentleman fallen upon difficult times, I move like the noble creature that I am.’ Eddie strode across the dusty yard to emphasise his point, then spun on his heel and walked back towards them, with a confident, forceful step and clear gaze.
‘You, on the other hand, must move like the grovelling ignoramus that you are.’
When Paddy bristled, Eddie smiled. ‘Come, come my boy, I meant as the character you are portraying, the ignominious and corrupt police officer, Constable O'Grady. Now, Kate is already on stage and you enter from stage left – over there. Let me illustrate.’
Eddie stopped in front of Kate. ‘Now you have to show your arrogance by hooking your thumbs through your belt and perhaps tilting your head thus, sizing up the vulnerable girl you are about to molest. What are your lines?’
Paddy took a deep breath and recited. ‘Look here, I know that Lightning Jack is hiding near here and we both knows you knows his whereabouts. I mean to nab him and it's straight to the gallows for the wretch. There's a reward that would make my life an easy one. But a pretty miss like yourself could easily turn a man's head from his duty. Why, if you could see your way to be loving, you know, a man could even turn a blind eye so your friend could clear off. But there'd have to be something in it for me, eh?’
‘Said with no feeling, nor any credibility,’ said Eddie disparagingly. ‘Come here, stand close to the girl and try again.’ Paddy stepped in close to Kate. He could feel the warmth from her body and smell the clean scent of soap and linen. He'd never stood this close to a girl before, except Violet, who definitely didn't count. It made him feel hot all over. He looked into her dark blue eyes, leant close to her and spoke his lines again.
‘How dare you!’ she said, looking at him with outrage. Paddy knew she was only acting, but he wanted to apologise immediately.
‘No, no, no, boy!’ shouted Eddie. ‘You have to say it as if you believe it! You are a lecherous scoundrel, not her paramour.’
Eddie stood in front of Kate and said Paddy's lines with a convincing leer but when she rejected him, he went on to the next line. ‘C'mon, give us a kiss then.’ He grabbed her by the wrist and slipped his arm around her waist as if he was really about to kiss her, but then quickly stepped away.
‘Now you do it.’
Paddy repeated his lines and then closed his hand around Kate's slim wrist, drawing her close to him. In that moment, Eddie's hand fell heavily on his shoulder and spun him around and his fist flew straight at Paddy's face. But he didn't make firm contact with Paddy's nose. It was the shove to the shoulder that unbalanced Paddy and sent him sprawling in the dirt.
‘That was fine, boy,’ said Eddie, standing over him with his hands on his hips, looking pleased. ‘Let's run through it again.’
Paddy got to his feet and dusted his clothes off.
‘What about the other scenes and my other lines?’ asked Paddy, hoping they could move away from this scene that involved so much dust and humiliation.
‘We'll come to them,’ said Eddie. ‘this is the scene that really needs attention, don't you agree, Kate?’
‘I'm sorry, Billy, he is right.’
Paddy sighed and got ready to run through the scene again. Much as he hated to admit it, Eddie was very good at what he did. When he was in character, he was no longer the drunken oaf that Paddy loathed. He handled the fight scene deftly with just enough roughness to make Paddy fall to the ground but he never hit so hard as to leave a mark. For his part, Paddy started to understand how to fall just as the blow came. By the end of half an hour, he had managed to develop a proper leer when he leant towards Kate, but he couldn't like the scene.
Next they moved on to another scene in which he was supposed to chase Eddie across the stage and slip, landing flat on his back. By the end of the afternoon Paddy was sore and dirty, but he knew he would make it through the evening performance.
‘You did very well,’ said Kate as she dusted off the back of his jacket for him.
Paddy smiled and turned around to face her.
‘I hope I wasn't too rough when I grabbed you,’ he said shyly.
‘Of course you weren't. You were perfect,’ she said. ‘I know you'd never hurt me on purpose.’
‘Never,’ said Paddy.
29
Lightning Jack
That night, all the local farmers came into town to watch the show. The community hall was jammed with men, women and children.
Paddy felt a stab of stage fright as he watched the audience take their seats. He was glad to be in costume. The dark wool was prickly and hot, but at least he looked like a policeman. Mr Lytton had stuffed some extra wadding into the front of the trousers to make Paddy look fatter and Mrs Lytton aged him several decades with deft make-up.
The fight scene went smoothly, though Paddy felt his nose tingle and his eyes stream when Eddie's fist made contact with his face. As he fell, he heard the audience cheer and he felt a c
rushing sense of humiliation. Even though he knew it was important to be able to play a villain, he longed to be the hero and hear the audience cheer for him.
It wasn't until the curtain calls at the end of the show, when he and the other bit-part actors bowed deeply, that Paddy felt a swell of pleasure. The applause fell around him like warm rain and he drank it in. Then Eddie and Kate Bowman stepped forward to take a bow and the audience cheered even more.
In Ballarat, Ted Bowman had booked the hall of the Mechanics Institute. Eddie stormed up and down on stage during rehearsals complaining that they should be at Her Majesty's, while Ted argued it was impossible and that the hall was a far better venue in which to stage Lightning Jack than any other available. But no amount of argument would settle Eddie's bad temper. Paddy and Clarence Lytton, Mr Lytton's fifteen-year-old son, rolled their eyes at each other. They snuck into the Institute's billiard room for a game while Eddie and Ted Bowman shouted at each other.
Clancy played three different characters in Lightning Jack and shared a room with Paddy in the old hotel that the troupe was staying in.
‘By God, I'm sick of these country tours. One day, I'll go to London, and get a proper job,’ Clancy said as they lay in bed after the opening night's performance, listening to the noise in the pub downstairs.
‘Why would you want to be doing that?’ asked Paddy. ‘Won't you take over the company one day?’
‘Not jolly likely,’ snorted Clancy. ‘I've got plans. I want to be rich. Do you have any idea how often my old man has written a play that's flopped and we've lost everything again? No, sir, the theatre is too much like gambling for me.’
Paddy laughed. ‘But that's exactly what I like about it! You go out not knowing if the audience will love you or hate you, and then every night you take that risk all over again.’
Clancy groaned. ‘You sound like Eddie. That's the sort of piffle he goes on with.’
Paddy sat up and glared at Clancy. ‘I'm nothing like Eddie. He's a drunken sot.’
Becoming Billy Dare Page 16
