“God Almighty – !” Keegan Kenway began furiously.
Then, as if he remembered who he was speaking to, he lapsed into silence.
After a long pause Isla murmured,
“The only thing we can do, Papa, is for me to come with you tonight and – take Letty Liston’s place. You have described to me so often what happens and I have also read about it in the newspapers – so I am certain that it will not be too difficult.”
He did not answer and after a moment she added coaxingly,
“You said when you taught me the waltz that I was a very good dancer.”
“You cannot do it! You cannot go to the Music Hall!” her father insisted.
His voice, however, was not as positive as it had been before and Isla thought that he was weakening.
“There is no need for me to see anybody else but you,” Isla said quietly. “If you get there at the time you usually arrive, you can come out to meet me at the stage door. I can do my ‘turn’ and then go home immediately afterwards.”
“It’s not as easy as that,” her father retorted.
She did not speak and after a moment he went on,
“It would be impossible for me to leave after I have finished my act, which is in the ‘star’ position. All the performers go onto the stage at the end of the show to take a bow and on benefit nights Charles Morton, who owns The Oxford, makes a speech.”
“Nobody need see me,” Isla said quickly. “It is you they are interested in, Papa.”
As her father thought that this was true, he made no comment and Isla went on,
“It’s very easy to raise objections, but if we do not pay something towards those bills, I am quite certain that once one of your creditors takes you to Court, a great many others will do the same.”
“It’s wrong! I know it’s wrong!” Keegan Kenway groaned.
“It is far more wrong, if you are sued, for the Press to be able to say nasty things about you,” Isla retorted.
She knew by the expression in his eyes that he was contemplating how unpleasant it would be.
He had always been sensitive about his reviews in the newspapers and, when the critics praised him, he was as delighted as a child.
Her mother had always cut out of the newspapers everything that was said about him and pasted it into a scrapbook and, when she died, Isla had carried on.
But there were one or two adverse notices that she had hidden from her father, although she suspected that he had read them.
In most of the cuttings the critics had praised him and said how much the programme of The Oxford Music Hall had been enhanced by the quality of his performance.
At the same time one of them had written sarcastically,
“He is not as light on his feet as he tries to be and his features are also heavier.”
The most severe critic had printed the words of one of his songs, accentuating certain words,
“Whoever drinks at my expense, I treat ’em all the same,
From Dukes and Lords to cabmen down,
I make ’em drink champagne.”
There would have been no harm in that if he had not emphasised the word ‘drink’ in each line by having it printed in italics.
‘Papa must be more careful,’ Isla thought when she read it and quickly threw it into the waste-paper basket.
But critics or no critics, she knew that tonight a great number of the audience would be looking forward to hearing Keegan Kenway sing It Was Only a Dream and the women would have their handkerchiefs ready.
“It’s no use arguing, Papa,” she said finally, “but what I would like to do, if you will allow me, is not to wear Letty Liston’s gown, which would not fit me, but one of Mama’s.”
There was a pained expression in her father’s eyes, but she knew that he was thinking whether theatrically it was a wise or unwise thing to do.
Isla’s figure, in fact, measured exactly the same as her mother’s and, before he could speak, she said,
“Mama had a gown she wore when you took her to a big party and you said at the time no one looked lovelier than she did.”
“I remember,” her father muttered.
There was a thickness about his tone that made Isla go on quickly,
“If I wore that – and I am sure there are some flowers amongst Mama’s things to make a wreath for my hair with – all you have to do is tell me exactly how I get up into the frame and down from it onto the stage.”
“One of the stage-hands lifts Letty down,” her father said, as if the words were dragged from him, “but that is something I will do. I will not allow those young men to touch you.”
Isla drew in her breath.
She knew by the way he spoke that he had capitulated. All she had to do now was to make certain that she did not make any mistakes.
She made him come into the sitting room and, having moved aside the chairs, she hummed while he waltzed her round the floor.
She was very light and insubstantial in his arms.
She loved dancing and found as they whirled round in the very small space that even without music it was exciting.
She knew, however, that there would be more room when they were on the stage.
As they stopped dancing, her father said as if the words broke from him,
“I cannot do it! I cannot take you to a place that your mother avoided all her life and she would shrink in horror from where you are concerned!”
“We cannot go through that all again, Papa!” Isla said. “We have to have the benefit money and, unless the stars drop out of the sky and fall into our pockets, there is no other way of obtaining it!”
“You will speak to nobody, do you understand? Nobody!” her father asserted.
“I promise I will do just what you tell me to do,” Isla replied.
She felt for the moment that satisfied him.
Because he did not wish her to travel to the theatre alone, he decided, after a great deal of thought and argument, to take her with him.
“We will go early,” he said, “and I will instruct my dresser that nobody, and I mean nobody, shall come into my dressing room.”
Isla agreed to everything he said, not really understanding why he was making such a fuss.
When she was dressed and had put on her mother’s beautiful gown, she could not help a little thrill at the idea that for the first time in her life she was going to see a Music Hall.
When he did not discuss the theatre with her as she was sure he would have done with her mother, she had always felt that there was a barrier between them.
This worried her, because she loved him, and she wanted no secrets between them and to know that he trusted her.
When finally she was ready, she went down to her father’s bedroom.
He was standing in front of the mirror brushing his dark hair.
He was wearing his evening shirt with its stiff front and cuffs and there were two large pearl studs in the front of it, one white and one black.
He always wore them and Isla knew that her mother had found them in a shop that specialised in artificial jewellery for the stage and thought that they would add to her father’s smart appearance.
His watch-chain was resplendent across the front of his lovat waistcoat, but that too was false.
The gold watch that he had worn for years had been sold after her mother died to pay for the funeral.
Keegan Kenway turned from the mirror as Isla entered his room, and for the moment he could only stare at her.
Then he said in a choked voice,
“I thought for a moment you were your mother! You are exactly like her in that gown!”
“I am sure Mama will be helping us tonight,” Isla said, “and don’t forget, Papa, you have to look after me and tell me exactly what I should do, so that I shall make no terrible mistakes.”
Keegan Kenway put on his evening coat, which was cut with slightly exaggerated square shoulders and an accentuated tightness at the waist.
&n
bsp; When he was ready, Isla thought that it was impossible for any man to look more handsome or attractive and she could understand why so many women would be waiting to applaud him.
They took a brougham instead of his usual hansom cab to the theatre.
Her father had ordered it earlier in the day because there would be more room for her crinoline.
There was silence as they drove along and Isla, feeling not only excited but also a little frightened, slipped her hand into his.
“You must realise, Papa,” she said, “that it is very exciting for me to see for the first time where you work and where you are such a success.”
“For the first and the last time!” Keegan Kenway said determinedly.
“Of course! But now I shall be able to talk to you about The Oxford without having to imagine what it looks like inside.”
“You have seen it on the outside?”
“Of course!” Isla replied. “Mama and I drove past it soon after it opened and saw your name in huge letters outside. We said a little prayer that you would continue to be such a huge success.”
She knew that her father was smiling as she spoke, because he always enjoyed compliments.
The brougham turned down a narrow side street and Isla saw that they were at the stage door.
Because they were early, there was not such a crowd as there would be later, as there were always dozens of women of all ages to watch the performers walk across the pavement and in through the unpretentious doorway.
There were, however, perhaps twenty people there. Young girls in saucy hats and older women with shawls over their heads.
There were also a number of rough-looking men, who Isla thought were hoping to make a penny or two by holding the horses’ heads or running messages.
Her father stepped out first and there was a cry of delight at the sight of him.
“Keegan Kenway! Keegan Kenway!” women were screaming. “That’s ’im orl right. ’E looks a reel toff, don’t ’e?”
They were all laughing and, as Keegan Kenway quickly escorted Isla to the stage door, they were slapping him on the back.
One woman, her face painted with cosmetics and her eyelashes mascaraed, was saying,
“Give us a kiss for luck, Guv!”
He pushed past her and hurried Isla through the stage door.
Just inside, Isla saw an elderly man with white hair eyeing them through what seemed to be a box.
“Oh, it’s you, Mr. Kenway!” he exclaimed. “You’re early!”
“Yes, I know, Joe. Anything for me?”
“Got some letters – looks like bills to me. And there’s some flowers I’ve stuck up in your room.”
“Thank you, Joe.”
Keegan Kenway put his hand under Isla’s arm and handed her up an iron staircase, which she thought looked as if it should have been swept and quickly she lifted her skirts so that they should not be made dirty.
She found, when she reached the top of the staircase, that the passage was in the same condition.
There were doors on either side of it, and from some of them came the sound of voices and laughter.
Her father hurried her quickly to the door at the end of the passage.
When he opened it and went into what she knew was his dressing room, she thought it was exactly what she had expected.
There was a long table against one wall with a mirror in front of it, on which there was a profusion of grease-paint, powders and creams.
These came as no surprise to Isla, because she had often been with her mother to purchase at the theatrical costumiers in a street off Leicester Square, what make-up her father needed.
Familiar too were, as her father had often described them, the telegrams, photographs and cuttings from the newspapers that had been pasted on the walls.
There were also one or two posters, which had been framed, all with her father’s name printed in large letters.
She looked at one and read,
“KEEGAN KENWAY THE SMARTEST MAN-ABOUT-TOWN singing his famous songs ‘CHAMPAGNE CHARLIE’ and ‘IT WAS ONLY A DREAM’.”
In smaller letters beneath it was written,
“WITH LETTY LISTON.”
Isla made no comment, but looking round the dressing room, she saw at least a dozen bouquets of flowers, a number of them so fresh that they could only just have arrived.
There was also a couch where her father could rest if he wished to do so and one comer of the room was partitioned off by a curtain.
The purpose of this was that when her father entertained a guest, he could change.
However, she knew that her father preferred to come to the theatre already wearing the clothes he would perform in.
The curtain was therefore pulled back to reveal a hard wooden chair.
It was rather different from the only other chair in the dressing room, which was soft and padded.
Keegan Kenway followed the direction of his daughter’s eyes and said,
“If anybody should come in and interrupt us, go behind that curtain and stay there until they have gone.”
“Yes, I will do that, Papa.”
As she spoke so obediently, he smiled at her.
“You are a good girl, Isla,” he sighed, “and I suppose I am a rotten father to you now that your mother is no longer with us.”
“You are nothing of the sort, Papa!” she contradicted. “You are always very kind and very sweet to me. At the same time you are rather too kind and generous to other people!”
She thought her father looked embarrassed and she went on,
“Promise me, Papa, that as soon as you receive the benefit, you will give it to me and not spend any of it on anybody else.”
Keegan Kenway threw out his arms in an extravagant gesture.
“It shall be yours – all yours! I swear it!”
Because she believed him, Isla lifted her face and kissed his cheeks.
“Now what we have to do,” he said briskly, “is to ask Nelly to come and put a little bit of paint and powder on your face. You will not need much, but you would look strange without it.”
Isla did not answer.
She sat down on the stool in front of the mirror as her father went to the door, opened it and shouted,
“Nelly! Nelly!”
She could hear his voice echoing down the passage and, after the third time he had shouted, a voice came back,
“All right, all right! I’m a-comin’! I’ve only one pair of ’ands!”
A few seconds later a woman came into the dressing room, saying,
“What’s ’appened, Mr. Kenway? Don’t tell me you can’t apply your rouge after all these years!”
“No, I can look after myself, Nelly,” Keegan Kenway replied, “but I have brought a substitute for Letty and she needs your help.”
The woman, who was middle-aged, stared at Isla and exclaimed,
“God bless me soul! Who’s this then?”
“I have just told you – she is the replacement for Letty,” Keegan Kenway replied.
“Then bust me stays if ’er ain’t the prettiest thing I’ve seen in years!”
Because the way she spoke was so funny, Isla laughed and Nelly walked up to her to ask,
“Where’ve you bin hidin’ so that ’is Nibs bring you ’ere all of a sudden like a rabbit out of an ’at?”
“She is my daughter, Nelly,” Keegan Kenway replied. “She has never been in the Music Hall before and I would not have allowed her to come tonight if it were not for the benefit.”
“I understands you can’t miss that!” Nelly agreed. “The management was a-wonderin’ what you was goin’ to do – ”
“And everyone was hoping I would not be able to go on, which would mean more in the kitty for them!” Keegan Kenway remarked.
“Well, they’ll ’ave a surprise, won’t they?” Nelly pointed out.
As she spoke, she was looking closely at Isla’s face and finally she said,
“It’d be a mistake to ove
r-paint the lily. She’s that pretty, nobody’ll think she’s real!”
“I am not only real,” Isla laughed, “but also rather frightened.”
“Oh, you’ll be all right!” Nelly replied. “One look at you and they’ll be certain as Mr. Kenway’s up to ’is tricks again!”
She gave a provocative glance at Keegan Kenway as she spoke and he said quickly,
“Now, come on, Nelly, do the necessary and don’t upset the child.”
“I’ll not be upsettin’ ’er,” Nelly retorted, “but you’d better keep ’er under lock and key or somebody’ll be stealin’ ’er from you!”
Isla saw her father frown and, making no reply, he walked across the room to lock the door.
Nelly picked up the rouge and the hare’s foot to apply it with.
She just touched Isla’s cheeks very lightly with it and then powdered her nose, her forehead and her chin.
Finally, with difficulty, a little mascara was found, because Keegan Kenway did not use it.
Nelly touched the tips of Isla’s long eyelashes, which made her eyes seem larger than they were already.
“I’m not usin’ any eye-shadow on anythin’ as pretty as this,” Nelly said to Keegan Kenway as if he had criticised what she was doing.
She stood back for a moment to see the results of her handiwork and then she said,
“That’s enough! She’ll look like a dream all right and there’ll be plenty of people to tell you so when the show’s over!”
“Thank you, thank you very much,” Isla said politely.
“Now you be a good girl and go ’ome when you’ve done your bit,” Nelly chided. “You won’t stand a chance if the gentlemen sees you, as your father well knows.”
She did not wait for a reply, but unlocked the door and went out, pulling it to sharply behind her.
Isla laughed.
“She is very funny!”
“She is also talking sense,” Keegan Kenway said.
He walked across the room to open a cupboard and, inside it, Isla saw a large bottle of brandy.
“Oh, no, Papa!” she exclaimed.
“I have to have a drink!” her father answered. “I am as nervous as a kitten that something will go wrong.”
Only a Dream Page 3
