with me and I’ll show you where to go.’
In the growing dark and heavy rain, in a part of the city she didn’t know, Sheila ran as fast as she could, back the way she had come, praying she would get there with enough time and breath to sing.
*
‘And your woman over thonder, pacin’ up an’ down talking to herself, looks like a school teacher? That’s because she is one. But on the programme she’s down as an elocutionist, so she is. Do ye know what one a them is?’
Irene nodded. ‘Poems and things?’
‘Aye, she usually starts with ‘Up the airy mountain’. Do ye know that one?’ The Templemore Tapper, whose name was Myrtle, seemed to have the measure of most of the other performers.
‘What about the wee girl,’ asked Irene. ‘What’s she doing here?’
Myrtle rolled her eyes ‘Pain in the arse that one. Mind out fer the ma but, she’s even worse.’
The child knew she was being talked about and skipped towards them. Her strawberry blond hair was caught up in bunches tied with red satin bows and someone had painted large freckles all over her nose. Her gingham dress was far too short and on her feet were ankle socks and the inevitable white tap shoes. She removed a brightly coloured lolly from her mouth.
‘What are you called?’ she said.
‘Irene.’
‘Irene what?’
‘Irene Goulding.’
She pulled a face. ‘That’s not a very good name for the stage.’ She held out the edges of her skirt and twirled. ‘My name’s Twirly Semple and I sing like Shirley Temple, so I do. D’ye wanna hear some?’
‘Not really, no.’
Too late, Twirly was off tapping and skipping across the room. ‘On the good ship Lollipop, ’ she sang.
‘Fifteen minutes to curtain up. Make sure you check the running order, behind the door. Oh yes, and another Goulding Sister has arrived.’ Derek had acquired a clip board and a sense of urgency.
‘Thank goodness, Sheila’s made it on time,’ said Pat. ‘She’ll be able to catch her breath too; we’re not on until the second half.’
Twirly Semple had reached her finale by turning cartwheels across the room towards Martha. Suddenly, the child panicked, struggled to right herself and, as she did so, vomited all down her gingham dress. At the same time an ordinary looking woman stood up and began to yodel. Martha looked from one to the other and let out a cry. At that moment, the door opened and Peggy stood there smiling broadly.
‘Aah, have you come to wish us good luck?’ Irene assumed the best of Peggy.
Pat said sharply, ‘What are you doing here?’
Martha didn’t need to say anything, she knew exactly why her self-centred daughter had appeared and, in a rare moment of selfishness, she was so glad to see her.
‘Where’s the programme? What time are we on?’ Peggy was taking off her coat. ‘Mammy, let me have your blouse. God, I hate mauve, so I do!’
‘Don’t move, Mammy,’ Pat commanded. ‘Now you listen here, Peggy Goulding. You’re not a part of this. You can’t just walk in here and go on the stage with us. We’ve rehearsed all this and you haven’t. So you are not playing in this concert.’
Peggy ignored her and turned to Irene. ‘You know Mr Goldstein, from the shop? Well, he’s here, on the front row, he gave me a lift.’ Peggy paused for them to be impressed then added, ‘in his car.’
‘So that’s it, is it? Out to impress your boss. Well, I don’t care about Mr Goldstein, you’re still not performing,’ Pat shouted. At the sound of raised voices the dressing room fell silent as they watched the sisters face each other, hands on hips.
Irene stepped between them. ‘We can all perform. Sure it’ll be great fun, the whole family up there together.’
Just then Derek stuck his head round the door and said, ‘Awfully sorry ladies, change in the running order, we’re having to sponge down Shirley Temple and she won’t be dry ‘til the second half. So, Goulding Sisters we’ve switched you and her. You’re on in twenty
In the growing dark and heavy rain, in a part of the city she didn’t know, Sheila ran as fast as she could, back the way she had come, praying she would get there with enough time and breath to sing.
*
‘And your woman over thonder, pacin’ up an’ down talking to herself, looks like a school teacher? That’s because she is one. But on the programme she’s down as an elocutionist, so she is. Do ye know what one a them is?’
Irene nodded. ‘Poems and things?’
‘Aye, she usually starts with ‘Up the airy mountain’. Do ye know that one?’ The Templemore Tapper, whose name was Myrtle, seemed to have the measure of most of the other performers.
‘What about the wee girl,’ asked Irene. ‘What’s she doing here?’
Myrtle rolled her eyes ‘Pain in the arse that one. Mind out fer the ma but, she’s even worse.’
The child knew she was being talked about and skipped towards them. Her strawberry blond hair was caught up in bunches tied with red satin bows and someone had painted large freckles all over her nose. Her gingham dress was far too short and on her feet were ankle socks and the inevitable white tap shoes. She removed a brightly coloured lolly from her mouth.
‘What are you called?’ she said.
‘Irene.’
‘Irene what?’
‘Irene Goulding.’
She pulled a face. ‘That’s not a very good name for the stage.’ She held out the edges of her skirt and twirled. ‘My name’s Twirly Semple and I sing like Shirley Temple, so I do. D’ye wanna hear some?’
‘Not really, no.’
Too late, Twirly was off tapping and skipping across the room. ‘On the good ship Lollipop, ’ she sang.
‘Fifteen minutes to curtain up. Make sure you check the running order, behind the door. Oh yes, and another Goulding Sister has arrived.’ Derek had acquired a clip board and a sense of urgency.
‘Thank goodness, Sheila’s made it on time,’ said Pat. ‘She’ll be able to catch her breath too; we’re not on until the second half.’
Twirly Semple had reached her finale by turning cartwheels across the room towards Martha. Suddenly, the child panicked, struggled to right herself and, as she did so, vomited all down her gingham dress. At the same time an ordinary looking woman stood up and began to yodel. Martha looked from one to the other and let out a cry. At that moment, the door opened and Peggy stood there smiling broadly.
‘Aah, have you come to wish us good luck?’ Irene assumed the best of Peggy.
Pat said sharply, ‘What are you doing here?’
Martha didn’t need to say anything, she knew exactly why her self-centred daughter had appeared and, in a rare moment of selfishness, she was so glad to see her.
‘Where’s the programme? What time are we on?’ Peggy was taking off her coat. ‘Mammy, let me have your blouse. God, I hate mauve, so I do!’
‘Don’t move, Mammy,’ Pat commanded. ‘Now you listen here, Peggy Goulding. You’re not a part of this. You can’t just walk in here and go on the stage with us. We’ve rehearsed all this and you haven’t. So you are not playing in this concert.’
Peggy ignored her and turned to Irene. ‘You know Mr Goldstein, from the shop? Well, he’s here, on the front row, he gave me a lift.’ Peggy paused for them to be impressed then added, ‘in his car.’
‘So that’s it, is it? Out to impress your boss. Well, I don’t care about Mr Goldstein, you’re still not performing,’ Pat shouted. At the sound of raised voices the dressing room fell silent as they watched the sisters face each other, hands on hips.
Irene stepped between them. ‘We can all perform. Sure it’ll be great fun, the whole family up there together.’
Just then Derek stuck his head round the door and said, ‘Awfully sorry ladies, change in the running order, we’re having to sponge down Shirley Temple and she won’t be dry ‘til the second half. So, Goulding Sisters we’ve switched you and her. You’re on in twenty
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