Young May Moon Page 3

  ‘You always manage to see the funny side of things, even the weather,’ May said, smiling in spite of herself. ‘It might worry Aunt Min more if I mention the hurricane, but I would like to phone home, please, to let her know we arrived safely. Also, Brigid mentioned that it might be possible for Pomona to attend school here, then we could stay on all summer – that’s if you’ll have us, of course!’ Then she admitted: ‘Although I wonder how I can carry on the putting up and taking down of the booth on my own. I know Dad did, after Mum left, but.…’

  Paddy had just come into the kitchen and had obviously overheard the conversation. He waited for Jenny’s reply: ‘Of course you can stay on, dearie. If the schoolmaster agrees your aunt will need to give her permission, as your guardian.’ She gave a nod to Paddy, who took the hint.

  ‘It looks as if we’re booked here until September, so my offer still stands, to help with setting up and dismantling the Punch and Judy, if you’ll let me,’ he said.

  ‘You will, eh, May?’ Jenny could see that May was hesitating.

  May gave in gracefully. ‘I’d be silly to turn down a good offer – so I accept! Thanks, Paddy. We might have to postpone the show today – just look at the rain teeming down!’

  ‘Fortunately, our show can go on, being under cover. We’ve tickets for you and Pomona for this evening.’

  Pomona was busy towelling Toby by the stove. ‘Good-oh!’

  ‘What time does the show end?’ May asked.

  ‘Half past ten. We can squeeze you in to the car, as it’s not far.’

  ‘Don’t say it’s too late for me to be out!’ pleaded Pomona.

  May smiled. ‘You’ll sulk for days if I say no! So, all right!’

  ‘Where’s Danny?’ Pomona put the damp towel down.

  ‘In the dining room, with Mum and Dad,’ Paddy told her. ‘I wondered why I felt empty inside; no breakfast yet!’

  ‘Hold you hard,’ Jenny used a familiar expression, ‘I’m doing my best! And you’re hungry because you went out at the crack of dawn, your dad told me, to hunt for amber which I heard Percy tell you can sometimes be found on the beach after a rough night, and a high tide.’

  ‘It was worth it today, because I found something that might be amber, but might not,’ Paddy returned. ‘Even though I got wet while I was beachcombing!’

  ‘If it’s still raining later this morning, but not too much, because it’s an open air pool,’ Pomona informed Danny, as they ate from soup bowls piled high with Force cornflakes, full-cream milk and sugar, ‘I fancy a swim. Can you swim, Danny?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not very keen on the water,’ he admitted. ‘But I’ll go with you. Something to do!’

  ‘I’d like to swim the English Channel! There’s a girl in America called Gertrude Ederle, a champion swimmer; she started young, like me, and she’s going to attempt a Channel-swim this August. But she’s eighteen, I will have to beat that, won’t I?’

  ‘I shan’t be surprised if you do,’ Brendan looked up from his newspaper, smiling. ‘You’ve got ten years to practise!’

  The clouds parted, there was a brief respite from the rain and Punch and Judy managed one afternoon showing. Pomona, of course, had tittle-tattled to May, as Danny had to her, that Paddy considered she’d watered-down the script.

  ‘What a sauce!’ May exclaimed, but she decided to use Mr Punch’s slapstick to startling effect. Although the audience gasped at the vicious whacks he inflicted on his nearest and dearest, it was evident from the boos directed at Punch that they realized this was part of the story and they expected him to receive his just deserts.

  Not that May would countenance doing the hangman scene. That was for adults only. Jolley’s was a family show.

  ‘Well done!’ Paddy said through the flap at the end of the performance. ‘Old Red Nose was superb!’

  Mr Punch replied smugly: ‘That’s the way to do it!’ It was raining again. Smokey was braying, Toby was barking. May and her team hastily dismantled the booth and retreated.

  The small theatre at the end of the pier appeared to be bursting at the seams. After a day spent mostly in seaside lodgings because of the unseasonable weather, the audience consisted mainly of visitors in mackintoshes and rubber galoshes, gently steaming in the enclosed space, but looking forward to a cheerful evening.

  It had been May’s and Pomona’s first ride in a motor car, although May had to shush Pomona when she said loudly that she was too big to sit on her sister’s lap.

  ‘It’s not far,’ she reminded Pomona.

  Now they sat in the second row, and Pomona was already rustling a paper poke bag and crunching acid-drop sweets before the curtain went up. Disembodied music began; May deduced there was a gramophone in the wings, and an energetic stage hand turning the handle. The lights dimmed, the curtain rose and a spotlight danced centre stage.

  It was a varied programme. Jugglers, acrobats, a unicyclist, a stout lady singer in danger of bursting out from her tight silk gown when she hit quivering high notes; youthful tap-dancers from the local dancing school and choir boys from the church, who looked angelic but, as Pomona remarked in a loud whisper: ‘They’re all spotty – I could catch chickenpox!’

  ‘Shush,’ May said again. ‘You’ve had it, remember?’

  Then it was the turn of the O’Flaherty family. Pomona had to be hushed yet again when she commented: ‘They’re wearing green kilts – to show they’re from Ireland, not Scotland!’

  Danny, as befitted his name, sang the evocative Danny Boy, which had the female half of the audience wiping their eyes. Brendan played the fiddle, Brigid, seated front stage, plucked a small harp, and Paddy whistled. Each had a solo spot. Paddy whistled In A Monastery Garden, which was so enthusiastically received that he followed this up with something completely unexpected, Sweet Georgia Brown. This set feet tapping in the audience. Brendan sang the popular, romantic Moonlight and Roses to his wife, and she responded with the lively ditty: Tea for Two. The audience joined in: ‘You for me – me for you – how happy we will be….’

  The fiddle dominated the final number. Brendan announced it with a smile, and the spotlight lit up May’s startled expression in the second row. ‘This one is especially for Young May Moon, who is celebrating turning sixteen!’

  ‘It’s June!’ a voice called. A ripple of laughter, then the music began, with clapping to the beat of the jig.

  Bemused, May was nevertheless glad that she was wearing a frock, even if it was rather childish in style as Aunt Min had chosen it. Also that Brigid had taken a brush and brilliantine to her long locks and persuaded her to leave them flowing loose. Inclining her head forward, she hoped her hair would conceal her blushes.

  They remained in their seats while the majority of the audience made their way to the exit, after standing to attention for the national anthem. The house lights dimmed, and it seemed they were on their own, waiting for their friends to take them back to the Swan Inn.

  A hand touched May’s shoulder. Startled, she turned in her seat to see who it was. ‘Mum?’ she murmured uncertainly.

  Then Pomona was pushing past her and was clasped in their mother’s embrace. May stayed where she was, as Carmen had a companion: from his looks, a compatriot. He remained silent and aloof, but May had the uncomfortable impression that he was watching her reaction in particular.

  ‘You used to call me Mama, not Mum. I suppose that is how your father referred to me. He wanted to make an Englishwoman of me, when we married, but he couldn’t! I thought I would find you in West Wick, but not so soon – we only arrived this afternoon. I didn’t know it would be here, tonight.’ Carmen’s voice was husky, heavily accented. ‘It wasn’t until they played that tune, and turned the spotlight on you that I realized I was in luck. I’m glad your father isn’t with you, as it will be easier to make my peace, eh?’

  ‘It won’t be easy at all,’ May flared. ‘Dad died a few months ago. We tried to trace you, but anyway, it was too late….’

  ‘Excuse
me, is there something I can help you with?’ Brendan asked politely, ‘Who are you?’ Carmen demanded sharply, with Pomona clinging to her arm. Her escort stepped back, but said nothing.

  ‘I am a friend of the girls,’ Brendan said. ‘And you are…?’

  ‘I am the mother of these children.’

  ‘Is this true, May?’ Brendan now addressed May. However, even in the subdued lighting, he could see the strong resemblance between May and the beautiful woman in her shiny white waterproof cape.

  May nodded. ‘It’s all right, it’s just a shock, seeing her after all this time … she didn’t know about Dad. Mum, Mr O’Flaherty and his family are friends, they are staying at the Swan, too.’

  ‘This is none of your business,’ Carmen said hotly to Brendan. ‘Please leave us to talk.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that. We are responsible for their safe delivery back to our lodgings, and it is time to go.’

  ‘May, Pomona, I am staying at the big hotel in the town square. Will you both meet me there tomorrow morning at eleven? By yourselves; we can speak in private, then.’ Carmen disengaged herself from Pomona’s clasp, and signalled to the silent man. She added ‘Carlos is very discreet, I promise.’

  They walked off without a backward glance.

  ‘The family are waiting in the motor,’ Brendan said, ‘You are safe with us.’

  As they followed him out of the theatre, Pomona whispered to May: ‘Isn’t it wonderful – Mum’s back!’

  ‘Let’s see what she has to say first,’ May said. She was still uneasy about the intense scrutiny directed at herself by the strange man accompanying her mother.

  Five

  THE GIRLS STOOD uncertainly on the red thick-pile carpet in the hotel foyer. They wore their best floral crêpe dresses as they had last night to the theatre, but the platinum-blonde receptionist with lips painted in a pillar-box red cupid’s bow, gave them a supercilious look from behind the counter, before she checked the admissions book and rang through to Carmen’s room.

  ‘Mrs Jolley will be with you in a moment,’ she told them. ‘Please go through into the small sitting room, on the left. I will arrange for you to have coffee there.’

  ‘I don’t—’ Pomona began.

  May said quickly, ‘Please could my sister have lemonade? She’d prefer that.’

  ‘Certainly,’ the receptionist agreed, then moved away from the window to her desk. She inserted shiny dark-blue carbon paper between two sheets of quarto white paper and rolled them into position on her typewriter. There was the clatter of keys and the noisy return of the carriage at the end of each printed line. When she became aware that the two girls were watching this procedure with interest, she gave them a look which made them move hastily in the direction they’d been told.

  The tray of refreshments was placed on a low table: a tall coffee pot, jug of cream and a bowl of brown sugar lumps, with tongs. Pomona drank some of her lemonade, and crunched a couple of sugar lumps.

  ‘Try the biscuits.’ May pointed out the plate of tiny almond flat cakes.

  ‘There’s only one each.’

  ‘You can have mine as well.’

  Carmen swept in, wearing a scarlet silk frock with the fashionable ‘pointed handkerchief’ hemline. Draped round her shoulders was one of her exotic shawls, heavily embroidered. Her black hair was pulled back from her forehead, coiled in the nape of her neck and anchored by a silver comb.

  ‘You’ve plaited your hair today, it looked much nicer last night,’ was her greeting to May. She held out her arms to Pomona, ‘Aren’t you going to give me a proper hug today, my darling?’

  It was fortunate that May had delayed pouring the coffee, for when Pomona sprang up she spilt some of her lemonade and scattered the sugar lumps on the table. May tidied them up, ignoring the touching embrace. Then she poured the coffee and said evenly: ‘Well, let’s have our coffee, shall we? Then we must talk. We should be on the beach by half past one – our friends are putting up the booth and looking after the animals for us until then.’ She would have to change quickly in the cramped space, into her ‘disguise’, she thought.

  ‘I suppose you wish me to tell you where I have been and whom I have been with these past years?’ Carmen challenged May.

  ‘Well, the man we saw you with last night wasn’t the preacher you went away with, was he?’ May was emboldened by her mother’s obvious surprise that her daughter was answering her back.

  ‘No … that man – we were on the boat train and about to leave for Europe, when he went out of the carriage to buy a newspaper and never returned. I certainly did not go after him!’ Her dark eyes flashed.

  ‘Why didn’t you come back to Dad, to us?’ May demanded.

  Carmen sighed. ‘Pride. Anyway, I knew it was the end of our marriage. Best for you all that I should keep away. Still, I am sad, you know, that I am unable to make amends with your father.’

  ‘But you’re back now, Mum, aren’t you?’ Pomona put in anxiously.

  ‘For you, darling, yes. I did not forget it was your birthday, May. I shall buy you a new frock – puff sleeves, at your age, Aunt Min’s choice, I presume. If you want to prove you are grown up you must be in the fashion. At sixteen, I suppose you can call yourself independent, eh?’

  ‘Aunt Min is our legal guardian,’ May stressed. ‘Dad arranged that for us.’ He wanted to safeguard us, she thought, make sure we had a permanent base.

  ‘She does not take her duties seriously, it seems, allowing you to go off with your sister like this.’

  ‘It was what Dad wished! For us to carry on with the Punch and Judy at West Wick. We keep in touch with Aunt Min, and she knows we are safe, staying with the Wrens at the Swan. You wouldn’t want us tagging along with you. Anyway, you’ve been away so long….’

  ‘Surely it is natural that I wished to contact you? I see you are as obstinate as your father was, May. I gave up my dancing to help him with his puppets – we were always short of money. I had to have my diversions! No, I have my own life back, and I like it, but naturally, I miss my children. Carlos and I, we will be here for the summer, like you. I hope we can all be good friends?’

  Before May could answer, Carlos came into the room. He was wearing a smart, striped blazer, a silk cravat, Oxford bags ((a style of trousers made popular by the dashing Prince of Wales) and spats over his shoes, which made Pomona giggle. These canvas coverings were to prevent splashes of mud from spoiling the shine. He also had a moustache which looked as if it were pencilled over his lips.

  ‘I wish you good morning.’ He nodded to May and Pomona in turn.

  ‘I shall introduce you properly,’ said Carmen, ‘This is my stage partner and manager, Carlos Rivera. He is a master of dancing and puppetry, not to mention the Spanish guitar. You will see! Carlos is from Andalucia, in Southern Spain, as I am – we can both boast of a gypsy great-grandmother and thus a tradition of flamenco. We are booked to appear in the end of the pier show from Saturday night. This is why we were in the audience last evening. I must say the acts were mostly second-rate. No doubt, we will be top of the bill.’

  May was incensed at what she thought was a deliberate slur aimed at the O’Flahertys. ‘Why aren’t you appearing in London then? The only write-up you can expect here is in the local paper….’

  Unexpectedly, Carlos Rivera attempted to smooth things over. ‘Our real reason for coming here is simple: I convinced your mother that you would be happy to see her again. She wants an end to quarrelling, a fresh start. Will you not give her the chance to prove that to you?’ He added, smiling at May, displaying perfect white teeth: ‘In turn, you will show us this afternoon that you have inherited some of her expertise, as well as her fire, eh?’

  Despite her initial misgivings May appreciated his intervention.

  Carmen cried, ‘Oh, what a fool I am! I should learn to keep my mouth shut, and to hug you, instead – come here, May….’

  She still smells of frangipani, May thought, as Carmen clutched her
close. I missed that fragrance – I didn’t realize … we both have to learn to forgive and forget, I reckon.

  ‘We really must go,’ she said, ‘We’ll see you after the show.’

  ‘Thank goodness,’ Paddy said, ‘We were worried you wouldn’t be back in time. We had a bit of a kerfuffle soon after we arrived – Toby disappeared! Danny walked up and down the beach, calling, and eventually he spotted a boy pulling her along on a piece of string. Fortunately, he gave her up, saying she had been chasing after a ball he was throwing for his own dog. Whether that was true or not, we don’t know, but she’s back.’

  ‘I’m glad you told me, it’s not like Toby to run off like that. Thanks, Danny, for rescuing her – there wouldn’t have been a performance without her!’ May told him. ‘Maybe I ought to ask you to make a Toby puppet, just in case? They used to have one in the old days, so Dad told us!’

  ‘They’re setting up the deckchairs,’ Pomona reminded her.

  There was another kerfuffle in the booth, the canvas sides bulged, as May struggled with her change of clothes. She was startled by a roll of drums, then an excited bark from Toby.

  Pomona’s head appeared through the side flap. ‘Hear that? Danny asked his dad if he could borrow his small drum kit! Paddy’s doing the “Roll up, roll up!” routine. Brigid, Brendan and Jenny have just arrived – and Mum’s in the front row! Hurry up, will you?’

  ‘She must have left just after we did,’ May said crossly. ‘All set for curtain up.…’ Fingers crossed, she told herself.

  It was her best performance yet.

  Her friends hurried to congratulate her, while her mother and Carlos waited for the crowd to disperse. Jenny exchanged a few polite words with Carmen, and May guessed she was being nice to Carmen for her and Pomona’s sake. After they waved goodbye Carmen came over to the booth. ‘May, you have your father’s touch … it was good,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, it was good,’ agreed Carlos. ‘But you can learn much more.’

  Learn what? May was puzzled by his enigmatic remark, but she did not ask what he meant. It had unsettled her, Carmen turning up again like this. She recalled that Aunt Min had said to her father once that Carmen was devious. Curious, the younger May had looked up the meaning in her school dictionary. Deceitful, she read, Clever at getting one’s own way in an underhand manner.… She had the feeling that her mother was planning something, and that whatever it was, it would involve herself.