Marie closed her eyes at the pain of her crushed toe whilst Vesta tried to distance herself from a small man with crooked brown teeth. In his arms he held a newspaper on top of which was an assortment of foul-smelling vegetables.
‘Keep away from me!’ Vesta exclaimed, trying to distance herself. ‘You won’t be allowed in the theatre with that.’
‘Who’s gonna stop me?’ demanded the man.
‘Take no notice,’ Marie whispered. ‘He won’t get very far before the manager sees him.’
‘I just hope he doesn’t sit next to us.’ Vesta moved up as far as she could.
The queue outside the theatre was supposed to be lining up in order, but as it was not a famous revue being performed and the seats were very cheap, it was first come first served. Everyone wanted to sit at the front. Marie had just been knocked by a large woman smelling of beer and perspiration, whilst Elsie and Ada, having got closer to the doors, were determined to hold their positions. Elsie’s feather was waving this way and that and her loud voice could be heard as she spoke to the busker who held out his battered hat.
‘Clear off, unless you want to deafen me!’ she ordered, her feather shivering indignantly. ‘We’re waiting for Hector Haskins, I’ll have you know. This is his pitch and he’s got a voice that knocks socks off yours.’
Marie had hardly been able to hear the young man’s rendition of Al Bowlly’s ‘I’ll String Along With You’. He had soon lost heart at Elsie’s rejection and made a swift retreat as one or two fists were shaken. Marie hoped her father would make a better impression on the crowd.
Everyone was out to enjoy themselves, whether by praise or ridicule. Amateur night was a favourite, where both street and stage performers were judged, sometimes unfairly, according to the public’s mood.
Marie glanced at the posters hanging on the Queen’s dirty walls. They announced the forthcoming shows, though she didn’t recognize any names. The famous old theatre used to have many well-known acts appearing on its stage, from the twins’ namesakes, Vesta Tilley and Marie Lloyd, to the famous Charlie Chaplin. But as cinemas had become more popular than theatres and music halls, the big stars rarely appeared at the Queen’s any more. Marie thought that was a great pity, though she also liked to go to the pictures. There were any number of cinemas in the East End now: the Grand Palace Picture Theatre opposite the Blackwall Tunnel, the Grand in Tunnel Avenue and the Pavilion in the East India Dock Road. The Pavilion had been the first to offer talking pictures and the others had quickly followed. Luckily for her father, though, the Queen’s had managed to attract a big audience tonight.
‘I really don’t think people should carry on like this,’ said Vesta, trying to steady herself and clutching her bag against her chest. ‘Throwing rotten veg and yelling must put the performers off.’
Marie stepped back sharply as the big woman yelled at the top of her voice, ‘When are you going to open them doors?’
‘If it’s Teddy you’re worried about, I don’t think any of the girls who’ve come to see him would throw anything,’ Marie replied with a smile.
‘He’s too talented by far to get boos,’ nodded Vesta, though Marie had really meant that Teddy had all the confidence and charm of a man who knew his looks could speak for him. As for his voice, well, that remained to be heard. And even if Teddy was a looker, the East End crowds were notoriously hard to please.
Just then, a deep, rumbling voice boomed out and Vesta clutched Marie’s arm, exclaiming, ‘It’s our dad!’
Sure enough, Hector sauntered along the road. When he saw his family and Elsie, he swept off his hat to reveal his thick dark hair.
Marie was filled with pride. He began by singing ‘Oh! Susanna’, and performing many flourishes, like the singer who originally sang the song, Carson Robison. But everyone was eager to get inside the theatre and Hector was being ignored.
‘This is our dad!’ shouted Marie to anyone who would listen, her cheeks pink with excitement.
‘I shouldn’t broadcast the fact, love,’ warned the lady behind her. ‘Not until you’re out of range of this tomato.’
Vesta pulled Marie back as the crowd began to shout insults at Hector.
‘Where did you appear from?’ shouted a woman behind Elsie. ‘The cemetery?’
Elsie turned and glared at her. She shoved the woman back with some force. ‘Take that, you silly cow, and shut up or else you’ll have Elsie Goldberg to deal with.’ Elsie grabbed a soggy vegetable from the woman’s bag. ‘How would you like a bit of your own medicine, eh? Strikes me that pasty mug of yours could do with a bit of colour.’
The laughter changed to a great cheer and, knowing the crowd loved a fight, Elsie did a little bow as the woman backed away.
Marie knew that Elsie had learned to handle roughnecks from her years running the Cubby Hole. She turned triumphantly to Hector and shouted, ‘Go on, ducks, give ’em all you’ve got.’
Undaunted, Hector took up his position again and began to sing, ‘On Mother Kelly’s Doorstep’.
Elsie moved close to Marie and Vesta. ‘Flamin’ ’ooli-gans,’ she growled. ‘Never mind, we’ll be in them doors soon. Now, give your dad a big clap and the others will join in!’
When Hector had finished, Marie, Vesta, Ada and Elsie all cheered. But as the theatre doors opened and the masses rushed in, Hector was soon forgotten. Marie saw him hurriedly run to catch a halfpenny that rolled his way.
Her heart ached to see her father ignored and unappreciated. How did a man of such talent end up trying to win the crowd’s approval by performing silly songs in the street? She knew Vesta was thinking that too.
Once inside the theatre, with the tickets bought, they all followed Elsie down to the front stalls. Their seats were only six back from the first row, an excellent spot and directly in front of the stage. The orchestra, consisting of a pianist, a violinist and bass player, was tuning up. Marie’s glance went straight up to the gallery, but there were too many people coming and going for her to be able to pick out Bing and Charlie.
Elsie made herself comfortable next to Ada and ushered the girls past. As Marie settled in the comfortable seat, she gazed round. The theatre’s exterior was plain and shabby, with no wide carpeted steps, and marble and glass foyers, as some of the West End theatres had. But inside, the red, green and gold colours of the beautiful Victorian upholstery and ornate architecture gave the place a rich and dramatic feel. Even the cubby hole at the side of the stage from where the manager kept a watchful eye and the ladies’ cloakrooms were all old-style elegance.
When the lights dimmed, there was a sudden silence. The musicians began to play and for the next hour, Marie was transported to another world. The one that she and Vesta had always dreamed of joining.
They watched in awe as the acts performed. Some, like the comedian who wasn’t very funny and bored the audience, were booed off. The ventriloquist whose lips could be seen moving soon disappeared under a hail of tomatoes. But all the singers had strong voices. The men and women knew how to entertain the audience and got them to join in the well-known songs. Marie knew Vesta was imagining herself on the stage, dancing along with the pretty, slender dancers of the chorus line.
When the break for half-time came, Marie and Vesta hurried to the cloakroom. All the women were discussing the acts, and a young girl in front of them in the queue said she’d heard a handsome singer, who worked at the new club called the Duke’s, was up next.
Vesta’s cheeks went bright red. ‘She means Teddy,’ she whispered to Marie. ‘Just think, we know someone who works at a posh club like the Duke’s.’
‘We don’t really know if it’s posh,’ Marie said unwisely, drawing a look of horror from Vesta.
‘Of course we do,’ she spluttered. ‘Teddy told me that it’s a cabaret club and the owners will only hire the best acts.’
‘You seem to know a lot.’
‘That’s because I show an interest – unlike some,’ Vesta answered sharply and, Marie thought, rather offhandedly. ‘Come on, there’s a lav empty!’
By the time they returned to their seats, the lights were just going down. Elsie and Ada had brought sweets and noisily opened the bag of wine gums. In the exciting tension of the moment, Marie forgot all about the Duke’s, which so far had occupied her thoughts. Teddy had said the club was the smartest and classiest in the East End. But sitting here, in this historic old theatre, Marie felt that this atmosphere was going to be hard to beat.
The curtains drew apart to reveal the presenter. He was an elderly man who had worn a gaudy checked suit for the first half but had now changed into a dress suit with a frilled white shirt and cuffs. He asked the audience to give a big welcome to the popular singing artiste Teddy Turner.
The audience held its breath as Teddy strode onto the stage. There were squeals of delight from the women, and Marie heard Vesta gasp, ‘Isn’t he handsome?’
Marie nodded. Tall, dark and dramatically handsome in his black evening suit, he gave a wide smile and touched the red rose in his buttonhole. He straightened his sleeves, while his dark eyes roamed the audience in a slow, enticing manner. His hair was slicked back even higher than usual in a glossy wave, and his eyes were framed by two distinctive black eyebrows. Marie wondered if he had drawn them in with pencil, they looked so perfect. She turned to Vesta, who seemed about to faint. She was sitting on the edge of her seat, and her mouth had fallen open as she took halting breaths.
Drawing himself up, Teddy put his smooth lips close to the microphone. He began to sing, ‘I’m Through With Love’, a song made popular by Bing Crosby. Marie noticed he started off in a low, drawling voice that didn’t quite match the tune the musicians were playing. As hard as he tried, he just couldn’t keep the rhythm. Eventually he resorted to humming and ad-libbing some lines. To Marie’s surprise, two girls in the front row let out screams. The manager rushed out to try to control them. But undaunted, Teddy sang on, causing an even greater stir in the audience.
‘Oh my God,’ gasped Vesta as he ended his first song. ‘Didn’t I tell you he was a wonderful singer?’
Marie stared at her sister. Was Vesta really listening to the same person as she was?
Marie glanced at Elsie, who raised her eyebrows. ‘All the young girls seem to like him, and why not?’ commented Elsie. ‘He’s a charmer, without doubt. But a singing voice that boy has not got.’
‘Oh, Elsie!’ exclaimed Vesta, astonished. ‘He sings like an angel!’
An older woman in the seat in front of them turned round. ‘He ain’t my cup of tea either. But he can certainly put on the style.’
‘What about you, Mum?’ Marie asked.
Ada frowned and gave a bewildered shrug. ‘Perhaps this is the modern thing,’ she said diplomatically, ‘and we older women are a bit behind the times.’
When Teddy ended the number, it was long before the musicians had finished. He didn’t seem bothered and smiled at the young women who applauded him.
Teddy took several curtain calls. On the last one, Vesta suddenly screamed out his name. She waved her hands and jumped up and down. On seeing her, Teddy took the rose from his buttonhole and threw it down.
Vesta caught it and clutched it close. Marie saw Teddy blow her a kiss. Once again, Marie thought Vesta was about to faint.
‘He blew me a kiss,’ gasped Vesta breathlessly as Teddy swaggered from the stage. ‘And threw me his rose. I knew this dress would catch his eye!’
‘It might have had something to do with the three feet you jumped in the air,’ giggled Marie.
‘You’re just jealous cos you didn’t get a rose.’
Marie wondered how Vesta could be taken in. Teddy was hopeless but won the young women’s attention and revelled in it. She thought of Bing and looked up to the gods, the rows of seats high above the back of the theatre. Had he just been joking about coming tonight?
‘Teddy was amazing,’ repeated Vesta, her eyes lingering on the empty stage. ‘And he only had eyes for me.’
Marie thought Teddy’s attention had strayed far and wide; he was handsome and an artful performer. But he had made an awful hash of the song. She was glad when the next act came on, a young woman who wore a long, sparkling evening gown and had a good voice. She sang ‘Ave Maria’ and, although looking nervous, ended without fault. After Teddy’s act, it was a pleasure to sit and listen to someone with talent.
Dusk had fallen by the time they left the theatre. Marie waited with Elsie and Ada, whilst Vesta spoke to a group of young girls who were still in raptures over Teddy. They were all asking her about how she knew him and Marie could see Vesta was loving every minute, basking in their attention.
‘You’d never believe it, would you?’ said Elsie in an amused voice. ‘Whatever that Teddy Turner has got, he should bottle it.’
‘He is very good-looking,’ said Ada, frowning over at the group. ‘I hope Vesta can keep a level head.’
‘She seems to be doing all right,’ Elsie mused, pulling her jacket around her. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if someone asks for her autograph.’
Marie giggled. ‘And Vesta would give it, I expect.’
Elsie laughed but Ada looked concerned. ‘She wants to be famous so much.’
Elsie nodded. ‘You never know, she might be one day.’ She looked at Marie. ‘How about you, love, did you enjoy it?’
‘Yes, thanks, Elsie, the evening was wonderful.’
‘You and Vesta are as good as any of them acts we saw tonight,’ said Elsie kindly. ‘You should have a go up there one day.’
‘Thanks, Elsie. But we need to practise more to be better than the rest. Those other singers, especially the girl who sang “Ave Maria”, were very good.’
As Ada and Elsie discussed the performances, Marie noticed they didn’t say anything more about Teddy. Had she imagined how out of tune he was? Or were Ada and Elsie just being polite for Vesta’s sake?
‘Well, we’d better get cracking,’ said Elsie. ‘Got a long walk home.’
‘I was hoping Hector might be here to meet us,’ Ada said wistfully. ‘But he’s probably dropped in to the Cubby Hole.’
Marie saw Elsie’s glance of pity. They all hoped Hector didn’t spend any of his earnings on beer.
Marie slid her arm through her mother’s. Over the last couple of years, their father had taken to spending a lot of time at the tavern. Ada never complained when he said he wasn’t drinking, but mixing with the arty types at the Cubby Hole. He maintained it was all part of the business.
But Marie knew that Hector was well past his prime. He was unlikely to become popular again, as he still lived in the old world. That had been made perfectly clear tonight. For even some of the shrewd East End audience had approved of the talentless Teddy.