7

‘You were tremendous, Tony,’ May Mitchell said as the curtains finally closed. I turned to her and she stood on tiptoe to kiss me full on the mouth, her tongue just caressing the inside of my lips for a second.

Jimmy was already coming back on stage and he clapped me on the back. ‘Well done, Tony, you never fluffed a line.’

This said, he went out front of the tabs to make his pitch for the next night and I drew back from May.

‘Thanks, May,’ I said. ‘I was nervous, I can tell you.’

Tom and Peter Hunter came on stage, placing the props for the ‘long laughable sketch, to send you home with a smile instead of a tear’, both brothers giving me thumbs up.

‘More power to you, Tony,’ Tom said, and even Peter, the quiet man, grinned at me and gave me a thumbs up sign.

I walked off, my head spinning, knowing I really had done an alright job in my first leading role. Somehow, I had come through with any fluffs and I had not made one wrong move.

Side stage, Pauline was tinkling at the piano, supplying a hint of music to Jimmy’s Out Front pitch for the next show.

As I stepped down side stage, she looked at me and said: ‘If you stick this scene more than three months, you want your head examined.’

‘How do you mean?’ I lit a couple of cigarette and stuck one carefully between her beautiful lips.

‘It’ll destroy you...’ She nodded her head: ‘As you might have gathered, I’m not one for throwing bouquets about.’

‘I know that,’ I said.

She nodded her head in acknowledgement. ‘Okay so! You are some kind of gifted actor.’

Jimmy brushed by, hissing ‘John Audley’ which was his ‘get a move on’ expression. I didn’t have to rush because I wasn’t in the sketch.

‘Thanks, Pauline, that’s very encouraging.’

‘And I mean an actor, not like the rest of us here.’

Peter Hunter squeezed by me to get to the tab line and as he started to pull on it to open the curtains, Pauline started to bang out ‘Roll Out The Barrel’ as Jimmy rushed on stage with his ‘I’m the funny man around here’ stutter of a running walk!

‘Can we finish this conversation later?’

She looked up from the piano, smiling wickedly with her deep, dark eyes: ‘Sure, if May hasn’t got you in a half-nelson.’

I went down the side of the hall to the door. Jenny was standing there, watching the sketch.

‘If you’d like to go up,’ I said, ‘it’s warmer.’

‘Thanks...’ she said, somewhat surprised, and away she went.

I watched her go and I wondered what kind of man her husband had been. Quite a guy, to judge by the way she was still grieving. But so far, Jenny hadn’t talked much to me about anything, let alone her dead husband. She was a shy kind of woman, sharing the breakfast table with myself and the Hunter brothers, without contributing much more than the time of day.

As the audience filed out of the hall, Jimmy joined me as a couple of well-built girls came towards us. ‘We could make a foursome there without too much trouble,’ he whispered.

‘I’m off,’ I said, grinning as his face registered serious disappointment, ‘doctor’s orders.’

The girls passed by, smiling desperately at Jimmy and he immediately stepped out after them. All I did was say good night to everybody came my way, but when I went backstage to look for Pauline, she had already gone to her wagon.

Gary congratulated me as I was taking off my make-up.

‘You have the makings, dear lad, indeed you have. Will you allow me guide you, help in any way I can?’

I looked at him, knowing he was being sincere. He looked so different without his make-up, and his eyes were alight with enthusiasm: ‘That was quite a feat tonight.’

I thanked him and told him I’d be grateful for any advice he could give me. He nodded, pleased by my response and he said: ‘We’ll have a talk this week. If you’re willing to work, you can go a long way.’

When I left the hall, I crept out a side door since I was afraid that Jimmy was out front with the two lassies seen earlier and I had no desire to get into small talk with strangers, even though they were both well endowed up top. I was also tired and carrying a hint of disappointment that I didn’t get any time with Pauline before she split.

I stood in the darkness for a few minutes, taking in the night sounds, wondering if she expected me to drop by her wagon on my way to the digs. She had helped me so much with the play, running me through it again and again, cueing me until I was word perfect, so that she knew I could be in her home with her, without expecting to jump on top of her.

There hadn’t been any physical contact, apart from when our hands touched accidentally, or when I had kissed her face as I thanked her for all the help. I’ll admit that I had felt close to her but I felt that something was bothering her during the time we spent together on the play. I don’t think it was a reaction to the possible sexual outcome of serious time spent together. She must have guessed that I had a very soft spot for her but I hadn’t got within a mile of making a pass at her.

So, I guessed it was something within her, but even in the moments where I felt she needed to unload something that had nothing to do with me, she pulled away and we were back to the script, which had paid off wonderfully well for me as an actor.

I walked back to the digs and went into the kitchen to fix myself a cup of cocoa. Molly was there, full of chat about the play. A neighbour was sitting with her, the pair of them close to the fire but I hadn’t been in the place five minutes before Molly had managed to get rid of her without causing offence.

‘She’s a shocking gossip.’ Molly explained, stirring the cocoa like she was mix cement. ‘And she’d talk the hind legs off an ostrich!’

I really didn’t care, but I nodded my head occasionally, my mind full of Pauline, even though I could not help getting hot for May Mitchell who certainly gave the impression that she was hot for me. I could still feel her tongue where she had run it along the inside of my lips and I practically felt a tingle when her incredible bust has pressed against my chest.

I found myself smiling at my belief that May knew exactly what she was doing when she pressed those beauties right into me the way she did.

Molly put a mug of cocoa on the table along with slices of bread and jam, and she sat down by the fire again, going straight into how much she enjoyed the play, and what a great actor I was, and a lot more stuff like this.

I did my best to be polite, yawning a lot and finally getting up from the table with a grateful tone to my voice as I thanked her and bid her a real goodnight.

I went asleep amazed at my own immaturity, as I heard Jimmy’s guffaw of a laugh once more, this hardened veteran of the touring life, being decent enough not to call me a gobshite after I had vowed, in the first flush of shame about the VD, that I would ‘from here on in’ remain celibate until I went to my marriage bed.

I was lucky with Jimmy. We clicked from the very start and he had been a real friend to me when I needed him most. I also realised that if I kept my ears open and my mouth shut, I could learn from him all the time. And I was wide open to the idea of wising-up, hungry to know it all.

Next morning while I was sweeping out the hall, I got a glimpse of another drama involving my employer Jimmy.

This began with Denny O’Mara, looking pale and very worried, who was so busy with his own stuff that he didn’t even hear my greeting of Good Morning. I got on with sweeping the floor and because of the fact that I’d raised the masking curtains to let some air in back stage, I could see Denny cramming his gear into a suitcase. When he closed the case, he came out front, and I saw that he was sweating. He didn’t say anything so I left him alone, and though I couldn’t have said why, I felt sorry for him. Something big had to be wrong for him to be leaving without his trunk and the rest of his stuff.

The front door of the hall opened and slammed shut behind my back. I turned around and found Jimmy Frazer standing just inside. He was out of breath and his face was white with anger.

He didn’t look at me. His eyes were on Denny at the far end of the hall. I moved further into the row I was sweeping to get myself out of the way. I’d seen enough punch-ups to know that one was about to get under way.

Denny put his suitcase down and Jimmy walked up the aisle. His breathing was normal enough but his eyes were pin points of serious anger.

‘You lousy bastard,’ he hissed, ‘his teeth clenched tight across the words. ‘After the lousy run we’ve had.’ He stopped about six feet from Denny. His back was now to me but I could imagine how he looked from the way the words seemed to hurt him. ‘All you had to do was ask. I never said no when I was flush’.

Denny didn’t say anything. He just took his jacket off, knowing that he wasn’t going to talk his way out of whatever he had done to Jimmy.

‘You’ll have to walk over me to catch that train.’

Denny still didn’t speak and I watched, fascinated, as he put his jacket of the chair nearest him. Then he moved like a shot out of a gun - I am only just exaggerating. And though a thing like this happens in a fraction of a second, I had time to think that Jimmy was in real trouble. And I was wrong.

He didn’t move so much as sway slightly to one side, his right hand flashing at the same time. Denny didn’t have a chance as Jimmy’s fist caught him on the jaw near his left ear, stopping him in mid-move, before he seemed to leap backwards, knocking down seats and chairs on his way to end up in a heap about six feet away. He didn’t move and Jimmy stood for a few seconds looking at him, before he went over and hauled him to his feet to give him a good shaking.

Denny slowly came around and Jimmy pushed him onto a chair. Then he lifted Denny’s jacket from a chair and took an envelope from the inside pocket, from this he pulled a wad of notes. He peeled off a few of these and pushed them into the breast pocket of the jacket. ‘Half a week,’ he said, ‘it’ll get you to Dublin.’

Denny nodded while I put a cigarette into his hand and held a match while he dragged deeply on the tobacco. ‘Thanks, Dub’ he mumbled. I lit a cigarette for myself and offered the packet to Jimmy, my hand shaking a bit.

Denny now faced Jimmy and he said, ‘I’m sorry’

Jimmy nodded his head. ‘Me too,’ he said as he turned and walked back up the centre aisle to the front door of the hall.

I asked Denny: ‘Are you catching the eleven o’clock?’

He nodded, still a bit shaky on his legs.

‘I’ll take the case for you, Denny.’

He didn’t argue and I followed him out into the morning sunshine. Jimmy was there, leaning against the wall.

‘I’ll be back to finish sweeping up,’ I said.

He nodded and I knew he didn’t mind me helping Denny. But he did look disturbed and I could tell he was upset over what had happened. He was a tough man, but he was the type to suffer when he’d had time to think about things.

‘What about your trunk and the other things, Denny?’

Denny stepped on his cigarette end. ‘You can keep them, Dub. I’m through sleeping in the sticks.’

The train pulled in and there was some opening and closing of doors.

I pulled two pound notes from my pocket. ‘Have this then, Denny,’ I said, ‘it’s all I have at the moment.’

He shook his head and I said: ‘Go on, for the trunk and the other things,’ and I held the money out to him until he sighed and took it. ‘I didn’t want anything from you, but, it’ll help at the other end.’

We shook hands and he got on the train: ‘I’ll see you around, Dub.’

‘Sure, Denny,’ I said, ‘good luck.’

He found the hint of a dry grin: ‘There’s no such thing, Dub, no such thing.’

The train pulled away from the little station, and I felt sad. I hardly knew Denny O’Mara, he was just a fella I’d worked alongside for a little while, and yet, I was sorry to see him go, particularly to go the way he did., but he had to because he had pulled a stroke that made it impossible for him to stay. But, to see him getting on that train, his dignity lying behind him in the village hall, well, it was something I’d sooner have missed.

Jimmy had finished straightening up the seats and he was putting the rubbing into a sack when I got into the hall.

‘Did he say anything about his things?’

I answered with what Denny had said, mentioned that I’d given him a couple of quid, and Jimmy nodded, no surprise showing in his face.

‘You’re entitled to an explanation. Can I have another of your fags?’

I held a match for him and when he exhaled he said, ‘All he had to do was ask.’

‘I felt sorry for him, Jimmy.’

‘I knew he was a bit of a loser. Must be nuts as well to think he could get away with it.’

‘You didn’t call the police.’

He shook his head: ‘Never. We get enough of a bad name.’ He gave me a grin. ‘I’m sorry you had to see it, that’s all.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ I assured him. ‘I’ve seen women fighting each other, plenty of domestic black eyes. There was no shortage of aggro back home.’

As it turned out, the end of Denny was a beginning for me. That same night, I took his part in the play and in one of the gags that he worked with Jimmy and Gary.

From then on I found that I was doing more each week, getting all Denny’s parts and feeding Jimmy in some of the two-handed routines, even helping with comparing the show.

Each morning, Jimmy checked his book of gags to make sure we didn’t repeat anything though, later on in the tour, he would repeat a long sketch - the very funny one - ‘to send you home with a smile instead of a tear’ - telling the punters that he had so many requests for it, that he just couldn’t refuse.

My singing hadn’t set the hall alright, not even once. Yet, I felt I was working well and Pauline never stopped assuring me that I was more than alright as a crooner.

Because I was doing so many other things, I stopped worrying whether my solo went over big or not. I was earning my money, or Jimmy would have dropped me from the tour. He and I got along well, but, he was business all the way.