Chapter 5

It was Friday night and the days just hadn’t come fast enough for Mary, unlike Toby, who was dubious about letting his foster sister walk out with a lad he had never met.

‘You tell him to behave himself, else he’ll have me to answer to,’ he muttered as he put his head down and ate his supper at the table, while Mary titivated herself and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

‘He will! He knows exactly where he stands because I’ve told him I’ll not put up with any nonsense.’ Mary smiled at her reflection and turned to look at her brother, who was suffering from another bout of coughing. ‘Will you be all right? I’ll not be late back – after all, we’re both at work in the morning.’

‘I’ll wait up for you because I won’t sleep until I know that you are home safe.’ Toby wiped his mouth and looked up at Mary. He’d always been there to protect her when she was a child and now she was a full-grown woman with a mind of her own he was finding it hard to take that she was now the stronger of the two of them.

‘You don’t have to. Get yourself to bed and don’t wait up for me. I’ll be fine.’ Mary bent down and kissed Toby on the cheek, then checked her straw hat, decorated with cherries and ribbons, as she made for the kitchen door. ‘Next week you’re going to see the doctor with that cough. You need some medicine.’ Mary smiled at the lad she regarded as a brother and nothing more, not realising that Toby’s feelings were changing and that secretly he loved her and was quite jealous of her walking out with Frank.

‘Aye, you might be right, but never mind that, you just watch yourself tonight.’ Toby bowed his head as Mary closed the kitchen door behind her into the night. He sighed and looked into the fire that kept the rundown cottage cheerful. There was no need for Mary to drag him to the doctor; he’d already been and he knew what fate awaited him. However, for now, his worries were for Mary. He only hoped that her head would not be turned by this Frank, who sounded a chancer. Toby wanted better for her. She needed a man with money and, more importantly, someone who would love her and take care of her – not a lad who was only a waiter in a bar. He’d loved Mary all his life and, as he picked up the poker and stirred the dying coals, he prayed that she would take care and not be led astray.

‘I feel sick! My stomach is churning, I’m so excited,’ Mary said and giggled as she and Frank made their way towards the open stage doors, nudging up the queue along the White Swan Yard with the rest of people waiting to be seated in the music hall.

‘Aye, I can’t wait, especially now I know Marie Lloyd is singing tonight – she’s my favourite. George will be jealous, he’s a big follower of hers and what with you on my arm and her singing to me, he’ll not talk to me for the next month or two.’ Frank grinned to himself, thinking that he’d been wise to make the first move on Mary because George had commented favourably on the new bar girl.

‘You haven’t said anything to him, have you?’ Mary asked as she was urged to keep up with the crowd that was slowly moving into the hall.

‘No. Me tell George about what I get up to? I don’t think so!’ Frank unhooked his arm from Mary’s and put his hands in his pockets.

‘You have, haven’t you? I can tell that you have! I told you I wanted to keep our evening quiet, I didn’t want everybody to think that I was easily led on my first week at work. I should have known that you wouldn’t keep your mouth shut.’ Mary glared at Frank.

‘If I hadn’t have said I was going to walk out with you, he was going to ask and I wasn’t going to have that. I caught your eye first. Besides, he’s always the one that catches the girls’ eyes. I think even Lizzie is secretly sweet on him,’ Frank stated as he paid for their tickets at the box office and took Mary’s arm again to guide her to the cheap seats instead of the boxes that he could only dream of affording.

‘He wanted to ask me out as well? He never said anything. Why didn’t he ask me?’ Mary stopped in her tracks next to heavy dark red drapes that gave way to the main seating area of the music hall.

‘Cos I told him you were my girl and to shut his gob,’ Frank said as he pushed her through the curtains into the hall which was packed with people finding their seats, hoping that she would forgive him.

‘You did what? Let me tell you, Frank Gibson, I’m nobody’s girl and if you think buying me a ticket to the music hall makes me that, then I’m leaving right away.’ People bustled around them as she stood with her hands on her hips, oblivious.

‘All right, all right! I’ll make it right tomorrow with him, but for now, let’s find our seats and enjoy our evening together. I’m sorry, but I didn’t want him sniffing around you. He always gets the girls and I never do.’ Frank pulled on Mary’s arm and showed her to the seats that they were to sit in, right at the back of the hall and where he had hoped to start to court her like a spider caught in his web.

Mary could feel her cheeks were flushed as she made her way to the middle of the row of velvet-covered wooden seats that faced the empty stage and sat down, still fuming, thinking about how presumptuous Frank had been. He’d spoiled her evening and she felt like getting up and leaving, but as she looked around her, the temper that had taken hold of her subsided and she began to calm down.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I just knew I didn’t want to lose the chance to walk out with you.’ Frank bowed his head, truly regretting his actions. ‘Anyway, we’re here now. What do you think? Isn’t it wonderful? You can sit back and lose yourself for an hour or two, which is why I come, just to escape the real world.’

‘Oh, it’s all right. I should be flattered, really. It’s just that I don’t want people thinking that my head is turned that easy. Now, as you say, let’s enjoy the evening together and leave it at friends for the time being.’ Mary smiled at the rueful Frank. ‘We’ve certainly got good seats, Frank, we’re looking right onto the centre of the stage – and just look up at all these people dressed in their finest. I’d love to be in one of those gilt boxes up there – the view of the stage must be wonderful from them. To think my mother used to sing on this very stage! I just can’t believe it.’ Mary decided to make the best of the night and forgive the lad who had only tried his best to get her to himself. She was flattered, really, now she had time to calm down.

‘Your mother used to sing here? Was she famous? Have I heard of her? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’ Frank gasped.

‘She was quite famous for a short while, but then she became ill and could no longer sing. She was known as the Yorkshire Linnet and I used to come here when I was very, very small although I can’t remember much.’ Mary went quiet and could feel tears building up in her eyes. She couldn’t remember most of the things around her, but the smell of the greasepaint and expensive cigars being smoked by the gentry in their boxes was bringing memories flooding back to her as she listened to the orchestra warming up in the pit and saw the curtains on the stage beginning to twitch when the acts behind them took quick peeps to see if the hall was full.

‘I’ve heard my father talk about her!’ Frank gasped. ‘He said she sang like a lark and that she was beautiful, that she sang sad songs that pulled at the heartstrings. In fact, I think my dad was smitten by your mother. Wait until I tell him that I’m walking out with her daughter!’

‘Oh, Frank, don’t say anything to him, please? My mother died a terrible death and it’s best her memory is left in peace.’ Mary reached for Frank’s hand and squeezed it slightly.

‘All right, I’ve learned. This time I’ll keep my big gob shut. I don’t want us to fall out again. I must say that you are a bit of a dark horse, Mary Reynolds. But I quite like that …’ Frank smiled but couldn’t help but wonder what death had befallen Mary’s mother as he sat back in his seat, content that he had someone special sitting next to him as the curtains swished open and the evening’s entertainment began.

The audience yelled their appreciation as the host announced the acts that were to appear and Mary and Frank clapped and cheered with every act that appeared on the stage. Jugglers, acrobats, clowns, and singers entertaining people and letting them forget their everyday worries. At long last the act that everyone was waiting for was announced, the ever-popular Marie Lloyd. Mary held her breath as she watched Marie Lloyd walk onto the stage dressed in the most beautiful pink dress and a matching hat adorned with roses and birds. She owned the stage as soon as she opened her mouth and she smiled at her audience as they joined in with her singing. She was the star of the show and she knew it; she had more confidence and swagger than ever Mary’s mother had, although Mary couldn’t know that. Marie Lloyd was born to perform and that was what she was doing as she announced her latest song and blew kisses to her audience as she started singing The Boy in the Gallery and Mary was enchanted when it came to the last chorus:

The boy I love is up in the gallery,

The boy I love is looking now at me,

There he is, can’t you see, waving his handkerchief,

As merry as a robin that sings on a tree.

As Marie sang, all the men took their handkerchiefs from their pockets and waved them frantically to gain her attention, their wives and sweethearts shaking their heads as she smiled sweetly and blew kisses at the men who adored her. She was the star that Eve Reynolds could have been and Mary felt a tear rolling down her cheek as Frank whistled and shouted Lloyd’s name to gain her attention. This was how famous her mother would have been if life hadn’t dealt her a hard hand. Mary smiled and wiped her tear away as Frank turned and looked at her, smiling.

‘She’s absolutely brilliant, isn’t she?’ Frank enthused.

‘Yes, she is. I can see why she’s so popular, especially with the men,’ Mary said and smiled.

‘Just like your mother was, so I’ve heard my father say. I can’t believe you’re her daughter. I’ve fallen on my feet finding you. You will come again, with me, won’t you?’ Frank asked as Marie Lloyd left the stage to deafening applause.

‘I’ll see, Frank, but it will be just as friends, for now,’ Mary yelled over the second round of applause as Marie Lloyd came and bowed for her loving crowd yet again.

‘Yes, as friends, and I’ll keep your secret, don’t worry. Although I’d be yelling about it if the Yorkshire Linnet was my mother.’ Frank looked at Mary and wished he knew more about the girl who obviously had many secrets but did not want to share them with him.

‘Well, I suppose that’s that, time to go home.’ Frank looked at the crowds that were now dispersing and wondered whether he should try his luck and ask to walk Mary home, but he was soon told not to.

‘Yes, thank you, Frank, for a lovely evening. And there’s no need to walk me home, I’m fine on my own and my brother will be waiting for me.’ Mary walked out of the music hall with Frank by her side and they stopped and looked at one another awkwardly at the end of the Swan yard. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow – and remember not to say anything about who my mother was. As far as those at work know, I was brought up by Robert Jones and his wife – which is true – and there’s no need to ever mention my mother.’ Mary pulled on her gloves and looked up into Frank’s eyes.

‘No, I’ll not say anything and it’s nowt to do with folk anyway,’ Frank said and put his hands in his pockets. He wanted to kiss Mary but thought better of it; she was so independent and he knew that she would not appreciate his advances.

‘Then I’ll see you in the morning.’ Mary stopped for a second and smiled before turning to walk home down the cobbled gaslit streets with the rest of the dispersing crowds.

Frank watched her go until she was out of sight. Mary was feisty but that was what he liked about her; she was different from the usual barmaids. The fact that she was Robert Jones’s foster daughter might have something to do with it – everyone knew him to be a tough copper, but he was also one of the people. After all, he’d married a prostitute and that had been the talk of Leeds for a while. As for Mary’s mother, he’d had no idea until now that she was a famous singer, so how had Mary come to be brought up by Robert Jones and what had happened to her father? There was a lot more to be found out about Mary Reynolds and he’d like to be the man who learned it through her friendship.

Frank sat down in the humble home that he shared with his mother and father and pulled off his boots before thanking his mother for a brew of tea that she placed on the table next to him.

‘Have you had a good night, lad, with that new bar lass that you were sprucing yourself up for?’ His father tapped his pipe empty into the dying ashes of the fire in readiness for retiring to his bed.

‘I have, Father, and you’ll never guess who her mother was! You’ve mentioned her name often in the past.’ Frank couldn’t keep his news to himself.

‘Who is she then, lad?’ Frank’s father asked and looked at his wife, who had fretted all night about her only son walking out with a mystery lass.

Frank beamed with pride. ‘She’s the daughter of the Yorkshire Linnet – you know, the one you’ve always talked about singing the Irish songs when you were a young lad like me.’ Frank sat back, a look of pride on his face as he drank his mother’s lovingly prepared cup of tea.

‘Oh, my lord!’ his mother gasped.

‘By God, tha wants nowt with that ’en.’ His father stared at his son. ‘Her mother might have been a good singer, but she kept bad company before she died. And her friend, Bonfire Nell, was nothing more than a common prostitute. Nell’s the one that brought the girl up after her mother died of consumption, though some said it could have been syphilis. It was the talk of Leeds when she was buried without a penny to her name. You find someone better than that ’en, lad. Common as muck she’ll be; you set your sights higher than her.’ He stood up and looked at his wife, whose face was fraught with worry. ‘She’ll be nowt, lad, born in the gutter and that’s where she belongs.’

He went to wind the grandfather clock up before both parents went up the stairs to bed, leaving their son thinking about Mary. So, Mary Reynolds was a prostitute’s daughter? No wonder she wanted to keep herself to herself – and his father was right, he could do a lot better for himself although she was bonny. There was him thinking she was too good for him, when it was the other way around. Perhaps he should warn George just who they were working with, else he would fall into the same trap as him. She’d probably be carrying her late mother’s disease and no man wanted to catch that. From now on he’d give her a wide berth.

Mary looked around her; the people she worked with had been rather quiet and less welcoming this week. She might be imagining things but she could have sworn that the staff in the kitchen were whispering about her when she had entered with an order. Frank had kept his distance as well and any offer of going to the Music Hall again had disappeared. The only one who was treating her normally was Nancy and she was no different in her manners towards everyone.

Mary looked at Lizzie, who looked pale and drawn; even she had not been as talkative of late.

‘Are you all right, Lizzie? I’m doing my job well enough for you, I hope?’ Mary took her to one side when there was a break in service and asked her outright.

‘Yes, of course, you are. In fact, Mr Whitelock was just saying what a good worker you were; you’ve impressed him. It’s just me, Mary. I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment and things are not going to plan.’ Lizzie smiled wanly at Mary and tried not to show the worry on her face.

‘You’re all right, aren’t you? I couldn’t help but notice that you look a bit white and you’re not as talkative as you were when I first started.’ Mary thought that if anybody was going to tell her why she felt cold-shouldered, Lizzie would.

‘Oh, Mary, I’m sorry. I’m wrapped up in my troubles and have felt so unwell of late. I should have known that you’d pick up on my condition because we work so close.’ Lizzie tried to smile.

‘Your condition? Do you mean you are …?’ Mary glanced down at Lizzie’s flat stomach.

‘Yes, I’m expecting, and it’s been a bit of a shock to both of us. It’s a good job I’m soon to be married and leaving Leeds, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying. My mother says it’s my own fault for lifting my skirts and that I should have known better, but that’s what you do when you love your man.’ Lizzie looked at Mary with tears in her eyes.

‘Don’t worry, Lizzie, at least you have a good man from what you’ve told me. He’ll not let you down. Now that I know I’ll do more behind the bar and look after you. I know it sounds self-centred, but I thought it was me who had done something wrong because everyone seems a little reserved with me at the moment. All except Nancy and she’s her usual self.’ Mary sighed.

‘Thank you, Mary, and it’s for the best you learn all my jobs because now I’ll be leaving sooner than expected and I think you are just the person for my position, regardless of what other folk think.’ Lizzie looked at Mary, hesitant about telling her what she had heard being whispered behind her back.

‘What do you mean, “other folk think”? So they are talking about me!’ Mary gasped.

‘I suppose I’m best telling you, now I’ve told you my secret. Frank has been telling everyone who your mother was and how she lived and died. I don’t listen to gossip, but the other ones do – not that any of them are squeaky clean.’ Lizzie graspd Mary’s arm. ‘Don’t be mad with them; they like to gossip and something else will come along for them to talk about next week so it’s best you rise above it.’

‘Bloody Frank! He promised me that he wouldn’t say anything about my mother. I suspected that he’d think the worst of her if he talked to his father, who’d tell him all the gossip about her. I suppose they think my mother was a prostitute?’ Mary said quietly.

Lizzie just nodded and then hung her head low. ‘Well, she wasn’t, Lizzie. No matter how bad things got she would not sell her body, so you can tell them all that! She was just guilty by association and you can tell them, too, that I’m proud that I was raised by Nell, who once made her living walking the streets. She had a good heart, so they shouldn’t judge.’ Mary fought back the tears, knowing that no matter where she went, she could not hide her past.

‘I’ll tell them, Mary. None of them are without their pasts, and they should know not to judge you on your foster mother’s lifestyle. Women have always had to do things they didn’t want to do to make a living. I just thank the Lord that I’ve got a good man and that he’ll stand by me. You hold your head up high and ignore them all. You do your job well and get my position of bar manager when I’ve gone because John Whitelock thinks highly of you and that’s all that matters; he’ll always have the time of day for a good worker.’ Lizzie wrapped her arms around Mary and hugged her. ‘Come on, lass, show them what you’re made of and ignore their wagging tongues. I should have warned you not to have anything to do with Frank. He’s his mother’s pet, even though he’s been caught being light-fingered around the market, so he’s no need to talk.’ Lizzie winked as Frank came through the doors with his nose in the air.

‘Mind you don’t slip on what’s under your nose – it must smell terribly bad, especially if it’s come out of your mouth!’ Mary shouted at him and scowled. She’d be pleasant with everyone else, but she’d let the backbiting Frank know exactly where he stood with her. He’d not kept his promise and she wasn’t about to forgive him this time.

‘What do you mean?’ Frank looked dismayed at Mary’s outburst.

‘I know what you’ve been saying about me. Well, you are wrong, my mother was a good person. She never sold herself to anybody, you snivelling rat, she died of consumption, nothing more.’ Mary spat her words at him and then opened the door to the kitchen and yelled through at the staff there. ‘I hope you all heard that! My mother was not a prostitute, so you can all stop gossiping and avoiding me. I might have lived in a bad area of Leeds when I was little but I rose above it and I will not put up with any rubbish from anyone, especially from a two-faced waiter!’

‘Lord, who’s rattled your cage?’ Frank said and then disappeared back into the kitchen, where he found no sympathy from anyone. They were all in the same position as Mary, just trying to do the best in their lives, and regretted the nasty gossip they’d indulged in.