Читать книгу Mr Starlight - Laurie Graham - Страница 11

I had a right royal send-off from Greely’s. They’d had a whip round and they presented me with a travelling shaving compendium and a card signed by everyone in the Trimming Shop. One of the bosses even came down from the top floor to shake me by the hand.

I said to Stan, ‘See, they are human after all.’

‘That’s because you’re leaving,’ he said. ‘Think what you’re saving them in severance pay.’

Our first sailing was mid-April and we had to be aboard twenty-four hours before departure. There was a lot to do, packing our valises, saying our farewells, and we were quite the celebrities in Saltley those last few days. Mam sent me round to Jewkes’s to buy her a hairnet and Mr Jewkes got so carried away, surmising how much money we’d be earning, after stoppages, he took the last hairnet off the card and then put it back in the window, empty. I always remembered that.

And then Mrs Edkins yoo-hooed me from the doorway of Spooner’s the butchers, wanting me to go in so she could show me off to all the ladies who were queuing for their meat. ‘This is Annie Boff’s other boy,’ she said. ‘I’ve known them both since they were babs, and now young Selwyn’s going to America to be a star, and he’s taking Cledwyn here along with him. Isn’t that nice?’

The morning we left, people gathered on the corner of Ninevah Street to wave us off. Mam was coming with us, to see us on to the train, but Dilys never liked goodbyes. She said she’d stay behind and make a start on stripping the old wallpaper off Sel’s bedroom wall. ‘You won’t know it when you get back,’ she said. Dilys loved paperhanging.

He said, ‘I’m not coming back.’

Dilys said, ‘Oh, don’t say that.’

Sel said, ‘Don’t worry. It won’t go to waste. Cled might be glad to move back upstairs.’

He’d insisted on riding to the station in a taxi. ‘Stars don’t wait at bus stops,’ he said. And he was wearing sunglasses.

Mam said, ‘I’ll leave you here, then,’ when we got to the barrier. ‘I won’t hang about.’

She’d spotted Vera Muddimer and Joan Wagstaff. They were down on the platform with a big sign that said ‘Bon Voyage’ and Mam never liked competition. Still, it was hard to watch her walk away, all on her own. Sel was smiling and bouncing around, but I was having a few qualms myself.

Vera said, ‘Cheer up, Cled. Or shall I go in your place? I can play “Good King Wenceslas” on the mouth organ.’

It was raining as the train pulled out, but he kept his sunglasses on.

I said, ‘Do you think Mam’s going to be all right?’

‘Why wouldn’t she be?’ he said.

It was a Monday, as I recall. Monday we generally had cold meat and pickles, and a milk pudding to follow. Rice was my favourite, but I didn’t object to sago or tapioca, provided there was jam to go with it.

I said, ‘I don’t know. Suddenly she’s all on her own. I keep thinking of her, dishing up one plate instead of three.’

‘It’s the natural course of things,’ he said. ‘All these years she’s groomed me for stardom and now I’m on my way. That’s more important to her than having to eat her tea on her own. Anyway, Teilo’ll probably turn up.’

I’d seen pictures of the Queen Mary in the newspapers but nothing prepared you for walking out of the shed and seeing the curve of her bow towering over you. Her name alone must have been fifty feet long, and the sun had broken through, bouncing off the shine off her new demob paint. Glossy black and white, and her raked funnels dark orange. She was beautiful.

Sel was eager to go aboard and sign on, but I persuaded him to wait with me a few minutes and watch all the comings and goings. A big fancy motor car was being lowered into the hold and two ratings were carrying vases of white chrysanthemums up the gangplank, floral arrangements taller than they were. There were crates stacked all over the dockside and a young Yank overheard us guessing what was in them. ‘Eleven thousand pounds of sugar,’ he said. ‘Twenty thousand bottles of beer. I see you’re new boys. What’s your trade?’

He was Jim Ganey, Dining Room Waiter, First Class, and he had all the answers. ‘That automobile is the property of Lord Freddy Orr,’ he said. ‘He likes to while away the crossing losing at poker. And the chrysanthemums are for the Duke and Dukess. The ones you Brits ran out of town. I’ve sailed with them before and I can tell you, they always travel with a quantity of flowers.’ We were going to be sailing with the Windsors.

Sel said, ‘How about that, Cled! I could be doing a Royal Command Performance sooner than I thought.’

But Ganey said, ‘Don’t fool yourselves. Once their stateroom is fixed up to their liking they stay put, save theirselves the bother of getting pestered by nobodies.’

I’d have liked to take a look around but there was a band call at six o’clock and we had three queues to join before we could go anywhere and the first one was to join the union.

Sel said, ‘I’m not joining any bloody union.’ But it was that or go home and the representative didn’t appear to care which way he jumped as long as he made his mind up and stopped holding up the queue. It was a terrible shock to him, to be spoken to like that. There were all types signing on and Sel wasn’t accustomed to the rougher element. He couldn’t take his eyes off them.

And then we got our quarters. A four-berth cabin, aft on R deck. Sel said, ‘There must be a mix-up. I should have my own cabin. I’m a vocalist.’

‘Intermission singer,’ the Ship’s Writer said. ‘R64. Next!’

Sel went very quiet. At home he was accustomed to a room of his own, with his costumes hung on padded hangers and a lace mat on his bedside table. He was very particular about his bits and pieces. Mam mopped his lino twice a week and dusted where she could, but she never moved anything because he liked everything just so. If ever we went to our Dilys’s for tea he’d start tidying her spoon drawer.

I said, ‘Cheer up, our kid. At least they’ve put us together.’ We were sharing with a bass player called Feifer and a drummer called Wilkie. Bunk beds and tin lockers, and two strangers watching every move you made. Feifer was a bad-tempered type, used to lie in his cot eating slices of raw onion, and Wilkie was plain light-fingered. My shaving set from Greely’s disappeared before we were out of sight of land. It was a good thing I was there, to show Sel the ropes and make sure nobody nicked his brilliantine.

He said, ‘This is insulting. Where am I supposed to hang my suits?’

I said, ‘We could be worse off. People like the greasers and the bellboys are ten to a billet.’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Could be worse. That’s your way of looking at a situation, Cled. Could be better. Should be better. That’s my way of looking at things.’

The night before a sailing was always organised chaos. Crew who turned up at the last minute, crew who didn’t turn up at all, companion ways like Piccadilly Circus, trolleys of liquor and cigarettes and linens being pushed along the working alleys. ‘Burma Road’ they called it down there. And all the while cargo being winched aboard. Three tons of butter, according to Jim Ganey. Fifty thousand pounds of spuds.

We had a pep talk from Massie, the entertainments manager. ‘Punctuality, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said. ‘Please remember to adjust your timepieces every night. And remember you’re here to do a job of work. Don’t venture into passenger areas. Don’t presume to fraternise with the clientele. Any questions?’

I don’t think he expected any.

‘Yes,’ Sel said. ‘How about if the clientele try to fraternise with me?’

‘Mr Boff,’ he said, ‘I believe you’re engaged as a vocalist. This is no time to try being a comedian.’

We piled down to the mess room for Beef à la Mode with three veg, cheese and biscuits and a choice of ice cream, then somebody set up a card school and a dartboard in the post room. You couldn’t have your usual recreational facilities the night before sailing or the night before docking. The social club was in the baggage area.

Sel was sitting down the table from me, chatting to an older man with epaulettes on his shirt.

I said, ‘Are you coming for a game of arrows?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ve made other plans.’

I heard somebody say, ‘Good lad. Keeping Mother happy. You’ll go far.’

Sel’s new pal was Mess Room Steward Noel Carey, but everyone called him Mother and he took a shine to Sel right from the start. You need company if you’re below decks all the time. We musicians at least got to move about a bit, but Carey never went up for air. He led a lonely life, but Sel humoured him, and when Mother Carey had been humoured the door to the pantries would swing wide open. Once my guts had got accustomed to the way the ship rolled, I enjoyed a late supper, after showtime. Ham and eggs, or a flash-fried steak slapped between two slices of bread. All thanks to Sel’s cheery personality. But a ship’s crew is a close community. You need to go carefully. He said, ‘I’ll see you later. Noel’s got something he wants to show me.’

I said to him later, ‘We only just got here, so take things steady. When you’re a newcomer you have to be careful not to tread on anybody’s toes.’

‘What?’ he said. ‘Whose toes?’

I said, ‘That pantryman with the gappy teeth. After you went off to see Mr Carey’s theatre programmes he said, “I wonder if he’s going to show him his etchings as well?” sarcastic like. I think I detected a note of envy.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ he said. ‘Envy’s something I’m going to have to get accustomed to. Listen, I had a look in one of the First Class staterooms. You get a three-piece suite, Cled, not just a bed. And a coffee table and a drinks cabinet. That’s the way to travel.’

I said, ‘You’ll be getting the sack before we’ve even sailed. You heard what the boss said. No snooping off limits.’

‘I wasn’t snooping,’ he said. ‘Noel took me up and showed me around. It’s beautiful, Cled. Elegant. That’s what I’m going to have some day. A stateroom, with a pink leather settee and a telephone and a fresh bowl of fruit every morning.’

‘Shut yer yap, pretty boy,’ Feifer said. ‘Some of us is trying to sleep.’