arms. Aloud she said indignantly: ‘Just you shut your gob, Basil O’Mara, and mind your own bleedin’ business. Kenny’s mam cleans them stairs twice a week and you could eat your dinner off ’em. Besides, the laundry’s too heavy for one person to carry, especially downstairs.’
Baz laughed. ‘Good thing Louella can’t hear you, swearin’ like a perishin’ docker,’ he said mockingly, but his tone was a good deal friendlier than it had been. ‘What have the pair of you got planned for today, eh? After you’ve lugged the sheets round to the washhouse, I mean?’
‘Dunno,’ Kenny said briefly. ‘But we’re both goin’ to help my mam and that’ll take up all the morning and most of the afternoon, I reckon. And of course Lottie’s on stage this evening.’
Baz nodded and ran down the steps into the court, and Kenny closed the door and came up the hall towards Lottie. ‘Are you ready?’ he said briskly. ‘If so, we’ll get goin’ at once. Mam’s gone to fetch the washin’ from old Mrs Ruddock and from Mrs Tennet at her canny house, so she’ll start their stuff first. But the sooner we get your mam’s stuff to the sinks the sooner we’ll be free to have a bit of fun.’
‘What sort of fun?’ Lottie asked suspiciously. Hanging round the stalls in St John’s market to see if they could nick something was not her idea of fun, but she knew Kenny often obtained fruit by this method. ‘Don’t forget I’m on stage this evening.’
‘Oh, you,’ Kenny said, grinning. ‘You keep saying you want to learn to swim, so I thought we might go down to the Scaldy. I know you won’t go in because it’s mostly lads there, but if I swam slow, like, you could watch. Likely you’d learn how it’s done without even getting your feet wet!’
Lottie giggled. ‘We’ll see what time your mam finishes with the washing,’ she said diplomatically. ‘And now let’s get moving, or we won’t reach the laundry till lunchtime!’
Chapter Four
1929
‘Do you know, Lottie, you’re nearly as tall as me now? It never occurred to me before that you might grow tall, but I suppose I should have guessed it was possible. Your father, after all, was almost six foot, but being petite myself I thought you would be the same. Yet here you are at almost fifteen years of age, almost as tall as me.’
Louella’s voice was reproachful, as though Lottie had deliberately set out to grow tall, and her daughter looked at her with some puzzlement. She had not, after all, grown overnight – she had been this tall for a good few months, she was sure – so why was Louella suddenly remarking on it? Lottie knew she was no longer a fluffy little child star, but she still did the tap-dance routine with her mother, sang all the songs and tried, to the best of her ability, to smile winningly at the audience. She had realised, however, that a fifteen-year-old does not cause the audience to coo as appreciatively as an eight-year-old, and in fact it had been her suggestion that they should drop the ballet portion of their act. ‘My legs and arms are too long and thin to look sweet,’ she had told her mother, at least a year earlier. ‘The tap-dancing’s fine and the singing of course, but the ballet just looks silly.’
They had been in the green room at the time and when her mother had demurred, both Max and Jack Russell had said that Lottie had a point. ‘In a few years’ time, when she’s filled out a bit, she’ll be able to do all sorts,’ Max had said tactfully. ‘But right now, all her strength is being put into growing.’
‘And you won’t need to shorten your act,’ Jack Russell had pointed out. He had clearly realised that a shortening of the act would mean a dwindling of the money, and no one wanted to see their pay packet grow lighter. ‘You could put in an extra song . . . no, I’ve had a better idea! I seen an act which went down real well when I were in Great Yarmouth doin’ a summer show a coupla years
Baz laughed. ‘Good thing Louella can’t hear you, swearin’ like a perishin’ docker,’ he said mockingly, but his tone was a good deal friendlier than it had been. ‘What have the pair of you got planned for today, eh? After you’ve lugged the sheets round to the washhouse, I mean?’
‘Dunno,’ Kenny said briefly. ‘But we’re both goin’ to help my mam and that’ll take up all the morning and most of the afternoon, I reckon. And of course Lottie’s on stage this evening.’
Baz nodded and ran down the steps into the court, and Kenny closed the door and came up the hall towards Lottie. ‘Are you ready?’ he said briskly. ‘If so, we’ll get goin’ at once. Mam’s gone to fetch the washin’ from old Mrs Ruddock and from Mrs Tennet at her canny house, so she’ll start their stuff first. But the sooner we get your mam’s stuff to the sinks the sooner we’ll be free to have a bit of fun.’
‘What sort of fun?’ Lottie asked suspiciously. Hanging round the stalls in St John’s market to see if they could nick something was not her idea of fun, but she knew Kenny often obtained fruit by this method. ‘Don’t forget I’m on stage this evening.’
‘Oh, you,’ Kenny said, grinning. ‘You keep saying you want to learn to swim, so I thought we might go down to the Scaldy. I know you won’t go in because it’s mostly lads there, but if I swam slow, like, you could watch. Likely you’d learn how it’s done without even getting your feet wet!’
Lottie giggled. ‘We’ll see what time your mam finishes with the washing,’ she said diplomatically. ‘And now let’s get moving, or we won’t reach the laundry till lunchtime!’
Chapter Four
1929
‘Do you know, Lottie, you’re nearly as tall as me now? It never occurred to me before that you might grow tall, but I suppose I should have guessed it was possible. Your father, after all, was almost six foot, but being petite myself I thought you would be the same. Yet here you are at almost fifteen years of age, almost as tall as me.’
Louella’s voice was reproachful, as though Lottie had deliberately set out to grow tall, and her daughter looked at her with some puzzlement. She had not, after all, grown overnight – she had been this tall for a good few months, she was sure – so why was Louella suddenly remarking on it? Lottie knew she was no longer a fluffy little child star, but she still did the tap-dance routine with her mother, sang all the songs and tried, to the best of her ability, to smile winningly at the audience. She had realised, however, that a fifteen-year-old does not cause the audience to coo as appreciatively as an eight-year-old, and in fact it had been her suggestion that they should drop the ballet portion of their act. ‘My legs and arms are too long and thin to look sweet,’ she had told her mother, at least a year earlier. ‘The tap-dancing’s fine and the singing of course, but the ballet just looks silly.’
They had been in the green room at the time and when her mother had demurred, both Max and Jack Russell had said that Lottie had a point. ‘In a few years’ time, when she’s filled out a bit, she’ll be able to do all sorts,’ Max had said tactfully. ‘But right now, all her strength is being put into growing.’
‘And you won’t need to shorten your act,’ Jack Russell had pointed out. He had clearly realised that a shortening of the act would mean a dwindling of the money, and no one wanted to see their pay packet grow lighter. ‘You could put in an extra song . . . no, I’ve had a better idea! I seen an act which went down real well when I were in Great Yarmouth doin’ a summer show a coupla years
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