Who Was Angela Zendalic by Mary Cavanagh Page A

fit Godparents would supervise Angela’s daily round of fun and games.
    And fun and games it certainly was. How Peggy had loved her pretend week of being a solicitous mum, air-brushing Edie and Stan out of the picture altogether, and spending every waking minute in giving her darling a never-to-be-forgotten summer holiday. Ted, happy to be designated as a smiling bag carrier, waver, clapper, seat finder, ice-cream buyer and general gopher. Daily swimming lessons in the vast indoor pool, where she picked up the breaststroke within the first ten minutes, fun fair rides, roller skating, paddling coracles on the boating lake, riding donkeys on the sands, and frenzied team games with other kiddies, all overseen by the cheerful, energetic Redcoats. The Junior Bathing Beauty contest where she came a beaming third, and winning a fancy dress competition as Aladdin; an outfit she’d brought from home especially for the occasion. But it was the ‘twist and shout’ eliminator that showcased her performing talents. With manic energy she gyrated with a large group of competitors, and it was soon clear she was the star performer; her slim body and long limbs swivelling and swirling with perfect rhythm and co-ordination, her wrists and fingers moving like swooping birds, and throwing back her head in a pose of smiling confidence.
    It was after she’d been presented with the first prize – appropriately Twist and Shout , the Beatles first EP – that the Redcoats put her name down for a talent competition on the final evening. But she wouldn’t be dancing. Her plans were much more advanced. Refusing to reveal her act, she commandeered Peggy to create a tight fishtail evening dress with four yards of electric pink material (bought in a Clacton shop); its length wound around her body, crudely tacked on the night, and finished with a twirl of net as a hemline flourish. With her hair straightened with rollers, and piled up on her head like a woven basket, the little star was shepherded from the chalet, encased like a mummy, and teetering on a pair of low-heeled silver sandals, borrowed from the Butlin’s lost property department.
    Having sat through the tedium of three dancing acts (tap, belly and Irish), a dramatic poetry reading, a failed magician, and a Norman Wisdom impersonator, Angela’s support team were more than grateful when her name was called. Rising to their feet they clapped hard as she walked onto the stage. ‘Ladies and Gentleman,’ announced the Redcoat. ‘We now welcome Miss Angela Zendalic, aged ten, who is going to ...’
    May I introduce myself, please?’ she asked confidently. The Redcoat nodded, and she stepped up to the microphone, pausing to compose herself. ‘Tonight, Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m going to sing a number made famous a few years ago by Miss Shirley Bassey. It’s one of my favourites and I’m sure it’s one of yours.’ She straightened her shoulders and breathed in deeply, controlling her diaphragm in the way she’d been taught at the St. Paul’s Stage School. But her arms were held out at right angles, her hands dropped crucifix style, and her head twisted to one side.
    If I could reach out, with my hands across the sea,
I’d take you in my arms, and never set you free ...
    Her hands twirled, her fingers flicked, her lids lowered and she moved her neck and shoulders slowly from side to side, emulating Shirley Bassey’s dramatic body movements she’d seen on Sunday Night at the London Palladium. Peggy felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Her own little Shirley-in-miniature, with a pitch perfect voice, so powerful as to vibrate the ear drums.
    The applause that followed was thunderous, with the whole of the theatre rising to their feet in an ovation worthy of the real thing. Peggy’s lungs became so tight she could hardly breathe. Her child was gifted with the voice of an angel. A beautiful