he just transformed himself with a hat or a length of cloth.
‘Our scene is laid in Winnipeg—I forget the hen’s name. A beautiful spot in Winnipeg, with not one mosquito—but this is all imaginary, of course.’
Julius seemed to be back on his feet. Clover could see only the back of his head, so she crept forward to stand beside the curtain-ropes. Others had come to watch, crowding backstage.
‘The Villain enters, hiding behind his moustache. Ha-ha!’ He pulled his sleeve into a wicked cloak. ‘Then retreats, mincing horribly, behind some scenery—then the Hero-een enters’—and he became a mysteriously lovely heroine—‘wondering where Felix, her Lover, might be. She sings for him, a low flutter that gradually soars upward as fast as the price of coal. Felix is so handsome it hurts him. He enters yodelling, but has the presence of mind to put it back in his pocket.’
He was standing still and yet it seemed to Clover that he peopled the stage, flashing as he spoke from face to face, person to person, and though they were so ridiculous, they were real, for an instant—and she wanted to see that play. How difficult it must be to do this all alone, with no audience helping you. Their own turn was much easier. All they had to do was what they did at home: sing the right notes, dance on the right feet, watch each other, be sweet.
‘You will see her return, pursued by the villain, who is pressing his wiles upon her, and much else—she holds him back: Would you die for me? But remember! Mine is an undying love. Ah, she was only a whiskey-maker, but he loved her still—’
Mr. Cleveland shouted, ‘Move it along! Puns are scarcely accounted as humour in this house, sir.’ He had a gallows kind of shout, rude and unkind. Clover hated him.
‘But wait, there’s more: the soubrette has a lantern jaw and can only sing light music.’ Julius was going faster and faster—frightened, Clover thought. Too far out on some limb of memory barely attached to his original tale, he was busily sawing away at it regardless of sense or consequence, unable to clamber back to any kind of safety. ‘She pulls out the last joint of her upper register—her mouth is a stab in the dark. She is accompanied in her flight by a running mate with straggling foliage round the front stoop …’
He blinked his boiled-onion eyes and stopped. There was a dense, active silence backstage, and no sound at all from the seats down front.
Julius K. said conversationally, looking up to the unpeopled balcony, ‘If someone will bring me the river, I’ll drown myself.’
‘That’s quite enough of that!’ said Mrs. Cleveland, her tight voice a surprise from the darkness.
Julius K. remained still. Then his face gleamed as he changed direction: from a wide imaginary audience he brought his eyes to bear on Mrs. Cleveland, and shouted with great good humour, ‘Let’s have a good time, let’s make it a party—all the men lean over and kiss the ladies in front … and the men in the front row can kiss the ladies behind.’
In the wings, behind Clover, Sybil’s breath hissed. ‘That’s torn it,’ she said. ‘Now he won’t get the gig. It’s sheer pig-headedness, he’s done it a-purpose.’
Mama put her arm around Sybil’s plump shoulders and said, ‘No, no!’
But they all knew it was true. Some managements might think the pun amusing but certainly not this one. Clover had read the sign. So had Julius Foster.
Sybil turned away from the stage. ‘You let him know I’m down here packing, will you?’
‘I will,’ Mama said.
‘With any luck we’ll run into you farther down the line, Flor. Old times, old times.’
Clover could see she was crying a little, but Sybil ducked down the flight of stairs so they wouldn’t have to watch.
Talked Me into It
They’d tidied themselves up and brushed their skirts and coats, and had no reason to linger, so Mama said, ‘Well, girlies, back to the hotel, and perhaps the purse can stretch to a cup of tea to warm us up.’
Aurora drew her sisters into line and followed. As they filed up the aisle, Mr. Cleveland turned from where he was talking to a stagehand and said, ‘Madam …’
Mama stopped, her back tense. Aurora watched her soften her face to polite inquiry before she turned.
Cleveland did not step towards them, nor raise his voice, but said, ‘My orchestra leader likes your girls. He’s talked me into it.’
Aurora found that her heart