We'll meet again

I was reminded of Charley and Bert. She was not asking me to recall the occasion. It was just a form of speech.

"There were big posters outside the Music Hall. The Empire, wasn't it?

'Try your luck,' it said. 'This might be your road to fame.”

Everyone was saying, 'Go on, Flor, you can sing with the best of 'em.”

"She's got a lovely voice," put in Peggy.

"Well," said Florette modestly. "It's not bad. You should have seen me. Practicing for weeks, I was.”

"And she won it," cried Peggy, impatient for the climax.

"Well, I got up there, didn't I? Was my knees shaking? You can bet your life. I was like a lump of jelly. I thought, I'll open me mouth, and there'll be nothing but a squawk. Well, there I was. 'Blue skies over the white cliffs of Dover.’ You can always get away with that one, and then an old-fashioned one. 'After the ball was over.’ My mum always wanted to go on the Halls and she used to sing that one to me.

Well, I got in the first six... and then we did it all again.”

"And she was the first," cried Peggy again.

"Five pounds I got. First prize. Thought it was a fortune. It was a start. Well, I reckon I'd be on my way if it wasn't for this old war.

Where can you get in times like these? Still, I made a start. I've always got that. Gave me a certificate, they did, to say I'd won first prize.”

"It must have been wonderful," I said.

"You wait. You'll see me in lights. My mum used to talk about Marie Lloyd. That's what I'll be. You wait until this war's over.”

While this conversation was going on, I was listening with earnest attention. Peggy was as excited as Florette herself and Mary Grace was watching me, to see if I were enjoying meeting her friends. Marian Owen was sitting quietly by, with a faint smile on her face. Every now and then she caught my eye, as though to say, "We must be lenient with these people. They are not as we are. They have not had our advantages of education." At least, that was the construction I put on it. I would share the impression with Mary Grace in due course.

"Then I changed my name to Florette," went on the owner of that name.

"Well, Flora... mind you, it's a nice enough name. I'm not saying anything against it. But it's not quite show business.”

"Florette will look better up in lights," said Peggy.

"It is all very interesting," I said. "I hope you succeed. I am sure you will.”

Florette nodded agreement and Mary Grace said: "Violetta wanted to meet you all. She thought you sounded so interesting.”

"You won't find me very interesting," said Peggy. "Poor old me.”

"I am sure you have had an interesting life," I said, and I meant it.

Peggy was small, thin, and I guessed her to be in her mid-forties.

Her face was prematurely wrinkled, and her hair had been dyed-not very expertly-a deep black. Her face gave me the impression of one who had lived through much-mostly tribulation. One only had to look at Peggy to see that life had not been easy for her.

Her past was revealed-if not all at that first meeting, soon after.

She had married young-not very satisfactorily-and had had two children. One had emigrated to Australia five years before the war; the other had married and gone "up north." Her husband had drunk away his wages every Friday night, and there was nothing to do but keep the house going. She had some odd jobs cleaning other people's houses and so it had gone on. And now, here she was-husband dead, children far away and not really taking much trouble to come and see her; she admitted that it was a great pleasure to her to have this "cushy little job in the Ministry." I admired her. She was irrepressible. Her wizened little face would light up with a smile and find something amusing in most situations. I supposed life had been so hard to her that she had learned to appreciate what she now had.

Florette was her ideal, and she was as certain of her eventual success as Florette herself.

"What I'll do," she said, "is stand outside that theater and look up at her name and say, 'I used to know her at that Ministry."" She smiled at Florette blissfully, who said: "Get away with you! I'll have you back stage and you shall have free tickets for the orchestra stalls. Who knows, I might even introduce you to someone who is looking for a pet.”

This was a well-worn joke, I realized. Peggy had once said she had watched the dogs in the park, and all the fuss that was made of them-little pekes with fancy haircuts, diamond collars-and she had thought, "What a good time these dogs have... nothing to do but be a pet. I wouldn't mind being a dog like that. I wish somebody would make a pet of me. Do you know anyone looking for a pet?”

That had amused Florette and it had become a joke.

"Peggy's looking for someone who wants a pet," she said to me.

"Do you know anyone?”

And everyone, including Peggy, laughed hilariously.