Page 41 of The Songbird of Wychwood

CHAPTER 25

GEORGE

We ignored the church bells that rang out from the actor’s church of St Paul’s in Covent Garden, and instead we spent a lazy Sunday in bed. My beau and I breakfasted on the leftover pastries I’d brought from Wychwood, and for lunch I made us egg on toast, as it was one of the few things I could cook! Percy then took me out to dinner in Chinatown and we indulged in the most delicious oriental meal I’d ever tasted. On the way home we stopped at the Punch and Judy pub for a pint, and no surprise, Eloise and her Mari were tucked in a corner enjoying a drink. I gave her a wave and she beckoned us over. And so, we pushed through the crowd and joined them.

“Percy’s setting up a music manuscript publisher and he wants to publish my songs!” I revealed excitedly to the girls after we’d downed our first drink. Eloise gave Percy one of her looks.

“It’s all perfectly above board, I assure you,” Percy said to pacify her. “There will be proper contracts, annual royalty payments, and George will do well out of the publishing rights well into his dotage.”

“Hmmm, that all sounds nice, but I swear if you take my boy for a fool, you’ll have me to answer to, you hear!” Eloise scowled. Percy held his hands up in surrender.

“I promise, I have nothing but George’s best interest at heart.”

It turned out to be a lark of an evening, and when Percy went to the bar to get another round Eloise leaned in and said, “He’s smitten with you and no mistake.”

“You think?”

“Can’t you tell? I ain’t never seen you so at ease with a fellow. Remember that cove last summer, what was his name?”

“Archie,” I groaned.

“Yeah, that’s him. He was all over you like a rash, and you did your best to keep him at arm’s length, until you got so sick of his attention you took him to an alley just to shut him up.”

Oh, I remembered Archie alright. He was big and muscly, and he stank of meaty sweat and tobacco. He’d gone to his knees and begged like a dog. I’d gripped onto his hair and shoved my pego down his throat as the means of shutting him up, and when he’d had his fill, he took every drop, licked his lips and I never saw him again. Percy was totally different; he was so far removed from my earlier dalliances when I had no idea about love. My Percy was another country.

“Does he make you happy?” Eloise asked and honestly, I didn’t even have the words, I just smiled the dopiest grin and she ruffled my hair.

“Good, now what are you gonna do about this business proposal? Your songs could be a money spinner and set you up for life!”

“I should talk to Mr. Grayson. After all, he’s the one who’s encouraged me to write more, and he gave me my break. I’d have been on the streets if it weren’t for him.”

“True, but don’t you forget your worth love! Grayson ain’t running a charity. He keeps you around cos it suits him. You bring in the punters, who bring in the dosh. You’ve made him a pretty packet these last few years. The scales look pretty equal to me. They’re your songs, George, and don’t you forget it. You owe him nothing, you hear?” Eloise said passionately.

Percy returned to the table carrying a tray with two pints of stout for the ladies and two pints of cider for us. I mulled over what Eloise had said, and yes, she was right. I was Mr. Grayson’s star act. I’d earned every penny I’d made at the Middlesex and more besides because I had admirers who came back every week just to see me. And so, in that case Mr. Grayson shouldn’t have a problem with Percy’s new company printing my songs.

****

I’d had to wait until Tuesday to speak with Mr. Grayson. Things still weren’t right between us, through no fault of mine, I can assure you. I couldn’t fathom what I’d done to deserve his resentful glares and silent treatment. What I’d said about Doris was a fact; she was lazy, nosy fussock, and she’d go with any fellow who looked her way. If Mr. Grayson had gone into a huff cos I knew he was using her as a spy backstage, then to hell with him. Percy’s new business enterprise sounded exciting and I was happy to be asked to sign my songs with him for publication. It would be a step in the right direction for my career and the royalty payments would give me choices. I supposed I’d been cocooned at the Middlesex for too long, and spending time with Percy had opened my eyes. I was ready to change; the songbird was ready to fly the nest. I would get my own place, away from the music hall.

I was standing outside Mr. Grayson’s office door. I knocked and waited nervously for a response. After a minute I knocked again.

“WHAT?” Grayson barked.

“It’s eh…George. Can we have a chat, Mr. Grayson sir,” I said sheepishly to the closed door.

“Can’t it wait, Dancie? I’m a busy man!”

It had taken me ages to pluck up the courage to even knock, but I’d done it and I needed to have this out now, once and for all.

“No, it can’t wait, it’s important,” I insisted.

“Come in then,” Mr. Grayson groaned reluctantly. I opened the door and stepped into his stinking office. It was daytime, and yet the office was dark, with just one gas sconce lit on the wall. It was enough to throw light over Grayson’s large oak desk. It didn’t look like any paperwork had been filed in the cabinets since his last secretary, Millicent walked out nine months ago.

“Now, what’s so bloody urgent that you had to interrupt me from lookin’ at the books?”

I’d never been this nervous talking to Grayson, but the offer from Percy meant the world to me.

“Look, I know you have your suspicions cos of what Doris told you about the meeting with the gentleman from Harcourt’s, but it ain’t what you think,” I began courageously. Grayson placed his dipping pen down and settled back in his chair, observing me through dull beady eyes.