Follow Your Dream. Patricia Burns
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prize—’
It was the accordion boy. He bounded up onto the stage, beaming all over his chubby face. Lillian felt she was going to burst with suspense.
Please, God, she bargained silently, please let it be me. I’ll be good for the rest of my life.
‘Second prize—Lindy-Lou Parker.’
It was her. They were saying her name. Lillian just sat there, confounded.
‘Go on,’ her neighbour said, poking her. ‘That’s you. You’re second.’
Her head swimming with amazement, Lillian stood up. Somehow she made her way onto the stage. There was a polite round of applause. She walked across to the carnival queen, an impossibly glamorous young woman in a long white gown and a blue cloak with a crown of what to Lillian looked like sparkling diamonds on her head. Lillian curtseyed, which made some of the court ladies giggle.
‘Well done, dear,’ the queen said, handing her an envelope. ‘Smile for the camera.’
She was directing a brilliant smile at the photographer. Giddy with delight, Lillian did the same. There was a flash, and then it was over. Once again, she was being ushered off stage. There was a shriek from the audience.
‘Lillian! We done it! We done it!’
There, in front of the mothers’ seats, was Janette, jumping up and down and waving both arms over her head. Lillian squealed and managed to wave back before she was grabbed and pushed into the wings. Somewhere behind her the winner was announced. It was the Oh My Papa girl. Lillian didn’t care. She had got a prize! The judges thought she was good. She was really going to be a dancer one day. It was all just too wonderful to be true.
All the way home the girls went over every detail of the contest, but at Lillian’s house they parted and Janette went on her way. Lillian was still buzzing with her success as she pushed her bike through the back gate. She did a couple of handsprings as she crossed the yard, out of sheer exuberance. As ill luck would have it, Gran was in the kitchen when she arrived, checking the state of the shelves.
‘Time you grew up, young lady,’ she said. ‘Kicking your legs up in public like that. What would the neighbours think if they saw you?’
Any lingering hope Lillian might have had that her family might be interested, let alone pleased at her success, instantly died.
‘Sorry, Gran,’ she said.
‘And what’s all that muck on your face?’
‘Oh!’ Lillian’s hand went to her cheek. In the excitement, she had forgotten to wipe the make-up off. ‘Er—Janette and I were playing about with her mum’s make-up. Her mum doesn’t mind.’
‘She ought to mind. Letting a young girl go out looking like a scarlet woman! Go and wash it off at once. And then you can go and get a loaf and a pound of streaky bacon. We’re full tonight.’
Lillian had been too self-absorbed to notice the ‘No Vacancies’ sign up in the front window. Carnival week was the busiest of the year. There were two processions, one on Saturday and a torchlight one on Wednesday evening, a funfair at Chalkwell park, dances and dinners on somewhere in the town every evening and various competitions and displays. It was no wonder they were full mid-week.
‘That’s good,’ she said.
‘Seems people have got money to waste,’ Gran commented with a sniff of disapproval.
Lillian did not hang around to point out that surely it was not wasted if it came into Gran’s pocket.
It was one of the PGs who gave her away. She was bringing the toast into the guests’ breakfast room when a middle-aged man recognised her.
‘Well, if it isn’t Miss Lindy-Lou Parker!’
Lillian went cold. Gran was right behind her, making sure that the guests didn’t pocket the cruets or fill their flasks from the teapot.
‘Oh!’ the man’s wife exclaimed. ‘So it is. Oh, we did enjoy the show, dear. You was ever so good.’
‘Lovely little dancer,’ her husband agreed.
‘Lovely. Ain’t she a lovely little dancer?’ the woman asked Gran. ‘You must be very proud of her.’
Lillian could feel her grandmother’s piercing eyes on her, shrivelling her up inside.
‘Yes,’ Gran said.
Lillian knew she was only saying that to keep face in front of the guests. Sure enough, as soon as they were all safely out of the house, she was summoned to Gran’s room.
‘What’s all this about dancing?’
Lillian glared back at her, her heart beating hard.
‘I was in the Carnival Talent Contest,’ she said, her voice loud with defiance. ‘I got a prize.’
‘You went up on a stage and made an exhibition of yourself in public?’
The way Gran said it, performing on a stage was something disgraceful. Anger overcame Lillian’s fear of her grandmother.
‘I wasn’t making an exhibition of myself, I was dancing. What’s so wrong with that? And I was good; I came second out of lots of people.’
This made Gran even angrier. If there was one thing she didn’t like, it was people arguing with her.
‘Don’t you defy me, my girl. If I say you’re not to go up on a stage, then you’re not, and no questions asked. Understand?’
‘No, I don’t!’ Tears of anger and frustration were gathering in Lillian’s eyes now. ‘Just tell me what’s so wrong about it!’
‘You lied to me. Lied by sneaking out and doing it behind my back. And I won’t stand for liars. You’re a disgrace to the family—’
Gran was off on one of her tirades. Lillian stared at a point above her shoulder and tried not to listen.
‘—and you’re not too big to be punished.’
Lillian came back from the place where she had been mentally sheltering to see that Gran had the stick in her hand. With a wicked swish, it came down hard on her calves, sharp and stinging, five times. She couldn’t contain a squeal of pain.
‘There—’ Gran was looking at her with satisfaction now, breathing hard. ‘Now say you’re sorry.’
‘Sorry,’ Lillian mumbled, with huge reluctance.
‘Let this be a lesson to you. No going out for two weeks.’
‘But, Gran—’
This was a real blow. Lillian had been looking forward to going to the funfair with Janette and her other friends.
‘No buts. Go and see if your mother needs some help.’
Sore, angry and resentful, Lillian did as she was told.
To her surprise, Wendy was completely on her side. In bed that night, she wanted to know all about the contest.
‘Good for you, kid,’ she commented. ‘Don’t you take any notice of what Gran says. Blooming killjoy! It’s Eileen, you know. She thinks if she’s hard enough on us we won’t turn out like her.’
Light dawned in Lillian’s mind. So that was it.
‘But how could going in for a talent contest mean I’m going to run away with a married man?’
‘Search me, kid. That’s Gran, isn’t it? Grumpy old bag. I always wanted to go in for the Carnival Princess, but I never dared. I bet I would of won, too. Maybe next year I’ll go in for the Carnival Queen. That’d show them!’
Warmed by the thrill of sisterly solidarity, Lillian agreed. ‘I think you should, if that’s what you really want. Aunty Eileen said