Hettie of Hope Street

‘What Hettie means, John,’ Gideon explained hurriedly, ‘is that Miss Brown is recommending her for a recently advertised position as a soloist to be accompanied by the pianist at the Adelphi Hotel.’

‘Oh John, just imagine.’ Hettie clasped her hands together and stood in front of him, her whole face alive with happiness, her eyes full of dreams. ‘It will be just as though I were on a stage. Only, of course, I shall not be because it is only a hotel, but who knows what it may lead to?’

‘I can’t see that any good will come of it, Hettie, other than filling your head with even more nonsense,’ John told her so sharply that her face flushed.

‘What are you saying?’ she demanded hotly, but Ellie hurriedly intervened before John could answer her.

‘Hettie, love, I was looking at your blue dress this morning and I thought we might re-trim it.’

‘Thanks for agreeing to home this little lass for me, Gideon,’ John said gruffly a few moments later, bending to rub the collie bitch’s ears. They had moved down to the kitchen so that John could introduce Gideon to his new charge before leaving, Ellie and Hettie having remained upstairs.

‘I’m sure both Philip and Richard will enjoy keeping her company when they’re at home,’ Gideon replied with a chuckle.

John smiled. Philip was the youngest of the Pride children, the baby whose birth had resulted in his mother’s death, and who Gideon had firmly insisted Ellie’s aunt hand over into Ellie’s care to be brought up alongside their own children.

‘Gideon, are you sure it’s wise for Hettie to go to this audition?’ John asked abruptly. ‘After all, she’s still so very young. Hardly more than a child.’

Gideon shook his head. ‘You may not be aware that she has become a young woman, John, but I can assure you that she believes she has, and so too do the young men who hang around after church on Sunday hoping to be introduced to her. She’s eighteen now, you know.’

‘Even so, she has led a very sheltered life, and for all that she claims to want to sing on the stage, I believe she has no real idea of what such a life entails.’

‘Maybe not, but I would far rather she discovers that in the safe environment of the Adelphi hotel, where she has Connie close at hand should she need her, than risk having her do as Connie herself did and run away from home.’

‘Connie left our aunt’s because she was ill-treated there, and fancied herself in love,’ John protested.

‘Well, whilst I hope Hettie will never feel that she has been ill-treated, she too is passionately in love, you know.’

‘What? She might fancy herself in love with some lad, but she’s too young even to know what love is.’

John’s voice was grim. ‘What I meant was that she feels very passionately about her music, just as you do about your flying machines. Besides, it may be that she is not called to audition for the post. Miss Brown, her singing teacher, believes there will be many applicants.’

Gideon was wrong in thinking he was not aware of how much Hettie had grown up, John reflected sombrely as he left the house. He was only too aware of it, and had been for some time. But it had been most obvious to him that, whilst his feelings for her had undergone a change, the old companionable affection he had always felt for her replaced by a man’s longing and love, Hettie’s feelings for him had remained as they always were. And nothing could have proved that more than her behaviour today, he admitted bleakly.

TWO (#ulink_025a72f8-48a5-50bb-b2f4-49f8a485a5f9)

The much longed for and awaited letter from the Adelphi hotel had finally arrived, and as she watched Gideon opening it Hettie hardly dared to breathe, her breakfast left untouched as she waited in almost unbearable anxiety.

Whilst Gideon silently and slowly read the letter, Hettie looked appealingly at Ellie.

Loath as she was to lose Hettie’s company, Ellie couldn’t help but feel for her. ‘Gideon, please tell us what it says,’ she begged her husband.

‘It says,’ Gideon answered her, ‘that Miss Henrietta Walker is to present herself at the rooms of Mrs May Buchanan on Thursday of this week in order that Mrs Buchanan may assess her suitability to sing for the Adelphi’s guests.’

‘Oh!’ Such was the intensity of her emotions that Hettie was completely unable to speak. Instead tears poured from her eyes and, with a small choked sob, she got up from her chair and ran to Ellie’s side to bury her head against her shoulder, her whole body shaking.

‘I still can’t believe that I am actually to be auditioned,’ she confided to Miss Brown two hours later, having begged Ellie’s permission to visit her teacher to give her the good news. ‘And it is all down to you,’ Hettie told her teacher earnestly. ‘Mrs Buchanan must have taken note of your recommendation.’

‘I wrote no less than the truth, Hettie,’ Miss Brown assured her. ‘Nature has granted you a very special gift and given you a truly excellent voice.’

‘But it is because of you that I have learned how to use it,’ Hettie replied earnestly.

‘When is your audition?’ Miss Brown asked her excitedly.

‘It is this Thursday. I’m already feeling nervous. My mother has a sister who lives in Liverpool and so we are to take the train Wednesday to be there in plenty of time and stay with my Aunt Connie. What do you think Mrs Buchanan will ask me to sing?’

‘I am sure that she will expect you to have a piece ready prepared,’ Miss Brown answered her. ‘So we must choose something that both shows off the range of your voice and which will fall pleasantly on the ears of ladies taking afternoon tea. This is not a situation where I would recommend the singing of a complicated aria.’ Miss Brown pursed her lips thoughtfully and then said shrewdly, ‘Perhaps something pretty and sentimental would be best.

‘Oh, and I would advise you to wear something smart but loose, so that your voice is not constricted in any way. You will be apprehensive, of course, and anxious, that is to be expected. It is Monday already so we must decide quickly what you will sing so that you can practise it. What about “Auf Wiedersehen?”’ she suggested. ‘After all, Vivienne Segal was just your age when it made her a star.’

Hettie nodded in agreement. She was far too excited to be able to speak. She could hardly believe that in three days time she would be singing at the Adelphi!

The bus had set them down at the corner of the road, and Hettie moved closer to Ellie’s side as her apprehension grew. She had felt more and more nauseous and fearful with every minute that had passed since leaving her Aunt Connie’s.

The rooms where Hettie was to have her audition were in a street off Lime Street, not very far from the Adelphi. The house itself was halfway down the street, and like all its neighbours it had a clean if somewhat austere appearance, its front step donkey-stoned and the doorknocker well polished.

‘Oh, Mam…’ Hettie whispered shakily.

‘What is it, Hettie?’ Ellie asked her gently. ‘Have you changed your mind?’

Immediately Hettie shook her head, missing the faint sigh Ellie gave and the look of anxiety in her eyes.

A small, neatly dressed maid in a crisply immaculate apron and cap opened the front door to them and directed them to a dark back parlour, its furniture heavily festooned in dark brown material. Ellie and Hettie perched awkwardly on a bulging sofa.

The faintly worn areas in the turkey carpet made Hettie wonder just how many anxious feet had paced across it whilst their owners waited in the room’s sombre silence. Thick net curtains obscured what light could have entered the room, making it seem even more gloomily oppressive.

She reached out and placed her hand in Ellie’s. She wanted this more than she had ever wanted anything in the whole of her life, more than she would ever want anything ever again. She wanted it so much that it physically hurt, she told herself dramatically.

The door opened, making Hettie jump. The parlour maid announced, ‘You’re both to go in now, if you please.’

‘Good luck, my love,’ Ellie whispered to her as they both got up, kissing her lovingly whilst Hettie gripped her hand.

Hettie had never felt so clumsy, nor so awkward. Her face was burning, and her throat had gone so dry she was afraid she would not be able to sing at all.

The maid escorted them to the door of the front parlour and then whispered, ‘Knock on the door and then wait until she says to go in.’

When her step-mother’s knock went unacknowledged, Hettie cast her an anguished look. ‘Perhaps she didn’t hear,’ she began and then stopped as a firm contralto voice from the other side of the door called out commandingly.

‘Come.’

With Ellie pushing her firmly ahead, Hettie stepped in to the room. Here there was no overstuffed sofa but instead a row of uncomfortable looking hard-backed chairs. But it was the piano and, more dramatically, the woman seated at it, that commanded Hettie’s attention.

Mrs May Buchanan was almost the complete opposite of Miss Brown, being tall and stately where Miss Brown was small and thin; and her jet-black hair, unlike Miss Brown’s untidy grey bun, was drawn back into a formidably elegant chignon. Miss Brown’s manner was fussy yet gentle, whilst Hettie could tell, even on this first meeting, that Mrs Buchanan was chillingly distant.

Hettie could feel herself tremble as Mrs Buchanan’s merciless gaze focused sharply on her.

‘Your teacher has some very complimentary things to say about you, Miss Walker. She seems to think that you have a soprano voice of surpassing excellence.’

Hettie looked towards Ellie for reassurance, not sure how she was meant to respond.