Rags to Riches

‘Glorious concert, young Maxine,’ Jesse Clancey, her stepfather, commented.

‘Oh, it was brilliant, Jesse. I couldn’t believe it when everybody sang “Happy Birthday”.’

After they had discussed the concert a while longer, Henzey said, ‘And this is Stephen’s sister, Pansy, I presume?’

Henzey and Pansy had not met before but they greeted each other like long-lost sisters and Pansy’s green eyes creased into a warm smile. She was about the same height as Maxine, slim and pretty, with a mop of thick, titian hair. There could be no confusing her and Maxine; they were so different.

Meanwhile Will was welcoming others, taking their coats and hats and guiding them to the parlour where mounds of sandwiches and cakes graced the table.

‘You must be proud of your youngest daughter, Lizzie,’ Will said. ‘I thought she did very well tonight. She seemed to fit in well.’

‘Oh, I’m proud of her all right, Will,’ Lizzie answered, taking a dry sherry from him and nodding her thanks. She raised her glass. ‘But Jesse can take some of the credit. He’s encouraged her as much as anybody – paid for her to go through music school. He’s been like a father to her…to them all.’

Jesse joined them, clutching a pint of beer. ‘Can I just say, Will, how grateful we are to you for holding this party here. We’d intended holding one at the dairy house, o’ course, but with Maxine suddenly landing this job and all…’

‘You’re welcome, Jesse. It just seemed more logical now she’s living here.’

‘Behaving herself, is she?’

Will laughed and patted Jesse on the back. ‘What do you think? I’ve got no complaints.’

‘Lizzie tells me you’re moving house, Will. To Dudley. Do you intend Maxine to lodge with you still? I mean she’d be welcome to live at the dairy house.’

‘It’s up to her, Jesse. I’m content for her to live with us if that’s what she wants. Like I say, I’ve got no complaints.’

In the front room, somebody was thumping out tunes on the piano.

‘That’ll be Joe, Lizzie’s brother,’ Jesse chortled. ‘He don’t half love to play the piano at parties. He’ll have we all singing at the tops of we voices in no time. Mark my words.’

‘They’re a lively lot, aren’t they?’ Pansy remarked.

‘You just wait.’ Jesse turned to Will. ‘Anyway, Will, we’ve all brought something for Maxine. Can I count on you to bring everybody to order later, so’s we can present ’em to her?’

Will nodded. ‘Leave it to me, Jesse.’

Before long, after he had already shepherded everybody into the front room, Will was trying to attract their attention, his hands in the air like a politician fending off hecklers. ‘All right, everyone! Would everyone please listen?’ The piano playing, the singing and the talking stopped. ‘Now, we all know why we’re here, and I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves…Well it’s time to wish Maxine, my very talented sister-in-law, a very happy birthday.’

The cheer from the family turned into a rousing chorus of ‘Happy Birthday to You’, then more cheers and shouts of ‘Speech!’

‘Twenty-one is a person’s coming of age,’ Will went on after his further request to be heard had been heeded. ‘It’s that time in a young person’s life when she is considered an adult, considered to be of an age, at last, when she can be independent. She can come and go as she pleases – within reason – which is why she is traditionally handed the key of the door…’

‘She’s already got the key to our door,’ Henzey remarked.

‘It is a time when she doesn’t have to seek permission from her parents to get married, if marriage is on the agenda. It is a time when she can sign up to any legal binding contract. In short, it’s a time of freedom from the constraints of parental discipline. However, I have got to know Maxine a little better since she’s been living here with Henzey and me, and I believe she is not one to abuse such freedoms. She’s sensible, level-headed…and, incidentally, far too modest about the exceptional talent she has. So…before we all shower her with gifts and congratulate her, let’s make her sing for her supper…’ Will grinned roguishly. ‘Maxine, I’m well aware that your cello playing has done you proud recently, but some of us here consider your piano playing worth a listen. So would you like to take the stool and play?’

Maxine blushed, giggling with embarrassment while Joe moved clumsily away from the piano. ‘What on earth shall I play?’ she asked as she sat down.

‘How about ‘Clair de Lune?’’ Henzey suggested. ‘That’s one of my favourites.’

‘Okay. There’s this nice romantic passage…’

Debussy’s inspired music flowed easily, melodically through Maxine’s fingers, while everyone listened in attentive silence. She played the section tenderly, demonstrating an accomplishment beyond her years. It never crossed her mind to wonder if anybody knew how difficult it was; the long hours of practice needed to play well; the dedication. Yet, it was clear for all to see that Maxine had a natural gift since she could play two instruments with such apparent finesse.

‘Play something modern,’ Herbert, her brother, cried when the piece was finished. ‘We’ve had enough classical for one night.’

‘You and Pansy play that Fats Waller thing,’ Stephen suggested.

‘Oh, yes. I know,’ Maxine replied, glad of a prompt. ‘ “Whose Honey Are You”. Come on, Pansy. Will you play on this one?’

Pansy took the piano stool and began to play. Immediately, the compulsive rhythm had everybody’s feet tapping. But even more of a surprise than the piano playing of either girl, was Maxine’s singing as she leaned against the piano. Nobody had ever heard her sing before.

‘Do “Stormy Weather”,’ Stephen called. ‘You know – that one by Ethel Waters.’

Pansy played the introduction and Maxine launched into the song, using the same soft vocal technique, mimicking the style of Ethel Waters. This American music was unfamiliar to most of them, since few such records were available and they listened to few on the wireless, but everyone was stunned silent by Maxine’s vocal dexterity.

‘More, Maxine!’ Will called when it was finished. ‘That was great. Do you know any more?’

‘They could go on half the night, I daresay,’ Jesse answered.

‘Isn’t that enough?’ Maxine asked at the end of it, effervescing with her success and enjoying the attention she was getting. ‘Can’t I have my presents now?’

‘One more,’ Herbert called.

‘Yes, one more,’ Will echoed.

‘Then can I have my presents?’

They all agreed she could.

‘Okay. Well here’s one for Jesse. Mom would have asked me to play it, I know…’

Pansy vacated the piano stool when it was obvious that Maxine wanted to accompany herself this time. She launched into a compulsively rhythmic, ‘My Very Good Friend the Milkman’.

‘Oh, very appropriate,’ Jesse the dairyman remarked to Lizzie with a wry grin.

‘Cheeky madam,’ her mother declared, watching and listening with profound pride. ‘She told me she’d get a job playing piano and singing in a pub if she had to,’ she whispered to Jesse, ‘but I never realised she’d be this good. She’s come on a bundle since she left home.’

It was obvious that most of the folk present would have allowed Maxine to play and sing for them all night, but Will brought the impromptu concert to a close.

‘Maxine,’ he said, and raised his glass. ‘God bless you and your wonderful talent. Here’s to your future success and happiness. Congratulations and many happy returns of the day.’ He drank, and everybody followed his example. ‘Now…I understand that one or two of us have gifts for you…’

Henzey stepped forward before anyone else. ‘Congratulations, our Maxine. Many happy returns.’ She took her youngest sister’s hand and kissed her on the cheek before pointing to the large but beautifully wrapped parcel lying on the floor that had puzzled Maxine since their return. ‘That’s from Will and me.’

‘Am I supposed to open it now?’

‘Of course.’

She stooped down and fumbled with the wrapping, to reveal a portable gramophone. She gasped with genuine delight, stood up and kissed Will, thanking him profusely, then Henzey. ‘I never imagined…’