Songbird

gray, he was a sight to behold. Still striking in look and manner, Maddy suspected he must have been extremely handsome in his youth.

Now, as he peered at her over Ellen’s shoulders, Maddy was very taken by the bright sparkle in his smiling green eyes. “Hello, and who have we here then? Is this the young lady you told me about?” His warm, resonant voice seemed to shake the ground beneath them.

Drawing her friend forward, Ellen explained, “This is my friend Maddy… Maddy Delaney.”

Reaching down, he placed two huge hands on her shoulders and gave Maddy a kiss. “I’m Bob, and you are very welcome in my home, lass,” he told her affectionately. “This is your home for as long as you see fit. You and Ellen both.”

Maddy felt uneasy. “I’m pregnant,” she blurted out. “Did you know that?”

“No matter. You are still welcome to make this your home,” he affirmed. “All three of you.”

Leading them inside, he gave them a quick tour, starting with the sitting room. “I’ve changed a few things since you’ve been gone,” he told Ellen. “This room’s had a coat of paint and a few new pieces of furniture.” Then, ushering them inside the front parlor, he explained, “You might recall this front room was never hardly used. Well, now it’s my workshop. See?” He pointed proudly across the room. “What do you think?”

Beautifully arranged on the brand-new shelves was a fine collection of wooden sculptures. Painstakingly fashioned and polished, there were fiery prancing horses, pretty girls on swings, and all manner of animals and birds in every pose imaginable.

“Oh, they’re beautiful!” Maddy was amazed. “Did you do all these?”

“I did, yes.” The pride shone from his face. “And there are more out in the shed, ready to be sold at market.”

Ellen had always known her grandad was talented, but she had never realized just how much so, until now. “You used to say you would never sell your pieces,” she reminded him.

“Ah, yes… well, that was when your grandma Kitty was here. Everything I ever made was for her alone. After she’d gone, I got to be a bit sad, hour after hour working on these lovely pieces, with no one but me to see them. Then, some time ago, when I had this room done up, the young man who decorated the walls saw the sculptures in the hallway. He begged me to sell him one, for his wife’s birthday.” He scratched his head as he tried to remember. “As I recall, the particular one he fancied was a little lad, holding a butterfly in the palm of his hand.”

Maddy told him she thought it sounded wonderful.

“Mmm. I have to say, I always thought it was one of my best,” he answered thoughtfully. “The idea came after walking through the park and seeing this lad. Running around for ages he was, trying to catch a butterfly. But he never did manage it.”

Maddy could see the boy in her mind. “So, you thought you would let him actually catch the butterfly, is that it?”

He smiled down on her. “Something like that, yes,” he answered, “seems to me that you’ve the heart of a fine artist.”

After lingering in that amazing workshop, and viewing the tiny but serviceable scullery, they were now seated in comfortable armchairs in the homely sitting room, while Grandad Bob insisted on preparing a meal. “Did Nora from next door catch you out?” he asked.

“You could say that,” Ellen replied.

“I hope she didn’t worry you too much?” he called back, going into the scullery.

“No, Grandad. She was just pleased to see us.”

“She’s got a new boyfriend – did she tell you that?”

“What! Are you serious?” Somehow it was not easy to imagine Nora Winterhouse with a man.

“Oh, aye. He’s the third one this month. Gone a bit mad of late, she has. To my reckoning, there’s been men at the house most every week.”

“So, is she looking to marry this latest one, or what?”

“She’ll not marry any of ’em, I can tell you that, lass.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause she’s already said – it’s me she’s after. In fact, she’s been after me ever since poor Kit went to meet her Maker. I might be wrong, and may the Lord forgive me if I am, but I’ve an idea she fetches these men home, just to make me jealous. Huh! She should be so lucky.”

Winking at Maddy, Ellen asked in serious voice, “Poor Nora. So you don’t fancy her then?”

“What! I’d rather be tipped upside-down in a tub o’ wet spinach!”

Both Ellen and Maddy laughed out loud. “I’ll be through in a minute,” he called. “The kettle’s on the boil.”

Still smiling, Maddy felt as though she had known him all her life. “You’re so lucky,” she told Ellen now. “Your Grandad Bob is so nice and kind, and it’s plain to see how much he loves you.”

Ellen nodded. “I know I’m lucky,” she said, “but I’m stupid too – going away from him, from everything I know, when all the time my happiness was right here, under my nose.”

“So, will you never go back down South?”

“Never!”

“And what will you do for money?”

“Well, I shall let out my aunt’s house – I might get Connie to organize all that for me, and pay her. Or I could sell it, I suppose, and buy a little house here for us. Eventually, I’d like to get back to singing – find work on the Northern club circuit. Showbiz is in our blood, isn’t it, Maddy?”

She got up and went over to her friend. “We’ll be all right. Don’t you worry now. You, me and the babe – we’re going to be just fine. I’ve been sensible. I’ve got a deal of money stashed away, so we won’t be desperate for a while yet.” She chuckled. “Who knows? When the money runs out, we could buy an ice cream van and go up and down the front.”

Maddy didn’t think that was such a bad idea. “Sounds like a fun way to earn money. Meanwhile, I’ve got money put away too,” she said, “and I insist on paying my way. Thank God I kept my handbag with me. So, when your grandad comes back in, we’ll have to talk about that side of it.”

“All in good time,” Ellen assured her. “For now though, let’s just be content to be safe.”

For one magic moment, Maddy had almost forgotten about London, and the turmoil they had left behind.

Now, however, it all came flooding back.

And even though they were some two hundred miles distant, the reality of that night was like a living thing in her mind.

Eleven

On their first morning in Blackpool, Bob Maitland insisted on accompanying Maddy and his grandaughter on a walk along the promenade. “Now that I’ve got you back,” he told Ellen, “I’m not having some handsome cockney fella snatch you away again.”

“That’s not likely to happen,” Ellen assured him. “I’ve seen enough of the bright lights of London to last me a lifetime. I prefer the bright lights here, Grandad.” In fact, if she never left Lancashire again, it would not be a hardship.

“And how do you feel about that, love?” Addressing himself to Maddy, he saw how preoccupied and nervous she seemed. “Are you ready to swap the sophistication of London for cheap and cheerful Blackpool?”

Maddy answered truthfully. “I hope so,” she said. “I just need to find my way around, and get a feel for the place.”

Everything was so strange though. Where London was her familiar stamping ground, Blackpool was a completely different environment. It was exactly as Ellen described; at times noisy, other times quiet. Outside the pubs, there were waste bins spilling over with squashed beer cans and crisp packets. Ice cream cornets had been dropped on the ground and trodden into the pavement cracks, and there were people everywhere, laughing, arguing, taking up the entire promenade with their playful antics.

The atmosphere was so different from the hubbub of Central London. Having seen only part of this renowned seaside resort, Maddy thought it was far from being the most beautiful place in the world. There were areas that came across as bawdy and tatty, and sometimes when a group of exuberant, well-oiled, bare-chested young men started chasing each other, you had to stand your ground or be accidentally knocked flying.

Yet for all that, there was a sense of fun and excitement, with holidaymakers wearing kiss-me-quick hats and colorful wigs, while most children and some adults merrily buried their faces in whirls of pink candy-floss. Uplifted voices of the bingo callers echoed through the air, and like a fantasy army on the march, the rhythmic clip-clop of horse and carriage wheels played a tune over the ground.

As they neared the Pleasure Beach, a portly, smiley-faced woman tapped Maddy on the arm. “Can yer hear that lot, screaming like banshees?” She gestured toward the Big Dipper ride. “You’d never get me on that – not for a million dollars. I’ve nowt against showing me knickers,” she winked knowingly, “Lord knows, I’ve already done that a few times in my heyday, but when it comes to having me stomach turned upside down, no thank you very much!”

With that, she gave Maddy a surprisingly gleaming smile, before chasing after her young son, who had run off to feed a carrot to the carriage horse. “Yer little sod!” she bawled. “Come away afore he bites yer bloody fingers off!”

Smilingly averting her eyes, Maddy glanced across the pier and on toward the beach. It was an awesome sight: little girls in pretty sun hats, boys playing with frisbees, young people lying on towels beneath the wonderful sunshine, and the old ones sprawled in bright stripey deckchairs, wearing big-rimmed hats and sucking on ice creams.

The scene evoked other memories. There was a time, eons ago, when she too had enjoyed days out at the seaside with her parents. She had visited Brighton, Clacton and Southend, but she had never seen anything quite like Blackpool, with its trams and horse-drawn carriages, and endlessly long, wide promenade.

“Well then, Maddy?” Grandad Bob interrupted her reverie. “So, d’you think you might settle here, or what?”

Maddy looked up at him, shading her eyes with the palm of her hand when the sun half-blinded her. “I do like what I’ve seen so far. The people are really friendly, and there seems to be so much going on.”

“So?” he persisted. “You still haven’t given me a proper answer.”