Riley, p.7
Riley, page 7
‘Oh, miss.’ Riley knelt on the floor; then tucked his feet beneath him.
‘Now I’m walking up and down in front of you pleading with your father not to send you away, telling him that I can look after you. And he’s telling me that you’re growing and growing swiftly, et cetera, and that if you stay he goes; and then where will I be?’ She paused and looked down at him. ‘You must slowly turn your head to look at him as he yells at me, “He won’t go to Golden’s Private School for backward children, he’ll go to the looney bin, where he should have been all this time. Just look at him now, and his antics: he’s out of his mind.”’
Now pointing down at Riley, she emphasised, ‘The timing here must be right. As your father says mind, he taps his fingers four times on his brow, then adds, “It’s Golden’s or the asylum, take your choice.” It is then that your hand moves slowly up and you tap on your brow, also four times, and you repeat, “Golden,” then add, “mind.” Then you smile and keep on tapping your brow while repeating, “Golden Mind” until he goes to pass you, when you grab at his trouser leg; and at this he shakes you off as if you were something repulsive. Then with the banging of the door you look up to me and you say, “Mind. Mind. Golden Mind,” and again you tap your brow, and I take you in my arms and hug you.’
‘I like you hugging me. But then, you’re not yourself when you’re on that stage. Eeh, my! I’ve never seen anybody cry to order like you do. They told me you could. They said that years ago you did a marvellous play where you went hysterical and cried, actually cried, and that it ran a fortnight.’
She gave a quick jerk to her head, saying, ‘Never mind about me crying and bygone plays, it’s you we’ve got to concentrate on now, and you mustn’t take any notice of that lot down there telling you how wonderful you are and how you are fitting in to the character. I’m telling you you’re not there yet, not by a half, and we’ll not know for sure until the lights hit you on that first night. That’ll be the telling point.’
‘Ah, miss, have a heart, I don’t want to feel really barmy, I want to live; I mean, live an ordinary life. And you know something? I’m petrified of feeling as you want me to for this play, I really am. It’s too bloomin’ deep for me altogether. It’s not my style.’
‘Shut up, will you?’
The words were said in a tone he hadn’t heard her use before and caused the smile to slide from his face, and as he looked at her he thought, Why is she doing all this, so intent on getting me some place away from here? Except for Mr David, I think I’m her only real friend, so why’s she doing it? Oh, sometimes I wish I’d never come into this set-up. I do. I do. Oh, and when me mam sees this play…Damn me mam! Oh my God! Fancy me saying that.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing. Nothing, miss.’
‘You thought of something then, didn’t you? And it upset you.’
He gave a short laugh, then said, ‘Aye, I did. I was thinking of what me mam would say about this play, and then I said, “Damn me mam!”’
She laughed. ‘That’s healthy.’
‘No, it isn’t, Miss Mason, it isn’t. I can bugger and blast about other people but not me mam. I tell you, this place is getting under my skin.’
‘Good. Good. That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say in days.’
His face straight now, Riley asked, ‘But why do you have to keep going over these first scenes again and again? I know every action I’ve got to do, and I know every word you’ve got to say, but you keep repeating it, miss, day after day.’
‘Well, in all the aspects of my particular madness there is method: and that is the word, method.’
‘They go a lot by method up in the drama schools, don’t they?’
‘Yes. But my method means that if those first two scenes become ingrained in you you’re not likely to dry up later on, or if you do you’ll be able to handle it, whereas, if you dry up at the start…well, I’ll leave you to imagine the rest.’
‘But I know every word I have to say.’
‘Yes, you say and I say you know every word, every action; but that’s like having the paint without the canvas, and the canvas in this case is the feeling, the feeling that you are not just Riley doing a part, but that you’re no longer Riley: you are a boy of sixteen who “goes back” to seven and you must bring that over in those first fifteen minutes. Anyway that kettle must be boiled dry now; make the tea. But candidly what I want is not tea but what a little miniature holds.’
‘Shall I go and get you one, miss?’
‘No, Riley. Thanks all the same. Let’s keep it dry, at least until this play goes on…and comes off, long or short.’
Four
It was the last night of the play The Golden Mind. It had run for four weeks, the longest run of a play at the Little Palace. The curtain came down at ten o’clock to a standing ovation which kept the cast on stage for the next twenty minutes before they all went down and mingled with the audience, and David Bernice had tears in his eyes as he kept repeating that his Little Palace had never known scenes like it.
The first week had brought rave notices in the local paper, which was unusual in itself. The second week had brought playgoers in from Newcastle, Sunderland, Gateshead and places round about. In the third week the fifty members of the Palace Club who, over the years, had worked so hard to keep the place going, willingly gave up their seats to queuers who had stood for hours. At the end of the third week a scout came down from Manchester, and he saw the play on both the Friday night and the Saturday matinee, after which he had a long talk with Mr Bernice, followed by a surprising talk with Riley; surprising, at least, to Riley, for he was being offered a part in the pantomime at Christmas with the possibility of a part in a play that was to go on tour towards the end of February.
David Bernice’s reaction was: ‘Well, we’ll wait and see. This has got to be talked over,’ and this surprised Riley because Mr Bernice had said to him after the first week, ‘Don’t be surprised, lad, if you get offers to move.’
During the fourth week the scout returned accompanied by what Riley would call a gentleman: good manners, well spoken and well dressed. After seeing the play, he came to David Bernice’s office and confirmed his agent’s opinion that this boy had it in him to go places and that he would suit the character they were looking for in the new play. After further discussion Mr Bernice agreed that it was a great opportunity for the boy and assured Riley he would waive his year’s contract. However, to the amazement of the four concerned, Riley did not jump at the offer but requested an hour or so to think it over.
During that hour or so he rushed over to Mr Beardsley, and after gabbling his news, he said, ‘I would take it, but it’s me mam. Look what she did when she came to the play. She’s hardly spoken to me since.’
‘What did she do?’
‘Well, it was in the scene when I was lying on the bed. While Lily was leaning over me and stroking my hair, I heard a commotion down in the stalls and I knew it was her; and there she was stalking out, and not quietly either; and when I got home there was a hell of a row.
‘“You’re not doing any more of that slush,” she said. “They should be locked up for putting it on.” And on and on she went. I pointed out to her it was the only scene of its kind in the play and that nothing happened anyway. She said that although it was all suggested, I might as well have been stripped naked. And then, me playing an imbecile and looking like one, and she said I’d never be the same again. And, you know, perhaps she’s right there, for Larry, the young boy, has got under my skin.’
At this, Fred Beardsley had taken him by the shoulders and shaken him none too gently, saying, ‘Don’t be a bloody fool! Your mother’s a narrow-minded woman and she’s fifty years behind the times, so get back there and say, “Thank you very much, sirs.” And be grateful for it. And there’s another you should be grateful to, all the way along the line, and that’s Miss Mason. You could never have got through that show of emotion on your own, not without her coaching. I saw that from the start. She’s an amazing actress, that woman. I don’t know why she stays there, really. Now you’ve got to make a stand against your mother. She’s not the kind of woman to let her only son get away from her apron strings, especially with your father as he is now. She sees you as the man in her life and she’ll move hell and high water to keep you there. Where’s the pantomime? Manchester?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well that’s a good place to start. The next step could be London. Here you’re acting to the same audience week after week, but out there you’ll be facing a different horde, and you’ll find you’ll have to respond to them in different ways. You’ll gain more on that circuit than you would by going to drama school and you might just as well have gone there, because Louise—and it’s strange, but you might have gone there—and I have had thoughts about putting that to you.’
Riley’s reaction was to shake his head at the kindness of these two people.
So it was agreed that first he’d play in the pantomime for three weeks. Then go on tour.
It was late that night when he got home. Susie and Florrie were already in bed, but before his mother or father could say anything, sixteen-year-old Betty ran to him, crying, ‘Have you seen the evening papers?’
‘No, let me get in.’
‘It says you’re being offered a pantomime and a tour and you’ve accepted.’
Apprehensively he looked at his mother, then at his father, before he said, ‘They couldn’t have got it in tonight; I’ve only just agreed to do it.’
‘Well, it says it was offered to you and only a fool wouldn’t accept it and as me dad’s just said, you’re no fool. Oh, I am excited. D’you think I’ll get on the stage if I—’
‘Shut up and get yourself away to bed!’
‘Oh, Mam.’
‘Never mind oh Mam.’
‘You know what, Mam? You’re enough to make people run away.’
When her mother’s hand came up her father cried, ‘I wouldn’t do that if I was you.’
Betty looked at Riley, and when he made a little movement with his head, she turned and went swiftly from the room.
He now watched his mother go to the fireplace, take up the poker and vigorously stir the glowing coals, and his voice was quiet and even placating when he said, ‘I was bound to make a move sometime, Mam.’
She was around in a flash, the poker still in her hand as she cried at him, ‘Yes, maybe, but into something decent, not travelling the country with that dirty lot.’
‘Which dirty lot?’ His voice was as loud as hers now. ‘I don’t know them. They’re a troupe of actors very like the ones I’m working with now, I would think. Which dirty lot are you talking about?’
‘They’re all a dirty lot, all of them.’
‘Oh…h!’ Riley’s voice sank deep into his chest now as he said, ‘You know, Mam, I was ignorant, oh yes I was, as ignorant as a pig when I was at school; but I’ve been educated since I was among that dirty lot, as you call them. Let me tell you they’re a fine lot of people and I’ve learnt from them, and I’m glad I’ve met them and I’m going on meeting them. So I’m going on the road with them, whoever these others are, and I’m going into pantomime, and I hope I’ll be able to make people laugh. And, Mam, I’m going to tell you something else, you’ve forgotten how to laugh, and because of it you’ve made everybody else miserable.’
The poker went limp in her hand; then she turned back to the fireplace and laid it down before turning to her husband and saying, ‘You’ve been right all along, you know. You’ve told me that I had ruined him, that I looked upon him as the only one of any use in the family. Well, you’ve been right because I never dreamt I would listen to my son telling me I made everybody miserable.’
Riley watched his parents glare at each other but whatever he expected his father to say it wasn’t what came out of his mouth: ‘Well, you’re right on both counts: yes, I have said that you consider him the only one in the family, and he’s just said you’ve made everybody miserable, because it’s many a long year since I had a really civil word out of you. Oh, I’ve got me faults, I know, and if you’ve told me once it must have been a thousand times that I like work so much I make it me bedfellow, all because of me back. You shouldn’t be surprised to hear that you’ve made people miserable. Oh yes, yes, your son’s become a man long before you wanted him to be one. You’ve always wanted to keep him a naughty boy so you could see yourself as the caring, guiding mother, going to the school and siding with Beardsley for the beatings he gave him; not that he didn’t deserve them, but it wasn’t your place to go, it was mine; but I never got a chance. Oh no.’
When his mother turned to him Riley saw utter bewilderment in her face; but she turned quickly back to her husband and said, ‘I can’t believe this, not one but two of you. Perhaps you’d like to go along with him,’ and she nodded towards Riley, and in reply his father said, ‘I’d give me eyeballs for the chance. Me back would soon be better then, I can tell you.’
‘God in heaven! It’s a night of truth. Oh, it’s a night of truth all right.’ Mona Riley now turned from them both and walked slowly towards the far door; and there she stopped, holding the door handle for a moment as if she were about to say something; but she changed her mind and left the room, without banging the door after her.
Riley looked at his father. He had never before seen him in this light; and his father had never before seen his son in this light; and he said to him, ‘You’re doing the right thing, lad. Get out while the going’s good, because if you stay here for much longer you’ll never get away. And I’m telling you, for women like your mother are the very devil, they’re the bloody devil himself. Oh aye. Oh aye.’
For a time they stood staring at each other, until Mr Riley asked quietly, ‘When are you off?’
At this moment Riley was so bemused that he couldn’t think. This was his dad talking to him as if he was a human being, and for the first time in his life he was seeing his parent as a frustrated man. Frustrated by whom? His wife. The world had gone topsy-turvy ever since he took on this play.
Then they were both startled when the door was again thrust open, and there stood his mother. She did not enter the room but stood within the opening, and she screamed at him now: ‘Go on your tours with that lot of harlots and play your filthy plays.’
Riley almost ran at her, but stopped within only an arm’s length, and cried at her, ‘It wasn’t a filthy play, it was a magnificent drama, and everybody says so. It’s only you that says it’s filthy.’
‘Not filthy, lying on a bed with your sister, and being about to…?’
‘About to do nothing. I was retarded, Mam. I was a child and incapable of doing what’s in your mind, and she was comforting me in the only way she knew how. As it was in yours, so it was in the father’s mind too.’
‘My mind’s clean, clean! D’you hear? And I’ve tried to keep yours the same way, even if I’ve used me hand to do it; but let me tell you this, half of those people you are joining are out of work for years at a time, so don’t you think you’ll come crawling back and find shelter here when you’re doing what you call resting. You can find some harlot among them to give you another bed to lie on, because I won’t have you back in this house: I’ve got three girls growing up and I don’t want them contaminated.’
Again she swung about, and this time the door clashed behind her.
Again the father and son stood looking at each other, and when Riley said pityingly, ‘Dad, what’s come over her?’ Alex replied, ‘You, lad, you’ve come over her: she’s lost you, you’ve beaten her, and she can’t bear it. If she had played her cards right she could’ve always had you; but she doesn’t see it that way; she’s your mother, but she’s a narrow-minded bitch of a woman. Always has been. Now my advice to you is go and get your few things together and go along to those friends of yours, because it’ll be hell if you stay here for the next few days, or until you’re due to go; and such are her wiles, she could change and be the sorrowing mother tomorrow, crying all over you; and the end of it would find you giving it up just to please her. Go on, get your things. She won’t know what you’re doing; and you’ll find a taxi in the stand at Bing’s Corner. There’s always one there. And I know you’ll find a room with Mr Beardsley, because he’s a good fellow. I’ve always known that.’
‘Oh, Dad.’ It was almost a childish whimper. Here he was losing a mother and finding a father after all these years. He couldn’t believe it. He had the most odd feeling that he wanted to cry. Oh my God! No, he mustn’t cry. That would be the finish of him.
He turned quickly from his father and went to his bedroom, a small room just off the passage. He had always slept downstairs, and the girls upstairs. Fifteen minutes later he came out carrying a suitcase and two plastic bags, together with an overcoat.
His father said in a practical way, ‘Put the overcoat on and then you can put your mac on top of that. You needn’t button it.’
Almost like a young boy now, he did as he was bidden; and when he saw his father take his own coat off the back of the door and pull his cap onto his head, he said, ‘Oh no, Dad, it’s bitter outside.’
‘Well, I’ve been out when it’s been bitter before, haven’t I? Come on. Take the case; I’ll take the bags. I’ll see you off.’
His father opened the front door quietly, and when Riley was about to step out into the street he turned about and looked into the room again. He couldn’t believe this. No, he couldn’t believe this. It was as if he were still deranged or had become mental, because his mind was denying that his mother could have turned out to be the woman he had just witnessed, the woman who had just thrown him off as it were.
The door closed, his father said, ‘It’s no use looking back, lad; you’re starting out in life and with the chance in a million, so make the best of it.’
They found a taxi, and as his father closed the door on him he said, ‘Keep in touch, lad, will you? Let me know now and again how you are. If you give a message to Mr Beardsley I’ll be sure to get it.’
