Stella. Gary Morecambe

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      ‘I see.’

      They both glimpsed the front grille of the bus as it levelled on the crest of the hill. ‘I try and keep them occupied and so on,’ continued Frank. ‘I’ve just been down there now.’

      ‘Oh, I see.’

      ‘We try and arrange for them some entertainment and so on. Do a few songs on the piano and have a singer. That sort of thing.’

      The bus jerked and squeaked as it pulled up in front of them. ‘It must be difficult to get entertainers, regular like,’ said Jack. The thought of his talented daughter looking for work was making his interest in Frank grow with each passing second.

      ‘Good ’uns, it is, yes.’

      ‘I see.’

      ‘It’s a bit difficult ’cos we can’t pay them owt, so we end up with the same old faces who don’t mind doing it for nowt.’

      ‘It must get boring for them,’ said Jack with feeling.

      Jack put a penny in the conductor’s outstretched hand. ‘I know some youngsters who would be interested.’

      ‘Oh aye,’ said Frank. He was always looking for new talent.

      The bus lurched forward, seemingly propelling him into conversation. ‘Well, if they’d like to come down to the Mission next Saturday I’ll give ’em a try-out.’

      The bus swung off the main route and pulled up a few minutes later. Jack peered through the dirty windows where some kids had drawn their own version of the female anatomy. It was Jack’s stop, and as he climbed down from the bus he smiled to himself in the knowledge that he had secured his daughters their first date.

      Still smiling from the good news, Stella trotted to Gaynor’s and informed the caretaker that they had a special booking come in and so would require the rooms for a while longer that evening. He smiled and nodded, though she doubted that he had understood fully as he was hard of hearing.

      As the girls lay in bed that night, exhausted from their work-out at Gaynor’s, Stella began to consider the finer details of their act. ‘What do you think we should close the act with?’ Sadie fought to keep her eyes open, knowing how much her sister wanted her to share in the excitement.

      ‘You’ll think of something,’ came her bland reply. ‘You always do.’

      ‘Maybe the military routine is a good one to close with,’ she mused. ‘It’s a bit too serious, though. No, maybe the selection from the Broadway musical.’

      She gave Sadie a firm shake to make sure she hadn’t fallen off to sleep. ‘Now, there’s one important thing I want you to listen to, Sadie. When we introduce . . . Sadie, wake up and listen.’

      ‘I am, I am,’ said Sadie feebly.

      Stella watched her for a short while, making sure she didn’t shut her eyes. When satisfied she had her full attention, she continued. ‘When we introduce the songs and dances I want no Lancashire accents. We mustn’t sound common; we must sound posh. Understand?’

      ‘I can only talk the way I talk,’ said Sadie, almost apologetically.

      ‘Look, I’m Lancashire, Sadie, but I don’t have to talk it,’ said Stella in a forced southern accent.

      She sighed, and then smiled down at her sister. Sadie’s head was rolling loosely round her neck. ‘Now, just before you leave the land of the living we must decide on what we’re going to call ourselves. We can’t use Ravenscroft, it’s too long. People’ll forget it.’

      ‘Let’s call ourselves the “Goodnight Sisters”,’ suggested Sadie, as she let herself slip further under the warm covers.

      ‘You’re a fine help, you are. I suppose I’ll have to think of everything from now on.’

      Stella curled up but continued to think. There was no point talking aloud any more. Sadie was beyond her reaching.

      The Champagne Sisters, p’rhaps? No. Too fancy. The Ravenscroft Sisters . . . Yuk! The Raven Sisters? Hmmm.

      Stella blew out the candle. Had Sadie stayed awake she would have heard what her stage name was to be from that night onwards.

      The concert at the Mission wasn’t quite up to Stella’s expectations. They had arrived at precisely six o’clock, with Sadie having spent the day secretly hoping the building had been burnt down, flooded, or undergone any other equally dramatic disaster.

      Stella had insisted that they enter by the stage door, which proved exceedingly difficult to do as it turned out that the Mission didn’t have one. They settled on filing in with the audience, with Stella carrying the music and Sadie carrying all their props. One of the younger men in the audience volunteered to assist Sadie with the props, but he was at least seventy years old – albeit a young seventy years old – and Sadie ended up assisting him to his seat.

      Stella took an audience’s view of the stage, which looked more like a coffee table with a piano perched on it. As they made their way to it Sadie kept her head hung low so she wouldn’t be seen, while Stella lifted hers defiantly at them, so as to show she had no fear. As it happened, it wasn’t possible to see their faces because the Mission was full of pipe smoke.

      She whispered to Sadie, ‘They’re too old to inhale.’

      ‘Is it a full house?’ asked her sister nervously.

      ‘From what I can see through the smog, it is.’ She paused to count the audience. ‘Yes,’ she said at length. ‘All seventeen seats are taken.’

      They stepped behind the curtain and, to Sadie’s relief, out of sight. The Reverend John Wright was awaiting them there, calmly pacing the floor with his hands behind his back. ‘Hello,’ he beamed encouragingly.

      ‘Hello,’ replied the girls suspiciously.

      ‘You must be the new talent we’ve heard so much about.’

      Stella and Sadie exchanged furtive glances. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Stella confidently.

      ‘Oh, good. Mr Bland said you’d come highly recommended.’

      Sadie put the suitcases down. She felt as though her arms had been elongated. ‘Please step this way,’ requested the Reverend with a gentle swaying motion of the hand. ‘Mr Barnes is at the rear.’

      Wondering who Mr Barnes was, the girls headed for the rear of the building.

      ‘Hello, kids. I’m Joey Barnes. I do compering. I’ve done plenty afore, so don’t go fretting that I’ll make a right fool of myself . . . or yourselves.’

      ‘Your names?’ enquired the Reverend. Stella spoke at Joey Barnes.

      ‘Just say, “Ladies and Gentlemen, you’re about to be entertained by the fabulous Raven Sisters, with their own brand of song and dance and high-class comedy.” ’

      ‘The СКАЧАТЬ