the War. I found I was better at it than I thought
I was. And I was making a tidy bit on the side
from it, too. It was then I first realised that
there was money to be made in this music game, far
more money than in the clerking I had been doing
up to then in the Civil Service. My disability
pension wasn’t much when I came out, but it was just
enough to keep me going until I got myself a job
playing in a cinema. A white sheet hanging up by its
four corners in a church hall in Kingsland High
Street. They didn’t listen to what the pianist was
playing. They only heard you if what you played
didn’t fit in with what was on the screen. I’d
never really been to the pictures until then. But
I soon enough picked up what was wanted. You had
to keep on playing no matter what. They noticed if
you stopped. Sometimes they would applaud. Since
I was the only one live who had anything to do with
it it used to amuse me. I would take a bow as if
I were Paderewski or someone like that. Sometimes
we had a drumkit and other sound effects. The new
films came in twice a week or sometimes oftener.
I did not usually get any chance to see them before
the first house. That was the worst house, too.
They booed and yelled as if they were at a prize
fight. There. That’s the first
dozen. Put them into their crate.
Suppose this must be liquor of some sort. My sense
of smell is nearly gone. I’d be lost in a fire. But
don’t ask questions. That’s why she puts her trust
in me. But can’t help wondering to myself what it
is. Or where it’s going. Perhaps it’s going to one
of those clubs like I used to play in in the twenties.
Before the rift came with Betty. Like the famous or
notorious Mrs Marshall’s All-Up Club in Frith Street.
All that dust-up in the papers over bribing a
police sergeant. They were all taking. It was not
only the sergeant. Mrs Marshall was just the type
who would buy watered whisky. Or stolen whisky. Then
she’d water it down herself. The customers were
always complaining about the drink. She was very firm
with them. She tried to run it as she would her own
home, silly as it may sound. That’s what she said
to anyone who complained, however. One night the
place would be full of gangsters, and the next you
might even have royalty there. There was no telling.
And it was all Mrs Marshall’s doing. She was that
kind of powerful phooooooor… rt! that’s better,
woman. No man could dominate her, no indeed. She
had her man, or rather men, of course. But one at a
time. I’ve seen that woman set a man quivering with
fear just with one look. That was enough. And he
went sneaking out of the door just like a whipped cur.
Yet she was kind enough when she wanted to be. She
was very kind to me in her way. She could see that
I was dotty about Betty at the time, so there was
never any question of my wanting to make advances to
her. So really right from the start it was purely
a business association. I could get her the quality
players she needed for a place like that. And at
the same time those boys were the souls of discretion
itself about who they might see there and what they
might see going on. And they needed to be.
To people like us she was a good payer, too. I had
no gripes. The only bandsman I really had trouble
with was Ronnie Palmer. Later he made a name for
himself, of a sort, on the wireless as a kind of
poor man’s Harry Lauder. But then he was violin
doubling saxes for me at Mrs M’s All-Up. Ronnie
was ill-bred anyway, and a bit too fond of the
ladies with it. So fond that he was arranging for
them to be available during band breaks and other
odd times. Mrs M. wasn’t keen on this on her own
premises, especially when it involved several of
the girls she had as cashiers and so on. But
when she spoke sharply to him about it, he answered
back. But he only just began to say something
that I think meant he could blackmail her in some
way and she was on him. First of all she thumped
him, and how he knew he’d been thumped, too,
then before he could think what he was doing she’d got
an arm-hold on him and had bounced him all the way
to the back, where one of the kitchen porters took
over and bounced him out to the dustbins. We
had to get through that night without Ronnie. It
was too late to find anyone to dep. for him.
Perhaps it did him a good turn in the end. Next
I heard of him he was in the BBC’s own dance
orchestra. Perhaps I should have tried to get
into the wireless end of the business then. If I
had had foresight. Then I’d have had all the trouble
and all the jealousies and a hundred to one I
wouldn’t have lived to be the age I am now. I should
count my blessings. Where’s Ronnie Palmer now?
Dead, I should think. And he was younger than me.
It would have pleased Betty though if I’d managed to
be on the wireless. She was a great one for
that kind of thing. Finished them
just in time. All full. What about corks?
Here she comes, down.
What shall I do for corks for these, Miss?
Yes, I put those back afterwards.
Right, Miss. I don’t know about the lifting, Miss….
She’s not listening. After that so-and-so dog again,
hairs everywhere.
Cork up. Dozens here in this box. Where does she
get them? Anyway, they fit, won’t
take me long to finish this lot.
Fingers can do this easily enough. I still hear
pieces in my head, but I couldn’t play them
even if she had a piano here.
Now she’s having another go at
that poor old soul. Though she asks for it in some
ways, I’ll admit. There, that’s
the lot. I won’t lift them. I don’t want to strain
my gut.
Praising that Sarah. I’ve done
just as well. What about me?
I should think so, too.
Now what is it she’s going to get us up to?
Pass the Parcel. Pass the
Parcel. This is stupid. Who wants to play silly
games? But we all do. We all do as she says.
Always. Stupid.
A lovely surprise. I can imagine.
For me?
Pass it on to Ivy.
Mrs Ridge She’s about
half opened it.
Coming to me Now to me, it’ll come to
me! Not quite.
Sarah’s got it. Not fair. Injustice again.
What’s in it? There, she didn’t have time to win.
Hold on in case it stops now. Have
to pass it now. Not fair.
Pass it on!
Ron. It’s that Ron.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha! Ha ha I shall
choke! That serves him right! Ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha! Oh dearie me, dearie me, ha ha!
Ha ha! ha ha ha ha ha!
It’s like in Verdun. That fellow who couldn’t
speak Flemish, or French was it. He was having