Page 15 of The Songbird of Wychwood
GEORGE
Well, blow me! My heart was beating ten-to-the-dozen. I was in my room with the man of my dreams. I stared distractedly at Percy as he stared back at me and then we both looked away, our burning mutual attraction undeniable. Those huge sea green eyes, the blond moustache, and the unruly mop of unconquered honeyed curls attracted me now even more than when I’d met him in the grand surroundings of Wychwood. But his smile, my word! I mirrored him with a bashful grin then looked away. When I glanced up again his eyes were trained on his fine boots. We were an awkward pair!
“Drinks, right,” I rubbed my hands together to stop myself from reaching out and running my fingers through his lovely curls. “Let me see what I’ve got in, take off your coat if you’re stopping, and have a seat.” I gestured to the couch then strode across the room, nervous as all hell to have a gentleman in my home. I hoped that he didn’t think less of me after seeing my situation.
“I can put the kettle on if you want tea or cocoa,” I relayed. There was no reply from Percy so I turned to see he was in the same spot with his great coat and scarf still on. Was I being presumptuous? Maybe he’d just wanted to assure himself of my identity and wasn’t stopping at all? But then again, he was staring at me like he did before, at Wychwood, like I hung the moon and stars. His flattering attention made heat rise to burn my cheeks.
“I’ll, um, put the kettle on,” I said meekly. My voice was starting to get a bit scratchy so it would be black tea with honey for me. I was back on-stage tomorrow, and then I’d get to rest until Wednesday. While I waited for the kettle to boil, I got out my best, well, my only tea tray and placed it on the kitchen table, then I added the teacups, honey, and the milk jug. When the kettle whistled, I wet the tea leaves, then added the pot and the tea strainer to the tray. I took it all over to the couch and placed the tray on the steamer trunk. Percy had finally removed his coat and scarf. He’d placed the coat beside mine on a hook behind the door. I rather liked the look of his smart black greatcoat hanging beside mine.
“Oh, my goodness! Do you compose your own songs?” Percy said all of a sudden. He was holding the loose sheets of manuscript paper I used to jot down lines of inspiration. They’d been spread out on the couch. Sometimes words would buzz around seeking a rhyme or a melody and when that happened, I couldn’t truly rest until the words were out of my head.
“Indeed I do,” I said, Percy’s green eyes were luminous. His smile was wide and happy, with the innocence of a puppy. It seems there was more to this something between Percy and me than lustful attraction.
“Were the performances I saw tonight of your original songs?” he enquired.
“Yes. When I create a character, I give them a back story and I write a song or two to fit. My audience loves them.”
I liked to offer the complete package, as it were, and I had so much fun creating my characters, like Miss Fortune, the crystal gazer who sang a mark’s future. She had a glass eye that would pop out when she did a reading. I wore a headscarf with a secret pocket where I stowed the eye, and I kept the audience on tenterhooks just waiting for the eye, a painted marble, to pop out and roll across the stage. And another character I created was named Lord Dickey; he was a saucy devil who favoured ladies of ill-repute over his dear lady wife. I had to be very clever with the wording of his songs so as not to get done for obscenity. I suppose my act was unique in that way, as other actors used song books, or had a lyricist who would compose for them. My act was all me. Mr. Grayson was ever so supportive, and he kept pushing me to write more, to try new songs out on our audiences, and come up with new characters. He was delighted when I debuted a new song and it got a favourable response. I was ever so lucky to have a boss like Mr. Grayson.
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