The Cockney Sparrow by Dilly Court Page A

chatting. At the far end of the room, two youngwomen were practising their dance steps, doing high kicks and showing their knickers, to the obvious enjoyment of the men seated at the table. Augustus was halfway down the stairs that led to the hall, and behind him came Lucilla with her blonde hair still tied up in rags and a sulky expression on her red lips. The rest of the band were already seated with their heads down, stuffing bread, cheese and cold meat into their mouths as if their lives depended upon it.
    ‘Ah, there you are Miss Clemency.’ Augustus stopped on the bottom step, causing Lucilla to bump into him.
    ‘Oh, Daddy!’
    ‘Look where you’re going, my little poppet. You trod on Papa’s heel and these are my best patent leather shoes.’ He advanced towards Clemency, beaming so broadly that his eyes almost disappeared into his florid cheeks. ‘As soon as we have broken our fast, Miss Clemency, we will give you a proper audition.’ He waved his arms as if embracing everyone in the kitchen. ‘You see, my dear. Most of these good people are fellow artistes, and who better to judge whether you have the makings of a real trouper?’
    A desultory round of applause followed his speech, which Augustus acknowledged with a smile and a bow. He held his hand out to Lucilla and led her to a space at the table next to the man whom Clemency recognised as the flautist.Lucilla slumped down on the bench beside him and he slid his arm around her waist.
    ‘Fancy, my little ray of sunshine, be so good as to bring me the coffeepot.’ Augustus pulled up a chair and sat at the head of the table. He beckoned to Clemency. ‘Have you sampled Mrs Blunt’s culinary masterpiece? I speak of bread, soft, chewy, mouth-watering bread hot from the oven, and jam. Plum jam made by the same fair hands, using purple plums picked in the garden of England.’
    ‘Shut up, Daddy,’ Lucilla said, cramming a hunk of Cheddar cheese into her mouth. ‘You’re making a spectacle of yourself.’
    ‘Sorry, my pet. I couldn’t hear that remark through the half pound of Cheddar you have just forced into your mouth. Cheese is the enemy of the singer’s vocal cords. You should eat honey, my little canary. Honey straight from the comb. Here, Fancy, hurry up with that coffee.’
    Clemency stood watching the performance. One of the dancers had her foot on the mantelshelf while she poured tea into a mug. How she got her leg up there was a mystery to Clemency: it didn’t look natural to split a body that way. The other girl was bent double, touching her toes with her bum stuck up in the air – folded in two like a hairpin. Whatever would they do next? Fancy hurried over to fill Augustus’s cup with coffee and she was smiling. What a difference asmile made, Clemency thought, staring at her. She was really quite nice-looking when her face was not screwed up as if she had been sucking lemons.
    Augustus buttered a slice of bread and spread it with jam. He bit into it with relish and washed it down with a mouthful of hot coffee. For a moment, Clemency thought that he had forgotten about her. No one else seemed to be bothered whether she was there or not. Even Fancy was ignoring her, which suited her very well. She went to the range and poured tea into a mug, adding milk and three heaped teaspoonfuls of sugar. She was about to take it in to her mother, when Augustus called her name.
    ‘Miss Clemency. I’m ready to audition you.’
    Suddenly nervous, Clemency set the mug down on a shelf.
    ‘Over here, girl. I can’t hear you if you hover by the door.’ Augustus pointed to an empty space on the bench. ‘Jump up there, my dear. And give us your best.’
    It felt to Clemency as though she were wading knee deep in the river, as her legs turned to lead and she made her way to the table. The drummer offered his hand to help her up on the form. ‘You show ’em, miss,’ he said, and his waxed moustache seemed to move of its own accord as he smiled up at