Fern Britton - A Seaside Affair

‘Helen – come ’ere.’

‘Just a minute.’

‘Come ’ere now!’

‘What’s the magic word?’

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ His chair scraped on the floor and he marched in with a yellowing newspaper in his hand.

She paused the film. ‘What?’

‘Look ’ere. It’s a review for the opening night of the Pavilions back in 1954.’

She read silently for a moment or two then looked at him. ‘And …?’

‘Look at the photo.’

She looked. It was a picture of two men on stage. One wearing a loud checked suit and a trilby jammed on his head, the other with a monocle and a swagger stick under his arm. The caption read:

Marvellous Max Miller and Pavilion theatre manager Walter Irvine delight audiences at the opening night of Trevay’s latest attraction.

She looked up at him, wrinkling her brow. ‘I still don’t get it.’

‘Look carefully at the man with the stick under his arm. Does he seem familiar?’

She peered closer. ‘Erm … no …’

‘Walter Irvine?’

She shook her head.

‘Better known as Colonel Stick?’

She gasped and looked again. ‘Really?’

‘I’d bet Jack’s life on it.’

Hearing his name, the terrier lifted his head from his paws and wagged his tail.

*

Simon parked his old Volvo outside the vicarage. The large bag of fish and chips on the seat next to him smelled enticingly of warm paper, hot grease and vinegar. He tucked the package under his arm and got out of the car. Immediately the front door opened and Penny flew out, wrapped in a huge beige cashmere poncho and carrying a fat plastic documents folder. She locked the door and kissed her husband.

Simon never failed to be blown away by the fact that this glamorous, exacting, talented, lovely woman was his. He returned her kiss and, blinking soulful chocolate-coloured eyes through his spectacles, he held out his free arm for her to take. ‘Evening, Mrs Canter. Good day?’

She arranged her chic sunglasses on the top of her head and beamed up at him. ‘Great! You? How did the meeting go? Audrey unbearable?’

‘Not bad. Meeting pretty good. Audrey rather helpful.’

‘Excellent.’ The two set off down the vicarage path to walk the short distance across the green to Gull’s Cry. ‘Thanks for getting the chish and fips. Helen wouldn’t tell me what’s going on, but she sounded so excited I reckon Piran must have found something.’

*

‘Pass the ketchup would you, Pen? Thanks.’ Piran squirted a large pool of sauce on the open packet of chips. They hadn’t bothered getting plates out, preferring to eat them straight from the paper wrapping.

For a while the only sound was satisfied munching as everyone tucked in. Then Helen wiped her fingers on a piece of kitchen towel and kicked off the conversation.

‘Simon, you start – how did the meeting go?’

He told them about the plans for fliers in windows, leaflets through letterboxes and letters to the council.

‘Good for Audrey and Geoff. That’ll keep them busy. Who else was there?’

Simon duly listed the attendees, finishing: ‘… and Queenie, of course. She took Colonel Stick under her wing – kept him quiet with aniseed twists.’

Helen paused with a chunk of cod halfway between her plate and her lips. She darted a look at Piran, who shook his head as a warning for her not to say anything just yet.

‘What?’ said Penny, immediately spotting what had passed.

‘All in good time,’ Piran answered infuriatingly. ‘Penny, your turn – any of those actor types in your address book come good?’

Penny clapped her hands together, thrilled with what she had to tell. She moved her fish-and-chip paper to one side and opened the document wallet that had been sitting underneath.

‘I think you’re going to be very pleased!’ She beamed at them, waiting for murmurs of wonder and approval, but kept them waiting a moment too long.

‘Get on with it, woman!’ barked Piran.

‘OK, OK.’ Penny took the papers out of the wallet. ‘Let’s see … I started by emailing the cast of Mr Tibbs ; seeing as the series is being filmed locally I thought they’d be supportive. Both David Cunningham and Dahlia Dahling’ – the actors who played the two lead roles, bank-manager-cum-sleuth Mr Tibbs and his secretary Nancy Trumpet – ‘have agreed to help in some way.’

‘That’s jolly good of them,’ said Simon, patting Penny’s arm affectionately.

‘There’s more. The Arts Council are launching a new campaign to get people to support their regional theatres, so we can get some publicity on the back of that. AND – ta-dah! – dear Julian Fellowes has said he might, might , can’t promise in blood, but might …’

‘Yes?’ Helen was on the edge of her seat.

‘… be able to persuade Hugh Bonneville and Maggie Smith to join him for a special Downton Abbey night where they share a kind of behind-the-scenes gossipy chat with the audience.’

‘What’s Downton Abbey ?’ asked Piran, frowning.

‘Shut up!’ Helen punched his arm. ‘I’ll tell you later.’

‘ And …’ Penny continued, ‘it looks as though we’ll be getting some memorabilia from Dr Who , signed by cast members, past and present.’

‘David Tennant?’ swooned Helen.

‘Yes, David Tennant. And my man in Hollywood is going to ask Quentin Tarantino’s office for anything the great man can sign and send us too.’

Penny sat back looking very pleased with herself. Simon and Helen could only gaze at her in astonishment, their eyes like saucers.

‘Wow,’ said Helen.

‘’oo’s Quentin Tarantino?’ asked Piran.

After it was explained exactly who Tarantino was, and Penny had poured out the last of the bottle of red wine, Piran pulled out the newspaper cutting he’d shown to Helen earlier that day and passed it to Penny and Simon.

‘’ave a look to that.’

Simon and Penny hunched together and looked. It was Simon who got the connection first.

‘Piran! This is Colonel Stick, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘So the man who first took charge of the theatre is still in Trevay?’

‘That’s right.’

‘And he was a music hall performer who knew Max Miller?’

‘Give the man a cigar!’

‘He was at the meeting today. He told me he’d never missed a show, but I thought he meant a military “show”, that he liked nothing better than to get stuck into a battle. But he meant—’

‘I should think he did.’

Penny was listening hard and had finally put two and two together. ‘So he is the piece of historic interest we need to save the Pavilions?’

‘Correct.’

‘But how exactly? What can Colonel Stick do that could possibly help us save the theatre?’ asked Helen. ‘I mean, I’m sure he has lots of interesting anecdotes about the old days, but how many people really care about music hall now? And why would they be bothered about a retired theatre manager?’

Piran leaned back in his chair and drained his glass. ‘If you birds would finally stop your incessant twittering, I might be able to get a word in and enlighten you.’

Penny and Helen exchanged looks but fell silent.

‘I’ve been doing a bit of digging. This Colonel Stick isn’t just famous for his music hall act. He was also an avid adopter of amateur film-making back in the day. Judging from all the old theatre press cuttings I’ve dug out, our Colonel was rubbing shoulders with the greats – not just music-hall greats, but the biggest stars of the theatre world. He was friends with the likes of Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh, John Gielgud and Richard Burton. And seeing as he was so keen on capturing everything on film, I reckon those old home movies of his could turn out to be some very rare and highly desirable footage.’