Free Rhiannon by Carole Llewellyn

sweetshop on its left, the theatre looked decidedly out of place.
    It was remarkable how the sight of the theatre with its impressive gold-and-red frontage, marble entrance and two large shields cast in bronze standing proudly above the main doors, representing the county and the city, instantly lifted their spirits.
    â€˜Rhi, are we going to visit your Aunt Florrie before the show?’
    â€˜I don’t think we should bother Aunt Florrie just yet. I’m sure she’ll have more time for us after the show.’ If the truth were known Rhiannon wanted to put off her aunt’s inevitable questions concerning the accident down the mine and the death of her father for as long as she could.
    â€˜Rhi, is there time for us to find something to eat? I’m starving.’
    â€˜Your stomach will have to wait. By the look of the queues outside the theatre I think we’d best get in line. I don’t want to miss the matinée.’
    The girls took their place behind a mixed theatre crowd: men wearing bowler hats, straw boaters and cloth caps; women, with flowered hats and feathered bonnets. Some wore elegant dresses,
others were in shawls, blouses and long serge skirts.
    â€˜There’s a sweetshop next door selling toffee apples. Can I have one, Rhi? Pl-ease.’
    Rhiannon reached into her purse and took out a shiny new sixpence. ‘I’m afraid it’ll have to do you until we can arrange a proper meal.’
    â€˜Thanks, Rhi. Shall I get one for you too?’
    Rhiannon shook her head. Her stomach was doing somersaults.
    â€˜No thanks. I’m not hungry.’
    As their queue edged closer to the foyer they spotted the large poster over the door advertising ‘ All The Way from Paris – The Great Florrie Grayson! ’ underneath a photo of her aunt in all her finery. Rhiannon stared at the photo. It had been nearly six years since Rhiannon had last seen her aunt. She looked exactly the same now – she hadn’t changed a bit.
    â€˜Gosh, Rhi, I didn’t realize she was such a beauty. You look just like her.’
    A man, dressed in a smart evening suit with crisp white high-necked shirt and bow tie, appeared on the top step in front of the theatre. He beamed at them as he raised a white-gloved hand in an exaggerated theatrical way. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the box-office doors are now open. Those with tickets please form two separate queues. Stalls and circle to the right, upper circle and gods to the left.
    â€˜Which one are we in, Rhi?’ Mair urged.
    â€˜I’m not sure. I’d better check.’
    Rhiannon reached into her pocket and pulled out the letter from Aunt Florrie containing the four theatre tickets meant for Dad, Nellie, Mair and herself. She removed two of the tickets and inspected them. ‘It just says BOX ONE. We’ll have to ask someone. ‘Come on,’ she urged as she bent down to pick up her suitcase. ‘Let’s join the queue.’
    â€˜Not long, now, Rhi. I’m that excited I could wet myself!’
    â€˜Mair, will you behave?’
    â€˜Rhi, you’re always so stuffy.’
    Soon the queue began to move faster. As it neared the large entrance they found themselves being pushed along by the crowd.
    â€˜Make sure you stay close, Mair, I don’t want to lose you.’
    â€˜No chance of that. I’m holding on to your coat as tight as I would a ten-bob note.’
    As they passed through the large glass double doors, with THE EMPIRE THEATRE etched in bold gold-leaf letters, they caught their
first glimpse of the opulent theatre foyer; with its grand marble entrance, gilded doors festooned with plush red-velvet drapes, a high ceiling ornately decorated with blue flowers and gold cherubs and a sweeping brass-railed staircase covered in thick red carpet. It was so grand it took their breath away.
    â€˜Will you two stop dawdling and get a bloody move on? You’re holding us all up,’ a woman