Free The Songbird by Val Wood

know that.’ Poppy put the kettle over the fire to make a pot of cocoa, her father’s bedtime drink. ‘I wanted to ask you something.’
    â€˜A new skirt? A pair of dancing pumps?’
    â€˜No.’ She smiled. ‘I want you to take me to the Theatre Royal. It’s ages since we went out to ’theatre or music hall,’ she coaxed. ‘And I saw a poster when I was coming back from my singing lesson, and I thought how nice it would be if we could go. Just you and me,’ she added, as she stirred his drink and added milk. ‘Lena and Tommy could run things if we went on a quiet night.’ She avoided mentioning Albert’s name whenever possible.
    He sighed. ‘I’ve not wanted to go since your ma died,’ he said. ‘It’s not seemed right somehow to be enjoying myself when she’s not beside me.’
    Poppy sat opposite him and cradled her cup between her hands. ‘I’ve felt the same,’ she said softly. ‘But I think that now we can. I don’t think she’d mind.’
    He glanced across at her. ‘Oh, she wouldn’t mind. It’s me that does. I keep thinking of ’times when I was too busy to go with her. And now it’s too late.’
    â€˜So, would you go with me, Pa? Ma would like it if you did.’
    He gazed meditatively into the fire and didn’t answer for a moment. Then he took a breath. ‘She would, wouldn’t she? Aye, all right. Theatre Royal? It would make a change from ’Mechanics. What’s on there?’
    There were theatres, concert halls and public rooms for entertainment and music all over the town, catering for every taste. The Assembly and Public Rooms put on lectures and vocal concerts, and there were lantern lectures at the Royal Institution. The Mechanics Music Hall was probably the Mazzinis favourite, with the Alhambra in Porter Street and the Theatre Royal in Paragon Street running a close second. A new theatre for performances of opera and drama, the Grand Theatre and Opera House, was due to open in George Street fairly soon, such was the appetite of Hull residents for all things musical, entertaining or edifying.
    â€˜Next week there’s Will Vane, the Banjo King,’ Poppy said, knowing that he would enjoy that. ‘There’s a comedian, a baritone singer – you’d like him – and a ballad and descriptive vocalist,’ she added last of all. ‘Miss Agnes Cotton.’
    â€˜Mm,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t mind seeing Will Vane again, he’s very good. Saw him a few years back; I thought he’d retired. All right. Next Monday, then. It’ll be fairly quiet in ’shop. Tommy can look after things and we should be home by half past nine.’
    Poppy jumped up and planted a kiss on the top of his head. ‘Oh, thank you, Pa! Oh, I just can’t wait!’
    They heard a key rattle in the back door. ‘Tommy!’ Joshua said. ‘He’s early for a change.’
    Tommy came into the kitchen followed by Charlie, and Poppy’s heart skipped a beat. ‘No billiards tonight,’ Tommy said. ‘They’ve had a flood at ’George and everybody’s paddling around in the water.’ He wagged his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Charlie didn’t want to get his feet wet.’
    â€˜Not bothered about my feet,’ Charlie said. ‘It was my boots I was bothered about. These are my best!’
    â€˜Quite right,’ Joshua agreed. ‘Good boots don’t come cheap. How’s your father doing?’ he asked. ‘Business good?’
    â€˜Fine. Fine.’ Charlie gave Poppy a surreptitious wink, which made her blush. ‘Keeping busy.’
    â€˜Make us a cup o’ tea, Pops,’ Tommy said. ‘We’re gasping, aren’t we, Charlie?’
    Poppy swung the kettle over the fire again as Charlie nodded and smiled at her. ‘I will,’ she said. ‘Only