Free Citizen Survivor Tales (The Ministry of Survivors) by Richard Denham Page B

actress?
    Oh yes, a famous one at that, I was the most beautiful woman in all of the West End. My golden hair, my songbird voice, men would, and did, commit many crimes of passion for my hand. Oh what a delightful game it all was, the turn of the century, the good old days. Here, take this photo album. There’s me in ‘A Chinese Honeymoon’, that one there, that’s my first ever performance, there I am at the Empress Ladies Club too. Oh look, I’m a flapper girl in that one. Wonderful memories darling, absolutely delightful. And then film of course; only silent – I wouldn’t have any truck with those talkies. They’ll never catch on.
     
    How did you become involved in the entertainment industry?
    Well, you’d never believe it to see me now, but I used to be as common as muck, do you know. I was born into very unfortunate circumstances and a most unhappy state of domesticity; I escaped my family as soon as I could. I had nothing, nothing at all, except my beauty, and my voice. I used to sing in the pubs and was discovered by a cad named Bates. I didn’t know at the time but he was a most vulgar fellow, darling. I was young, and impressionable, with stars in my eyes and I fell for his stories of fame and riches, and he became, for want of a better word, my agent.
    I never made it to the West End with him though, darling; instead I became an entertainer at the Gentleman’s Clubs. They were some dark days let me tell you and it was rarely my ballads they were after. You’d positively blush if you knew the sorts of things these married, respectable, powerful men desired in the night. Outright perverse, but, because of my beauty, I was treasured, and I was always in control, always calling the shots, yes, believe that, dear. But still, I did grow to hate these men, these church-going men, minsters some of them and I kept a little book, yes a little black book of those particularly villainous men who had come to my attention.
    There was one chap, Mr. Brownlow, at the John Bull club, the chairman in fact, who was as queer as the rest of them but he had a softness and a kindness to him too. He wanted to take me away, ‘My bird in a gilded cage’ he’d call me. He knew my desires still lay in acting and singing, and he was a powerful man. He got me a few auditions and the rest is history. ‘Miss Mauve’ was born. Bates had been watching me at all my shows without my knowledge; once he even burst into my dressing room when I was alone to try to take me against my will. He was obsessed with me, on his knees in tears, thumping the ground, begging for my love, telling me he’d do anything for me, anything as long as he could be near me. I dealt with him and Mr. Brownlow pulled enough strings that it was never an issue, bless his heart.
    ( At this point, Louis returned with drinks and vol au vents; he was clearly doing his best in straitened circumstances; the sherry was rather watered down and the vol au vents were empty save for a sliver of potted meat. However, Dame Joan seemed oblivious and, raddled though she might be these days, there is something in her tarnished glory that makes it impossible to upset her.)
    Louis, be a dear; will you put ‘A Bird in a Gilded Cage’ on. Here darling, listen this is me, wonderful isn’t it?
    ( The gramophone is as old and out of touch as its owner, but the weak voice warbling through the static still holds some of the old charm. Joan mouths silently along with the words, waving a finger more or less in time with the music. A foot taps under her gauzy wrap and one of the dogs howls in sympathy.)
     
    Thank you for that, performance, Joan.
    My pleasure, you lucky thing you. Where were we? Ah yes. My career went from strength to strength and Miss Mauve became a household name. I was the embodiment of the West End, and all the mystery and glamour that went with it. This picture of me here, long flowing blonde hair covering one eye, those lips, yes, this picture was everywhere. They