Free Sea Fury (1971) by James Pattinson Page A

by the time he had made up his mind to suggest that she should become hispartner on the stage he had already fallen in love with her and wanted her as his partner for life. Three weeks later they were married. A comedian named Hector Hanbury, who was billed as Hilarious Hector (Has Them In Hysterics), was best man and the manager of the Pavilion condescended to give the bride away, seeing that she had been brought up by Dr. Barnardo’s and had no known relatives.
    Sydney East had never regretted taking this momentous step. He would have married Pearl even if she had been quite useless from the theatrical angle; the fact that she took to the business as if born into it was just a bonus, and a very useful bonus at that. Soon she was doing far more than hand him the apparatus and look decorative; she was really part of the act. East and West had arrived.
    The years that followed were the good years. East and West were in demand; there were long runs in pantomime, good seaside engagements for the summer months, provincial theatre bookings; never top of the bill but not in the worst position either. There was money in the bank. He even bought a car, which made travelling easier.
    Then things started to go wrong. He twisted an arm and was out of action for several months. After that engagements were somehow not so good and became less and less easy to get. They spent more time “resting”; the bank balance dwindled; the car had to be sold. The circuits were shrinking as more and more theatres closed their doors.
    It was the time of the nude shows, a last desperate attempt to keep the music-hall going; but it was not the same music-hall any more and the audiences were different; mostly male, mostly there for the erotic part of the bill, unappreciative of real talent, even derisive. Playing to a house like that could be sheer hell; there was none of the old rapport between performer and audience, none of the elation when applause camefor a particularly difficult feat. Too often there was no applause at all; just a chilly silence that was like ice in the heart.
    The true performers no longer headed the bills; the real attractions were Les Nudes, Les Girls, Les Lovelies. Sydney East could remember one occasion when an entertainer who did a kind of Fred Astaire turn and called himself Les Legs went on in a grubby little North Country theatre. He was practically hooted off by a disappointed audience that had been expecting something altogether different. It was the day of the strippers and the blue jokes, and real artistry was at a discount .
    But even the nude shows failed to save the music-hall. The strippers went into the more intimate atmosphere of the clubs and the theatres continued to close down or become bingo halls. East and West did more resting than work, and it was no longer a case of picking and choosing engagements; you had to take what was offered, even if it was a pretty miserable offer at that, even if, in the last resort, it carried you off with a strange, mixed company to parts of the world as distant as Malaysia, to makeshift theatres in out-of-the-way towns and villages, finally to Singapore and the decision to try Australia.
    It could scarcely be worse there. It might be a great deal better. It had to be.
     
    “There’s an alternative, you know,” Pearl said.
    He glanced at her, wondering what she was talking about. He had been lost in his memories. “Alternative to what?”
    She answered without looking at him, as if nervous of meeting his eyes. “To East and West.”
    “I don’t get you. Do you mean change the name of the act? How would that help?”
    “I mean drop the act altogether.”
    So she was on to that again. She wanted him to get a job. Him. “You’re crazy.”
    “I think we’re finished, Syd. It’s time we faced the facts. Things are never going to get any better.”
    “We’d be finished if we dropped the act. It’s all we have.”
    “No, Syd, not all.”
    “You tell me what else