Free Dolly's Mixture by Dorothy Scannell

ideas”.’
    So it was that, with a false smile, I greeted Ade, Benny, Edie and Alby when they arrived in the shiny limousine Chas had ordered. Immediately I sighted Edie my thoughts went back to the programme girls at the old Stoll theatre in Kingsway, for in her much be-frizzed hair stood an erect blue bow. It looked much too large for her tiny, marmoset face. Her long dress was also blue, lacy and very flouncy. But Ade! Well, I forgot I was bored and reluctant to go; surely she was a Dame Nellie Melba, or Clara Butt, for her magnificent body was gowned in classical black velvet; pearls draped her throat; she wore long, white gloves. ‘You look like a prima donna, Ade.’ ‘Primo Carnera, you mean, Dolly. Old Solly’s wife insisted I borrow it, she had it for one of her grandsons’ barmitzvahs.’ ‘Old Solly’ was the gentleman Ade machined for. I wondered if we were not overdressed for the restaurant we were bound for. To my mind it was just a glorified Joe Lyons, but Edie had been impressed for, ‘You can’t just walk in there, Dolly, you have to be “booked”.’ Her tone gave me a vision of the six of us at a laden table while at the doors and windows the starving pleaded for entry. ‘You are not booked,’ would be the head waiter’s cry.
    We sat at tables round a polished floor, a floor for dancing or cabaret. A very large table, or tables in a group, had been placed next to ours. It was a celebration dinner for a young man’s twenty-first birthday, and Ade and I were fascinated by the enthusiastic relations assembled around this, aunts, uncles, cousins. I wondered if dad had saved for this night for years on an endowment policy. Then the waiters brought to the birthday table an enormous dish covered with a huge silver cover and, as the band played the young man’s favourite tune, the boy was invited to lift the cover. Underneath was not the huge turkey I had guessed there would be, but his school cap, tie and football boots!
    Ade and I got so friendly with the birthday people that, by the end of the evening, after they had invited us to have a birthday drink, our six became part of the family, as also did the band. They asked for requests and Edie asked for Alby’s tune for her, ‘My Blue Heaven’. I could see why she had garbed herself in blue for the evening. The end of the night’s festivities was approaching when Ade went to the platform and spoke to the leader of the band, and then stood by the pianist. Suddenly I felt worried: she was going to sing! ‘Oh no, Ade, don’t.’
    The evening had gone so well, I didn’t want my Ade to embarrass anyone, not only with her singing voice but also with what she might sing. A thorough coward, I made my way to the door; I would languish in the cloakroom until all was over. Benny caught my eye, took hold of my hand and said, ‘Don’t worry, Dolly, it’ll be all right. Come and sit in the corner with me.’ There was the usual restaurant noise, people talking and laughing, crockery and cutlery clattering. Perhaps it would drown anything untoward. I couldn’t look at Ade and closed my eyes.
    As the first notes reached my ears I opened my eyes with a start and looked at Benny; he was smiling a proud and gratified smile. It surely couldn’t be Ade, this rich, marvellous, contralto voice? The words, ‘Mighty Like a Rose’, flowed like wine. All outside noises ceased and when Ade had finished the applause was deafening. ‘Encore, encore,’ and then she sang (looking every inch a prima donna) ‘Land of Hope and Glory’. I hadn’t known it was such a lovely song with such marvellous verses.
    The birthday boy’s mother was crying, my scalp had gone all tight, and crowding round the doors were people from other rooms mingling with the restaurant staff. Even the chef was there. ‘Did you know about Ade’s voice?’