Young May Moon by Sheila Newberry Read Free Book Online

steps.
    The music began, and May concentrated on the basic steps – arms at her sides, raising one knee, pointing her toes; hopping on the other leg; taking three little steps back, and before she knew it, she was in rhythm with the tune and gaining confidence with each repeated sequence. It seemed surreal, like a dream. The clapping and cheers, as Brigid encouraged her to take a bow, made her realize that she had done it, performed as herself, not as the hidden manipulator of rascally Punch and company.
    Back in her seat, she was patted on the back by the elderly couple sitting behind her and with the lights up for the interval, she was aware of others trying to catch her eye and waving. She could guess what would inevitably happen next, and she was right. Her mother appeared, with a cloak over her stage clothes and said simply: ‘Girls, follow me.’
    In the small room reserved for the top-of-the-bill acts, off the communal dressing room, they sat on a couple of hard chairs. Carmen had her back to them, seated at the long shelf below the wall mirror, which was crowded with pots of cold cream, sticks of greasepaint, cotton-wool and other items of theatrical make-up. They stared at her reflection in the glass as she powdered her face with an enormous powder puff.
    Carlos was nowhere to be seen. Probably in the bar, May thought uncharitably.
    ‘You need to enhance
your
face, May; the spotlight drains your natural colour,’ was all Carmen said.
    Relief washed over May. ‘You didn’t mind, Mum – me going on stage?’
    ‘No. I was proved right. You have real talent, May. However, you can do so much more. Carlos and I, we would like you to join us now and then, in our own act. You would need instruction first, of course. We could arrange this so it would not interfere with your Punch and Judy time. What do you say?’
    ‘Say yes, May!’ Pomona butted in.
    ‘I – I’m not sure. It would have to be before eleven o’clock in the morning. It’s not fair if I leave the setting-up on the beach to Paddy – Pom and Danny will be at school next week.’
    A bell was heard, signalling the end of the interval. Even as theyrose to go, May – she didn’t know why, blurted out: ‘Are you going to marry Carlos, Mum?’
    ‘I thought I made it clear: we are partners on the stage. There is no great romance. He has, however, been a good friend to me and helped me to resume my dancing career. But I am realistic. Carlos is several years younger than me. I am already forty and the flamenco is a dance full of vigour and passion. It is inevitable, I think, that the time will come when he will want a younger partner. Why else does he look in your direction? You are like the girl I once was.’ She looked ruefully at her plump upper arms and her tight waistband. ‘I try to say no to the cakes, but.… Hurry, now, before the lights go down. Wish me luck, tonight!’
    ‘We do,’ the girls said together.
    The acrobats bounded across the stage, seemingly tying themselves into knots, then unfolded their limbs before they took their final bow.
    There was a feeling of expectation, a hush in the audience, aware that the highlight of the evening was about to commence. The curtains parted and the stage appeared empty, except for a high black screen. Then the spotlight picked out Carlos, plucking the strings of the classical guitar and adding emphasis to the tune by drumming with his fingers. Then he began to sing a lament about a beautiful girl, but as it was in Spanish May could only pick out a few words. She’d been quite fluent as a very small child, and maybe, she thought, that understanding would return if her mother stayed long enough.
    The spotlight shifted. From behind the screen Carmen, in full flamenco dress with a tiered frilled skirt and hand-painted shawl, emerged, snapping her fingers to the music. As she strutted in high-heeled red shoes that matched her dress, her stamping added to the staccato beat.
    ‘Real flamenco dancers