The Soundtrack of Their Lives: British Family Saga Series, #2

Prologue: I’ll Be Seeing You

A young woman attired in an elegant black suit clacked in her high wedge platform shoes up and down the linoleum floor of her aunt’s kitchen.

Her auntie Bunty admonished her, Dorothy, stop all that clacking on my new kitchen floor. You’ll wear it out.

She halted, but a gloved, clenched hand showed Dorothy was ready for a fight, and she said, If my father walked in here now, I would hit him. She punched the air.

You would not—your style is a shrewd verbal lashing. Move into the living room. The tea is ready.

Bunty picked up the tea tray holding fine bone china cups and teapot and continued, Let’s go in the living room, where you can beat the hell out of my cushions instead.

Dorothy smirked and moved into the carpeted room, where she took off her shoes and gloves, which calmed down her anger. She picked up a cushion and hugged it to eradicate her pain.

My father, the vile Amos Bell, did not even acknowledge me at my mother’s funeral. What an insult to me and my sisters.

As she poured tea leaves through a strainer, Bunty spoke softly. She chose her words carefully before answering her dramatic nineteen-year-old niece. Dorothy, you were the one who estranged yourself at fifteen and moved away to work. Today Amos was heartbroken. I am not sure you realize how much he loved your mum.

Dorothy snorted in disgust. He has a funny way of showing love. He never showed much love towards me or my sisters. Only the golden boy Roy Bell gained his father’s attention. I think it was guilt.

Remember your dad came out of a World War when he was your age and had to put his youthful emotions in a jar and keep them hidden, as he saw young men die daily. Your mother had the knack of opening that jar when she needed attention. Now that bright star has faded from his life, he’s clamped down, and the jar is locked again.

Dorothy listened to her aunt as she sipped her tea, but shook her head and said, Don’t try to make me feel sorry for him—the bastard.

Please do not use that tasteless expression in my home. I agree he let you down by not paying for your higher education, but he saw hundreds of young men fruitlessly die. I think that’s why his heart closes down.

He’s like a stone. Dorothy undid her suit jacket and put her legs on the couch. Why did she give up her career after she sang for King George V? Why the heck did she choose to marry a miserable train driver?

She was charmed by him at first. But she nearly didn’t show up at their wedding. Did you know that?

Dorothy stared at her Aunt and said, No!

In the end, she carried on her role as the wife, to the end a dedicated performer. Bunty’s eyes showed sadness, as she explained, She knew at twenty-three, with a shortage of able-bodied men after the war, Amos was a catch—not injured outwardly, smart in his dress, and with a secure job.

Dorothy thought awhile about the statement. She nibbled one of the biscuits and said, But whenever she sang at home, he would huff and puff and leave.

Bunty laughed, Like the trains he drove. He has a stellar career on the Flying Scotsman, which has helped you all have a good life. I remember when they got married, I was younger than you. I had just started work in a Law Office in Hull. I was supposed to get my older sister to the registry office on time. George was not even my serious boyfriend then, but he was supposed to drive us. They held a double wedding—Grandad Percy was marrying his second wife, May—after your grandma Elizabeth died of the same ovarian disease as your mum.

Dorothy was intrigued by the family lore and asked, They had two weddings on the same day?

Bunty nodded, Yes, but the wedding nearly didn’t happen …

1

Chapter 1 The Wedding Glide

Today, we hope my sister Alice will get married. You would think it was my wedding: I made her dress and cake and finalised her wedding plans while she completed her singing contract in Wembley, London. Our Daddy will also marry for the second time today—a shared civil ceremony. Thank goodness they chose the registry office, not a church, or I may not have been alive to attend. I am exhausted.

My father called out, Bunty, where are you?

Oh no, what does Dad need now? I think he may be going deaf due to working in those noisy ships and will not hear me.

My father again shouted, Pet, can you help me with these gold things that sit in the cuff?

I took a large, deep breath and shouted loud enough for the street to hear.

Cufflinks, Dad. Yes, come up here.

My dad entered the bedroom, smiled, and said, Aye, your Mam bought them for me on our wedding day in 1895. My brother Fred had to fix them for me way back then.

I fiddled with the gold links, placing them into the stiff cuffs of his new shirt bought for the two weddings today.

There you go. Thank you for wearing them—a little bit of mum with us.

I kissed his cheek, intoxicated with the smell of his cologne—better than his work odour of grease and sea salt. As a tear ran down my cheek, my dad kissed my forehead and hugged me.

Now then, lass, no tears, please not today. Good thoughts.

As I wiped my tears, my sister stomped up the stairs. Despite her ability to sing opera beautifully, her footwork shook the house. Alice came in like Sarah Bernhard in her most dramatic role; sadly, she knows no other way.

Bunty, I can’t wear this dress. She pleaded with me, hands together.

Really - so why have I spent four weeks cutting that expensive silk on a bias and stitching most of the lace by hand to make the style you had to have? What’s wrong with it?

It’s too long.

I looked at her feet, encased in her black, thick soled shoes, hence the stomping. I grabbed the hourglass-shaped heeled shoes we bought last week from our wardrobe to add two extra inches to her five-foot-two frame.

I ordered, as I let out an impatient breath, Put on your new heels, then the dress might be the right length.

She changed shoes while I slid into my pale flowered lavender dress. As the only bridesmaid, I should not outshine my sister. Once she put on the shoes, the problem was resolved.

She hugged me. I forgot I’d bought them, saved again by ‘Bunty’ Marjorie Neil-Gregory. Have I ever told you—you're a genius?

Not to my face, but to other people, often. Oh, last night I heard you were singing the Gershwin song ‘The Man I Love.’ Are you going to sing it to your husband today?

She shook her head and grimaced as if I had suggested she might go to the ceremony naked.

I tossed my hair back, clipped in a gorgeous-smelling gardenia flower, and handed another to Alice, You are about to become Alice Bell.

She plonked the flower into her hair and said, Not on your Nelly, Bunty. My name will still be Madame Alice Neil-Gregory.

Before I had a chance to ask her if she had told Amos, her groom, about not changing her name, she left our shared bedroom of the past fifteen years, making a sweeping gesture, like she did for her stage exits at every concert.

Interesting: my sister does not intend to change her surname. Well, my stick-in-the-mud brother-in-law-to-be will undoubtedly have opinions about her not changing to his name. After three proposals over the last two years, in one hour from now, he will have got his girl.

 Not changing her name might cause more explosions, but Amos was a soldier for six long years; perhaps he can deal with her explosive personality. Perhaps that’s what he found attractive about my sister.

I must find my do-not-forget list. This bedroom would become mine after today for the first time in my life, and I perhaps will not lose things so often. When Alice toured last year, I’d loved it—I could put my cutting table up and leave out my sewing machine. I’d even used her bed to lay out my clothes for work each day.

Ah! I hear my new boyfriend’s ‘Model T’ car; George called the car ‘Mabel.’ He named his car after women, as he likes to treat the cars and women with good care. I think George might be the most easy-going man a girl could wish for. George and I were given orders by the groom to make sure Alice arrived on time. I have a sneaking suspicion is panicking at the thought of getting married. She acted for the last few days in this ‘dreamy way’ just like when she gets nervous at her big shows in huge venues as her uncertainty crept in—how would her voice sound and would the audience love her?

Perhaps she believed she was left on the shelf at twenty-four, so agreed to marry. Amos, I suppose, seemed like a good catch, even though he acts uptight at times. He works hard as a train driver for the L.N.E.R. But I believe he may NOT be the love of her life, but as a Virgo, she will commit to him if he signs on the dotted line. Alice would never admit if she made a mistake, even if she had changed her mind. 

Daddy called again, Bunt-teee—our taxi is here; we are leaving.

Hankie, handbag, flowers, and coat... still have not found my do-not-forget list!

Go ahead, Dad. Alice and I will follow with George.

Where the hell has Alice got to?

I skipped downstairs and looked for my sister. I looked for her outside our front garden, where George was tying a white ribbon to his car.

Alice, where are you? No reply.

I ran upstairs checking the bathroom and two bedrooms of our father’s early 19th-century terraced house, which our parents bought when they moved to Hull. I could not find my sister. I looked out the bathroom window and saw her white shoes under the old privy door.

Alice, what the...?

I ran downstairs, my pale lavender chiffon sleeves floating behind me, stepped into our backyard, and said, Alice Neil-Gregory, what are you playing at?

Alice emitted a groan, I do not feel good.

Are you sick? I asked.

Not really but...

You are scared to be wed.

Silence.

You can sing in front of thousands of people, but saying I do in front of your family seems to be beyond you today? Do not let Daddy down. You are supposed to be the first couple married; you are now late.

Alice opened the toilet door, and her sister stood, white as the ceramic bowl of their toilet.

I …

You can do this. You love Amos, right? I stared at my pathetic sister, hands on hips.

Alice nodded with little conviction and fear in her eyes.

My nostrils flared. Just like a show. Mummy told us to take a deep breath, smile, and perform. Plus, you cannot let Daddy down.

Alice nodded with more conviction as I dragged her into the house. I put her into her dropped waist blue coat, handed her the cloche bag and gloves, and pushed her out the house and into George’s car.

I must get her to the registry office on time. Yikes, I hope no more disasters today, but with Alice, one never knows. 

2

Chapter 2 Tea for Two 1925

Amos Bell strode up and down anxiously outside the registry office, checking his watch every thirty seconds, taking deep breaths to calm his worries. Two years earlier, he had proposed three times before Alice Neil-Gregory agreed to marry him. He was worried she would not turn up. But, dressed in his best suit, with a new shirt and a maroon tie, he squashed those negative thoughts. Alice had always turned up with a plausible explanation. His doubts arose from her turning down his proposals—twice.

First, he asked Alice to marry him by her mother’s graveside (not his finest moment). The second time had been on his treasured train, ‘The Flying Scotsman,’ which he drove daily. Alice finally agreed to marry him—in front of a huge audience—when he proposed at Wembley Stadium. Dressed in cowboy gear and on horseback, Amos had succeeded in wooing her. Alice was performing as Queen Elizabeth I at the British Empire Exhibition, in front of thousands of people who sat on the edge of their seats. She said a majestic ‘Yes’ to marrying him.

Amos believed Percy Neil-Gregory would make sure his daughter would make her commitment. But something niggled at the back of Amos’ mind after he waited two years to marry her. Would Alice sign on the dotted line?

Amos’ worries were halted by the arrival of Percy in a taxi with his new wife-to-be. May, his new lady, yelled, Hello, Amos, we’re here. The girls are following with George.

Good—you look smart, Percy. Hello, May.

As they shook hands, Percy pulled him aside. I want you to remember your life with Alice may be unpredictable. He spoke in a solemn voice.

I am aware of her personality, sir. I understand I will marry a brilliant woman who knows her own mind.

Alice’s father looked relieved and said, Perfect, good. I know she loves you and has great respect for you, but life with her dramatic nature may not be easy at times. I wanted to say this, man to man.

Alice’s arrival in George’s car halted the conversation. He would also officiate as best man and witness for Amos. Amos emitted a huge sigh of relief.

Alice looked pale but kissed his cheek and said to him, At least this is cheaper than a church, and neither of us regularly attended church.

Amos had another anxious moment; maybe her father and sister wanted him to marry Alice more than she wished to be married to him. Maybe they wanted Alice off their hands.

The wedding party moved through into the inner sanctum of the austere government building and passed through to the waiting room. A large vase of chrysanthemums expelled their heavy odor, but were the only attractive point in the waiting area where severe portraits of George V and past Lord Mayors of Hull hung on the dusty walls. A pungent smell of wood polish hung in the air from the wooden floors, which shone like a skating ring. Alice almost slipped on the slick floor in her hourglass-heeled shoes. Well, we know the cleaners are doing a good job, she chuckled.

Hello George, hope the wife and you are well, she said to the King’s portrait. "Alice had performed the part of Gloriana at the British Empire Exhibition and sang for the King and Queen a year earlier.

The Registrar appeared, a slightly balding man with a stoop, who would conduct the ceremony. He held the door for the Bell and Neil-Gregory families to gather in the stark registry room. He scrutinized each person and checked their respectability to enter.

Once settled behind the podium, the registrar’s demeanour seemed more suitable for a funeral, rather than a double wedding. When he smiled, tobacco-stained teeth glowed. "Despite your late arrival, I am delighted to marry two couples in an unusual situation."

Alice whispered to Bunty, He doesn’t look delighted. He looks like he would rather be presiding over a funeral. 

In a nasal whine, he intoned. I am the superintendent registrar, Arnold Prescott, invested by the County of East Yorkshire to marry you. The two generations are Amos Bell to Alice Neil-Gregory and Percy Neil-Gregory to May Brown.

In a voice more suitable for the sentencing of prisoners, the stern man waved the younger couple to move towards the podium. Please step forward. This place in which we are now met has been duly sanctioned, according to law, for the celebration of marriages. You are here today to witness the joining in the matrimony of Amos Gilbert Bell and Alice Neil-Gregory. If any person present knows of any lawful impediment to this marriage, they should declare it now.

His whine echoed around the room. Before you are joined in matrimony, I have to remind you of the solemn and binding character of the vows you are about to make. Now I will ask each of you, in turn, to declare you know of no lawful reason why you should not be married to each other.

He paused for at least thirty seconds, which for the gathered guests seemed much longer. Please say the following words after me. I do solemnly declare I know not of any lawful impediment why... may ...

While George Wiles, as best man, signed the witness papers, the Registrar asked, Couple Two, please come forward. His yellow teeth glowed through his forced smile. I will start the second ceremony. Mr. Bell, please stay up here. You are the witness for the Neil-Gregory wedding—quite unusual, isn’t it?

Alice moved back to her sister Bunty and whispered again, That smile makes him look constipated.

Bunty put a finger to her lips, but both sisters were now trying to control their laughter. While Percy and May signed the official license with Amos, the crowd’s mood became more vibrant. You are absolutely wicked, that poor man, he frowned at his new wife.

Alice ignored his ticking off. They must be hard up for registrars for weddings, to ask a funeral director to officiate. Did we get a discount for two weddings?

Bunty now knew her behaviour came from Alice’s fear of getting married.

Amos glared and shushed her while the second ceremony went without a hiccup. They thanked the Registrar, and Amos moved Alice firmly out of the room to have photos taken next door. George was the appointed photographer, armed with his new German 35mm Leica camera to capture their special day.

***

The couple had met in Alice’s birth town of Newcastle, where she sang opera for the Lord Mayor’s inauguration dinner. Amos had driven the Flying Scotsman train from Edinburgh to Newcastle and stayed at the Railway Hotel, where the concert was held. Tonight they would stay at the Hull Railway hotel for their honeymoon. Amos liked Railway Hotels, as they were all designed almost the same with consistent service, and anyway, he didn’t like new places.

The Railway Hotel in Hull with its grand white pillars at the main door was a natural choice for their overnight wedding celebration. It was close to the registry office, offered excellent food, and was near the railway station for Amos to begin work the next day. His brother John and Janet, his sister-in-law, arrived by train from Leeds, sixty miles away. Due to work, they had not been able to attend the official wedding at the registry office.

It’s a piece of paper for me., Alice declared, throwing her head silky bob around. I could happily live in sin; it sounds so much more fun. A celebration with our family is more important. Please excuse me while I go up and change.

Amos seated their guests at their reserved table in the hotel restaurant.

Alice’s changed into a less formal organza dress with cap sleeves in shadow blue. As the bride danced into the room with carefree grace, the other diners noticed and clapped.

While their wedding guests were eager for alcoholic drinks, Alice asked the bartender, May I have a cup of tea, I do not trust myself to drink alcohol on this most important of days.

John Bell, her new brother-in-law, a barman by profession whom she’d only just met, teased her with a smile. You’ll put the bar out of business asking for tea.

I am parched and do not drink when I sing. Alice replied, with her chin in the air.

In a strong West Yorkshire dialect, he asked, Oh, aye—give us a song then, Alice.

She started with ‘Tea for Two and Two for Tea’ from the latest hit musical, ‘No, No Nanette.’ She and Bunty had recently seen the musical in Manchester, and both adored the Flappers’ song. Then George came over to her and danced an impromptu charleston while Alice then sang, ‘I Married the Bootlegger’s Daughter.’

The gathered guests all laughed and applauded, except for Rachel, Alice’s new mother-in-law. She sat with pursed lips and sniffed, apparently immune to the vitality of her son’s new wife.

Her sister-in-law, Janet, nudged her husband in the ribs. Well, that you put in your place, Mr. flippant John Bell. She really can sing and dance.

John howled with laughter. He was on his second pint and ready for a wild party. Amos diffused the enthusiasm of his new wife and brother with an announcement. Please take your places for the meal—choose between locally caught cod or beef wellington.

Much discussion passed back and forth about Bunty’s spectacular wedding cake. She’d not made a traditional wedding cake, as both couples had made it clear they disliked fruit cake. Her creation was made from the lightest Victoria sponge, covered in seasonal raspberries. She’d designed a cone-shaped bottom layer in the image of one of the hooped opera dresses Alice used to wear on stage. On top was a couple with a small toy ship to represent Percy’s occupation as a marine fitter. The cone skirt had a toy train, with a railway track made of icing running around the hoop with ‘The Flying Scotsman’ in gold letters iced on the side of the cake. George had the task of shopping for the right scale of train to fit on the cake.

After the waiter filled the champagne glasses, Percy gave a toast to the young couple first. I am blessed with two beautiful, talented daughters, who I hoped would find the right men to stand by them. I saw Amos’ vigilance in caring for Alice. Her mum, Elizabeth, who met him in the last month of her life, told me she approved of Amos. So please raise your glasses in a toast for a long, fruitful life to this young couple, Amos and Alice.

Alice began to cry, wishing her mum was still with them. Bunty grabbed her hand and handed her a hankie. The sisters hugged each other tight. The wedding guests knew nothing of their strong sisterly bond since their mother passed away, or how much they missed Elizabeth Neil-Gregory on a daily basis—she had been their rock.

George, as best man, delivered his speech next. I met Amos Bell, he said, turning towards his friend, on the engineering course while teaching for the L.N.E.R. in Doncaster. Us East Yorkshire lads were fish out of water in South Yorkshire. I invited him to the Crooked Hen, a pansy jazz club. Amos bore this visit in his stride, and only had eyes for the female blues singer. I think Mr. Bell may have a fatal attraction for singers. Later in Hull, we met up with Alice and her stunning sister Bunty, who has two names, right, Marjorie? I got to know them after a night at a ‘Rebel Maid’ performance, with the worst plot ever written for an operetta. The show had one outstanding actress in the show, Madame Neil-Gregory, who also has two names. By the way, why do you change your birth names in your family? Some chuckles echoed around their lunch table.

We became good friends at a seasonal picnic in December at Burton Constable Hall, where I tasted Bunty’s fabulous pastries for the first time. What a day when I met these charming, well-brought-up lasses. However, sadness came over us when we got home and found Mrs. Elizabeth Neil-Gregory had passed. Amos and I have stayed good friends, and I hope it will be a lifelong friendship, just like their marriage. Please raise your glass in a toast to Amos Bell and a woman who now has a third name, Alice Bell, or is it now, Madame Alice Neil Gregory-Bell?

I will never be Madame Alice Bell. Alice muttered, and Bunty shushed her.

Amos then stood to give his speech. Thank you, George, for opening some memories, which are best forgotten. Now as to the other groom, Percy asked me not to make any speeches. Maybe he thinks I can’t hold an audience like his beautiful performing daughter I just married, as some of you know I love Shakespeare.

Alice emitted a groan—Bunty kicked her under the table. 

Amos continued, reading his notes. Percy welcomed me into his family at a tough time in their lives: he was taking care of Elizabeth, his sick wife. Now he has May to take care of him, for you have both ‘loved and lost your loves.’ So please raise a toast to Percy and May.

We are staying overnight at the Railway Hotel, Alice proudly stated, looking at the guests. We should have shares in the Railway Hotels Empire, because we’ve have stayed at so many of them.

Rachel Bell shook her head in disgust at Alice’s unexpected admission she and Amos had shared a room. Alice quickly glossed over it. During my British Empire tour, they housed me in these fine hotels as I toured Northern cities singing last year.

John nudged Amos in the