The Fun Factory by Chris England

Author:Chris England [Chris England]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781908699879
Publisher: Old Street Publishing
Published: 2014-11-22T16:00:00+00:00

PART III

20

THE FOOTBALL MATCH

IN the spring of ’09 I was wondering whether Karno had actually forgotten all about me. What had happened to all that talk of Charlie and me being the next big players? It had all gone quiet since his visit to Warrington, and I hadn’t seen Charlie for months. Still, there was nothing for it but to muddle through, until I turned up at the Fun Factory one Monday morning and was told that Karno wanted to see me. I trotted up the stairs to his office, and found him with his nose buried in some paperwork, as usual.

“You wanted to see me, Guv’nor?”

Without looking up, Karno gave his trademark little cough. “I hear good things, Mr Dandoe, I hear good things,” he said then. “Time you were a number two, I think.”

“Thank you, Guv’nor,” I said.

“The Football Match, Harry Weldon’s company. Rehearsing at the Montpelier.”

I stood there, pleased as Punch, of course, waiting for more. Such a momentous step up surely merited a little speech, a pat on the back. Karno looked up, frowned.

“Still ’ere?” he said.

I ran all the way over to the Montpelier to join my new company, thrilled to be taking a big step up at last, and wondering gleefully what Charlie would think when he heard about it. If only Tilly had been there to share the moment with…

Has anybody here seen Tilly? T-I-double L-Y…?

I pushed through the doors into the back of the stalls, ready to introduce myself, but the place appeared to be empty. Then I noticed a small wisp of smoke rising from the front row. The smoker turned to look over his shoulder. It was Charlie.

“Aha!” he cried. “Have you been assigned to this punishment detail as well?” He stood to shake my hand. “Unbelievable!” he said. “To put us with that great blowhard Harry Weldon! What have we done to deserve that? Still, at least I’m to be a number two at last.”

“So am I,” I said.

Chaplin frowned, taking this in, and then nodded slowly. “Hey,” he said. “You heard about George Craig, didn’t you?”

“What about him?”

“Well, he’s gone to work for Wal Pink.”

I whistled. “Wouldn’t mind being a fly on the wall at that dinner table,” I said, and Charlie grinned. Lillie Craig was still with Karno’s, of course.

“Here,” Charlie said suddenly. “Watch this. Fred Kitchen taught it to me…”

He took the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it nonchalantly over his shoulder. It spun up in the air and dropped behind his back, where he kicked it away squarely with the heel of his shoe. The cigarette end flew through the air, showering sparks as it went, and bounced neatly off the bald head of a stocky fellow in a waistcoat and shirtsleeves who was emerging from a side door.

“Good trick,” I said.

The newcomer looked up to the ceiling to see where the cigarette end had come from, as we were the picture of innocence, then he came over.

“Are you the new number twos?” he said.

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