The Birthday Present Read Online Free PDF

appeared on Fridays, Saturdays and Bank Holidays. Rose did Mondays as well but, unlike the rest of the days, she wasn’t paid for her ten-minute spot, relying on the tips she collected in her frilly pink purse as she made her round of the customers, smiling brightly, after each performance.
    As she waited beside the improvised stage she held her new parasol – white silk with a pink fringe – which was intended to add atmosphere to the new song she had written. She was afraid to sing some of the better known songs from the music hall because she feared the comparisons the audience might make. Instead she wrote her own songs and dreamed up a tune to go with each new ditty. The latest was entitled ‘Keep Away The Freckles’.
    Keep away the freckles, darlings,
    Keep them right away!
    Use your parasols, my darlings,
    On the hottest day.
    Gents like pale princesses, darlings,
    White as curds and whey
    So keep away the freckles, darling,
    That’s the only way!
    It might never catch on, she knew, because it wasn’t really saucy like some of the popular songs but it gave Rose the chance to peep coquettishly from beneath the pink fringe which she had discovered flattered her enormously. She had also invented a mime to accompany the song. She began with the rolled up parasol hooked over her arm, then glanced up at the non-existent sky. Opening up the parasol, she fanned herself with her left hand to indicate the heat of the day. For the second half of the song she tripped daintily across the tiny ‘stage’ and pointed to her pale complexion, then ended by twirling the parasol coquettishly while she spun round so that her skirt flared out to reveal her legs.
    There was no written music for the song but she had hummed the tune to young Harry, the pianist, and he liked it and soon picked it up.
    Now she kept her eye on Harry and when he nodded she stepped forward and he played a short but boisterous introduction which alerted the customers that she was on stage and about to perform. One or two people turned from the bar to watch her, others continued their conversations.
    Rosie’s voice was not strong but it was sweet and she sang at the top of her voice. Harry had urged her to ‘Belt it out!’ and she was grateful for his advice.
    Gratified, she saw that a few people were actually listening and nodding in time to the music. An elderly woman was tapping her foot and a small mongrel dog leaped to its feet and began to bark excitedly. When she sang it through for the second time Harry sang with her and by the time she came to the end and peeped out from under the pink fringe she earned a short round of applause for her efforts.
    Harry stood up and said loudly, ‘Words and music by Miss Rosie Lamore!’ and there was a half-hearted cheer and a red-nosed regular cried, ‘Well done, lassie!’
    Inspired by the reception, Rosie sang another melody and then, catching the manager’s eye, reluctantly took the hint and ended the performance. She could have gone on for longer, loving every moment, for she revelled in the knowledge that for a few brief moments she was the centre of attention. Rose thrived on the adrenalin rush that came with performing.
    Stepping down regretfully, she made a circuit of the room, flirting with the men and winking at the women – making the tour last as long as she dared. She collected two shillings and threepence. As always she offered to share it with Harry but he refused, insisting that he was paid for his piano playing whichever day of the week it was.
    Rose slipped on her coat and changed her shoes and was on her way out when she caught sight of a well-known face – Colonel Fossett. He was known as Colonel Brian Fossett, retired. People in the streets around Elm Tree Avenue felt that by living in a big house, he added a touch of class to the area, and they had invented a heroic service in the army for him, much of which might be true. A nice old boy, Rose thought. He was in the saloon bar but he