Rags to Riches. Nancy Carson

Pansy play that Fats Waller thing,’ Stephen suggested.

      ‘Oh, yes. I know,’ Maxine replied, glad of a prompt. ‘ “Whose Honey Are You”. Come on, Pansy. Will you play on this one?’

      Pansy took the piano stool and began to play. Immediately, the compulsive rhythm had everybody’s feet tapping. But even more of a surprise than the piano playing of either girl, was Maxine’s singing as she leaned against the piano. Nobody had ever heard her sing before.

      ‘Do “Stormy Weather”,’ Stephen called. ‘You know – that one by Ethel Waters.’

      Pansy played the introduction and Maxine launched into the song, using the same soft vocal technique, mimicking the style of Ethel Waters. This American music was unfamiliar to most of them, since few such records were available and they listened to few on the wireless, but everyone was stunned silent by Maxine’s vocal dexterity.

      ‘More, Maxine!’ Will called when it was finished. ‘That was great. Do you know any more?’

      ‘They could go on half the night, I daresay,’ Jesse answered.

      ‘Isn’t that enough?’ Maxine asked at the end of it, effervescing with her success and enjoying the attention she was getting. ‘Can’t I have my presents now?’

      ‘One more,’ Herbert called.

      ‘Yes, one more,’ Will echoed.

      ‘Then can I have my presents?’

      They all agreed she could.

      ‘Okay. Well here’s one for Jesse. Mom would have asked me to play it, I know…’

      Pansy vacated the piano stool when it was obvious that Maxine wanted to accompany herself this time. She launched into a compulsively rhythmic, ‘My Very Good Friend the Milkman’.

      ‘Oh, very appropriate,’ Jesse the dairyman remarked to Lizzie with a wry grin.

      ‘Cheeky madam,’ her mother declared, watching and listening with profound pride. ‘She told me she’d get a job playing piano and singing in a pub if she had to,’ she whispered to Jesse, ‘but I never realised she’d be this good. She’s come on a bundle since she left home.’

      It was obvious that most of the folk present would have allowed Maxine to play and sing for them all night, but Will brought the impromptu concert to a close.

      ‘Maxine,’ he said, and raised his glass. ‘God bless you and your wonderful talent. Here’s to your future success and happiness. Congratulations and many happy returns of the day.’ He drank, and everybody followed his example. ‘Now…I understand that one or two of us have gifts for you…’

      Henzey stepped forward before anyone else. ‘Congratulations, our Maxine. Many happy returns.’ She took her youngest sister’s hand and kissed her on the cheek before pointing to the large but beautifully wrapped parcel lying on the floor that had puzzled Maxine since their return. ‘That’s from Will and me.’

      ‘Am I supposed to open it now?’

      ‘Of course.’

      She stooped down and fumbled with the wrapping, to reveal a portable gramophone. She gasped with genuine delight, stood up and kissed Will, thanking him profusely, then Henzey. ‘I never imagined…’

      ‘Consider yourself lucky,’ Henzey said good-humouredly. ‘I would have bought you a vacuum sweeper so you could help with the housework, but Will thought a gramophone might be more appropriate.’

      When she’d unwrapped a gold watch, a leather writing case, a silver-plated photograph frame and an elaborately carved wooden music stand, Stephen stepped forward. Maxine was expecting an item of jewellery he’d designed. He handed her a small thin case that she guessed must contain a necklace of some sort and, when she opened it, saw that it was indeed a string of pearls with matching pearl earrings.

      ‘Thank you, Stephen,’ she said with obvious delight and kissed him on the cheek. ‘But you shouldn’t have done.’

      ‘I…er…I have this as well, Maxine,’ he said unsurely, and handed her a small cube, wrapped in fancy gilt paper.

      She looked at it apprehensively. It could be a ring but she dearly hoped it was not. He’d already said he’d had an idea for a design. Warily she regarded him, hoping that she was wrong.

      She said, ‘Thank you, Stephen. I think I’ll open this one later.’

      ‘No, you must open it now, Maxine,’ Henzey chided. ‘It would be very ungracious not to open it now.’

      She was aware of somebody else saying, ‘Yes, you must,’ and she hesitated.

      ‘Please open it, Maxine,’ Stephen said softly, earnestness brimming from his eyes.

      She looked at him again, a look that was a mix of compassion and admonishment, and fumbled as she tried to locate the join in the wrapping. Perhaps it was only a dress ring – nothing to get worked up about; or just another pair of earrings. She removed the wrapping paper, screwed it into a ball and gingerly opened the ivory coloured box. At once she shut it again, unsmiling. She was disappointed, angry and embarrassed simultaneously and Stephen was watching for her reaction, looking apprehensive.

      After her initial silence, some pressed her to tell them what it was.

      Stephen obliged them. ‘It’s a ring,’ he announced.

      ‘An engagement ring?’ somebody queried.

      He shrugged, unsure of himself. He had intended it as such.

      ‘Congratulations, Maxine,’ her brother peeled. ‘You must be thrilled.’

      She wanted to say I’m not thrilled at all, but she could not. She wanted to say that Stephen had got a real nerve trying to pull this off in front of all her family; that it was all a big misunderstanding and she was not engaged. But she could not utter a word. She could neither defend herself, nor leave Stephen open to embarrassment by an outright refusal. As her confusion mounted along with her uncertainty as to how she ought really to respond, the congratulations began to flow along with pats on the back, hugs, kisses and best wishes for their future happiness.

      But significantly, not from her mother. Nor from Henzey.

      And then, overwhelmed by it all, Maxine rushed out of the room trying to hide the tears that all at once were stinging her eyes. Lizzie watched anxiously, then followed Maxine upstairs to the bathroom.

      She tapped tentatively on the door. ‘It’s me, Maxine. Let me in.’

      But Stephen had also followed Lizzie. ‘Where is she? What’s the matter with her?’

      ‘Leave her to me, Stephen,’ Lizzie advised gently. ‘She seems a bit overcome. I’ll talk to her.’ So Lizzie tapped the door again. ‘Maxine, open the door.’

      ‘Is Stephen still there?’ a little voice queried. ‘I just heard him.’

      ‘He’s gone back downstairs.’

      The door opened and Lizzie saw tears running down Maxine’s face. She joined her daughter inside and closed the door behind her. ‘What is it, my flower?’ She handed Maxine a clean handkerchief and put her arms around her.

      ‘Him. He’s such an idiot.’ Maxine mopped up her tears. ‘I could kill him. I could, really.’

      ‘Is it an engagement ring?’ Lizzie asked.

      ‘Yes, the damned fool…’ She sighed with exasperation, tears ebbing now. ‘Only last week he asked me to marry him and I told him I didn’t want to. I told him I wasn’t ready for marriage – that I didn’t love him.’ She dabbed her eyes again, sniffed and blew her nose. ‘I don’t love him, Mom and I haven’t asked for this. I haven’t said I’ve wanted to get engaged. I refused that as well when he mentioned it. I don’t want to be engaged.’

      ‘Then