The front room of the house was kept for “best”. It was always hushed and calm, in contrast to the living room and kitchen where 4 or 5 of us were constantly doing something: eating, playing, fighting, watching television, or doing homework. The front room was always tidy and there were no toys. There was a large sofa, a little upright piano (bought when I was ill once, as a surprise when I came downstairs) which no-one ever learned to play, and a record player. This was a little red portable affair, with a lift-up lid and an expanding carrying-handle on the side of the case.
We had maybe a dozen 45s, or singles, and it was a real treat to be allowed to go into the front room and play records. The records belonged to mum or to Michael: Nat King Cole When I Fall in Love, Shirley Bassey Hands Across the Sea/As I Love You, Kathy Kirby Let Me Go Lover, Petula Clark Anyone Who Had a Heart, Marvin Gaye Heard it Through the Grapevine, and To Be Loved, the Jackie Wilson song, but I don’t think it was him singing it. The first records I bought myself were Julie Do Ya Love Me by White Plains, and Me and You and a Dog named Boo by Lobo! My tastes have changed since then!
You could stack singles on the central spindle on the turntable and watch them drop and play automatically, one by one, although after there were a few on the stack, the sound often warped and you’d have to start again. I would play them over and over, singing and dancing along. I knew every word and every nuance of those songs, and I still do.
We must have used the front room for family gatherings, but what comes to mind is me posing in there with my trophy from ballet when I was 10, and a couple of years later, sitting quietly in there with Michael when he was recovering after his accident.
Ballet was the love of my life, from when I was tiny right up until I left for university. Miss Vine lived in Bildeston and was the owner and sole teacher of the Red Shoes School of Ballet. She had previously lived in Singapore, and had something of an exotic air about her. She was every inch a dancer, from her perfect hair, always in a neat bun or chignon, to her beautiful feet. She always wore a skirt, often pleated to allow movement, and soft T-bar dance shoes. Her posture and deportment never faltered. I adored her and so wanted to impress her, all the time. She came to Sudbury once a week, on Thursdays, and held classes in a hall near the Prince of Wales pub, opposite the old Victoria Hall, which was where Sudbury Amateur Dramatic Society used to perform before the Quay Theatre was built.
I worked my way up through the grades; exams were held for all her students at the village hall in Bildeston, or maybe Rattlesden, once a year, and an examiner from RADA would come and watch us. Once the results came out, all the pupils would go to the prizegiving, again in Bildeston, and each year Miss Vine would award the cup for the best achiever. That cup was an enormously important trophy in my mind, and in 1971 it was my turn to win it! I felt I knew, as mum and I got in the car in Sudbury that day, that I was going to get it, and the anticipation was immense. When my name was announced I was so proud and excited. My name was engraved on the trophy, and I kept it for a year, then it was passed on to the next winner and I was given a small replica to keep, which I still have.
It really was a big thing, because I was rewarded with a trip to the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden to watch Romeo and Juliet. That Prokofiev music, which I already loved, transported me, and I can still see the majesty of the Dance of the Knights scene, looking up at the dancers from the centre of the stalls. We spent the day in London, probably sightseeing, and when we arrived at the theatre I changed my white jumper for a white frilly blouse, and had all my pin-curls taken out and my hair brushed into curls. Those were the days when people dressed up to go out.
Each of us was allowed one hobby that required payment for lessons; mine was ballet. I would have liked to learn to play the piano as well, but it wasn’t possible. By the time I was 11 or 12, I was having free ballet lessons – I would go down to the hall straight from school and sell leotards and shoes, and supervise the changing room for the earlier classes, until it was time for my class, which was always the last one of the day. In exchange for this help, I didn’t pay for classes for several years. At one time, Miss Vine suggested I audition for a London ballet school, but fear (of failure? of being away from home?) stopped me from telling my parents about the possibility, and it never happened.
I’m not sorry about that; the life of a professional dancer requires much more passion and commitment than I would have been capable of, but I often wish I’d carried on dancing for pleasure after university.
Fading Memories 