Marmalade: the Final Curtain Call

By C.M. Gordon

Eighty-year-old Jessica Matthews, also known as Lady Marmalade, has already revealed many of her secrets to the world that include living a life far away from the dazzling existence she once imagined for herself. But things are about to change for Jessica when she moves with her family from London to Brooklyn, New York, in April 1914, just before the start of the First World War.

While living in a magnificent house, Jessica makes many friends, plays music and sings, and eventually marries a lovely man, Daniel, and has two beautiful children. Her new chapter is filled with happiness and the best days of her life, especially as her career blossoms, she earns newfound fame, and is cast in the Ziegfield Follies in 1922. But when a chain of events unfolds that ultimately causes things to turn for the worse, Jessica and her family must move back to the United Kingdom where new challenges await that no one, not even Lady Marmalade, could have predicted.

In this intriguing historical novel, an elderly actress reveals the last of the hidden secrets that surrounded her life in the spotlight as she sought fame and happiness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Apr 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665597104

C.M. Gordon

C.M. Gordon has been writing for about fifteen years now. It all started when she studied creative writing back in high school. She gave herself a desire to write her own book. So for a while she would practice, practice, and practice. She did so for many years until she established her writing style. What the author loves most about writing is bringing the characters to life, as if she can meet them in person. She likes having that vision; it makes reading more enjoyable. She currently lives in West London, United Kingdom and work for a company in finance. The author hopes that you enjoy reading her book.

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© 2022 C. M. Gordon. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue

in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Published by AuthorHouse  04/05/2022

ISBN: 978-1-6655-9711-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-9710-4 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in

this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views

expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the

views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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1

‘Mrs Jessica Highgate, you are hereby arrested on suspicion of the murder of Mr Dennis Waverley. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

Those words still send chills down my spine. I have never committed murder—not ever. I was so frightened I was shaking like a leaf, scared of what would happen to me. I was a wife and mother, and I was famous. How could this happen?

The officers stood by the door and ordered me to come out; then they put the heavy cuffs on me.

Daniel, my husband, looked at me, horrified that I was being arrested. He tried to stop them, but the officers held him back. He asked why I was being arrested, but the officers ignored him.

My children ran to the door. I didn’t want them to see me like this.

‘Mummy, where are you going?’ Danny Junior asked.

I closed my eyes and told them I loved them and would be back soon. Of course, I had no idea if I was to come back at all. Their sad, innocent faces … I’ll never forget their faces as they watched their mother being taken away.

The officers put me in the back of the van and slammed the door shut.

Daniel ran outside towards the van. We stared at each other through the bars.

‘I’ll get you out of this, Jess.’ Daniel promised, speaking quietly.

I believed him. The van drove off.

At the station, I was fingerprinted, had to strip off, and was put into a cell until I was called for questioning. The cell was small, cold, and dark. There was no sound besides footsteps passing by the door. The air was still but cold; you could hear a pin drop. I hate small spaces, and that just made me feel even more scared and alone. I sat on the bed and cried uncontrollably. Later I’ll tell you what happened next, but first let me explain the situation after my son’s birth.

After Danny Junior was born in 1914, my family and I had the fantastic opportunity to live and work in New York—for me working for the Ziegfeld Follies, the grandest privilege for a stage actress. My husband commuted between the States and the United Kingdom.

So, we moved to Harlem, Brooklyn, New York, in April 1914, just before the First World War started. It was so magnificent: we had a glorious and big house, the children attended school and had many friends, and I was making friends. At times I was homesick and missed my family back in the United Kingdom, but we all enjoyed New York so much that time just elapsed. One year went by, and then two years, and so on.

At that time there was an influx of Blacks and Jews who were entertainers themselves, bringing a fresh, rich approach to entertainment. We went to one another’s houses and played music and sang. They were so talented, and we wrote songs together, recorded them, and had them released.

The third year—April 1917—I was getting more and more work. Especially during the War, people needed an escape from the trauma they faced. We were told that after the War we would experience freedom and progress for rights and more opportunities, because people then were poor and living in unsuitable conditions. There were no jobs and no money, and disease spread everywhere because of lack of cleanliness.

After the War, women received more opportunities in jobs and education. The Roaring Twenties brought more Women’s Rights. We could work and have a family—no one had to choose one and give up the other. I was so moved by this change in society that I made sure I seized it: my daughter, Mary Louise, nicknamed Minnie, was to have an education at all costs. I did not want her growing up not knowing how to read or spell properly. Daniel had taught me to do that. It was a struggle for me to learn, since I was older, but I persevered and got to be a good reader. On the other hand, my writing may needs more practise.

Danny Junior loved being creative. He liked to fix and make things. He helped his father with the car, fixtures around the house, and so forth, whereas Minnie liked to learn. She was academic and wanted to be a lawyer.

As I said, Daniel was able to commute between the two countries. He joined the force to serve the country, but not for long. He wanted to set a good example for Junior, who was growing up fast. He loved his father. When Daniel was back in Britain fighting for our rights, Junior asked questions about everything. He hated being apart from his dad, and from me.

I found it difficult raising two children by myself. I had a live-in nanny to take hold of the children and some household duties. Her name was Kathy, and she was an immigrant from Ireland who spoke with a thick accent. She was deeply religious. I wasn’t too amused when she spoke to my children about hell and fiery torment. I thought it was too scary for them, filling their minds with her religious beliefs when as a family we had our own.

‘Kathy, may I have a word with you? I’d like to discuss something with you.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘I wish you to stop telling the children about hell. It isn’t something I want my children to feel as scary.’

‘Mrs Highgate, I mean no harm. It’s important that your children should know the seriousness of sin and what can happen to them.’ she answered in her thick accent.

‘My husband and I have taught our children right from wrong. As their parents, we feel it is our duty to teach our children.’

‘I meant no harm, ma’am; I just wanted them to understand the Lord and His—’

‘Kathy, please respect our decision.’ I interrupted.

‘Yes, ma’am.’ She walked off in a huff.

From then on, she had an attitude. I was astounded when my daughter asked me if I was Satan’s helper by being an entertainer. I was enraged. Kathy received her last warning, so she was more careful with her words.

Minnie came home from school one day when she was 8 years old and said she wanted to be a singer like me when she was older. I was speechless. My daughter, a singer? Why would she want to do that? I was flattered, though—we could have a double act. I told her she would need to discuss it with her father. I felt that if I were to coach her, she would be better at handling show business; I feared what the entertainment world might do to my daughter. Daniel would give in to her every demand anyway, so if she wanted to be a singer, he would say yes.

She kept going on and on about it. So, to stop her, I asked her to sing me some songs. I got out the gramophone, a heavy, old record player, and told her to sing something from Lorna Lewis. She started singing away.

Junior came running over, screaming at the top of his voice, ‘I won, Mummy, I won!’

‘What did you win, my dear boy?’

‘I won the baseball competition.’

Minnie didn’t like being interrupted and yelled at Junior for ruining her singing. They argued for about an hour. I felt a headache coming on as they screamed at each other. I sat in the chair waiting for silence, but instead my children kept up their screaming match.

Then the front door opened, and it was Daniel. Thank heavens he came at the time he did—I was about to lose it with these children. He straightened everything out with them and made them friends again. Minnie liked to hold grudges, but Junior forgot everything within seconds. They were so different in personalities. My sister, Jane, said that Minnie acted like me, and Junior was like Daniel. I totally disagreed, but then I never agreed with Jane.

In 1919, one year after the War ended, Daniel left the law practise in the United Kingdom to his lawyer cousin Walter and remained in Brooklyn with us, setting up another business here. He worked hard to become well-versed in American law. So, he had to study again to get a license and build up experience. That took about a year.

As the 1920s approached, society was changing, and women had more rights, such as the right to vote. Women could be doctors and lawyers but not surgeons or judges. Women could drive their own cars but not public transport. But women were being heard—they had a voice.

I understood that England had followed the same changes, which affected my work. If I were to reflect the changes in my acts, it would bring in larger audiences, and that in turn meant big bucks. Joe, my manager, got me more recognition and more jobs.

There was a movie being directed by and starring Charlie Chaplin, and I auditioned for it but was cast as an understudy. As I was working harder and longer hours, my children were missing me more. I missed being the doting housewife, but I soldiered on, working long days, and dealing with my children at night. I must admit it made me feel guilty not being around them more.

Daniel, as always, also worked hard for his family. We never really had time for ourselves, just the two of us. But we wanted to show our children that it’s important to work hard in life.

The years rolled by, and before we knew it, it was January 1921, seven years after moving to New York. Minnie was 10 and Junior was 7. My life was good, even though we had problems, but we were happy; everything was going well for me since moving to America. Vivian and Nathan Edward, and Jerome and Jane Junior visited every year, and they loved it over in New York.

In 1921 I had a six-month contract with a theatre company. I was on stage singing and dancing; the audiences loved me, and I adored them. Then, when the show was over, I got back to being the doting mother. I made sure my children were asleep in bed.

By then we had a different live-in nanny, Ingrid; she was lovely, a nice black woman who stayed on weekdays and cooked delicious meals, the flavours like nothing I’d