The homecoming had been more wonderful than she had ever imagined. At the Rainbow Club where she used to dance and sing as a kid, she’d been fêted like a princess. Not only had the children loved her, but all of Tiger Bay seemed to be squashed in that small hall to hear her sing. She’d worn her stage dress, the oyster silk covered with pearls and a big puff of tulle round the bottom. They were so proud of her that she cried when she went on stage, but inside she felt as happy and excited as if she were at the London Palladium singing before the Queen. When it was over young Neil Sinclair from Frances Street had handed her a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Talk about a perfect homecoming. It had been magic. Even Leslie Grade couldn’t put a damper on her high spirits when he told Sullivan to ease up. ‘Stop calling her a star,’ Grade admonished, ‘in my eyes she’s still a beginner. Now if I can get her somewhere top-notch like the London Hippodrome and you can keep the house filled, then we’ll see.
