‘Could you please play this,’ I asked. Rather reluctantly he removed his test record and placed my prized possession onto the record deck, mumbling this was not going to be a very good test. Within moments, rather appropriately, ‘There May Be Trouble Ahead’ was resounding from the speakers sending tingles down my spine. Dad played with the treble, bass and volume control knobs which were lined up along the top of the Dynatron record player, adjusting each to what he felt was the right sound. The result was pure magic; Shirley’s voice was wonderfully reproduced and needless to say we were sold. The recording had even impressed the salesman as well as other customers in the store, who by now were wondering what this was all about. After hearing a few tracks, Mum and Dad agreed to place an order and I was ecstatic. We were told we would have to wait a few weeks before our record player could be delivered but I could easily live with that, since I would soon be able to ‘play’ Shirley as often as I liked (within reason as my mum reminded me). So life was pretty wonderful, yet unknown to me, it was about to get even better.
It was the third week in May when my mum called out to me, ‘You have a letter, it looks a bit special.’ It was not often that letters arrived, the envelope neatly typed ‘Miss Mary Pilgrim’, at our home in Chadwell Heath, yet during the past few weeks I had written to several sources for information, so I assumed this letter had come as a result of one such request. I held the small cream envelope in my hand, inspecting it closely before delicately opening the sealed flap to reveal a folded cream note, which I slowly removed. As I started to open the note, words printed in blue at a 45-degree angle jumped out from the page: Shirley Bassey. I screamed out and my mum came running to see what all the excitement was about, as I read aloud:
Dear Mary,
Just a short note to thank you very much for your letter. I am pleased to hear that you enjoyed the show at the London Palladium so much and it was very nice of you to write and tell me so.
With all good wishes,
Sincerely,
Shirley Bassey [hand signed]
I was so delighted. I really hadn’t expected to receive any form of an answer to the letter I had sent, yet here it was in my hand and personally signed by Shirley. Mum too was very excited by my receiving such a nice letter and we found it difficult to contain our joy when Dad arrived home later. ‘What are you so excited about,’ he said as I waved my letter into the air. Later, Dad gave me a special black-leafed photographic album into which I mounted my letter with pride. During the years that followed, several other letters and photographs were added to this album, all of which I still treasure today.
In June, Shirley was scheduled to appear on the leading television show, Sunday Night at the London Palladium. I had applied to ATV Television for tickets, requesting specifically to see Shirley Bassey. Normally tickets would be sent to you for a specific Sunday date a couple of weeks prior to the show, but there was never any indication as to who would be appearing on the show, so it was pot luck who you saw. However, knowing Shirley’s dates meant it was possible to make a specific date request.
On this occasion I received tickets, but a few days prior to the show Shirley was admitted to hospital and as a consequence, had to pull out from the show. Following news items earlier that year, her legions of fans already knew Shirley was expecting a baby later in the year and so we were more concerned about her wellbeing than the thought of not seeing her perform on TV. When I read the news in the paper I immediately went and bought a get-well card. With a letter enclosed, I sent it off to the hospital where Miss Bassey had been admitted. At the beginning of July, I received another letter from Shirley Bassey, thanking me for my letter and apologising for not appearing on Sunday Night at the London Palladium in June. Shirley went on to say she hoped to appear on the TV show once she started working again after the birth of her baby.
I went to the June show, but I have no idea who stepped in for Shirley. What I do remember of the occasion is seeing some of Shirley’s fans who, like me, had tickets and so had come along. We enjoyed ourselves by sharing lots of chat, information and discussing Shirley’s latest records and performances. To my amazement, one girl, named Valerie, if my memory is correct, said to me, ‘I saw you in April and I have a photo of you with Shirley.’ ‘What!’ I replied. I couldn’t believe it. Valerie had taken the photo just as I was asking Shirley for her autograph and so I was completely unaware of its existence. Valerie kindly offered to send me a print; we swapped address details and true to her word the photograph arrived.
As might be expected, it went into my special album and rightfully deserves to be the first photograph featured within these pages, so thanks again Valerie.
Throughout the summer we kept in touch and one day made a decision to spend a day in London, hoping to see where Shirley lived. Valerie, who was a few years older than me, had a car and as my parents had immediately taken to her when we first met, they were happy for me to go. Her cheeky chat could win over anyone, as the day’s events were about to prove. Knowing Shirley had lived in St John’s Wood, this was to be our first place of call, although how we acquired this information I’m not sure. It’s possible the details may have been in the press since Shirley featured in the news regularly, partly because, at the time, her marriage to Kenneth Hume was going through some difficulties; however, he continued to act as her manager.
We really had no intention of intruding when we arrived at Shirley’s ex-townhouse. A couple of photos of the house were taken for the scrapbook but then our mounting excitement got the better of us and Valerie said, ‘I’ll just go and knock and see if they know where Shirley has gone’, or something similar. Before I had time to respond, Val was climbing up the steps to the front door and about to ring the bell. I waited, rather nervously, at the gate as I watched the door open. Val seemed to chat for several minutes before returning looking excited.
‘Shirley’s gone to the Mayfair Hotel,’ she said. ‘However did you find that out?’ I asked, to which Val replied, ‘I told them we were friends of Shirley’s from Cardiff and that Shirley had said if we were ever in London to give her a call.’ ‘How could you say that?’ I replied, but secretively I rather admired her cheekiness.
Back in the car, beaming with excitement, we studied the map and headed off in the direction of Marble Arch before finally locating the famous Mayfair Hotel. Standing outside this impressive establishment I had a bad attack of the butterflies, but we couldn’t give up now. As we went to enter the lobby we noticed a tall gentleman heading in our direction. He politely held open the door as we stepped inside and said, ‘Hello’. This gentleman was the legendary Nat King Cole.
Although apprehensive, we walked confidently to the reception desk where we boldly asked to see Miss Bassey. ‘I am afraid Miss Bassey is no longer staying with us,’ came a reply we did not want to hear. Val’s quick thinking went into action, and she replied, ‘Can you please give us her forwarding address.’ I’m thinking to myself, he is not going to do that. The gentleman at reception remained silent as he concentrated his gaze on us, while Val again swung into verbal action. ‘You see we use to work with Shirley in Cardiff and she said…’ Val, knowing the story had worked once, decided to give it a second chance, and I have to say she told the tale with great conviction. The gentleman walked off into an office while we waited silently, to return a few minutes later.
‘Well,’ said Val, ‘do you have it, we don’t have much time, we have to get back to Cardiff tonight.’ To our amazement a piece of paper, on which was written Shirley’s address, was handed to Val. We thanked the gentleman profusely and hurried out of the hotel. We could hardly control our excitement and it wasn’t hard to convince ourselves that it must be our destiny to see Shirley.
Back to the car and off to the exclusive area of Belgravia where we parked in a square close to the private mews where