We followed her.
‘I’m sorry about the noise just now, Mrs Ruby,’ I said, struggling with the penny-farthing. ‘But it wasn’t really our fault.’
‘Oh yes it was!’ she replied.
‘But – but . . .’ I spluttered. I’d had too many years in the Foundling Hospital to know you never ever told tales, but this seemed monstrously unfair.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ said Mrs Ruby. ‘You had plenty to say on stage!’
‘Did we go on too long?’
‘Yes, you did! You were nearly ten minutes over, a cardinal sin where I’m concerned. And then there was the extra minute when you milked the applause.’
‘But we were called back!’
‘Of course you were. I gave my Samson a nod to do just that. I know success when I see it. And that’s why all the other artistes were so over-excited one way or another. Old Benjamin grew as green and sour as a cooking apple! You’ve pipped his little performance.’
‘We didn’t mean to!’
‘Didn’t you? Well, for your information, little Miss Innocent, you two ran away with the whole show. I knew you’d look sweet on stage, and the penny-farthing acrobatics are a clever idea, but I didn’t realize how you two would come alive. And tonight’s audience is as sticky as treacle, I’m telling you. Poor Peter Perkins died a death and the others didn’t do much better.’
‘Bertie did,’ Diamond piped up.
‘Yes, little Bertie worked his charms, as always. He’s clearly very smitten with you, Emerald Star. He seems to have a penchant for little green girls, our Bertie.’
I quivered at that. Ivy Green!
‘You two are a big success. I’m very pleased with you. I might well put you on in the second act. It’s a bit saggy at the moment, with that interminable ballet. I’ve got some adjustments to make. But you need a better spot – and it looks like it had better be far removed from Benjamin Apple or he’ll get so het up he’ll bake himself. Now, off you go – and well done!’
‘Can’t we watch the rest of the show, Mrs Ruby?’ I asked.
‘No, you girls need to go home and get your beauty sleep. Look at this little one.’ Mrs Ruby put her hand under Diamond’s chin and tilted her head.
I saw the dark shadows under her eyes and didn’t argue any further.
‘See you tomorrow, girls. Pedal carefully. You’re a valuable asset!’ said Mrs Ruby.
‘What’s a valuable asset?’ Diamond asked sleepily, clutching me as we wobbled back to Miss Gibson’s.
‘Us!’ I said. ‘We really are Little Stars, Diamond. We’re the stars of the whole show!’
WE WERE STILL nervous the next night – more so, in fact, because we’d been such a hit on our opening night. Perhaps we’d simply had beginner’s luck, and we’d never be as good ever again. But we were, we were! The applause was still deafening and Samson Ruby called us back to take our bow.
We were circus girls and used to performing day after day, night after night, but by the Saturday we were both exhausted. Diamond was looking permanently pale and peaky, with shadows under her eyes. Now that we’d been promoted to the second act, we were at the theatre until ten, and Diamond often wasn’t asleep until eleven at night, which was certainly much too late for a small girl.
I made her take a nap after lunch on Saturday. She slept all afternoon while I stitched away, fashioning Mrs Ruby’s free frock. (Miss Gibson was an angel and helped me with all the extra-tricky parts.)
Diamond still seemed exhausted when I woke her. I brought her a bowl of bread and milk, with sugar sprinkled on top. We couldn’t eat a proper meal before a performance in case we were sick, and Diamond had to have a near-empty stomach to manage all her acrobatics.
She could only manage a few spoonfuls, even when I tried to feed her. ‘I’m not hungry, Hetty. I’m just so sleepy,’ she said, rubbing her eyes. ‘Can I go back to bed now?’
‘No, darling, we’ve got to wash and brush you and get you all gussied up in your costume for the performance,’ I said.
‘I’m a bit tired of performing,’ she sighed. ‘We’ve done it so much. Couldn’t we stay at home today?’
‘You know we can’t. It’s Saturday, the Cavalcade’s big night. Mrs Ruby says there isn’t a seat to be had. We must go, whether we want to or not. We have to show we’re true professionals.’ I gently pulled her out of bed.
She stood before me in her skimpy nightgown, shivering. ‘I wish I didn’t have to be a true professional,’ she said. ‘I want to be a real little girl.’
‘You are real, silly! Well, you have to pretend to be a doll, but that’s just play-acting. You do know that, don’t you?’ I said worriedly.
Diamond nodded wearily. ‘Of course. It’s all right, Hetty. I’ll come. I’ll do the show.’
‘Everyone thinks we’re wonderful. Well, everyone except Mr Apple and his weird little dummy. I am Little Pip and I copy everything my papa does.’ I mimicked his strange squeaky voice, hoping Diamond would laugh.
She smiled politely but still looked very wan.
‘Diamond, I know you’re very tired now, but you do like performing, don’t you?’ I asked.
Diamond looked uncertain.
‘You like doing our penny-farthing routine better than doing the human column with the Silver Tumblers?’ I persisted.
‘Oh yes! Much better,’ said Diamond. ‘And no Mister beating me!’
I didn’t enquire further as I washed her face and helped her dress and brushed the tangles out of her hair. I told myself that Diamond was simply in a contrary mood because she was over-tired. Of course she liked performing. She’d been out on the streets turning cartwheels for pennies when she was scarcely more than a baby. She didn’t have a cruel master now. I knew she loved receiving applause at the end of our performance. She skipped, she smiled, she waved her hands.
I wouldn’t admit even to myself that there was now something mechanical about Diamond’s behaviour on stage, as if she really were a doll moving by clockwork trickery. Deep down, she really would prefer an ordinary little girl’s life.
But then where would that leave me? I’d devised our act, but I knew that Diamond was the real star – she could perform amazing acrobatics, she could pass for a five- or six-year-old, and she was incredibly pretty, like a little fairy. I was a plain skinny redhead with no extraordinary skills whatsoever, just the gift of the gab. I couldn’t be a music-hall artiste without Diamond.
I worried all the way to the Cavalcade. Diamond slumped behind me on the penny-farthing, dozing again. But when we got to the theatre, she perked up at last, and chatted happily to Bertie. I told him that she was feeling a little off-colour, so he was especially charming and gentle, pretending that she was little Cinderella and he was the handsome prince. He even danced with her at a pretend ball, though there was scarcely any room to move in the wings.
The waiting ballet dancers thought this charming, and showed Diamond how to point her feet and stand on tiptoe, but Sven the Sword-Swallower objected.
‘I have to concentrate and prepare my throat,’ he said. ‘Keep the wee girls away from me, Bertie.’
He was no more foreign than Signor Olivelli. He was actually Sam McTavish from Glasgow. He used to work the Scottish halls as Bagpipe Mac, but those tartan acts were two a penny, so he’d come down south and tried something different. He shared Bertie’s digs and was a nice enough fellow, often giving Diamond and me very sweet sugary lumps called ‘tablet’, but he was always edgy before a performance. I could understand. If his sword went awry, he could easily slice a strip off his throat or perforate his stomach.
I pulled Diamond away from Bertie and made her stand still beside me.
‘Oh, poor Bertie. You’ve lost your Cinderella. Shall I have a little dance with you instead?’ said Ivy Green.
She was the other disadvantage of being in the second act. We had to wait beside her in the wings. She pretended to make a fuss of Diamond, treating her as if she really were five, talking in
such a silly voice. She scarcely said a word to me. She whispered incessantly to Bertie, snuggling up close to him, holding onto his arm. He made no attempt to shake her off.
I told myself that I was the girl he’d kissed in the woods. I was the girl he called his sweetheart. I was the girl who saw him every day, not just at the theatre. We never went anywhere without Diamond, but as she skipped along between us, we often exchanged meaningful looks over her head – and whenever she was distracted we blew each other kisses.
Bertie regularly kept us company at Miss Gibson’s. He played cards with Diamond and watched me sew. Miss Gibson usually invited him to stay to tea. We sat on faded velvet sofas in the old-fashioned parlour, crammed with ornaments and vases and little tables on tottery legs. It was as if we were posing for a painting: young mother and father nodding at each other, small daughter playing with her rag doll, grandmama presiding over the teapot.
Bertie seemed devoted to me, so why did I feel a sharp pain in my chest whenever Ivy Green fluttered her eyelashes at him?
Bertie knew, which made it worse. ‘You mustn’t get so worked up, Hetty,’ he said. ‘Ivy’s just a friend.’
‘I’m not the slightest bit worked up,’ I said furiously. ‘And you’ve a habit of making “friends” of your workmates. What about those two girls you were forever flirting with in that draper’s shop?’
‘Oh my Lord, we were all silly children then,’ said Bertie loftily, though it was only last year. ‘Ivy’s a fellow artiste and I’m part of her act. That’s why we’re friendly. She wants to be your friend too. I don’t see why you’re always so standoffish with her.’
I had spent my childhood surrounded by girls. Ivy didn’t fool me. She might smile and tell me in a little breathless voice that she thought our act utterly terrific, but I knew she wished we’d pack our bags and clear off.
Standing in the wings with her now was torture. She watched Diamond yawn and rub her eyes. ‘Oh dear, little Diamond looks tired out! And she’s so pale – or is that just this weird half-light? She looks like a little ghost to me!’ she said, all mock sympathy.
‘She’s absolutely fine, aren’t you, Diamond,’ I hissed, although I was so concerned myself.
‘Yes, I’m absolutely fine,’ Diamond repeated obediently, with another yawn.
‘Oh, the poor little pet. You’ve certainly got her trained, Emerald. She’s like a little parrot,’ said Ivy. ‘It’s a hard life for such a tiny girl. Do you have to do everything Emerald says, Diamond?’
Diamond didn’t reply – she simply looked worried.
‘Of course she doesn’t,’ said Bertie. ‘You’re a little princess, aren’t you, Diamond, and you do exactly as you wish. In fact, you give the orders. How can I please you, your royal highness?’
Diamond giggled, happy again. ‘You can please me by giving me a kiss, Master Bertie,’ she said.
‘Delighted, ma’am,’ said Bertie, and he clicked his heels together, picked up her hand and planted a kiss upon it.
‘You see,’ I said, nodding to Ivy. ‘Diamond’s having the time of her life.’
‘Well, Bertie certainly knows how to cheer her up. But if she were my sister I’d want her fast asleep, tucked up in bed at this hour,’ said Ivy, and she shook her head and tutted infuriatingly.
It was as if she’d jinxed us. Diamond was indeed fine when we started our performance. She played the dolly routine perfectly, never muddling her responses, and managing the synchronized neck turning and eye rolling expertly. She did her little routine while I rushed to fetch the penny-farthing. She watched carefully as I pedalled around the stage, squinting slightly. I realized for the first time what a huge effort it was for her to spring right up in the air and land with such precision.
She was so keyed up, she started running a beat too early. I tried to slow my pedalling, but I didn’t adjust quickly enough. Diamond sprang up – and just missed. She thumped against my back instead, sending us both sprawling.
There was a gasp from the audience.
‘Are you all right?’ I whispered.
‘I – I think so,’ Diamond said, stunned.
‘Then let’s make them think it’s part of the act,’ I said.
I sat up, rubbing myself. ‘Ouch!’ I said. I nodded slightly at Diamond.
‘Ouch!’ she said in her dolly voice, copying me.
‘I don’t think I wound you up enough!’ I said. ‘Let’s try again.’
I stood up and helped Diamond to her feet. ‘Poor floppy dolly, I haven’t broken you, have I? Move your arms like this.’
I waved my arms, and Diamond copied. ‘Now your legs,’ I said, doing a little walk in a circle.
Diamond did the same, her gait doll-stiff.
‘Good dolly! Right, stand still.’ I made a big play of winding her up further, making loud clicking noises. ‘There, that should do it. Let’s try again for all the lovely guests at my party,’ I said, pulling the penny-farthing upright.
Thank goodness the wheels hadn’t buckled! I climbed on again and pedalled round and round. Diamond watched carefully while the whole audience held its breath, willing her to manage it this time. Then she took off at exactly the right moment and landed perfectly, like a little feather, on my shoulders.
The crowd went wild, clapping and cheering. Diamond managed the headstand too, and there was such applause at the end of our act that Samson Ruby had to call us back twice to take our bows.
‘My, that was a dicky moment!’ said Mrs Ruby, bobbing down from her box. ‘But you worked it like a true professional, Miss Emerald Star. I wouldn’t try that one too often, but you certainly got away with it tonight! Well done. Here’s your week’s wages.’ She handed over a brown envelope. ‘I normally give them out at the end of the show, but there’s no need for you two to hang around. Take the little girly home and have a good rest tomorrow. Thank God for Sundays!’
I tucked the envelope down my neck and put my arm round Diamond. ‘There now, let’s go home. We’ll just say a quick goodbye to Bertie. I wonder if we’ll all go on another picnic tomorrow?’ I said. Diamond would like that. She’d forget all about the Cavalcade for a day and relax and be a little girl again.
But Ivy Green was hanging on Bertie’s arm, whispering in his ear. His head was bent, intent on listening. It didn’t even look as if he’d been watching us on stage! He was certainly unaware of us now. And he was smiling. Smiling at Ivy Green!
‘Come on, Diamond,’ I said quickly.
‘But we haven’t said goodbye to Bertie!’ She tried waving at him, but he didn’t see her.
‘Bertie’s busy,’ I said shortly. ‘Come on.’
Diamond came with me, but she was so silent on the way home that I thought she’d fallen asleep again. Miss Gibson made us cocoa and hot buttered toast, two special treats, but Diamond only sipped her drink and chewed on a crust.
‘She’s still tired, poor lamb,’ said Miss Gibson. ‘Up the little wooden stairs to Bedfordshire for you, little Diamond.’
I undressed her and examined her carefully by the light of the candle, worried she might have hurt herself when we took a tumble. She had a couple of red marks on her legs that might well be bruises by the morning, but nothing serious at all. I tucked her up in bed, then checked the money in the envelope. Ten whole shillings, just as Mrs Ruby had promised.
I pulled off my clothes and jumped into bed beside Diamond. ‘We’re rich girls now,’ I said. ‘Night-night, darling.’ I blew the candle out.
We curled up together. Diamond usually went sound asleep straight away, but tonight she lay hot and tense. When I reached for her hand, I discovered it was clenched into a little fist.
‘Hey, what’s the matter, Diamond?’ I whispered.
‘Nothing,’ said Diamond, but then she started crying.
‘Oh dear, come on, tell me,’ I said, putting my arms round her.
‘I did it all wrong, Hetty. And we fell in front of everyone,’ she sobbed.
‘Yes, but it didn’t m
atter in the slightest because the audience still loved us. Didn’t you hear them when you did the trick all over again? They thought you were wonderful.’
‘Yes, but you must never ever fall. Mister beat me if I fell.’
‘Yes, but that was just Mister hateful Beppo. We’re never, ever going to see him again.’
‘I know,’ said Diamond, but she didn’t sound certain. She snuffled into her doll, Maybelle, rubbing her against her cheek.
‘You’ll be getting a new doll soon,’ I said. ‘In fact, we could go and buy her on Monday, though it would use up all our money.’
‘I’d like a new doll, but I don’t want to hurt Maybelle’s feelings,’ Diamond whispered, as if Maybelle herself might hear. Then she said, still very softly, ‘I think Bertie is cross with me because I fell.’
‘No he isn’t! Not at all. He thinks you did wonderfully,’ I said.
‘But he didn’t say so.’
‘I know. He was too busy listening to that Green girl. No wonder she’s called herself Ivy. Did you see the way she was clinging to him! She was practically winding herself all over him,’ I said crossly.
‘Does he like her more than us?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. It’s just his way. He’ll flirt with anyone. Goodness, he even flirts with Miss Gibson!’
‘I wish people didn’t chop and change so much,’ said Diamond.
‘I know. I do too,’ I said, though I was very aware that I chopped and changed, never quite settling, never quite satisfied. ‘Now, let’s go to sleep, Diamond. It’s Sunday tomorrow. No performance.’
‘But maybe no Bertie,’ Diamond muttered mournfully.
‘Oh goodness, who needs Bertie?’ I said.
Little Stars Page 12
