by Lyn Gardner
“You weren’t actually trying to kill him, were you?” asked Rose, shocked.
“I’m joking,” said Perdita lightly. “I wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Why do you keep a pistol in your bag?” asked Rose.
“Protection,” said Perdita briskly. “If you were bought up in tiger country like I was, it didn’t do to leave the house without one.”
“But there are no tigers in London,” said Rose, before realising her mistake. “Well, only one, anyway.”
“Ah,” said Perdita darkly, “but there are other predators in London. From what I’ve seen of it, it’s a veritable jungle. It’s always good to be prepared.”
Rose frowned. “But what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Herne Bay?”
“Plans change,” said Perdita shortly.
They arrived outside Campion’s and Perdita turned.
“Aren’t you coming in?” asked Rose.
“No,” said Perdita. She hesitated. “Probably best not to mention the pistol, Rose. Not everyone would be as sanguine about it as you.” She paused. “In fact, maybe just don’t mention that you saw me at all. I would be grateful.”
Rose nodded. She felt she was in Perdita’s debt. She watched while Perdita walked briskly away. At the corner she turned and smiled.
“Keep safe, Rose. Stay out of harm’s way. I can’t bear the thought of any child being lost.”
Then she was gone, disappearing into the falling snow like a ghost.
The pantomime was starting to come together. The morning had been spent rehearsing: Dolores had been reluctantly roped in to play Cinderella, and although she was not a natural actress, she had charm, and her popularity with the Campion’s audience would see her through. But Rose still wondered how Perdita would have fared in the role, and what she had meant when she said that she had made a promise never to appear on stage again.
Rose and Rory loved working together again, their natural chemistry making Thomas hope that their double act as the Ugly Sisters might be a memorable comic turn. They had incorporated the bicycle into their performance, despite Thomas’s initial concern that, to the Campion’s crowd, the bicycle act was so associated with the pair that doing it might unwittingly reveal Aurora’s true identity. But everyone else had said that he was being far too cautious.
“Once I’m in my costume even my own father won’t recognise me,” said Rory confidently.
The rehearsal had gone well, although Rose had been rather subdued and every now and again she had seen Thomas giving her a sideways look, as if checking up on her. When she had returned to Campion’s the previous evening, Thomas had tried to talk to her about what had happened in Lant Street, but Rose had felt too drained after the evening’s events, and her encounter with the Tanner Street boy, to respond.
She had gone to bed and lain awake into the early hours thinking about her narrow escape, pondering Perdita’s unexpected appearance and, most of all, thinking about Elenora de Valentina’s claim to have communicated with her dead mother.
But now work was stopping her from thinking too much about the revelation of the previous evening. And she didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t believe that Elenora could talk with the dead, so why did the information that her mother was dead hurt so much? She glanced around the room and her eye met Perdita’s, who was sitting at a table in the middle of the auditorium reading the morning newspaper. Perdita gave a little conspiratorial wink. She didn’t usually attend rehearsals and Rose wondered if she had come to check up on her. She was reading a newspaper whose headline screamed about last night’s mysterious robbery at Lady Plockton’s – a story that everyone had discussed excitedly when they had gathered first thing. The police were saying that, just as in the Fitzcillian robbery, there was no sign of a break-in, so they were treating it as another inside job.
Ella was at the back of the auditorium, shining the great mirrors behind the mahogany bar. Every few minutes she would stop and gaze at what was happening on stage, as if transfixed, then return to her job with even more gusto. If she carried on working at this rate, Thomas was going to have to double her wages.
Ella worked her way up the auditorium towards the stage, polishing the mirrors and keeping one eye on the rehearsal. Rose had noticed that she often found a job to do in the auditorium when they were rehearsing. She wondered if she was a little stage-struck.
Ella had drawn level to where Perdita, who was still reading and oblivious to anyone else, was sitting. Rose saw Ella glance sideways at Perdita. She looked again more closely. A change came over her face, and Ella’s mouth made a little mewl of surprise, before she recovered herself and turned sharply away and walked back towards the kitchen. Rose frowned. It was an odd, extreme reaction to the other woman. Did they know each other? Perdita had looked up at the sound and given no indication that she recognised Ella, barely giving the other woman a second glance. Rose resolved to ask Ella about it later when she got the chance.
“Rose! Rose! Wakey-wakey.” She looked up. Thomas was asking her whether she had an opinion on the ballet sequence. Rose shook her head. She had barely been watching. Thomas let it go and they moved on to an aerial flying scene, which had been inserted into the story and which allowed Grace to show off some of her skills. Watching it, Rose thought how Grace seemed to come fully alive when performing – almost as if somebody had suddenly filled in her outline in vivid colours.
“I love this,” she said, her eyes sparkling and shining as she was gently lowered to the ground. Rose and Rory helped her unbuckle her harness.
“It’ll be better still when you are doing it in front of an audience,” said Rose softly.
Grace nodded. “I know. I’ve had such fun these last few days of rehearsal. I know how addictive it can be in front of an audience. I’m worried that I’ll get back my taste for it, and then I’ll struggle to give it up again when I become Lady Caskins.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t,” said Rose lightly.
Rory nudged Rose in the ribs, and Grace raised an eyebrow.
“You mean I shouldn’t marry Sir Godfrey, or shouldn’t give up performing?” asked Grace.
“Both. Look, Grace, tell me to mind my own business, but you clearly love performing, so why give it up so easily?”
“Oh, Rose,” said Grace. “It’s not been an easy decision.”
Rose looked around. Everybody else was busy. Thomas had moved on to rehearsing a scene with Edward.
“But why marry a man you obviously don’t love?” said Rose fiercely.
“Rose!” said Aurora, shocked by her directness.
Grace sighed. “Rose is right. I don’t love Godfrey – at least, not in the way I loved Ned. But maybe you only get one chance to love like that. Sir Godfrey has been very kind to me, and he is an admirable man. Upstanding, a great philanthropist and a credit to the community in every way. He is so admired for his charitable work. His work at Olave’s is much esteemed, and he gives up his time selflessly – he’s on the parole board at Holloway prison. People look up to him – everyone says that he is a pillar of the community.”
“But, Grace, you’re marrying a husband, not a pillar of the community.”
“It’s hard to explain, Rose. I have to think about Freddie, and what is best for his future. How I can best protect him.”
She paused and looked at Aurora, her face wreathed in anxiety.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Rory. You know I love Edward dearly. But if Edward were more conventional, it would give Freddie all the protection he requires. But he’s not. He’s an actor. That in itself might not be a problem, but the Easingford name is already tainted by scandal, and the fact that Edward chooses to live beyond the rules that these people impose upon themselves makes the scandal linger.”
Aurora nodded. “It’s true. I can’t enter a drawing room without hearing someone whisper the name Easingford and then start gossiping.”
“I don’t mind for myself,” said Grace
. “But I do mind for Freddie. He’s being bullied at school. Badly, I think. I thought sending him away would be good for him in the longer term. I thought that if he grew up among these people, he would eventually be accepted as one of them. But he is ostracised. Sir Godfrey asked twice for my hand and I refused him because I didn’t love him. But he is a governor at the school, and if I become Lady Caskins, it will afford Freddie all the protection he needs.”
She saw the girls’ shocked faces.
“Do you think I am being terribly wicked? I will be a good wife. I have promised myself I will be the best wife in the world to him.” She gave a glum little smile and said brightly, “Besides, there’s no getting out of it now. I’ve given my word to Sir Godfrey. And he is so kind – he sends flowers every day. If I were to break the engagement, it would only heap more scandal on the Easingford name.”
“Does Edward know all this?” asked Aurora.
“Of course not,” said Grace, “and neither of you must tell him.”
“There is one solution,” said Rose. “You and Freddie could just move to London, live here at Campion’s and you could resume your music-hall career. Then what would it matter if it brought scandal to the Easingford name?”
“Ah,” said Grace, “but you’re forgetting Aurora and Edward. It might be hard on them.”
“Well,” said Rose gazing hard at Aurora, “there’s a solution to that as well. They could change their names and move in too.”
A look passed between Grace and Rory.
“Oh, Rose,” said Grace. “If only it were that simple.”
“I wish it were too,” said Aurora fiercely. “Sometimes I feel trapped like a tiger in a net.”
There was a sudden interruption as Inspector Cliff and Billy arrived. They both shook hands with Thomas.
“Do you have news about Ivy’s murder?” he asked eagerly. The Inspector shook his head and looked embarrassed. “Regrettably, no. Our lack of progress means we’ve been moved to the Plockton robbery. Quite a mystery that is proving to be too. But we had to come this way, so we thought that we would drop in because we have news for you, Rose. Billy was interviewing a former associate of the Duchess who had been arrested, and he asked her about Lizzie Gawkin. Seems she was quite a mine of information about Gawkin and her exploits. Apparently, some years ago Lizzie had been doing a job for the Duchess when she got distracted and stole a baby from a pram outside a theatre. Billy’s informant didn’t know who the baby belonged to, but she did know the name of the theatre where it happened – the Imperial Grand. What’s more, she knew the name of the play that was on at the time – The Winter’s Tale.”
There was a thud, and everyone turned. Perdita had fainted. Edward and some of the others went to her aid, but Rose stood immobile, as if she was made of ice. She could feel Thomas’s hand on her shoulder. The Inspector, so delighted to be bringing the first concrete news to Rose of her mother, didn’t notice her frozen features.
“The bad news,” continued Cliff blithely, “is that the Imperial Grand burned down eleven years ago, and all its records were lost. But there must be someone still around working somewhere in London who recalls the names of those working on the production. I’m afraid Billy and I are too busy with the Fitzcillian and Plockton cases to give it our time, but it’s the first solid lead you’ve ever had, and I thought you could do some investigation yourself…” He trailed off, seeing Rose’s face.
“It’s too late,” she said dully. “I had news only yesterday. My mother is dead.”
She burst into noisy tears and buried herself in Thomas’s shoulder. When she looked up, everyone was starring at her, including Elenora de Valentina, who had materialised in the space as if by magic. She had a strange look on her face, as if satisfaction and sorrow were mingled.
Rose, Effie and Aurora were leaning over the balcony of the Victorious, a run-down hall in Clerkenwell that Rose thought might be better rechristened the Defeated. It was a place where those who were sliding down the bills of other music halls were to be found, as well as those just embarking on their careers. This was why the girls were there. Thomas had sent them to take a peek at a quartet of acrobats called the Tumbling Terrys, who he had heard were making a bit of a stir because of their daring routines.
But Rose wasn’t in the mood. She had been unsettled by Elenora de Valentina’s claim to have contacted her dead mother, and had been further upset by Inspector Cliff’s news. Once, she would have been delighted to have the first solid lead on her mother’s identity, although she didn’t doubt how difficult it might be to find anyone who knew who she was after the passage of so much time. But although she had her suspicions about de Valentina’s claims to communicate with the dead, she couldn’t shake the troubling feeling that Inspector Cliff’s information had come too late for her. Thomas had gently asked her if she would like him to make enquiries, but she had shaken her head and Thomas, seeing how close to tears she was, had not pressed the matter.
It didn’t help that both Effie and Rory were treating Rose as if she was a very fragile glass vase that might shatter at any moment. She kept on catching them whispering together and looking at her anxiously. She simply pulled her coat around herself more tightly to protect against a vicious north wind and walked on gloomily. Normally she loved this time of the year – revelling in the approach of Christmas and its sights and smells. But she barely noticed the chestnut- and orange-sellers, and the spruce firs being sold, to be decorated with stars and candles at home. She had barely even responded when a cry had gone up as they walked over London Bridge, and the girls had glanced back to see the tiger cub down on the shoreline, apparently playing with the mudlark children.
“Did you hear,” asked Rory, “that Sir Godfrey sent a consignment of shoes for the mudlark families? It was nice of him to remember them when he’s so far away.”
“It was kind,” said Effie. “There was a picture of the children wearing the shoes in the newspaper, and a write-up singing Sir Godfrey’s praises as a great man. The writer said that he should stand for Parliament.”
Rose said nothing. She had arrived at the Victorious in a glum mood, and was plunged further into gloom when she discovered that the Tumbling Terrys were way down the bill, and they would have to sit through several acts before them, including an appearance by Hopkin and Dent, who had been so disastrous during their single appearance at Campion’s. Clearly their terrible Campion’s appearance had also had an adverse impact on their career, if the Victorious was their best offer.
“We could go back outside and buy gingerbread,” suggested Rory, but Rose was shivering with cold and shook her head.
“I want to stay here. We can watch Hopkin and Dent. Maybe they’ve improved.”
“They can’t have got worse,” said Effie.
Hopkin and Dent came on stage soon after, and the girls leaned forward to watch closely. The stage went completely dark, and then suddenly two heads materialised, seemingly totally unattached to their bodies. The heads whizzed around the stage and the audience laughed, before the two heads bumped into each other and ended up at ground level. The effect was both spooky and silly, and the audience laughed even more appreciatively. Rose and the others looked at each other, puzzled. This was clever work, original and neatly put together. Both men were now visible – rotund figures, dapperly dressed in sombre suits and each holding a cane. But what made the audience gasp and clap was that both of them appeared to be completely headless. Then the headless men began tap-dancing, and the audience laughed and clapped with pleasure.
When the act finished, Rose looked at the others. They were all perplexed. Hopkin and Dent had been excellent – nothing like the stumbling, bumbling performance they had put in on their first and last night at Campion’s. On the evidence of what she had just seen, if Rose had been sent to scout them she would recommend them to Thomas without hesitation. Yet when they had played Campion’s they had appeared so lacking in competence that the Campion’s audience had taken violentl
y against them. If Thomas hadn’t stopped the act when he did, some of the more unruly members of the audience would have started throwing the furniture at them.
“It’s so odd,” said Effie. “You would barely know it was the same act.”
Rose nodded her agreement. “I always thought it was strange they were so bad. They came to Campion’s highly recommended. There must be a reason why they were so terrible on that night and so impressive today.” A gleam came into her eyes. “There’s no harm in asking them.”
So after they had watched the acrobats, and agreed that Thomas should make them a modest offer to start at Campion’s after the pantomime season, they went round to the stage door and asked for Hopkin and Dent. They were pointed towards a door at the end of the corridor, knocked and were told to enter. As soon as Mr Hopkin saw Rose and Effie he looked embarrassed, like a schoolboy caught filching sweets. Mr Dent suddenly developed a nervous twitch in his left eye, which made him look as if he was winking at the girls.
“We just came to say how much we enjoyed your act tonight,” said Rose.
“You did?” said Mr Dent, and it came out as a yelp.
“We did,” said Effie. “We were impressed.”
“Yes,” said Rose. “We were. But we were also very curious as to why, when you can be this good, you were so blooming awful on your one and only night at Campion’s.”
“Rose!” said Aurora, shocked by her friend’s directness.
“I’m only asking,” said Rose, “because it’s such a puzzle. It was your big break. Why throw it away like that? You could have been top of the bill at Campion’s for weeks. Instead you bottled it, and now you’re here.”
The men seemed anxious, darting little meaningful glances at each other.
“Yes, now we’re here,” muttered Mr Hopkin, casting his eye mournfully around the down-at-heel dressing room with its bare boards and cracked mirror. “But at least we’re alive.”
