by Lyn Gardner
“Ah, Madame de Valentina. I’m sure you remember Florrie and Col.”
Elenora turned and peered at them uncertainly. Rose prompted her. “Your first night here at Campion’s you brought them up on stage and hypnotised them.”
Elenora gave a vague smile. “Of course,” she said. “Florrie and Col. You work at Lady Plockton’s, I believe.”
“They did,” said Rose. “But they lost their jobs after the robbery. Suspicion fell on them and they were treated as guilty and flung out on the streets, even though nothing had been proved against them, and they haven’t even been arrested.”
Elenora looked pained. “Poor innocent lambs,” she said. “What a dreadful thing to happen.” She seemed genuinely distressed. “Excuse me. I must prepare for my performance.”
Rose and Ella were standing at the back of the auditorium, watching Madame de Valentina’s act. Campion’s looked beautiful. There was a Christmas tree by the bar, and Ella had attached holly and mistletoe to the mirrors all around the auditorium. Thomas had found her a set of silver bells from the prop cupboard and she had tied them up the slender, gilt-painted pillars that supported the horseshoe balcony. The bells winked through the haze from the gas lights, creating a festive air.
Campion’s was already packed, and many of those who were here for the early show would be staying on to see the pantomime. Thomas predicted that it might be one of the music hall’s most profitable evenings, before adding wryly, “Which is probably just as well, if you are going to keep inviting all of London’s waifs and strays to join us, Rose.”
“Not all,” said Rose. “There are still thousands out there every bit as needy as Ella, Florrie and Col. Besides,” she added, “Ella has turned out to be a small miracle in the kitchen. She more than pays her way.”
Thomas nodded. “She’s worth her weight in gold. A lovely woman, clearly educated too. I don’t know what happened to her, but it must be something bad for her to have ended up destitute. She seems to know a thing or two about stagecraft too. It was Ella who suggested I change that bit in the walkdown at the end with Dandini, and she was quite right – it is much better.”
Rose gave Thomas a sideways look. It wasn’t normal for him to be taking directing advice from the kitchen staff. Now she thought about it, there had been a couple of occasions when she had seen Thomas and Ella deep in conversation together. From what he said it didn’t sound as if Thomas had found out any more about her and how she had ended up at Campion’s kitchen door than Rose herself. Ella was like an oyster that refused to be prised open.
“Actually,” continued Thomas, “I reckon she’s wasted washing up. I was thinking about asking her to stay on permanently and take over running the bar.”
“It would be wonderful if she would stay,” said Rose.
“You don’t think she will?” asked Thomas, and he sounded disappointed.
“I don’t know,” said Rose, “but I somehow got the impression when she appeared like magic and saved me from a night in the kitchen that she saw the kitchen job as being temporary. But I may be wrong. Perhaps if you can give her a good reason to stay she will.”
“Ah,” said Thomas. “Then we will just have to find a very good reason.”
Now, with Florrie and Col helping out in the kitchen, Rose had beckoned Ella into the auditorium, so that she would get to see Madame de Valentina’s act in full for the first time.
“I’ll be interested to know what you think, Ella,” said Rose. Then she added lightly, “By the way, do you know Perdita from the past somewhere? I thought from your reaction at the rehearsal the other day that you might have recognised her.”
Ella smiled. “You don’t miss anything, do you, Rose Campion. Yes, I thought I recognised her, but I quickly realised that she is quite a different woman from the one I once knew.”
Ella’s body language made it quite clear that this particular conversation was at an end.
“I think Thomas hopes you might decide to stay on with us,” said Rose. Ella said nothing. “Campion’s is a good place to call home,” Rose continued. “I should know. Thomas gave me one.”
“I heard that you were found abandoned on the steps of the music hall as a baby.”
“Yes,” said Rose. “I’m part of Campion’s legend.”
“How old are you now, Rose?”
“Twelve. I’ll be thirteen on January the first. Of course, nobody knows my exact birthday, but I was only a few weeks old when I was found.”
Ella’s eyes had filled with tears, and she put a hand out to Rose and brushed her cheek with her fingers.
“I’m glad you found happiness, Rose. I wish all lost children could be as lucky as you.”
Madame de Valentina had begun her act. Ella stood with her eyes fixed on Elenora. It was early on in the act, and Elenora was doing a card trick. Rose’s sharp eyes detected a tiny fumble, and from Ella’s reaction beside her, she knew she had spotted it too. Rose was surprised. It was rare for a member of the public to spot a mistake in a magic act. The public were so willing to be deceived that even when the performer did make a slip, it was unusual that the audience noticed.
Madame de Valentina had moved on to the part of her act when she picked someone from the audience and got them to come up on stage to be hypnotised. De Valentina’s attention was on a dapper young man in the audience who, with much ribbing from his friends, was being called up on stage. He was a footman at the Duke of Dover’s house in Cardigan Square.
Rose thought she’d better slip back into the kitchen to check that Florrie and Col were getting on all right. The cook had a reputation for being fearsome, although he purred like a pussycat whenever Ella was near. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she whispered to Ella.
Even with the back door open on such a cold night, the kitchen was like a furnace. Rose wedged the door between the kitchen and auditorium open to try and get a through-draught going for a few minutes.
“Hot enough?” she asked Florrie and Col, who were working together to tackle the teetering tower of dirty crockery and saucepans.
Florrie grinned and wiped her sweaty forehead with her sleeve.
“I never thought I’d complain again about being too hot after sitting on that freezing bridge, but it is roasting in here.”
“It is,” said Col. “And it’s blissful. I feel better already.”
“We’ve just had good news too,” said Florrie. “A messenger came. My aunt has returned home. She got the note you arranged to be sent and asked us to come first thing tomorrow. She said we could stay with her as long as we need to, until we find new positions.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Rose.
They both looked so happy that she didn’t like to say how hard it might be for them to find jobs that in any way matched their ones at Lady Plockton’s.
There was a mew at the door and Ophelia sauntered in, closely followed by the tiger cub. The tiger had grown enormously. It made a little snorting sound, as if trying to say hello. Rose picked up two slices of raw beef and, with one in each hand, she held them out to the cat and the tiger. Unused to such largesse, Ophelia snatched her piece between her teeth and ran outside, as if fearing that Rose might change her mind, but the tiger took the meat directly from Rose’s hand and then sat expectantly waiting for another slice, which Rose gave it. She stroked the cub’s head as it ate. It purred loudly. She pointed to the back door with her free hand and nodded to Florrie to pass her a piece of rope hanging on the handle, in the hope that she might be able loop it over the tiger’s head. She was confident that the Tanner Street boys had given up on their attempts to catch the tiger, but there were plenty more out there with an eye on its skin. She hated the idea of the beautiful creature being behind bars, but she knew Thomas was right when he said that the only safe place for it in London was the Zoological Gardens in Regent’s Park. Florrie reached for the rope and started towards Rose and the tiger, walking carefully so as not to frighten the animal.
There was a roa
r of laughter from the hall, and then the audience fell silent, and the distant tinkle of Madame de Valentina’s bell drifted into the kitchen. Florrie, still a few feet from Rose, suddenly stood stock-still, her eyes glazed.
“Florrie,” hissed Rose, gesturing her to hand her the rope. But the girl didn’t move.
“Florrie!” said Col grabbing her arm.
But still the girl stood frozen, as if she was a statue. Rose frowned, and Col looked frightened. There was another roar of laughter from the auditorium, and the tiger, alarmed by the sound, slipped from Rose’s grasp and bounded out of the door. The auditorium quietened, and Madame de Valentina rang her little silver bell again. The audience began to clap, and Florrie unfroze, looked down at the rope in her hand as if perplexed, and asked, “What am I doing?”
Gently, Col took the rope from her hand, and Florrie grinned brightly at him and returned briskly to the sink, as if nothing had happened.
“Florrie, are you all right?” asked Rose.
The girl turned around. “I’m fine. Why shouldn’t I be?” She saw Rose and Col staring at her. “What is it?” she asked, looking scared.
“It was just that you froze, Floss. It was as if you had turned into a statue. You were here but you weren’t here, as if your mind had been spirited away. Like a trance.”
Florrie laughed. “You are both having me on.” She saw their faces and looked frightened again.
“It was probably nothing,” said Rose. “We all get distracted. Maybe that’s all it was.” She turned to Col. “Have you ever seen Florrie like that before?”
He shook his head.
Rose gave a cheery smile. “So that probably means there is nothing to worry about.”
But she did think it was odd. Florrie’s momentary lack of responsiveness, and the glazed eyes, had been spooky.
Leaving Florrie and Tom to their task, she returned to Ella’s side at the back of the auditorium where Madame de Valentina was just finishing the last part of her act, during which she claimed to communicate with the dead. Rose could see Pru back in the audience, as she was almost every night, hanging on to Elenora’s every word and still hoping for another message from her mother, even though Madame de Valentina had warned her that there would be no further communications. The communing with the dead part of the act was over quickly, and the audience was vocal in its disappointment. Rose thought it was odd. It was that part of the act that most of the audience were there for – almost everyone had someone they had lost and longed to communicate with one last time. Most music-hall artistes shaped their act to deliver what the audience wanted, but Elenora didn’t seem to be bothered. It made Rose wonder if Madame de Valentina was going to leave Campion’s quite soon. The act came to an end; the audience stamped and shrieked its approval. But Ella didn’t even clap.
“What do you think?” asked Rose curiously.
“An amateur,” said Ella crisply.
“Did you ever work in the theatre?” asked Rose.
“In another life, yes,” said Ella softly. “But that life was stolen from me. Maybe one day I will get it back again.” She walked away to the kitchen.
Thomas came and stood beside Rose.
“Shouldn’t you be backstage getting ready for the pantomime?”
Rose nodded. “I’m just on my way.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Thomas. “I need to talk to Madame de Valentina before she vanishes into the night. I’ve just had a note from Sir Godfrey. He’s returning to London in the morning and suggested some entertainment before the dinner at Silver Square tomorrow night. He wants me to ask Madame de Valentina if she will perform the hypnotism part of her act. I fear he will be disappointed. She may be hard to persuade.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage, Thomas,” said Rose. “Her mind may rule the world, but yours rules Campion’s.”
Rose and the rest of the Cinderella cast took one final bow and rushed off stage, hugging each other. The pantomime was a clear hit with the audience. They had booed Rose and Rory’s Ugly Sisters with gusto, laughed at Edward’s Baroness Hard-Up, gasped when Grace – under the alias Miss Jenny Roberts – had swooped across the stage as Prince Charming, and cried when Dolores’ Cinderella tried on the shoe and it fitted. They had loved the magical moment at the end of the show, when fake snow started to fall from above – an idea that had come from Effie, and which involved thousands of tiny cut-up pieces of paper suspended in a net above the stage. She had spent hours working with the stage hands to get it right. There would be a lot of sweeping up in the morning, but it was worth it for the delight on the audience’s faces.
Rose couldn’t wait to get out of her costume, thick make-up and wig, and go back into the auditorium, where there would be a huge party for everyone who worked at Campion’s, as soon as the last members of the public had been ushered from the building. It was always one of the jolliest evenings of the year and much anticipated.
“That was one of the best nights of my life,” said Grace, removing her dark wig to reveal her blonde curls and peeling off the leather boots that extended right to her thigh.
“You could have plenty more like it,” said Rose. “All you have to do is tell Sir Godfrey you’ve changed your mind about marrying him.”
Grace shook her head. “I couldn’t do that to the poor man.”
Not so poor, thought Rose to herself – not with the dowry that Edward was giving to him. She wondered if Grace would change her mind if she knew.
“Well done, everyone,” said Thomas, beaming. “Another Campion’s pantomime triumph. Those Tanner Street boys said they thought it was the best one yet.” He raised an eyebrow. “And of course that is the highest praise possible. John said he was delighted he hadn’t put a match to the place, because he wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
Rose smiled. She was pleased that Thomas had lifted the ban. The Tanner Street boys may be trouble, but they were as much a part of the weft and weave of Campion’s daily life as Lottie, Dolores and O’Leary. It was better to embrace them, warts and all, than try to keep them out. They belonged at Campion’s in a way that none of the toffs who made the journey south across the river would ever be able to claim.
There had been plenty of toffs in tonight, and Rose wondered just how shocked they would have been if they’d realised that it was Grace Easingford, shortly to be the wife of the upstanding Godfrey Caskins, who had played Prince Charming so delightfully, soaring across the stage like a bird, her legs exposed above her boots. But she was confident that both Grace and Aurora were unrecognisable in their costumes, and if anyone voiced suspicions they would be strenuously denied.
The party had begun. Jem, part of the Campion’s company, was playing the fiddle and most people were dancing. Everyone who worked at Campion’s was there, apart from Madame de Valentina, who had departed straight after her act as usual, vanishing into the night. Even Pru had stayed on, and she was dancing with a smile on her face – the first real one since her mother’s sudden death. Rose had tried to persuade Ella to join them, but she had said that she was tired and would prefer to stay in the kitchen.
“You must be the only Cinderella who doesn’t want to go to the ball,” said Rose with a grin, and although it made Ella smile, she said, “I am quite content here on my own,” and she picked up her book. Rose noticed that she was reading The Winter’s Tale.
“I love that play. Maybe it’s because I’m a lost baby myself.”
“It’s wonderful,” replied Ella, “and so true about how jealousy can lead to great loss.” Then she added, “The past cannot be undone. But we can forgive, and be redeemed. Off you go, Rose. Enjoy yourself. And have a dance for me.”
As she danced with Aurora and Effie, Rose thought about The Winter’s Tale and its story of a mother and child separated and lost to each other. Maybe she should follow up on the information that Inspector Cliff had given her. She looked around the room at the sea of happy faces. Only a few were standing or sitting at the margins. Perd
ita was one of them, sitting alone in a seat in the shadows, where she could observe the party without participating in it. On several occasions, Rose looked up to find Perdita’s eyes fixed on her, a pensive look on her face. Rose thought about trying to drag her into the circle of dancers, but decided against it. You couldn’t make people join in the dance if they didn’t want to, and there was something about Perdita’s stance that suggested she would be resistant, although the longing in her eyes told another story. Rose thought it was almost as if Perdita was punishing herself in some way.
After a while she, Effie and Rory were so hot that they headed for the stage door so that they could stand in the yard and enjoy the freezing air. O’Leary was sitting at the stage door dozing, content with half a bottle of brandy by his side. He woke up with a jump as they passed.
“Hello, girls. Enjoying yourselves?”
“Yes, we just came for a breath of air.”
“On your way back, can you give that to Miss Grace,” said O’Leary, pointing to a small spray of white carnations held together by a pin, on to which was secured a single diamond earring. A note addressed to Miss Jenny Roberts was also attached.
“Pretty,” observed Rose, picking up the spray. As she did so the note fell open. Written in copperplate script were the words, “A gift for Jenny, a beautiful little tiger, from the tiger hunter. Meet me at midnight on the steps of St Paul’s Cathedral if you would like the second earring. Look for a white carnation.”
“O’Leary,” asked Rose urgently. “Who delivered this and when?”
O’Leary shrugged. “A messenger boy. About an hour ago.”
“What’s wrong, Rose?” asked Effie.
Rose held up the note so Effie and Rory could both read it. They gasped.
“It’s very similar to the note that was delivered with Ivy’s tiger,” said Effie.
“It is,” said Rose. “And the earring is just like the ones I saw Ivy wearing, shortly before she was shot. Maybe whoever sent this note was also the person who killed Ivy.”
