by Lyn Gardner
“And if I do, you’ll leave me be?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” He paused. “But if you don’t, it will be bad news for your mother. She’ll grow old in the clink. If she’s lucky…”
Josiah Pinch watched Effie slip away, her head low and her shoulders hunched. He smiled. She had no idea how much she had helped him already.
Aurora heaved Lizzie into the bed and waited patiently to make quite sure that she had sunk into a deep sleep. For the last few days Lizzie had been in an unexpectedly good mood, walking around with a little smirk on her face as if she knew something. It made Aurora nervous. Twice she had heard Lizzie asking O’Leary if a letter had come for her. Every afternoon she took Aurora with her to the Four Cripples, where she worked her way through a jug of gin in record time.
“My ship’s about to come in,” she crowed as she jabbed Aurora in the chest with a pudgy finger. She took another swig of gin. “Lizzie Gawkin knows how to play the long game. More than twelve years I’ve waited for this. Twelve years of slumming it in the halls. But it won’t be much longer and then I’ll get all I deserve.” She signalled to Aurora to pour more gin, but the jug was empty. Aurora braced herself to be pinched and sworn at, but instead Lizzie tried to stand up. For a moment she swayed like a tree in a high wind and then she fell to the floor, dead drunk.
It was a struggle to pick her up and lug her to the lodging house but Aurora managed in the end. She wanted Lizzie away from Campion’s. This was her chance to get a good look in the trunk, see if she could find any clues to her history in that little box Lizzie guarded so closely.
With any luck the woman would sleep right through tonight’s performances and she wouldn’t have to face her constant criticism when she came off stage, or the pinching and poking that went with it. Lizzie’s drinking was getting worse, and it was making her ever more unpleasant. Aurora knew that Rose had noticed her bruised arms but she’d kept her mouth shut. Any interference was sure to make Lizzie worse, not better.
Lizzie had been talking about moving to a music hall in Blackfriars, which had a terrible reputation. Aurora knew she’d be eaten alive by a Blackfriars audience. At least at Campion’s, Thomas ran a tight ship. But she knew her old act was no longer drawing in the crowds. She wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t renew her contract at the end of the week.
Aurora waited by Lizzie’s bed, itching to get to Campion’s. She wanted to make quite sure that there was no chance Lizzie would awaken. She looked down at the comatose woman and felt nothing but repulsion. Aurora had never had a family but she had seen from the way people treated each other at Campion’s what family meant, and the way Lizzie treated her didn’t feel anything like that. Well, she was going to find out once and for all if Lizzie was her aunt or not, and if she wasn’t, she was going to throw herself on Thomas Campion’s mercy. He was always kind to her.
When she was quite certain that Lizzie was dead to the world she snaffled the keys from her pocket and made her way to the music hall. She didn’t have long before she was due on stage for her first slot of the evening.
Campion’s was unusually busy today. Some workmen had been in to help the stagehands mend the trap beneath the stage. As Aurora slipped in by the stage door, a number of delivery boys were entering or leaving, entirely unnoticed by the dozing O’Leary.
Aurora headed straight to the dressing room. She took a last peep into the corridor before she shut the door. She saw Effie’s retreating back, and guessed she’d been dropping off some costumes in the ballet girls’ room next door. All clear.
After a quick change into her costume, Aurora got out the keys and glanced anxiously towards the door again, as if expecting Lizzie to come charging in any second.
“Don’t be such a ninny, Aurora,” she said to herself. Lizzie was certain to be snoring in the lodging house for a good few hours yet. Quickly she opened the trunk and peered inside. She took out the small lacquered box, unlocked it and took out a small silver cup and ribbon. She examined the cup and saw the pretty butterfly crest and words in Latin that she didn’t understand. She looked closer at the crest and saw the name Easingford underneath. For a moment she allowed her mind to drift. Maybe she had something to do with the Easingford family. Maybe she was a long-lost baby, snatched from the bosom of her loving family by Lizzie Gawkin. She sighed. If only.
Setting the cup aside, Aurora pulled out some papers in the box. She riffled through them and quickly realised with disgust that Lizzie Gawkin was a blackmailer. She appeared to have been blackmailing somebody at almost every hall they had passed through. Aurora began to hope more than ever she’d find proof that Lizzie Gawkin was not her aunt. She couldn’t bear to be related to such a despicable person.
She saw a sheet of headed notepaper and pulled it out. There was another crest at the top, a different one this time, with flowery letters entwined together. Underneath were the words Ivanhoe House Asylum, Balham. She was about to read on when she heard an all too familiar screech coming down the corridor.
“Aurora! Oh, where is the little brat!”
The girl’s heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t be discovered going through the trunk! She just hoped that Lizzie hadn’t realised her keys were missing.
“Aurora! Aurora!” Lizzie’s voice, which carried like broken bagpipes, was coming nearer. Aurora locked the lacquered box, stuffed it back in the trunk and slammed the lid shut. She fumbled with the keys and they fell on the floor. She snatched them up and stuffed them in the pocket of her costume.
“Aurora!”
She had to stop Lizzie coming into the room, in case seeing the trunk made her reach for her keys and realise they were missing. She opened the door and ran into the corridor. Lizzie was weaving her way along, obviously still very much the worse for wear. She wasn’t wearing her bonnet and gloves, and her hair was falling out of its bun.
“I’m here! I’m just coming, Auntie,” said Aurora, taking Lizzie’s arm and trying to steer her back towards the stage door. Lizzie frowned. Even in her sozzled state she recognised that Aurora calling her Auntie was unusual.
“What have you been doing?” she demanded suspiciously.
“Just getting myself ready to go on stage,” replied Aurora, her eyes as wide as a newborn lamb. “Come on, let’s get you settled where you can watch or I’ll miss my cue.”
She eased Lizzie into a chair at the side of the stage. Aurora knew she had plenty of time. Molly was just finishing her act, and then there would be a Dutch-doll dance sequence before she was due on. Aurora listened to the crowd. They were unusually raucous for so early in the day, and were being whipped into a frenzy of excitement by Molly’s swirling skirts and a glimpse of knickerbockers and ankle. But Aurora had other things to worry about. If she could just get Lizzie to stay in the chair perhaps she would doze off again, and she would be able to race back to the dressing room, lock the trunk and put the keys back in Lizzie’s pocket before she woke up again.
Lizzie’s eyes rolled. She slumped back and gave a snore so loud that even Molly, who had come to a rest, heard it above the crowd. She looked their way and gave Aurora a wink. Aurora bit her lip. She needed to return to the dressing room and lock the trunk. Lizzie gave another stuttering snore and jerked awake. She looked around dazed. Then she patted her pocket. “My keys! Where are my keys?”
Aurora made a split-second decision. She reached into her pocket deftly and bent down as if looking under the chair.
“Here they are,” she said brightly. “They must have dropped under your chair.” Lizzie grabbed them and pushed them down deep in her pocket just as Molly brushed by, shaking her head and muttering grimly, “’Orrible crowd, but at least they let me live. Just. You’ll need your wits out there tonight, love.”
The chorus ran on from the other side of the stage, all dressed as Dutch dolls, and started twirling wildly so that their skirts and blonde plaits went flying. The crowd seemed to like this display and settled again.
Lizzie had gone back
to sleep and didn’t stir. Aurora wondered whether she had time to filch the keys again, lock the trunk and stuff them back in Lizzie’s pocket without her realising. It was risky. Aurora hesitated, and the chance was lost as Rose appeared to watch the dancers from the side of the stage. Rose was sure to notice her taking the keys off Lizzie. She’d just have to hope that in her inebriated state Lizzie wouldn’t realise that the trunk was unlocked. Or that she’d assume she left it that way herself. The doll dance was coming to an end. Aurora readied herself to step into the heat and glare of the lights and face the audience beyond.
Effie slipped past the half-open door of the ballet dancers’ dressing room and heard the laughter from inside. Not all the girls were in the Dutch-doll routine. One of the girls, Tess, was being teased about a stage-door admirer who sent her flowers every day.
“Lor, Tess,” said Lottie. “Tell him to stop sending lilies. It’s like a ruddy funeral parlour in ’ere. Stick that lot on that table; I can’t move for flowers over ’ere.”
Effie paused, and almost turned back again as she had already done three times this afternoon. Twice she’d lost her nerve halfway down the corridor, and once she had got as far as the door of Lizzie Gawkin’s dressing room before realising that someone was in there. Each failure had felt strangely like a relief.
But it was now or never. Lizzie was slumped drunkenly asleep in her chair at the side of the stage, and even if she did wake she’d stay to watch Aurora, who was about to go on stage. Effie had one of Aurora’s shawls over her arm, just back from the laundry. If anyone found her in the dressing room she could say she’d been delivering it, even though Aurora usually picked up her own laundry parcel from the stage door.
She didn’t want to steal anything but doing nothing was not an option. She knew that Josiah’s threats were never idle. A quick glance behind her, and then she pushed the door of the dressing room and stepped inside.
The trunk was in the middle of the room. Effie tried the lid and to her surprise it opened. She rummaged about, but there was no sign of a silver cup or ribbon, just a small lacquered box. Trembling, she tried the lid. It was locked. Maybe this was what Josiah wanted? Maybe the cup and ribbon were inside and that’s why it was locked. It was better than nothing.
She crept to the door, the box concealed under the shawl, and walked down the corridor. She slipped into the props room and buried the lacquered box inside a trunk full of Aladdin panto stuff. Nobody would find it there and she could come back and get it later. She crammed the shawl on top too.
Effie joined Rose at the side of the stage to watch Aurora, holding her hands tightly together to stop them from trembling. As soon as she had left the box in the props room, she’d regretted taking it. She should just have made something up to tell Josiah and hoped he didn’t carry out his threats. Maybe there was still time to retrieve the box and return it to the trunk?
She went to leave, but Rose slipped her arm through hers. Now she felt even worse. Rose and Thomas had welcomed her into the Campion’s family and she was betraying them by stealing. She dropped her arm from Rose’s. She would retrieve the box and put it back and nobody would ever know. Maybe she could tell Thomas about Josiah. She felt certain he would know what to do. No, she couldn’t, because she’d have to admit she had been a thief. She turned to leave but Rose, who was watching the stage intently, put a restraining hand on her wrist.
“Aurora’s in trouble out there,” she said. “We need to get her off.”
Effie realised she had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t appreciated what a rough time Aurora was having. She was doing one of her most simpering turns and the crowd had no patience with it. Aurora kept faltering, the musicians kept looking for the signal to stop, but the girl would plough on regardless. The crowd were really shouting at her now, booing and braying.
Rose gestured wildly at Aurora to leave the stage, but she stayed, mesmerised, like a deer caught looking down the barrel of a poacher’s gun. Aurora had stopped singing but she didn’t move. She just stood in the glare, seemingly paralysed by fear. One of the stagehands took a step on to the stage to try and grab Aurora, but was greeted by a barrage of missiles. He retreated, knowing that if the crowd were roused further, there’d be a riot. The situation was already out of control.
“Where’s Thomas?” he asked.
“Out.” Rose shook her head helplessly. They needed him. Thomas could quell an audience merely by stepping on stage. The roar was getting louder. The ballet girls came tearing down the corridor.
“Oh, lor,” said Lottie. “They’re goin’ to run riot. It ’appened at the Ledbury last year. Not a stick of furniture or a window that weren’t broken. They ’ad to close for a month.”
Even Lizzie had woken up and was looking around dazed as if she had no idea where she was.
More things were being thrown at the stage. Something hit Aurora on the side of the cheek and she swayed slightly, but still she stood there. The noise was getting louder. A chair was thrown, and then a glass.
“We’ve got to do something,” said Rose desperately, “or they’re going to break the whole place up. We need to give them something they’ve never seen before.”
She suddenly turned to Effie. “Quick! Get the bicycle!”
Effie rushed off and was back in a twinkling with the brightly coloured bicycle covered with daisies. Rose hoiked up her skirts, jumped on and wobbled on to the stage. The musicians saw her coming and knew immediately what they should do. They broke very loudly into “Daisy Bell”, a song that was still new enough to be fresh but which was also hugely popular. “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do, I’m half crazy…”
It was an infectious song and one that the crowd all knew. Lottie and the others at the side of the stage belted out the chorus, “But you’ll look sweet, upon the seat, of a bicycle built for two!” as Rose gathered speed and raced round the stage in circles. At one point she balanced on just one pedal with her other leg straight out behind her like a ballerina. It caught the crowd’s attention and they roared their approval, all the bad temper quickly evaporating.
Aurora stood looking at her as if waking from a bad dream. Rose brought the bicycle to a rest by her side, patted the crossbar and whispered, “Jump on! Here’s your chance to be a nasty common girl! In public!”
Aurora hesitated for a split second, then grinned gratefully, lifted her skirts and leapt on. The two of them raced wildly around the stage, singing with such gaiety and abandon – punctuated by the odd shriek as Rose took a corner too fast – that the audience was utterly captivated. The crowd were on their feet, delirious with delight and thrilled at the sheer daring of two girls together on one bicycle.
Rose made one last circle as the musicians played the final rousing chorus and everyone joined in. Aurora tossed her hat into the crowd and Rose blew everyone a kiss as they cycled off the stage. Effie and the others in the wings were all watching open-mouthed and exhilarated. Rose put the brakes on a little too hard and both girls fell in a heap on the floor. The others helped them up. The crowd were screaming for more.
“Yer better get out there and take a bow,” said Lottie.
Rose grabbed Aurora’s hand and pulled her back on stage, eyes sparkling. They curtseyed and their pleasure in their unexpected success made the audience warm to them even more. The audience stamped and called for an encore. Rose held up a hand, and they fell obediently silent.
“We will be performing the act again in the second show tonight if you would all like to return. If you show your ticket for this performance you will get tuppence off.”
Aurora looked astonished at this news, while the crowd sighed their disappointment that the girls weren’t going to do an encore.
Rose put a finger to her lips and silenced them. “Now the act you’ve all been waiting for, the one and only, the amazing, the beautiful – Dolores! Put your hands together for the queen of the slack wire who will astonish you with her skill and beauty.”
&nb
sp; The audience cheered and settled down to watch. They liked Dolores; she could be quite saucy. Rose pulled Aurora off the stage where everyone showered them with praise. The ballet girls rushed away to change. Lizzie was nowhere to be seen. Effie looked around. Maybe this was her chance to replace the box in the trunk.
Aurora caught Rose’s hand. “Thank you, Rose,” she said. “You saved me out there.”
Rose grinned. “Well, I wasn’t just going to stand by and watch you being savaged. I know how lonely it can feel out there on the stage when things go wrong.”
Aurora’s eyes were damp. “You didn’t have to do it. You could have left me there.” She gulped. “Especially after how stand-offish I’ve been.”
“All forgotten,” said Rose. “Let’s make a fresh start.” She put out her hand. “Rose Campion,” she said with a little bob.
Aurora took Rose’s hand and curtseyed. “Aurora Scarletti.”
The girls laughed. “Do you really mean for us to do it again later?” Aurora asked.
“Why not?” said Rose. “They loved it. We could even work it up into a proper act, give it a bit more structure.”
“Lizzie might have something to say about that,” said Aurora doubtfully.
Rose shrugged. “She might. But if there’s money in it, I doubt she’ll complain. I’ll talk to Thomas––” She broke off at a scream that came from the other end of the corridor.
“I’ve been robbed!” shrieked Lizzie. “I’ve been robbed!”
People came running, including Thomas, who had just returned. Hanging back at the edge of the crowd, Effie felt her cheeks burning. She was sure her guilt was written all over her face. She blinked back tears; her chance to replace the box was gone. There was no going back now. Maybe Josiah was right. Once a thief, always a thief.
Cold gripped the desolate moorland churchyard in its iron teeth, and a bitter wind whipped around the gravestones. The clang of spades against the frozen earth echoed across the moor. A fox cried out somewhere, a painful unworldly sound that made Mr Snetherbridge shudder. He wished he was snug in bed at home in his suburban villa in Chiswick, where his garden was his pride and joy, not out here in a moonlit graveyard with Lord Easingford, as jumpy as a colt, by his side. He looked around at the ancient mausoleum and the Easingford gravestones – vast ornamental marble slabs – that marked the Easingford domain. Even in death the family dominated, pushing all the other graves over to the far side of the churchyard.
