Iris had been sick ever since we left Kuala Lumpur but no one had wanted to admit it, least of all Iris herself. She’d pretended to be too ill to see Valentine off the day she left, so it was odd that she wasn’t too ill to sing and dance.
Mr Milligan pushed his way through the crowd of Lilliputians that stood grumbling outside the dressing room. He put his head around the door and gestured for Miss Thrupp to come and talk to him. Just before he pulled the door shut again, I heard him say, ‘He’s going to kill one of the kiddies before too long if he keeps this up, and if you won’t speak to him, then I will!’
I hurried down to where Lizzie was folding costumes into a trunk.
‘I think Mr Milligan is going to have words with Mr Arthur,’ I whispered.
Lizzie dropped the costume and put her hands on my shoulders. ‘You were with Iris before she went on stage, weren’t you, Poesy? What was she like?’
I tipped my head to one side. ‘She said she wanted to go on. Though she looked peculiar. Her eyes were all shiny, in the wrong way. And Miss Thrupp said she had a fever, like the one Daisy had in Kuala Lumpur.’
‘And Lo said she shouldn’t go on, didn’t she? Lo told her she was going to take her back to the hotel in a gharry, but Iris refused.’
‘Well, she cried when Mr Arthur said he’d give her part to someone else if she didn’t buck up. If she didn’t play Winifred, then Tilly would have taken her place and that would have made Iris sicker than any old fever.’
Lizzie gave me a funny look and I realised something new about myself. I had sounded rather sly and unkind. But it was true. Iris would rather die than have Tilly play Winifred.
Lizzie took one of my hands and stroked it gently. ‘Poesy, I want you to do something for me. Not just for me but for our dear Mr Arthur. Mr Milligan will set upon Arthur if we’re not careful. He’s been stewing over this ever since Daisy fell ill. You know Daisy and Iris are Mr Milligan’s favourites. If Mr Milligan takes it on himself to challenge Arthur, it will be bad for all of us. So I want you to go and tell Mr Milligan what you just told me.’
‘Why don’t you go and talk to him?’ I asked.
‘Because he won’t believe anything I say,’ she said. She turned me around and gave me a little shove in the direction of the dressing rooms.
I found Mr Milligan packing away his limelight, laying the cylinders side by side and arranging all the tanks and tubing in his special trunks. He was muttering to himself as he worked so I knew he was grumpy.
I tapped him very shyly on the shoulder and he scowled until he turned and saw it was me.
‘I thought I should tell you about Iris,’ I said, suddenly uncertain of what exactly I was meant to be saying.
‘What about the little lass, then?’ he asked, looking alarmed. ‘She’s not taken a turn for the worse?’
‘No,’ I said, swallowing hard, hoping Iris was better and that what I was about to say wasn’t really a fib. ‘It’s that she can’t be very ill because she insisted, absolutely insisted, on going on stage tonight. We were in the dressing room together and she cried when Lo, I mean Eloise, I mean Mrs Quedda, when Mrs Quedda said she should go back to the hotel.’
‘Mrs Quedda, eh?’ he said, his bushy eyebrows meeting as he frowned. I knew what he meant. It was hard to believe she was a ‘Mrs’ anything – she didn’t seem grown-up enough – but she was married and she did have a baby.
‘Yes. She was very worried for Iris but Iris insisted and cried and stamped her foot.’ I’d exaggerated a little – she hadn’t really stamped her foot but it wouldn’t have been out of character for her to do it, so it was only a tiny white lie. ‘What could anyone do but let Iris have her way?’ I asked, turning my palms upwards in an empty gesture.
Mr Milligan took each of my hands and held them firmly in his big, warm grasp. ‘I’m not sure, little Poesy, why you’ve come to tell me this. I hope it’s out of the goodness of your heart. I hope it’s because you want the best for your little friend and not because some weaselly gentleman put you up to it.’
I blushed and snatched my hands away from his. ‘Of course not. Mr Arthur would never do something like that. I simply thought you should know, because you looked so worried, I thought . . .’
Mr Milligan nodded and went back to disassembling the limelight. It smelt funny around him – sharp and unpleasant. Charlie had told me it was only calcium oxide, but that acrid stench mingled with my uneasy sense of guilt and seeped into my skin.
Was it wrong to want everyone to get along? Was it wrong to try pouring oil on troubled waters? I wandered back to the empty theatre and sat on the edge of the stage, dangling my feet above the disused orchestra pit. It was so melancholy without the audience. If only the show could go on forever and the curtain never fall. These days, the only time the Lilliputians seemed to be truly happy was when we were on stage, pretending we were little grown-ups. I wished we never had to take off our costumes and go back to being ourselves.
28
WHITE SLAVES
Tilly Sweetrick
‘I sold seven portraits tonight, even though the audience was so teeny,’ I announced. ‘But beastly old Mr Arthur took all my money!’
I wasn’t quite ready to call him ‘Butcher’ in front of everyone, especially not Eliza. Of course, she had only sold one of her portraits so she was looking particularly pouty, though the Butcher had probably let her keep her money. She pretended she hadn’t heard me as we stood waiting at the stage door while the men and boys brought out the last of our trunks.
A pair of bullocks stood idling between the stocks of a wagon loaded with props and costumes. Mr Milligan strapped on the last of the portmanteaus and waved to the driver to leave. We crushed into gharries, four across with Daisy and Flora on our laps. The warm evening air smelt sweet. I reached out to a cascade of white flowers tumbling over a fence as we drove past in our open carriage. The petals fell sprinkling across our skirts like tiny stars.
The steamer for India was nowhere near as nice as the Ceylon. It was actually a cargo vessel. We’d never had to board at night before either. Stingy Old Mr Arthur probably wanted to save on the cost of lodgings. He’d stopped giving us our pocket money in Kuala Lumpur and I’d overheard him arguing with all the grown-ups about their wages. He hadn’t paid them in weeks.
Stokers moved like shadows across the deck and disappeared below to tend the furnaces. Coolies unloaded our baggage from the wagons and carried it up the gangplank on their backs and on their heads.
We were scattered higgledy-piggledy through the ship. All the middling and little girls, except Iris, were put into a long dormitory in steerage. Only Mr Arthur, Miss Thrupp, the Queddas and Eliza were given cabins. I didn’t know where the boys went but I saw them being rounded up by Mr Jim and Mr Milligan. Later, I found out they’d slept in hammocks along with the crew. I wondered what little Henry Howard made of it all. He was scared of grown-up men and I could imagine how frightened he’d be if the stokers, with their black faces and coal-stained clothes, woke him during the night.
It was only when Miss Thrupp came to our dormitory to do a head count that we realised Ruby was gone. At first we thought she was somewhere on board the ship but then it became clear that no one knew where she was. We all filed up on deck and stood in line as Mr Arthur and the captain went from one child to the next, grilling them about the last moment they had seen Ruby.
When they were halfway through interrogating us, the captain turned to Mr Arthur and said, ‘If you cannot find her before morning, we’ll have to sail without her or put you all ashore.’
Mr Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but what could he say? We were booked to appear in Calcutta and the theatre was waiting for us.
I could see Mr Arthur growing angrier, as each child denied any knowledge of where Ruby had gone. Max Kreutz stood between Poesy and me with his thumbs hooked into his braces and a scowl on his face. Poesy grabbed his arm and gave it a little shake.
‘Max, you and Ruby w
ere talking after the performance tonight. I saw you. When the other girls were getting into the carriages, you were standing beside Ruby. Did she give any hint of what she was planning?’
‘If she did, I wouldn’t tell you, tattler,’ said Max.
Poesy’s face crumpled as if he had slapped her. Mr Arthur swivelled in our direction and grabbed the front of Max’s shirt. ‘And I won’t tell you, neither,’ said Max, looking Mr Arthur straight in the eye. He had grown so much in these past few months that he was almost as tall as a man. He jutted his chin as he spoke and held his fists tightly clenched by his sides.
A hush fell on the deck. Everyone was holding their breath. The only sounds were the cries of the coolies down on the dock and the wash of the ocean against the steamer.
Mr Arthur’s face grew pale. ‘Do you have any idea what could happen if we don’t find her before this ship sails?’
‘You’ll be ruined,’ said Max, his eyes glittering, his lips two thin, bitter lines.
Mr Arthur dragged him away and disappeared below deck. We knew Max was set for a strapping. Freddie, his twin, stood scowling at the top of the stairs. We girls formed huddles or hung over the railing staring out over the black port, wondering where in the world Ruby could be.
‘She’s been taken by the white slave trade,’ wailed Pearl.
‘No, she stowed away on Tempe and Clarissa’s steamer.’
‘She’s hiding in a trunk and they’ll let her out once the ship’s at sea.’
‘But hasn’t their ship already sailed?’ asked Iris.
‘She’s run off with a stagedoor Johnny.’
‘She’s hiding so Max will get in trouble. He fancies her and she’s letting everyone know.’
Then we were all silent, thinking about Max. Freddie stood by the entrance to the cabins, twisting his hands.
‘Max is in big trouble, isn’t he?’ asked Daisy of no one in particular.
Ten minutes later, Max staggered up on deck with one hand cupped over his eye.
Mr Arthur pushed him out of the way as he strode down the gangplank and onto the docks. We saw his figure disappear into the tangle of boats, cargo and men. Eliza and Poesy stood at the rail, watching him go.
‘I hope he finds her,’ said Eliza.
‘I hope he doesn’t,’ said Max. ‘I hope she gets home and tells everyone what a butcher he is and that Mr Kelly comes to fetch Beryl and Pearl. That would fix him. You know, he hasn’t even been paying our ma for all the work we done? Me and Freddie got a wire from her asking where was her shillings. Then he has the cheek to strap me and his ruddy buckle cut me hard. We ain’t any better than slaves. ’
Eliza didn’t speak straight away. I saw her watching us all closely as the shock of Max’s announcement rippled through the hazy darkness. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying,’ she said slowly. ‘The Percivals often hold back our wages until well into the tour. You should remember that happened last time with Mrs Essie. No one was paid until the tour was established. Your greedy Ma will get her precious shillings. But do you care about money more than Ruby? She isn’t safe, Max. Mr Arthur has to make her safe. Tempe and Clarissa had an escort. If Ruby went back to Australia alone, no one will believe her. Her reputation will be in tatters.’
‘Like yours?’ said Max, with a crooked smile. He took his hand away from his eye and we all saw the gash. A deep, dark cut above his brow, oozing blood. ‘He done this to me for defending Ruby’s honour and not giving away her secrets. That’s what my ma taught me was the genteel thing to do – keep a lady’s secrets.’
‘How dare you! Mr Arthur is more of a gentleman than you will ever be, Max Kreutz,’ said Eliza.
Max laughed. ‘If that’s what you call a gentleman, I don’t want to be one.’
29
ACROSS THE BAY OF BENGAL
Poesy Swift
I sat down on my bunk and banged the hard, lumpy horsehair mattress with my fist. I was terribly worried by what Max had said. Mumma was counting on those thirty shillings a month. I could only hope she wouldn’t have to wait much longer. At least when the money did arrive, there would be a great wad of it and Chooky and Yada and Mumma could all go down to Swan Street for a treat of fish and chips.
The thought of fish and chips made me realise our dormitory was rather stinky. There were fifteen girls in the room and it smelt sour with coal and grease.
‘Thtinky-poo,’ said Daisy, putting her thumb in her mouth. Her eyes looked too big for her face and her lovely plump cheeks had hollowed out since Kuala Lumpur. ‘Read me a story, Poesy, please,’ she said, nuzzling her head against me.
‘I’m too tired,’ I said. ‘We should sleep.’
‘I can’t fweep if you bon’t wead to me,’ said Daisy, talking with her thumb in her mouth so the words were all but incomprehensible. ‘Wead me Gwullfa!’
‘Gulliver? Not tonight.’ My mind was churning with worry. The only thought I could hold was the one that would bring Ruby back to us.
‘I want Gull!’ said Daisy, taking her thumb out to shout.
‘Go on, Poesy. Don’t be selfish,’ said Tilly. ‘You can’t start her off on a story and then abandon her. You can’t abandon people just because you’re tired of them.’
I wanted to cry but instead I pushed the little green book into Tilly’s hands. ‘You read to her if it’s so important.’
‘Did you bring this because your relative wrote it?’ she asked.
‘You know he’s not my relative. It was a present from my granny.’
Daisy climbed onto Tilly’s lap and looked at the pages of the book expectantly.
‘Where were you up to?’ Tilly asked.
‘Wapter Fix,’ replied Daisy, her thumb firmly back in place. I knew she’d already heard Chapter Six but I said nothing as Tilly flipped through the pages until she found the place where Gulliver describes the way the Lilliputians raise their children.
‘Their parents are suffered to see them only twice a year; the visit is to last an hour. They are allowed to kiss the child at meeting and parting but a professor, who always stands by on those occasions, will not suffer them to whisper or use any fondling expression, or bring any presents of toys, sweet-meats and the like.’
‘You see,’ said Flora, who had crept over to join Daisy. ‘They’re like us – perhaps luckier. That’s why Mr Arthur calls us Lilliputians. Read it out again.’
Daisy took her thumb out of her mouth then and the two little girls listened intently as Tilly reread the passage.
‘See – the Lilliputians live just like us,’ cried Flora. ‘And twice a year! They get to see their parents twice a year. Why, I only saw my mama once last year. And you know the Butcher never lets us have anything nice.’
‘Flora!’ I cried. ‘Don’t call Mr Arthur that awful name. Talking like that doesn’t make anything better. And besides, that’s only a story. We’re not really Lilliputians, we’re not tiny people from a strange island. We’re ordinary girls.’
Tilly shut the book and stroked the spine.
‘Oh, let them complain,’ she said. ‘They’re still little enough to be like real Lilliputians. Besides, complaining about it makes us all feel better.’
‘No, it makes us all feel bitter.’
‘Are you on his side then?’ she asked. ‘Will you start tagging after him like Lionel?’
I punched the lumpy pillow on my bunk again but it didn’t stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks. Everyone stared at me as if I was a horrible freak.
‘Oh don’t start blubbing,’ said Tilly. She shut the book and pushed the little girls off her lap. ‘Come with me, Poesy Swift. You and I need to have a jolly good chat.’
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear what she had to say but I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and followed her up the ladder and onto the deck. Tilly led me to the bow of the steamer and turned to face me, her hands on her hips.
‘Listen, you have to stop acting like a baby,’ she said. ‘For goodness sake! You’re thirteen years
old. You’ve got nothing to sook about.’
‘Everyone thinks I tattled. All the girls are being beastly to me. And now Ruby has been stolen by white slave traders and it’s my fault.’
‘Pish-posh! You need to get a few things straight. For one thing, I don’t think you tattled and neither did Ruby. Tempe said it wasn’t your fault, so Ruby running away is nothing to do with you. But it’s no wonder she’s done a runner. She’s lost Tempe and Clarissa, her two best friends in the world. Mr Arthur has been a cad and you have to admit it and stop sticking up for him. You saw with your own two eyes. When he loses his temper, he behaves exactly like a butcher.’
‘But he won’t be like that any more. I’m sure he won’t. Now that Tempe is gone, things will be different. He’ll make it up to Ruby. Everything will be better.’
‘There you go, doing it again. Jumping to his defence. You’re as bad as Eliza.’
I was going to say something sharp in reply but then I realised Tilly was blinking back tears.
‘You used to be my friend, Poesy. Now the only person you care about is your Lizzie. I’ve lost Valentine. Do you have any idea what that means to me?’
She flung her arms around my neck and sobbed on my shoulder. I didn’t know what to say. I’d never seen Tilly cry before. I stroked her hair and when her sobs had subsided I dried her cheeks with the edge of my pinafore.
‘I’m sorry, Tilly. It must be awful. But you do have lots of other friends. I only have Lizzie.’
She smiled, almost shyly, and took my hand. ‘You could be my friend again, if you wanted. If you were nice to me, all the other girls would follow my lead and everyone would like you. But there is one thing, Poesy, that I really think you have to face. You’re not a little baby any more. If we are going to be friends, you do have to grow up.’
After Tilly left me, I found a spot between a lifeboat and the railing and sat on a pile of rope, watching the docks, hoping to see Mr Arthur returning with Ruby on his arm. I was worn out but I knew I couldn’t sleep. If thoughts could make things happen, as Yada always said, then the only thought I would hold in my mind was the one that would bring Ruby safely back to us. I watched for hours, yet I saw nothing but dark-skinned Malays moving cargo on the docks.
India Dark Page 11
