‘He saw you. He knows what we’ve done. He says he’ll cut off my hair the minute we leave Madras,’ I whispered, drying my tears with the back of my hand. ‘Please. I can’t leave for Colombo with him.’
Mr Ruse took the stairs two at a time with the notary hot on his heels. Mr Wilkes took my arm and tried to lead me to a chair, but I had to know what was happening. I tore myself away from the old man and followed the others up the stairs. As I stood behind Mr Ruse, I saw the colour drain out of the Butcher’s face.
‘You’ve threatened this child for the last time, Percival,’ said Mr Ruse. ‘Your jig is nearly up. We’ve taken statements and they will be sent to Colombo and Rangoon and Hong Kong – to every port in the Empire, so that wherever you go, your reputation will precede you. Nobody will have a bar of you. You’ll never be able to hold your head up in public again.’
‘You ruin me and you’ll ruin these children too.’
‘Nevertheless, you must be held to account,’ said Mr Ruse.
The Butcher laughed as if he couldn’t believe that Mr Ruse could be so ridiculous.
‘You think I like caring for these brats? You think they’re so wonderful? You try taking them in hand! I’m sick and tired of the selfish, whining lot of them. I’m sick of this whole damned business. I’ve done nothing but bleed money ever since we set out. If someone would pay their fares back to Australia, I’d be more than pleased to hand them over.’
Mr Ruse should have called the Butcher’s bluff then and there but he was afraid. He turned on his heels and shot me a look that I couldn’t read. Was it an apology for his weakness or a promise of things to come?
50
STRIKE
Poesy Swift
I wished I could magic away the day I lied about Mr Arthur, make every word I’d said vanish from the pages of Mr Bowes’ big black book. My mouth felt burnt from the untruths. But the die was cast. There was no turning back.
Our last night in Madras we all seethed with restless energy. You could feel it like a mutinous rage rippling through the troupe. Only Tilly was possessed of an eerie calm. She said she’d met with Mr Ruse before the show and everything was under control. She glided between one group of children and the next, rehearsing each of us for the denouement.
For a while, I didn’t think the men would come, that we hadn’t really set anything in motion. After the show, I stayed backstage with Charlie. I had to have someone to anchor me, to stop me from feeling as though the whole world was unravelling.
It was after midnight when the men finally arrived. Most of the audience had gone and we had packed the last of our things in a desultory way. Freddie and Max seized their moment and cornered Lionel. I took hold of Charlie’s wrist and held him fast, to stop him intervening. I could feel he was trembling.
Lionel was carrying Mr Arthur’s cashbox in his arms so there wasn’t much he could do when Freddie swung the first punch. It was an oddly silent scuffle. In a moment, Max and Freddie had bundled Lionel into a cupboard, shoved the cashbox into his lap and told him to stay put until they came back for him or they’d beat him up again.
‘I can’t bear this,’ said Charlie, running outside.
I found him standing on the steps of the Pavilion, his face in his hands while moths and insects buzzed in the light above our heads.
Then the men came out of the shadows. There were more than twenty. Their white shirts caught the light. I saw Mr St John among them and Mr Wilkes as well.
Mr Arthur had been packing up his ticket box and was carrying it along the top verandah. When he saw the men he hurried to the stairs but they surrounded him before he could reach the foyer. He backed up against the balustrade and the men closed in around him in a circle on the staircase.
‘I warned you, Percival,’ said Mr Ruse. ‘You can’t take the children to Colombo. We won’t have it.’
Mr Arthur glanced at the crowd of men who flanked Ruse and his face grew strangely vacant. I couldn’t be sure if he was afraid or amused.
‘This is my company, sir. These children are contracted to me. I have no idea why you suggest I cannot employ and transport them as I see fit.’
‘They’re afraid of you, man, with good reason. And we’re here to see that the children’s interests are protected. They won’t go any further with you. Not one step. Myself, Mr Wilkes and Mr Baker are with the SPCC.’
‘What’s that? Saps that Persecute Commercial Companies?’
There was a mixture of laughter and outrage from the men. Some of them shouted abuse at Mr Arthur, calling him ‘cur’ and ‘ruffian’.
‘This is not a joke, Percival, I assure you,’ said Mr Ruse.
‘I don’t suppose it is,’ he replied. ‘There is nothing amusing about being responsible for twenty-six young people. But you can have them, if you want them so much. I dare you. You take responsibility and you’ll find out. Feed them, dress them, pay their fares. Put up with their tantrums, their deceit, their hysteria, and then wipe their mouths when they’ve been sick all over you.’
He glanced over the balustrade to where a group of us were standing, staring up at him. I don’t know what he thought he read in our faces but it must have made him a little bolder.
‘I don’t believe many of them wish to go with you. I’ve trained these kiddies since they were infants, some of them for more than a decade. I am like a father to them. Whatever that lying little minx Sweetrick has told you, you’ll find they’re not all as disloyal as she.’
As the argument swelled, the rest of the Lilliputian cast and crew came out of the Pavilion. They lined the balconies to watch.
‘Gather the children together, Tilly,’ said Mr Milligan. ‘Each of you must make your choices.’
Mr Ruse’s eyes flickered over the group.
‘If you move, Percival,’ he said, ‘if you so much as breathe a word of threat to any one of these innocents, it will be as much as your life is worth.’
Mr Arthur grimaced and held his ground while Tilly dodged among us, checking that we all knew what to say. When she came to me, she gave my arm a little squeeze. ‘You only have to tell the truth this time.’
I swallowed hard, swallowed all my lies and braced myself for what lay ahead.
We were herded into a line, all twenty-five of us. At the very end of the line was Lizzie. I saw her step away, into the shadows of the Pavilion, her face pale in the darkness. It was like a mask, without expression or feeling.
Mr Arthur caught sight of her and for the first time his face twisted with grief. He turned on Mr Ruse. ‘You take these children by force, Ruse, and you accept responsibility for the hell they’ll deliver up to you.’
Mr Ruse ignored him and asked us, one after the other. ‘Will you go with Percival to Colombo, or will you come away?’
As a chorus, we chanted, just as Tilly had rehearsed us: ‘We’re afraid to go with him, sir. We don’t want to go any further.’
Then one by one, we were marched past Mr Arthur, made to stop before him and stare straight into his frightened blue eyes.
‘Will you go with Mr Percival or will you come away with us?’ asked Mr Ruse.
‘I’m afraid,’ I said. My chest hurt and I put one hand against my ribs and pressed it to still the ache. ‘I don’t want to go with him.’
I couldn’t look at Mr Arthur as I denied him, but I watched Tilly as she spoke. She spat the words at him. Most of the children looked at their boots, some for fear of Mr Arthur, some for shame, but Tilly stared so hard at him that he turned away from the triumph in her gaze.
Only Lionel was absent, but that had always been part of the plan. No one asked after him. Lizzie stood back the whole time, absolutely silent. She didn’t declare her loyalty. She didn’t need to. No one expected her to turn on her lover.
I thought it was over, I thought we would be able to walk away at last, but Tilly rested her hand on Mr Ruse’s arm and said, ‘Our pocket money. Don’t forget our pocket money.’
Mr Ruse smiled and nodded
. You could tell he was feeling emboldened by his success.
‘You owe these children 105 rupees in pocket money, Percival. You must pay it to them before you dare to leave the country.’
We couldn’t believe it. I shook my head, so sure that there would be no money to give, but Mr Arthur pulled a wad of rupees from his pocket and counted them out. Then Mr Ruse wrote out a receipt for him, while Tilly stood by his elbow, whispering urgently. Mr Ruse looked down at her and nodded.
‘The children intend to raise their own money for the fares without any assistance from you,’ he announced. ‘We’ll need their wardrobe, the music box and the sets as well.’
‘It’s too late,’ said Mr Arthur. He ran his hand through his hair, as if now there was nothing left but to accept his utter defeat. ‘Most of the sets, the music box and the costumes were sent ahead days ago. Last night’s and tonight’s have already gone to the station. You can’t have them.’
‘We’ll pay the necessary railway charges for the return of the trunks.’
Mr Arthur rustled in his pocket and pulled out a railway receipt for the baggage and scribbled something on it so that Mr Ruse had permission to take the goods. ‘Good luck and be damned,’ he muttered.
As the gharry with Mr St John and a group of us girls drove away, I saw Eliza standing alone in the street outside the Pavilion, watching us leave. Her face was whiter than her dress. She looked like a ghost, her eyes dark, her hair coming loose.
For a moment, I wanted to run back to her, to beg her to come away with us, but then Mr Arthur stepped into the road. Slowly she walked towards a gharry with Lionel and Mr Arthur on either side of her. They each held one of her elbows, as if she were about to collapse or take flight, like a broken butterfly.
51
RISING STARS
Tilly Sweetrick
We drove to the Castle Hotel in triumph, only to find all our things had been sent to the station and our rooms assigned to new customers. It was terribly annoying. We decided to eat at the Castle anyway because at least they were used to serving us after midnight. Normally we would have had supper in our rooms, but this time we ate in the dining room and Ruby and I sat either side of Mr Ruse to discuss what lay ahead.
Some of the younger girls put their heads on the table and were asleep before supper arrived. It was nearly two in the morning but I felt fresh as the day. It was the loveliest feeling, to know we were free.
Then the most appalling thing happened. Mr Ruse spotted the Butcher. He was walking up the stairs with Eliza and Lionel, like three beaten curs with their tails between their legs. I don’t know what came over Mr Ruse. He simply couldn’t seem to accept that Lionel and Lizzie were happy to stay with the Butcher. He chased them up the stairs and we could hear him arguing with Lionel, who obviously didn’t want to join us in the dining room.
Then Charlie, who had looked black as thunder all evening, went racing up the stairs too and then Poesy after Charlie. What could I do but run after them?
By the time we reached the second floor, Mr Ruse was dusting his hands, as if he’d just completed a rather dirty job.
‘I’ve locked him in. I’ve locked him in and I’m sending for the police. He’s a moral outrage and the girl and boy should be taken from him by force.’
‘Eliza is eighteen years old, Mr Ruse. I don’t think the police can take her against her will.’
‘But they can take the boy,’ said Mr Ruse, looking a little hurt that I wasn’t pleased.
Charlie was standing by the door with his ear pressed against it, listening to Lionel who was shouting through the keyhole. Then he turned to us and his mouth trembled.
‘Old Man Percy, he’s got a gun. He’s got a gun and he says he’s going to use it on someone if we don’t all come back to him.’
Mr Ruse was so shocked that he stumbled backwards and then fled down the stairs, calling to the hotel staff for aid.
I felt strangely calm, despite everything. When Lizzie came bursting into the hall from another doorway, I didn’t feel the least surprised.
She stopped, suddenly embarrassed at the sight of us all, standing like characters in a melodrama. She didn’t speak to me. I might as well have been invisible. It was Poesy and Charlie she directed her sad little speech towards.
‘I came through the connecting bathroom. He doesn’t know I’m gone. You must get the door open. You simply must get the door open and tell him you’ll come back to him.’
It was Charlie who solved it all too quickly. Charlie and his sneaky magic. He pulled a little pocketknife from his jacket, fiddled with the lock, and in a moment he had the door open.
‘Come away, Poesy, Charlie. Come away from there this instant,’ I said crossly.
I backed down the stairs, ready to run the minute the Butcher came into view. But when the door opened there was only Lionel there, his face drawn, and in the background, we could see a figure hunched in a chair, sobbing. I could hardly believe it was the Butcher. He was crying like a baby.
‘It’s all right now, Lizzie,’ said Lionel. ‘I’ve hidden the pistol. He won’t harm himself.’
He stared at Charlie as if he was a stranger. ‘Go on, you lot, bugger off. Why are you standing around gawking? It’s not a sideshow. You’re not wanted here.’
Poesy cried all the way to Mr St John’s house.
‘Do stop, Poesy,’ I said, trying to contain my irritation. Mr St John was looking distinctly embarrassed. We all knew Poesy was his favourite. Most of the children had been taken away from the Castle Hotel because of the trouble with the Butcher, and Mr St John had been happy to have a group of us as long as Poesy was included. We could have stayed at the hotel, because the Butcher, his lackey and his lover had been thrown out into the street by the manager, but Mr Ruse was determined to send the girls away.
‘I can’t stop thinking about Lionel and Eliza,’ Poesy sobbed. I knew she had almost added ‘and Mr Arthur’ because, I swear, that girl was part chameleon. She could change her colours more times in an evening than there were hours in a day.
‘Don’t you worry about them,’ I said. ‘They’ll probably spend the night at the train station, sleeping in a carriage. Or take it all the way to Tuticorin. And we shouldn’t mind. What they do from now on is their business. Our business is to earn our fares home.’
Mr St John’s bungalow wasn’t quite as luxurious as I’d hoped and we were all put in one room together, but in the end it didn’t matter. I didn’t sleep all night. I felt strange and new-made and as if all the world was mine.
We were back at the Castle Hotel within a day and I was rather pleased to have the run of the place again. Ruby and I had a room to ourselves and we organised all the younger girls into new groups while Max and Freddie took charge of the boys.
The papers were full of the story of our strike. All of a sudden, people from all over Madras turned up at the hotel wanting to meet us and hear our story, people who hadn’t even bothered to come to our performances. Which was lucky, because we needed to do a whole new season of shows to earn enough for our fares home.
I wanted to secure the Lyric Theatre on the corner of Ellis Road, but when Mr Giacomo d’Angeli, a darling Corsican, announced himself at the Castle, we were glad of his offer of a venue. We were dependent on the kindness of strangers.
Two days later our very first show was held on the Parisian rooftop garden of Mr d’Angeli’s hotel. The terrace glowed with electric light and he had to turn people away at the door, the publicity had been so extravagant.
Before the show began, Ruby and I stood at the parapet, our arms around each other’s waists. The city stretched beneath us, with its wide boulevards and grand old houses, the crowded bazaars and in the distance the shimmering sea. Though the day had been unbearable in its heat, the evening was as warm as a sweet embrace. Ruby turned to me and kissed my cheek.
‘You have saved us all, Tilly. You have saved me especially and I will never, ever forget.’
We watched the eve
ning star rise up from the sea and waited for our audience.
52
TAKING CHARGE
Tilly Sweetrick
Everybody wanted us. They flocked to the Castle Hotel to make proposals to me and Ruby. There were so many offers of venues that it was hard for us to decide where to go next. We did another show at d’Angeli’s before moving on to the first floor of Misquith’s Music Shop. It was after our third successful show that the trouble started.
Eddie and Lo and little Bertie, Mr Milligan, Jimmy and Miss Thrupp had gone to the Commercial Hotel on the night of the strike but eventually the lot of them turned up at the Castle, looking very sorry for themselves. Ruby and I were eating breakfast when Eddie Quedda came simpering into the dining room while the rest of them waited in the foyer.
Eddie sat down at our table, bobbing his head. ‘Girls, it’s good to see you all looking so well. You know, me and Lo and the others, we’ve been worried about you lot.’
‘You weren’t very worried about us when the Butcher was knocking us about,’ said Ruby tersely.
Eddie looked to the foyer where Lo was bouncing the baby on her knee. ‘I got a family to support, girls. You got to see things from my point of view. That Mr Ruse of yours, he won’t let us work with you,’ he said, his voice almost wheedling. ‘Mr Arthur has left us in the lurch. We don’t have our fares home and we don’t have much to live on neither.’
‘Pish-posh,’ I said, ‘I saw the Butcher hand you a big wad of cash the night we went on strike. Have you spent it already?’
‘But you didn’t see what he gave me, did you?’ Eddie slapped a couple of funny old Java notes onto the table. ‘They’re worth almost nothing here. It’s rupees we need.’
‘I don’t see why we should help you,’ I said. ‘I know you told the Butcher if he’d pay you, you’d work for him again.’
‘Business is business, Tilly. When we’re back in Melbourne, we’ve got to find work again, just like you. Be fair.’
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