The Sequin Star

by Belinda Murrell

  Rosina grinned at Claire with excitement. ‘And now I’m going to show you a very important skill.’ Rosina pulled the file out of the bucket. ‘How to give an elephant a pedicure.’ Rosina turned the bucket upside down. ‘Up, girl.’ Elsie rose and lifted her huge foot, delicately placing it on top of the bucket. ‘Steady.’

  Kit gamely agreed to file Elsie’s toenails. Elsie ruffled his hair with her trunk. When Elsie was done, it was time to give Empress her bath. Finally, when all the grooming was finished, Kit reluctantly said he had to go.

  When Kit had walked back to the limousine, carrying his discarded clothes, Jem turned to Rosina. ‘Why’d you say we’d go with him?’ he demanded. ‘I thought we’d agreed to go together.’

  Rosina sighed. ‘Don’t be like that, Jem. It’ll be a great opportunity – and we are still going together.’

  ‘What are we going to wear?’ asked Jem. ‘I don’t think your spangled tutu would be quite right for a glitzy, bigwig occasion. We don’t have the money to buy fancy ball gowns, remember?’

  Claire’s heart sank with disappointment. She had no clothes at all, other than her jeans and the ones she had been borrowing from Rosina.

  ‘Don’t you worry, Jem. Claire and I will take care of everything,’ Rosina assured him. ‘This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and we are going to make the most of it.’

  Jem grumbled something under his breath about ‘bloomin’ toffs’.

  ‘Kit’s just trying to be nice,’ Claire added.

  ‘I don’t need his pity, or anyone else’s,’ Jem snapped, storming off.

  Rosina looked at Claire and shrugged.

  ‘Jem’s right,’ said Claire. ‘We’ll need some fancy clothes if we are going to the VIP opening and a ball.’

  ‘Come on,’ Rosina said. ‘Let’s get cleaned up. You and I are going shopping.’

  Rosina’s idea of shopping was to head to the sprawling markets near Chinatown in the city. As well as the vast produce stalls selling fish, fruit and vegetables, there was a smaller market that specialised in second-hand goods. A large number of stalls were piled high with old clothes and shoes – everything from shabby suits, shirts, faded dresses, hats and threadbare gloves to evening wear.

  The markets were dingy and dirty, and Claire felt nervous. Some of the men lurking against the walls looked as though they could be underworld criminals, with their hats pulled low over their faces. One had a sinister scar on his face like a sabre slash. He eyed Claire up and down, and muttered something to his companion. They both sniggered.

  ‘Is it safe here?’ asked Claire nervously as they pushed their way through the heaving crowds.

  ‘Stay close to me,’ Rosina warned, swinging on her crutches. ‘You don’t want to get lost here.’

  The noise was deafening. Vendors yelled out, spruiking their wares. Customers haggled, laughed and argued. In the crush, Claire could smell the fug of unwashed bodies, rotting vegetables and old fish. She grasped hold of Rosina’s elbow and hung on.

  Rosina pointed towards a stall where the clothes looked finer than the rest. ‘That’s the one we want.’

  Many of the other stalls had everyday working clothes in drab, utilitarian colours. This one had better quality clothes in a rainbow of colours and fabrics.

  ‘The rich people in the Eastern suburbs give their old clothing to their servants or away to charity,’ Rosina explained. ‘Lots of it ends up here to be sold. Last time I came with Malia and we bought some beautiful dresses and fabrics really cheaply, which we altered into costumes for the show.’

  Claire’s eyes lit up. ‘So you’re hoping we can find something here we can use for Saturday?’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Rosina. ‘Now the secret is not to show any enthusiasm for anything, and let me do the bargaining. But tell me if you find anything you think might be useful.’

  The girls wandered over to the table. Rosina took off her gloves so she could feel the fabric with her fingertips. She feigned an aloof attitude.

  The woman behind the counter was hard-faced, with her hair cut into a messy bob under a grubby felt hat. She watched the girls with sharp eyes, as though suspecting they might grab and run.

  ‘How much?’ asked Rosina, pointing to an uninspiring print frock. Claire noticed that Rosina adopted a broader, working-class accent when talking to the stallholder.

  ‘Five shillings,’ the woman replied.

  ‘Cripes, no,’ said Rosina, dropping the garment with distaste. ‘I don’t think so.’

  Rosina and Claire rifled through the clothes. Claire felt disheartened; she didn’t like the look of anything there. Many of the clothes were in larger sizes and the styles were quaintly old-fashioned. Others were stained or marked and smelled of stale sweat and mothballs.

  ‘I don’t think there’s anything here at all,’ Claire commented, wrinkling her nose.

  ‘You’re probably right,’ Rosina agreed, putting down a moth-eaten fur stole.

  The stallholder turned away. Rosina raised her eyebrows at Claire meaningfully. She tweaked a dress out from under the pile. It was an old evening dress, shaped a bit like a long sack, but made of an exquisitely soft, green velvet. Then she pulled out another dress made of silky crimson satin. Again, the dress itself was nothing special, but the fabric was luscious.

  Claire looked at Rosina with surprise. She wouldn’t want to go anywhere dressed in either of the dresses. Rosina held the green velvet dress up against Claire.

  ‘No,’ Rosina cried. ‘Definitely not. It looks like a bloomin’ sack on you.’

  Claire stared at Rosina. ‘You think so?’

  ‘Jeepers.’ Rosina shook her head vehemently. ‘That red looks awful.’

  ‘Oh?’ replied Claire, feeling a little confused.

  ‘And this one has a nasty bloomin’ stain on it, right in the front.’ As Rosina was pointing to the mark, she leant in and whispered. ‘Ask her how much it is, and whatever she says, just shake your head and say no.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Claire said hesitantly. ‘How much is this dress?’

  ‘Five bob,’ said the woman. ‘Take it or leave it.’

  Claire shook her head. ‘Oh, no thanks.’

  The woman scowled at Claire and folded the dresses away.

  ‘Two shillings,’ Rosina offered. ‘And that’s daylight robbery.’

  Rosina and the shopkeeper haggled for several minutes more until Rosina was happy with the price for the two dresses. She persuaded the stallholder to throw in two pairs of elbow-length satin gloves.

  At another counter, second-hand shoes were lined up in rows – everything from low-heeled, two-tone Oxford walking shoes to high-heeled satin evening shoes, peep-toe sandals and dancing pumps. Some shoes were shabby and scuffed, their soles unevenly worn. The girls ignored these, searching for the best quality.

  Claire and Rosina tried on several pairs of shoes, although Claire found that most were too small for her feet. Rosina found a pair of crimson evening shoes with silver diamante trim. Then Claire discovered a pair of midnight blue velvet Oxfords with a mid-height heel.

  ‘I love these,’ whispered Claire.

  ‘They’re adorable. Try them on.’

  Claire slipped them on and tied up the satin ribbon. She strolled back and forth, thrilled to discover that they felt comfortable.

  ‘Perfect,’ Claire enthused, her face glowing. This was fortunate; Rosina’s feet were so much smaller than hers that she was reduced to wearing her own brown ankle boots every day.

  ‘They look like they’ve hardly been worn,’ Rosina whispered. ‘There’s just a tiny scratch on the heel.’

  Once the girls had made their selection, Rosina began to haggle with the shopkeeper until they agreed on a sum. The girls packed their purchases away.

  ‘Thanks so much, Rosina,’ said Claire. ‘I’m sorry I don’t have any mone
y to repay you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ retorted Rosina. ‘You’ve been working hard all week, covering for me with my injured knee. It’s the least I can do.’

  Claire carried the purchases in a sugar bag so Rosina could swing along on her crutches. ‘So where do we go now?’ she asked.

  ‘I think that’ll do us,’ said Rosina. ‘Now we need to get back to the lot and get to work. Malia has a sewing machine in her caravan that we use for making costumes. We’re going to create something sensational for us to wear on Saturday night.’

  Claire stroked the soft velvet fabric with a thrill of pleasure. She thought back to shopping excursions to the bright, flashy mall with her friend Amy Thomson. Who’d have thought that buying second-hand rags in a dingy market could be so much fun? Like everything with Rosina, even shopping is an adventure. I wonder what we can possibly make from these two old dresses.

  13

  The Opening

  On the morning of Saturday 19 March 1932, everyone in the circus was up early to get ready for the official bridge opening. However, it was Rosina and Claire who were up earliest of all. When Rosina woke Claire, she had already washed her hair and had it wrapped in an old flour sack.

  ‘Wake up, sleepyhead. No working clothes today,’ said Rosina, blotting her hair dry in front of the spotted mirror. ‘Today we are going to forget the depression and all things shabby. We’re going to look gorgeous!’

  ‘But it’s so early,’ Claire complained, curled up in her bunk. There wasn’t room in the caravan for both of them to move about easily at the same time.

  ‘We need to do our hair and make-up, which will take ages, and wear something glamorous. We’re going to look like Hollywood starlets,’ Rosina promised. Claire looked at Rosina with a flour sack on her head, her threadbare robe and the cluttered, cramped caravan. She couldn’t think of anything that looked less fitting for Hollywood starlets.

  ‘Up you get,’ Rosina insisted. ‘I put a bucket of bath water on to warm for you.’

  While Rosina sat in front of the mirror and did her hair, Claire bathed and washed her own hair with lavender-scented shampoo powder. She blotted it dry with one of the towels made of old, unpicked flour bags and gave it a shake.

  The girls cleaned their teeth with bone-handled toothbrushes and salt. Rosina now had her hair tightly pinned on top of her head with big curling rollers all over the back.

  ‘I’m going to do your hair today,’ Rosina said.

  Claire looked at Rosina’s hedgehog hair. ‘No, that’s all right,’ she said, pulling a brush through her damp hair. ‘I’ll just wear my hair out.’

  Rosina pursed her lips to repress a smile. ‘Not today. Today I’m in charge.’

  Claire laughed. ‘You’re in charge every day!’

  Rosina pushed Claire down by the shoulder so she was seated on the edge of the bunk. Rosina deftly dabbed some gluggy white mixture through her hair. It smelt faintly like chocolate and egg.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Claire suspiciously. ‘It smells like –’

  ‘Egg whites mixed with cocoa butter,’ Rosina confirmed. ‘With a few other bits and pieces that I begged from the cook. It’s a homemade setting lotion.’

  Claire wrinkled up her nose. ‘Really? You put that in our hair?’

  ‘Trust me,’ said Rosina.

  Claire rolled her eyes, which made Rosina giggle.

  Rosina deftly combed the mixture through Claire’s hair with a fine-toothed comb and parted it on the side over her eyebrow. Then, using her forefinger, middle fingers and the comb, she gradually worked through the hair, arranging the front into precise wavelets.

  These were carefully pinned in place with metal wave clamps. Once the right side was done, Rosina repeated the process on the other side until the front of Claire’s hair was scalloped on either side of her face. Then the long hair at the back was also rolled onto curling rollers and pinned.

  ‘Your hair is so long,’ said Rosina. ‘I’m going to pin it up underneath to make it look like it’s been bobbed. We want to look like the very latest in fashion.’

  Soon Claire’s head matched Rosina’s, bristling with pins and rollers. Rosina looked at her handiwork with such pride that Claire didn’t have the heart to tell her she looked dreadful.

  ‘Now we let the finger curls dry while we get dressed and do our make-up,’ Rosina said, rifling through her clothes hangers. Most of the clothes were circus costumes or working attire, but tucked in the middle were a small number of outfits for special occasions. Rosina removed two floral chiffon dresses, which draped to mid-calf. She held these up one by one against Claire, then lay them on the bunk.

  ‘I think chiffon for today. You can wear the green and blue, and I’ll wear the cream and red,’ Rosina decided, smiling at Claire. ‘Then I can wear my new crimson shoes.’

  ‘The dresses are pretty, Rosina,’ said Claire.

  ‘Malia helped me make them,’ Rosina said. ‘She’s a whizz with the sewing machine. She can make a feed sack look like something from a Paris runway.’

  Claire rolled on her silky stockings, attaching them to the suspender belt, then pulled on the green dress sprigged with blue cornflowers. It had soft ruffles and a bow at the neckline. Rosina’s dress was sheer cream with large red poppies splashed over it.

  Rosina showed Claire how to do her make-up in the very latest style, copying photos from a fashion magazine. It was completely different to the thick stage make-up they had worn for the parade. First, a foundation and powder with some subtle blush. Next, the eyes were highlighted with eyeliner and eye shadow, with masses of mascara on the lashes. The eyebrows were darkened with a pencil to emphasise an elegant arch. Lastly, the lips were defined with a lip pencil and coloured raspberry red.

  Rosina had a matching raspberry nail polish for their fingers, once they had been filed. Claire began to realise why they had to wake up so early.

  ‘We’d better hurry,’ Claire urged. ‘Kit will be here with the car soon. We don’t want to be late.’

  Rosina glanced at her watch. ‘We’ll be fine,’ she said, waving her fingers in the air to dry the polish.

  ‘Now to finish the hair,’ Rosina decided when the nails were totally dry. She started with Claire, taking out the rollers and loosening out the curls, deftly pinning them up at the back. Then she carefully removed the clamps from the front and sprayed it all with hairspray.

  ‘Ta da,’ Rosina exclaimed, inviting Claire to look in the tarnished mirror.

  With the flawless make-up, Claire hardly recognised herself. The pinning at the back made her hair look like it had been cut short, while the front was crimped into perfect wavelets. Claire felt a bubble of excitement. She held out her long, sheer skirts and swished from side to side.

  ‘It looks amazing,’ cried Claire. ‘Thank you!’

  ‘With the setting lotion and the spray, that hairdo will last for days,’ Rosina assured her, removing the rollers from her own hair. ‘But definitely until the ball tonight.’

  Jem banged on the door outside. ‘Will you girls hurry up?’ he demanded. ‘Kit’s been here for an hour. He’ll go without us if you don’t make haste.’

  ‘Coming,’ Rosina replied. She deftly removed the wave clamps, sprayed her hair, then set a large organdie hat on top at a jaunty angle. ‘Why don’t you carry our bag over, Jem, and we’ll meet you at the car. It’s on the table. Tell Kit we’ll be there in a minute.’

  A grumbling sound came from outside, which Rosina seemed to take for assent. She handed Claire her straw hat then picked up their gloves and handbags.

  ‘Ready?’ asked Claire, popping on her hat.

  Rosina tilted the hat so it was on an angle. ‘Perfect,’ declared Rosina. ‘You look stunning.’

  ‘So do you,’ replied Claire. ‘You’re a miracle worker.’

  The girls stepped down the car
avan steps in their new shoes. It was bright outside and Claire could feel the heat of the sun, even though it was still only early.

  ‘It’s going to be a scorcher,’ Rosina said.

  ‘What about your crutches?’ asked Claire.

  ‘I refuse to use the crutches today. It would definitely spoil my outfit, and besides, we are getting a lift most of the way.’

  The girls picked their way across the lot towards the gleaming limousine. Claire was conscious that the eyes of many of the workers were on them. She held her head high.

  One of the grooms gave them a sly grin and a wolf whistle. ‘Have a top day, girls.’

  Manfred the Magnificent was wearing everyday street clothes, but his hair was still slicked back and his moustache waxed. He tipped his fedora at Rosina and Claire as he leant against one of the animal cages, following their progress towards the chauffeur and limousine.

  Kit and Jem were waiting by the car, dressed in their best suits, complete with hats. The chauffeur stood back, resplendent in his charcoal-grey uniform, knee-high boots and peaked cap.

  Kit took his hands out of his pocket and stood up straight when Claire and Rosina arrived.

  ‘Sorry we’re late,’ said Claire.

  ‘No problem at all,’ Kit replied with a smile. ‘It was worth the wait.’

  ‘Why thank you, sir,’ Rosina replied with a curtsy.

  Jem rolled his eyes behind Kit’s back. Claire stifled a giggle.

  ‘Rosina and Claire, this is Larry, our chauffeur,’ introduced Kit. ‘He’s officially my driver, but I’m sure Father employed him as more of a nursemaid to keep me out of trouble.’

  The girls laughed.

  Larry tipped his hat, opened the back door and bowed them in. Rosina, Kit and Claire sat in the back, while Jem sat in front with the driver. Claire sank into the soft leather seats. She felt like a rock star as the shiny limousine rolled through the streets. People pointed to them and stared as the car passed by.

  At first the streets were empty, but they soon discovered the crowds – thousands of people, all moving slowly in the same direction on foot, bicycle and in vehicles. Eventually, Larry dropped them at McMahons Point Wharf.