Little Stars

  I was so caught up in the past, I couldn’t sleep that night. Diamond nodded off almost immediately, but I tossed and turned. I heard Miss Gibson making her way upstairs and bustling about her bedroom, but then there was silence.

  I took my shawl, seized my suitcase, relit the candle and tiptoed down to the kitchen. It was cold and I was glad of the shawl that Lizzie had given me. The suitcase had been Sarah’s. Both were dear friends from the past. I opened the suitcase and touched each precious object reverently: Mama’s letters and mine back to her, The Tale of Thumbelina, her little violet vase, Bertie’s black-and-white china dog, my silver sixpence from Jem. Then there were four precious fat notebooks: my three volumes of memoirs, and Diamond’s story, which I’d copied out when the circus was at its winter quarters.

  So much had happened since. I needed to start a new notebook now! I flipped through the pages of the second volume and found the first time I met Bertie. It was strange comparing that awkward young butcher’s boy to Bertie now, so cocky and confident. I wondered if it was all an act and whether he was still anxious and worried about his appearance. It made me feel even fonder of him.

  Then I searched for Jem. There were long passages in every volume, right from when I was a baby. I found it surprisingly upsetting reading about our last Christmas together. I could hardly bear to turn the pages where I left Jem and ran away to join Tanglefield’s as their ringmaster. And I hadn’t even written to him since.

  I tore out a blank page from the back of the notebook, unscrewed my pot of ink and dipped my pen. I wrote Care of Miss Gibson and then my new address.

  Dearest Jem,

  I am so sorry I haven’t written sooner. I am sure you will have been wondering what has happened to me. Or perhaps not. Maybe you never think of bad little Hetty nowadays. I wouldn’t blame you.

  I ran away to the circus, as I am sure you realized. I hope you didn’t tell poor Mother. She always disapproved of the circus so. And with good reason. I was happy for a while, but it’s no place for a young girl. I was the ringmaster there. You should have seen my costume! I don’t think you would have approved. I loved being the centre of attention (that won’t surprise you), but it was a hard life in many ways, and some of the circus folk were very cruel. However, dear Madame Adeline (remember her? The beautiful lady in pink spangles who stood on the back of a horse?) was like another mother to me. I also grew very close to a little girl acrobat called Diamond and did my best to look after her. I still take care of her now.

  But we are not at the circus any more. As you can see from the address above, we live in Fenstone, with a kind, respectable spinster lady who has a gown shop. I make gowns too. I have become quite skilled with my needle. But this is not my profession. I am a music-hall artiste.

  Please don’t disapprove! The music hall is very popular in most towns, and the Cavalcade, where I work, is exceptionally admired and considered on a par with the big London establishments. We have Lily Lark topping our bill, and I’m sure folk are humming her songs even in the countryside. There are many lovely ladies who are artistes, all perfectly respectable.

  I blushed a little as I wrote this, thinking of the dancing girl kissing slimy Samson in the wings. It might be better not to go into too much detail to Jem.

  I have worked hard developing an act with Diamond. She is exceptionally skilled at acrobatics – and you will find this surprising, but I can ride a penny-farthing! Our act is a comedy too, a little burlesque, and it goes down very well. I hope you won’t think I’m boasting, but we are practically the stars of the show. Miss Lark herself said so!

  Do come and see us if ever you are passing this way. And bring Gideon too, if you think he is up to it. I know he is sadly changed, but as a boy he was very fond of performing. Or perhaps you might care to bring Janet? She was such a dear friend to me. I know she is a dear friend to you too. Perhaps you are even a married couple by now!

  I thought of crossing out this sentence. It was only a joke, but it sounded a little false and heavy-handed. I had a sudden image of Jem in a light grey suit, Janet in a long white dress, hand in hand stepping out of the church, with all the villagers clapping and cheering, and the bells ringing to celebrate their wedding. It was a sweet image, my two special friends joined in matrimony – so why did it make the tears start in my eyes?

  I blinked fiercely, ashamed of myself.

  Please don’t ever forget that I am still your very loving Hetty

  I wrote the last sentence quickly, and then found blotting paper and an envelope in the kitchen drawer.

  I was tired by now, but I felt I should catch up with my correspondence. I’d been in the habit of writing regularly to Madame Adeline now that she was living with little Mr Marvel and his troupe of monkeys. Perhaps one of the Tanglefield folk had written to tell her that Diamond and I had run away? She would be dreadfully worried.

  Dear Madame Adeline,

  I am so sorry that I haven’t written for a little while. A lot has been happening – but do not worry, Diamond and I are safe and well!

  We are no longer at Tanglefield’s. Beppo lost his temper with poor Diamond when she fell during a performance and threatened her with such a beating that I had to spirit her away. We left that night – though they chased us. It was all very dramatic and exciting, as you can imagine. Do you remember that penny-farthing the clowns used as part of their act? Well, I appropriated it and we used it for our escape!

  We might not be circus girls any more, but we are still performers! I coached Diamond and we’ve developed a novelty double act: now we are music-hall artistes, promoted to the second act already. Who knows, we might be top of the bill one day! We are at the Cavalcade, a truly splendid establishment, all gold and red plush inside, with a capacity of two thousand!

  If you and Mr Marvel ever consider taking a trip to this part of the country (I appreciate the monkeys might prove a problem), then please come and see us. I do so hope you would be proud of us.

  We think of you very fondly every day. Diamond is asleep now, but if she were awake she would be clamouring to send her love to you. I am sending mine too. You have always been like another mother to me.

  Your loving Hetty

  I HAD TO catch up with my dressmaking as well as my letter-writing. The next day I worked very hard decorating Mrs Ruby’s orange gown. I sewed tiny red glass beads all round the neckline and cuffs and hem.

  ‘It’s splendid, Hetty, especially all those little mock rubies. She’ll love all the little touches,’ said Miss Gibson, holding the dress up and shaking the skirts this way and that.

  ‘You did the really hard bits for me,’ I said.

  ‘The gathering, yes. But I’d never have thought of the beads, or the little embroidered yellow roses down the seams at the waist, and that tiny rose inside, on the lining silk. It’s a gown fit for a queen,’ she said.

  ‘Queen Victoria?’ I said. ‘I’d need five times the material!’

  ‘Hush, you bad girl!’ exclaimed Miss Gibson. ‘Show some respect!’

  ‘Anyway, Mrs Ruby is certainly Queen of the Cavalcade,’ I said. ‘Let’s hope she’s as keen on her gown as you are, Miss Gibson.’

  Mrs Ruby was delighted. ‘Thank you, dear. I like a girl who keeps a promise,’ she said, pulling the gown from its tissue wrapping. ‘Two new gowns to choose from! Aren’t I the lucky one?’ Then she examined the dress more closely. ‘Oh, my!’ she said. And again, ‘Oh, my!’

  ‘I hope you like it, Mrs Ruby,’ I said demurely.

  ‘I love it! The detail! And even rubies, you clever little minx. I shall have them added to every gown in future.’

  Then I’d end up with bleeding fingers – though I kept smiling valiantly.

  Mrs Ruby showed off her gown to Lily Lark, who cornered me in the wings the next day. ‘I’d like you to make me a dress, little Miss Starry Talent,’ she said.

  I took a deep breath.

  ‘I know you made Mrs Ruby’s as a favour. I’ll pay, of course. I do
n’t just want a copy in a different colour. I’d like my own design – perhaps not so corseted. I rather favour aesthetic dress. You know what I mean,’ she said.

  I nodded, though I had no idea. Still, I was sure Miss Gibson would know, and thank goodness I was right.

  ‘She’ll want it loose and flowing, in Liberty silk,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a lovely apple green – I think she’ll like that.’

  ‘With a yoke, then I could embroider lilies on it! White lilies, with little gold stamens, on the green silk.’

  ‘Wonderful!’ said Miss Gibson. ‘Shall I make the dress and you do the embroidery, and then we’ll share the profits?’

  We made a perfect dressmaking team, and Diamond proved nifty at cutting out patterns, though she still couldn’t stitch very well. When Bertie came visiting during the day, he sometimes assumed a tailor’s pose, sitting cross-legged on the floor, and sewed the odd button into place. He was surprisingly nimble with his fingers.

  ‘You’re very good at sewing, Bertie,’ said Miss Gibson admiringly.

  ‘I’ve had to be. I haven’t got a little woman at home to sew buttons on my shirts or turn up my trouser hems.’ He winked at me meaningfully. ‘Yet.’

  I started on Freda’s gown too, which was a mammoth task. I was tempted to keep it plain because it was taking such a long time, but I knew Freda would love little girly details, so I sewed cherry blossoms round the neck and cuffs, and added a white ruffled petticoat underneath. I took the dress to the Cavalcade with me and sat in the dressing room stitching.

  The ballet girls marvelled at the embroidery, but burst out laughing when they held the dress up against themselves. ‘It’s lovely, Emerald, but it’s much too long! This is a dress for a giant!’

  ‘Mmm,’ I said quietly, and took it back and continued sewing.

  When the girls were changing and in a boisterous mood, I sometimes sat in the corridor instead, Diamond beside me, playing games with my cotton reels.

  Mr Apple stalked past on his way home, sniffing contemptuously. ‘I suppose she thinks she’s everyone’s darling now,’ he muttered. ‘She’s not just content with stealing the show – she’s making everyone dresses now. Well, I hope she pricks her nasty scrabbly little fingers!’

  There was a muffled response from inside his suitcase, which made Diamond start nervously.

  ‘That was Little Pip talking!’ she said when they’d gone. ‘He is real, Hetty!’

  ‘No, Mr Apple is just a very strange man,’ I told her.

  ‘I don’t like him,’ said Diamond.

  ‘Neither do I,’ I said, though I’d started to feel almost sorry for him. How would I feel if a pair of young children came along and performed a much more elaborate comedy bicycling act and became Mrs Ruby’s pets?

  At long last I finished Freda’s gown and got started on Lucy Locket’s. I made hers more formal, a truly grown-up little costume, with an embroidered locket stitched in the centre of her white lace collar as a witty touch.

  The next time Mr Apple came down the corridor, I deliberately held up the miniature gown, pretending to show it to Diamond.

  ‘See how tiny this is,’ I said loudly. ‘Specially made for a very, very little person.’

  ‘Stupid girl, stitch-stitch-stitching away. I hope she pricks herself,’ said Mr Apple.

  But halfway down the corridor there was a muffled comment from inside the suitcase: ‘I’d like a costume like that!’ said Little Pip.

  ‘You’d look a right banana in a lady’s costume,’ said Mr Apple, shaking his suitcase irritably.

  ‘Maybe that girl could make a little boy’s costume,’ Little Pip persisted. ‘I could do with a new outfit, Uncle Benjamin. Mine’s getting very threadbare.’

  ‘Well, we’re not asking her. You be quiet now, do you hear me?’

  Diamond was staring at me round-eyed. ‘Little Pip really is talking!’ she whispered. ‘He is is is real! He says he wants you to make him an outfit, but Mr Apple says he mustn’t ask.’

  ‘Little Pip’s a dummy, Diamond, I promise you. Mr Apple just pretends he’s talking, the way you make Maybelle talk,’ I said. ‘Shall I offer to make Little Pip an outfit, even though Benjamin Apple’s so horrid to us?’

  ‘Well, Little Pip’s not horrid,’ said Diamond. ‘I like him, even though he looks a bit scary, especially when his mouth opens and shuts.’

  ‘Let’s see then,’ I said, running after Benjamin Apple. I caught up with him in a few paces, because he had an old man’s shuffle. ‘Excuse me, Mr Apple. Could I have a word?’

  ‘Is she talking to us?’ he asked his suitcase.

  ‘Of course she is!’ Little Pip piped up.

  ‘I was wondering if you’d like me to make a new costume for Little Pip,’ I said.

  ‘No thank you, missy. Little Pip already has a very smart suit.’

  ‘No I don’t!’ came the voice from the suitcase. ‘It’s threadbare – you said so yourself. Folk will see my little arms and legs and all my workings soon!’

  ‘I wonder what sort of outfit Little Pip would fancy?’ I said. ‘Another smart suit? A quilted smoking jacket? Oh, I know – a little blazer and flannels and a jaunty boater!’

  ‘Yes! Oh yes, please!’ Little Pip seemed to be dancing a jig inside the suitcase.

  ‘It’s not necessary, not at all. But I suppose I can’t really disappoint the little lad,’ said Mr Apple.

  ‘I’ll need to take a few measurements,’ I said. ‘Would that be possible?’

  Benjamin Apple looked doubtful. ‘I’m not sure. I don’t want him exposed.’

  ‘I’ll be very quick and discreet. And he won’t need to take his own clothes off.’

  Even so, he insisted we go into a dark corner, and when he took Little Pip out of the suitcase and laid him gently on the floor, he spread his coat out to shield him from view. I measured his prone body as quickly as I could. His head was back, his mouth sagging, the rest of him totally limp. He looked horribly like a dead person. It was a relief to hear him talking again when he was back in the suitcase.

  ‘My, that was a bit of an ordeal! That girl didn’t half tickle me! Do you really think she’ll make me a blazer and a boater? I’ll look such a toff!’

  ‘Don’t count your chickens. Maybe she won’t keep her word. You know what these flighty young things are like,’ said Mr Apple.

  ‘I’ll keep my word,’ I promised – and I did.

  The blazer and the flannels were easy enough, but the boater was a struggle.

  Bertie found me plaiting little strands of straw and tutted at me. ‘You’re crazy, Hetty, fiddling around making stuff for that mean old geezer. He’s never even said a civil word to you.’

  ‘Yes, but Little Pip’s starting to be very friendly,’ I said.

  ‘You really are crazy,’ said Bertie, but fondly. ‘Look, I’m ever so friendly. How about making me a new blazer?’

  ‘I will. Eventually. I’ll put you on my list,’ I said.

  ‘Who’s next on your list?’ Diamond asked hopefully.

  ‘You are!’

  Benjamin Apple barely thanked me when I gave him the finished outfit – not even when I put the boater on Little Pip and we could see it was a perfect fit. He just started fussing about money, telling me that he had to pay me.

  ‘I’m not going to feel obliged to anybody. So you take this money and be done with it, missy. I dare say I’ve been over-generous,’ he said, pressing coins into my hand.

  His payment was actually on the meagre side – it didn’t even cover the cost of the materials – but I wasn’t going to quibble. And Little Pip more than made up for Benjamin Apple’s lack of enthusiasm.

  ‘Oh joy! I absolutely love my natty little outfit! Don’t I look dashing, Uncle Benjamin? All the girls will be after me! Help me tip my new boater to Miss Emerald Star. I am soooo grateful!’ he burbled.

  ‘I’m so glad you like it, Little Pip,’ I said.

  He continued talking to me whenever Benjamin Apple brought h
im near. Mr Apple himself even deigned to nod at me every now and then.

  It was so much more comfortable backstage now. Even Mr Olivelli became friendly and taught Diamond to warble in Italian. She was everyone’s favourite. The showgirls and the ballet dancers dressed her up and brushed her hair and sat her on their laps, often treating her to sweets or little cakes.

  There was only one person at the Cavalcade I did my best to avoid – Samson Ruby. He lurked in the wings during the intervals. Sometimes he sweet-talked one of the girls, but he often made a beeline for me.

  ‘Here’s our little Emerald Star,’ he said, and made horrible kissing noises at me.

  ‘Cut it out, Samson, she’s just a kid,’ said Thelma, the brassiest of the showgirls.

  ‘She might get herself up in that little girly outfit, but she’s no kid, that one,’ he said. ‘She’s a little saucebox.’

  ‘Why bother with a little girl when you’ve got a real woman right in front of your nose?’ Thelma reached out and boldly drew Samson into an embrace.

  I wrinkled my nose at her behaviour, misunderstanding, though I was glad to be able to slip away.

  The next day Thelma came up to me in the dressing room. ‘Hey, you, Emerald,’ she said. She towered above me, her low-cut dress and yellow glacé kid boots almost as outrageous as her stage costume. She was still wearing her stage make-up, her cheeks rouged, her lips carmine. ‘I want a word, kid.’

  I couldn’t help being scared of girls like Thelma. I’d seen her pick a fight with another girl who’d borrowed her hairbrush. I’d been in numerous scraps at the hospital – wrestling and slapping and hair-pulling – but this was fist fighting.

  ‘What do you want to talk about, Thelma?’ I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

  Diamond came to my side. She pressed Maybelle onto my lap, as if for comfort.

  ‘Samson Ruby,’ said Thelma, her arms akimbo.

  ‘I don’t like him, Thelma, honestly. I don’t want anything to do with him. He’s all yours!’ I said hastily.

  She stared at me and then laughed. ‘Do you think I want him? I can’t stand the smarmy beggar. Oh, he’s handsome enough, but he’s broken too many of the girls’ hearts – and got them into trouble.’