My stomach tensed up. It was no use. I had to tell her.
‘Your brother Jem came once,’ I whispered.
‘Yes, he came looking for me and marched me back home,’ said Hetty.
‘He came after that – in Gillford. I saw him in the audience,’ I said, making a clean breast of it at last.
‘Are you sure, Diamond?’
‘Certain sure.’
‘Then why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I didn’t tell because . . . because I thought if you knew you might change your mind and go back to him, and I couldn’t bear that because I wanted you to stay so much. Oh, Hetty, am I very wicked? Are you cross with me?’
‘No, I’m not cross,’ said Hetty, but she sounded very sad, and that made me feel even worse.
I watched her carefully the next few performances – and though she was word perfect, never missing a beat, her eyes swivelled round and round the ring as she spoke, and I knew she was checking, looking for Jem, even though we were in a different part of the country now. All through November we edged our way towards London, because we had a three-week Christmas show arranged on Clapham Common.
Mr Tanglefield wanted all the acts to have a festive theme, so Hetty worked day and night stitching away at new costumes. She made Mr Marvel’s monkeys matching scarlet outfits edged with white fur. He found a big oval looking glass, put artificial grass around it so that it looked like a frozen pond, and set the monkeys ‘skating’ on it. The adult monkeys picked up their feet and swayed to and fro like real little skaters, but baby Mavis slid across the pretend pond on her behind and got an extra laugh.
Hetty made two really big red dresses for the female dancing bears, and they took turns to waltz around the ring with Bruno. Then the third bear lumbered into the ring dressed as Father Christmas, with a big sack of toys, which made all the children in the audience scream with excitement.
Mr Tanglefield even suggested Hetty make a simply vast Father Christmas costume for Elijah.
‘How ridiculous can you get!’ she said to Madame Adeline and me. ‘The man’s off his head!’
‘I hope you didn’t tell him that,’ said Madame Adeline.
‘No, no, I just sweet-talked him, telling him that his Father Christmas idea was wonderful but perhaps it might detract from Elijah’s oriental allure if he was forced to plod around wearing a red tent and a vast false beard. I’ve suggested festooning him with holly and ivy instead, though I’ll have to pad the holly leaves in some way so that the poor beast isn’t prickled to death. And I’m making Old Tangletummy a grand new costume in festive red and green trimmed with gold.’ Hetty paused. ‘What about you, Madame Addie? Would you like a scarlet spangled dress?’
‘I’ve done my best not to be called a scarlet woman all my professional life,’ said Madame Adeline. ‘But I will wear one if you think it will look effective, Hetty.’
Hetty held the bright red silk up under Madame Adeline’s chin. It made her face look very pale and tired.
‘I think your lovely pink costume suits you much better,’ said Hetty. ‘Will you be altering your routine with Midnight at all?’
‘Midnight and I are too old to learn new tricks,’ said Madame Adeline.
‘They couldn’t be bettered,’ Hetty insisted.
‘What about me? Do I have to learn a new trick if I have a new outfit?’ I asked. ‘I don’t have to do springboard work, do I? I still don’t think I’m brave enough.’
‘I have a suggestion for your Mister Beppo,’ said Hetty. ‘Don’t look so worried, Diamond. I won’t suggest the springboard, I promise.’
‘I wouldn’t suggest anything to Beppo if I were you, Hetty,’ Madame Adeline advised.
But Hetty was always a girl to throw caution to the wind. She squatted down beside Mister when he was smoking his pipe after tea and started whispering in his ear.
‘Clear off, you little busybody. I don’t want your suggestions, thank you very much,’ he growled, but Hetty persisted. She went whisper, whisper, whisper, and I saw Mister’s eyes gleam, even though his expression stayed surly.
‘If you must, if you must! Now leave me in peace,’ he said eventually.
‘What have you suggested, Hetty?’ I asked eagerly.
Marvo, Julip and Tag were also full of questions.
‘Oh, I just suggested that it might look better in the ring if you were properly matching – two boys and two girls,’ said Hetty.
‘But we’re three boys, stupid,’ said Tag.
‘Don’t you know that circus is all about illusion?’ she asked. ‘I’m going to fashion you a beautiful spangled fairy frock with little wings, Tag, and until your own hair grows you can wear a curly wig.’
‘What?’ he spluttered.
‘Tag a fairy?’ Julip laughed.
‘Hetty’s teasing you,’ said Marvo. He grinned and flexed his muscles. ‘How about a fairy frock for me instead?’
Hetty was indeed joking, though it took a while for Tag to calm down and be convinced. She made me a new fairy dress instead, patiently sewing hundreds of sequins onto the bodice so that I sparkled in the ring, and she fashioned three forest-green velvet cloaks for the boys that covered them right down to their toes. Here and there she sewed little baubles on the velvet.
‘How can we perform in cloaks?’ said Tag.
‘You won’t wear them till the end of the act,’ Hetty told him. ‘When you perform the human column.’
We did not properly understand until the cloaks were all complete and the boys put them on. When Julip was standing on Marvo and Tag on Julip, their cloaks hung down, glittering with baubles. They looked for all the world like a Christmas tree. Then I clambered up, the fairy on the topmost branch.
It was a Christmas show to be proud of. We played to full houses. For Christmas week Mr Tanglefield even had us put on an extra morning show. We played Sundays too. The only time we had off was Christmas Day itself, and we were all so bone weary we slept a great deal of it. Mr Tanglefield organized a communal dinner in the big top itself, ordering a gaggle of great roast geese. We each had a huge plateful, with apple sauce and roast potatoes, with beer for the men and wine for the ladies.
No one felt like getting up the next morning, but Boxing Day was our biggest day of the year, with three sold-out performances. Hetty had a slight cold and a sore throat – Madame Adeline made her salt-water gargles and told her to whisper when she wasn’t in the ring to rest her voice, but Hetty found that very difficult indeed. By the evening performance her voice was almost gone, and she was starting to panic, but Mr Tanglefield himself took her to his wagon and administered a medicinal cocktail of whisky and honey and lemon. I don’t know which component did the trick. Maybe it was just Hetty’s own determination – but she was certainly in particularly fine form that evening.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children and babes in arms,’ she cried out. ‘Welcome to Tanglefield’s Travelling Circus on this very splendid Boxing Day – and have we got a treat for you!’
We were playing to fine families from all over London. There were carriages lined up in a row at the edge of the common to take them home again. I loved looking at all the little girls in the audience, admiring their satin bows and party frocks and ermine jackets. They were all decked out so prettily, but none had such a splendid blue silk dress as me, none had silver spangles, none had fancy wings.
When we’d done the big farewell parade at the end, we were waylaid by the eager crowd. We were happy to linger, because they were plying us with all sorts of delicious tributes – chocolates and candy canes and crystallized fruits!
One solemn young lady in a fur-trimmed blue velvet mantle was staring hard at Hetty. She wore her hair tied back in a long fat pigtail like a bell rope, emphasizing her high forehead. She was gazing so intently, I could see a pulse twitching at her temple. She kept trying to press forward to get nearer to Hetty, but there was such an eager throng around her, this was proving impossible.
She
looked around a little wildly, and saw me staring at her. She seized hold of my arm. ‘Excuse me . . . I hope you don’t mind my asking, but – but you must know that red-haired girl, the one who is the ringmaster,’ she said.
‘Yes, I do. She is my dear friend,’ I said proudly.
‘Could you – could you tell me her name?’ asked the young lady.
‘Her name is Emerald Star,’ I said, because that was Hetty’s professional name.
‘Oh!’ said the young lady, looking crestfallen.
‘Don’t you like the name? I think it is very beautiful. My name is Diamond. Diamonds and emeralds are both precious stones. They go together – and so do we,’ I said, but I could see she’d stopped listening.
‘I thought she was my Hetty . . .’ she whispered to herself.
I blinked at her. ‘Did you say Hetty?’
‘Yes. Long ago I had the dearest friend in all the world – Hetty Feather. And when I saw your friend Emerald in the ring, I could scarcely believe my eyes. She is the exact spit of my own Hetty, and similarly gifted with words, and equally brave and bold and utterly splendid. It’s hard to believe there could be two girls so alike, but I am obviously mistaken.’
‘No, you’re not! Emerald Star is her professional name but she is really your Hetty,’ I said. She is mine too, I thought fiercely. She is my own Hetty, not yours.
But I could not deny Hetty this chance to see an old friend. I had felt so bad at having kept quiet about Jem.
‘Hetty, Hetty,’ I called loudly. ‘Hetty, here is someone to meet you!’
Hetty heard me calling in spite of the hubbub. She elbowed her way cheerily through the crowds and stood before us. She peered at the young lady. For a moment she looked blank – and then her whole face crumpled.
‘Polly! Oh, Polly, it’s you!’
She flung her arms wide, and the two girls embraced as if they could never bear to let each other go.
‘I knew it was you, Hetty! But what in the world are you doing here? I thought you’d be a servant now, like all the other hospital girls. Every day when I go for a walk I look down into all the basement kitchens and wonder if you’re there, scrubbing and scouring.’
‘I was a servant – a perfectly dreadful one! I wouldn’t do as I was told.’
‘Why does that not surprise me!’ Polly said, laughing.
‘And then I went up north and was a fisher girl.’
‘Hetty!’
‘And then I went back to the country to my foster family.’
‘To your brother Jem?’
‘Yes, but – but then the circus came, and I couldn’t help myself. I ran away to join it!’
‘Oh, Hetty, I knew you’d somehow do something exciting!’
‘And what about you, Polly? Look at you, so grown up and ladylike! You have such lovely clothes.’ Hetty stroked Polly’s velvet mantle admiringly. ‘Your family must be very rich!’
Polly went a little pink. ‘Well, I suppose we are well-to-do,’ she said awkwardly.
‘And – and what do you do?’
‘I still go to school. I would dearly love to stay on till I am eighteen and then study further at a ladies’ college, but Papa does not want me to become a bluestocking,’ said Polly.
‘Oh, you were always so clever!’
‘And so were you! It’s so wonderful to have found you, Hetty. I beg your pardon, Miss Emerald Star!’
‘Well, we must keep in touch now and meet up as often as we can. We are here until the beginning of January so we can visit each other. Wait till you meet Madame Adeline, Polly! She has been almost like a second mother to me—’
‘Lucy! Lucy, oh thank goodness! We thought we’d lost you for ever in this wretched crowd. Come here, dearest!’ A large, anxious lady came hurrying through the crowd, tears spilling down her plump cheeks.
‘Lucy, my little Lucy!’ She chided her as if she were a tiny girl, patting her with her soft white hands, rings and bracelets all a-jingle with agitation.
‘Calm yourself, Mama,’ said Polly.
‘Lucy! Oh dear Heavens, we’ve found you!’ This was clearly Papa now, as plump and pink as her other parent. ‘Come, dear, we must find the carriage.’ He pulled at Polly’s arm.
Polly looked at her parents, then back at Hetty. Their hands were still clasped.
‘Lucy! Say goodbye to – to the young person and come away at once,’ said the papa.
‘But – but this is Hetty,’ Polly said bravely. ‘My friend from when . . . when I was little.’
The woman gave a little gasp.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, dear,’ said the father. ‘Come away this instant. You’re upsetting your mama.’ He looked at Hetty coldly. ‘Let her go!’
He turned Polly round and pulled her away. Hetty didn’t try to hang onto her hand. Polly turned round once, looking desperate. Hetty smiled gaily and waved, even though there were tears in her eyes.
She watched until Polly and her parents were swallowed up by the crowd.
‘Why did they call her Lucy?’ I asked.
‘Because she is their daughter now. They adopted her,’ said Hetty. ‘They changed her name. They changed everything.’
‘But why won’t they let you be friends with her?’
‘Because we’re very different sorts of girls now,’ said Hetty. ‘She is a young lady – and you and I are circus girls, Diamond. We should be pleased and proud. It’s a very fine, rare thing to be a circus girl,’ she said, but she was crying properly now.
THE CHRISTMAS SHOWS were a triumph, but from January all the way through to Easter we had no bookings at all.
‘Don’t look so downcast, chickies,’ said Madame Adeline. ‘We’ll be going into winter quarters.’
‘And what do we do there?’ Hetty asked.
‘We rest! And I for one will be heartily glad to do so.’
Madame Adeline certainly looked very tired and drained. The thrice-daily performances had been hard on her and she’d grown very gaunt. Her collarbones stuck out painfully when she wore her low-cut costume, and her fleshings wrinkled badly because her legs had become so spindly. When she was fully made up and wearing her long red wig, she still looked beautiful, but in the early morning, hobbling around, exhausted, she seemed like an old, old lady.
Hetty looked after her determinedly, doing most of the chores in the wagon, fetching water, making fires, even doing the cooking. She was remarkably defensive if anyone looked awry at poor Madame Adeline.
Tag once called her a doddery old woman – a relatively mild epithet compared to some of the names he’d called me! – but Hetty slapped his face hard and hissed at him to show a little respect.
Midnight needed a rest too. Some weeks ago he had stumbled on a stone while exercising on the common and had jarred his leg. He really needed to rest for a few days. Madame Adeline had gone to Mr Tanglefield and begged for him to have a little respite from the relentless performances over Christmas, but Mr Tanglefield had been adamant.
‘If you and that nag wish to stay part of this show, then you’ll perform. If you’re too old or unfit, then you’ve no place here and you can get out today,’ was his brutal response.
So Madame Adeline had been forced to put poor lame Midnight through his paces at each performance, though it nearly broke her heart.
The winter quarters were in the grounds of a disused factory in a bleak suburban town. There was no grassy meadow for poor Midnight. When his leg was better, Madame Adeline led him to a distant park and rode him gently there, but he remained out of sorts and dispirited.
None of the animals seemed happy in their new cramped environment. It was particularly miserable for huge Elijah. He had very little exercise, tethered permanently in the dingy yard. He paced the three steps his ball and chain allowed, his trunk swinging this way and that, but he bore his captivity in stoic silence. The big cats and the dancing bears were noisier, roaring and growling a good deal of the time, only ceasing when they gnawed great lumps of meat at meal t
imes.
Even the sea lions seemed to miss bobbing about on their rubber balls, and barked in a melancholy fashion whenever they stuck their sleek heads out of the water. Only Mr Marvel’s monkeys seemed content, often staying in character and acting out their dancing and skating routines within the confines of their cage.
Mr Marvel clapped them solemnly and encouraged me to do so too. ‘They like to be appreciated, Diamond,’ he said. ‘Performing’s in their blood now. They’re missing their show something chronic.’
‘What about you, Mr Marvel?’ I asked.
‘Me? Oh, I’ve been ready to retire for years and years. I have a dear little cottage in the country. Mind you, I haven’t been there in many a moon. It was my late brother’s home. I think of it longingly sometimes. I could quite easily turn into a pipe-and-slippers gent, you know – but I can’t let my babies down.’ He smiled at his monkeys fondly and they chattered lovingly back, but this might have been because he was feeding them with peanuts through the bars of their cage. ‘You miss performing too, don’t you, little Diamond?’ he said.
I didn’t think I missed performing at all. For the first two or three days of winter quarters I slept a great deal of the time, falling into a heavy slumber the moment I curled up in my hammock. I slept everywhere in fact. I fell asleep on Madame Adeline’s velvet sofa, on Hetty’s lap, even halfway through my evening meal. It was because I was so bone weary after the relentless three performances each day for weeks.
Then I woke one day and realized that my head was clear, my bones didn’t ache, I felt full of life – and there was no fear in the pit of my stomach. I still had to practise every day, but even Mister relaxed a bit and read a newspaper while he put us through our paces, nodding or tutting in a cursory manner.
It meant I had weeks and weeks and weeks of free time to be with Hetty, all day and every day. Seeing Polly had stirred up many painful memories of her time at the Foundling Hospital. She started telling me all about it as we huddled together in a corner of Madame Adeline’s wagon. I asked her a hundred questions. I was especially keen to hear about Hetty when she was my age.