‘Well, never you mind. I am very good at stitching tiny dolly dresses,’ said Hetty.
My heart started thumping hopefully. Would she really make Maybelle a new dress? Madame Adeline was delighted to see Hetty too, and gave us tea and cake. I wasn’t sure I should have the cake as Mister was always telling me off for eating too much. He wanted to keep me as small as possible.
‘He’s a monster, wanting to stunt your growth,’ said Madame Adeline. ‘You take a slice of cake, Diamond. You need some sweetness in your life.’
‘You can’t do back-flips on a full stomach,’ I said, though I had a big bite of cake all the same.
‘And what’s a back-flip?’ Hetty asked.
Here was my chance to show off! I took her behind the wagon and demonstrated. I had practised so many times it was easy enough. Most folk in the circus could do a back-flip as easily and casually as blowing their noses – but Hetty marvelled.
‘Oh, show me how to do it!’ she cried, and even though she was nearly grown up, she tucked her dress into her drawers and did her best to copy me. She tried again and again, but always tumbled onto her back. I did my best to show her, but she didn’t have enough spring. I wondered if she could do the crab-walk, for I could do it myself long before I joined the circus, but she couldn’t manage it at all. She lay flat on her back, chuckling – yet she still seemed to have a fancy to learn circus skills.
When we were back in the wagon, she turned to Madame Adeline. ‘Could I ever be an equestrian like you?’ she asked.
Madame Addie must have been even fonder of Hetty than I thought, because she said she could try riding Midnight. I’d never known her let anyone else on his back. Tag had often begged for a ride but she’d always refused.
She lent Hetty a pair of her white fleshings so she wouldn’t expose too much leg, and then gave her a lesson in the big top. Oh dear! Even I could tell that Hetty was never going to make a good horsewoman. She couldn’t even sit straight on Midnight’s bare back. She slid forward, grabbing his mane, which he didn’t care for at all. He became very fidgety and Hetty fell straight off. She landed hard but she did not cry. She begged to have another go, and then another and another.
Madame Adeline gently told her that was enough.
‘I was so good at riding when I was a little tot! Maybe if I practised hard every single day I might get the hang of it. Then perhaps one day I would be good enough to be part of your act?’ said Hetty.
‘Oh yes!’ I cried, because it would be my idea of Heaven if Hetty joined the circus too.
I am sure Madame Adeline thought this as well, but it was clear she didn’t think Hetty belonged on the back of a horse. She took her off to show her around the circus. I longed to go with them, but Mister caught hold of me.
‘Where do you think you’re going, missy?’ he said. ‘Back into that ring, for a practice!’
‘Oh please, Mister, mayn’t I go with Madame Addie and Hetty just this once?’ I begged.
‘You’re not going anywhere near that girl! She’s an insolent little chit. Addie’s got no business letting her poke around here. The circus is private, no place for strangers. And you need to practise more than ever, Diamond. Last night’s performance was a disaster. You deserve a good whipping for such carelessness. If you’re not perfect this afternoon, I’ll send you to Mr Tanglefield, and he’ll be so horrified you’re letting the whole circus down he’ll take his whip and give that bendy little back a set of stripes!’
I knew this wasn’t just a grisly joke – Mr Tanglefield had marked both Tag and Julip before now. Utter fear sharpened up my steps and stopped every stumble. I gave an immaculate performance that afternoon, though I could feel my mouth stretched in a grim parody of a smile. I must have looked like a mechanical doll as I revolved round and round the ring, concentrating so hard I barely blinked. I sneaked just one look around and saw Hetty, watching and waving. She was there again at the evening performance. I hoped and hoped that she’d come and find me afterwards, but she went off with Jem. He had his arm round her protectively.
Hetty had seen four whole shows now. I hardly dared hope she’d come back yet again, but an hour or so before the next afternoon’s performance she came running into our ring of wagons. I was practising my tumbles. I had trembled every time Mr Tanglefield cracked his whip during yesterday’s performances.
I greeted Hetty happily, hoping she would play with me.
‘I would love to play with you, Diamond, but I’m afraid I have other business just right now,’ she said, walking on.
I scrambled to my feet. ‘Are you calling on Madame Adeline? I shall come too!’ I said eagerly.
‘I’m not intending to visit Madame Adeline either, not just now. I am here to see Mr Tanglefield.’
I was so shocked I could scarcely draw breath. It was as if she’d announced she was going to take tea with the Devil himself.
‘He is very stern!’ I said. ‘If Mister is very cross with me he threatens to send me to Mr Tanglefield for a good whipping.’
Hetty looked horrified. ‘Does he really whip you, Diamond?’
‘No, but I’m always afeared he might. He has a very big whip, Hetty, and every time he cracks it in the ring it makes me shiver.’
I pointed out his big fancy wagon, a real dazzler in red and yellow and green. No one ever dared disturb Mr Tanglefield in his wagon, especially when he was getting ready for a show.
‘I don’t think you had better disturb him right this minute,’ I cried, trying to catch hold of Hetty, but she wouldn’t be stopped. She ran up the steps and tapped on the door. Mr Tanglefield opened it, half dressed, his hair awry, looking furious – and oh, he had his terrible whip in one hand.
‘Hetty! Run!’ I called – but she didn’t seem to hear me. She went inside Mr Tanglefield’s wagon and stayed there for a long time, while I paced up and down in agitation, listening for cries.
I heard Mister calling for me to get ready for the show, but I hid beneath the wagon.
‘Drat that little miss,’ he muttered. ‘She’s starting to be more trouble than she’s worth. I’ll teach her a lesson she won’t forget!’
I couldn’t help gasping, though I covered my mouth with my hands.
‘I can hear you! Where are you?’ said Mister, spinning round.
I huddled into a tight ball, praying that he wouldn’t look under the wagon. Then I heard Mr Tanglefield’s door banging, and light footsteps.
‘Hey, girl, where are you going?’ Mister called. ‘No strangers allowed here.’
I dared wriggle towards the light. I could just see Hetty, dancing about on the grass. She was wearing a very odd outfit. She’d hitched up her skirts and wore her borrowed fleshings and a smart scarlet coat, with a tall black hat on her head, tipped at a jaunty angle.
‘I’m not a stranger here, Mr Beppo . . . sir,’ she said, mocking him. ‘I’m the new star act. Just ask Mr Tanglefield if you don’t believe me.’ She swept him a mocking bow, hat in hand, and then bounced off towards Madame Adeline’s wagon.
I couldn’t believe my ears. Surely Hetty could not mean she was joining the circus? I gave a squeal of joy and rolled right out from under the wagon, ready to run to her to find out more – but Mister was too quick for me. He caught hold of me by the hair and yanked me upright.
‘There you are! How dare you hide from me!’
‘Oh, please don’t be angry, Mister Beppo! Tell me, did Hetty – that girl with the red hair – did she really say she was going to be the star of the circus?’
‘That chit!’ he said, and he spat on the ground. ‘She’s talking nonsense. Ask Mr Tanglefield indeed! He’d whip her into the middle of next week if he could hear her impertinence. If she’s a circus performer, then I’m Queen of the Fairies.’
Mister should have sported a wand and wings – because it was true!
We were up extra early the next morning because we were moving on mid-week, making for Gillford, a town only six miles away. And the moment I stu
mbled out of the stuffy wagon, I saw Hetty! She was dressed in her ordinary grey frock, but she had her tall hat and scarlet jacket in one hand and a suitcase in the other.
‘Oh, Hetty, Hetty, is it true? Oh, tell me it is, please, please!’ I said, rushing to her.
‘Is what true?’ said Hetty, laughing and whirling me round and round. ‘Is the moon made of green cheese? Can pigs fly? Can cats bark and dogs miaow?’
‘Are you joining the circus!’ I shrieked.
‘Yes, I am! Isn’t it marvellous?’
‘I can’t believe it!’
‘I can’t quite believe it myself. I – I hope I’m doing the right thing,’ said Hetty.
‘Of course you are! So what are you going to do? Are you going to be an acrobat like me? Oh, Hetty, do come and be a silver girl!’
‘Don’t be silly, Diamond. You’ve seen me trying to do a somersault. I’m hopeless.’
‘Then are you going to ride Midnight with Madame Addie?’
‘I wish I could, but I’m no horsewoman. I’m not going to work with the monkeys or the big cats or that grand Elijah or those fishy old sea lions either.’
‘Then what are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to be the new ringmaster,’ said Hetty, her cheeks flushing with excitement.
I was so astonished I didn’t quite know what to say. How could Hetty possibly be a ringmaster, when this was Mr Tanglefield’s job? She was only a small girl, even if she dressed up in her high hat and man’s jacket. It seemed a ridiculous idea – but Hetty was Hetty. She wasn’t afraid of anyone, not even Mister. If she said she was going to be the ringmaster, then I had to believe in her and trust she’d do it splendidly.
I believed it. Dear Madame Adeline believed it too. I could not help being jealous when I learned that Hetty was going to share Madame Addie’s wagon.
‘Oh, please, can’t I come too? I won’t need a bed, I can just take my hammock – or I can curl up in a corner on the floor. I won’t take up any room at all, but please let me come and share,’ I begged.
‘Oh, darling, I’ve explained again and again why it’s not possible,’ said Madame Adeline, taking me on her lap. ‘You know you belong to Beppo. I can’t take you away from him, much as I’d like to.’
‘But you’re letting Hetty come and share your wagon.’
‘I don’t belong to horrible old Beppo. I don’t belong to anyone,’ said Hetty.
‘It’s not fair,’ I said sadly.
‘I know it’s not fair – but don’t fret, Diamond. When you’re my age you won’t have to belong to anyone either, I promise,’ she told me.
I thought about this. It seemed a little too scary to be totally independent.
‘Could I perhaps belong to you, Hetty?’ I asked.
‘Of course!’ said Hetty, which cheered me up considerably.
We only had time for a cup of tea and a buttered muffin before we had to help out with the break-up of the show.
‘I must attend to Midnight,’ said Madame Adeline.
‘And I must attend to all the monkeys to help Mr Marvel. He can’t manage without me,’ I said proudly.
‘Well, I must attend to everyone and everything else,’ said Hetty cheerfully, rolling up her sleeves.
She showed extremely willing, rushing up to everyone and saying, ‘Hello, I’m Hetty, though my professional name is Emerald Star. I’ve joined the circus. How can I help you?’
At first she tried to help the hands tugging down the great big top. They barely acknowledged her, and then laughed when she couldn’t take the tug of the ropes and had to wring her soft hands. She tried to help move the rows of seating, but she didn’t have the strength for that either.
‘Push off, little girl, and stop bothering us,’ they said – or words that were even less polite.
So she tried to help all the artistes with their animals, but that didn’t work either. She was a stranger. They acted skittishly while she was around and balked at going quietly into their travelling cages. She had enough sense to steer clear of the big cats and Elijah, and she shuddered at the sea lions, but she did try to pet the poor groaning bears, who always hated travelling. She poked her hands through the bars of their cage and stroked their grizzled heads.
‘What on earth are you doing to my animals?’ Bruno cried, running over.
‘Hello, I’m Hetty, though my professional name is Emerald Star.’
‘I don’t care if you’re the Queen of Sheba. You can’t touch my bears! Are you an idiot? They’re wild animals. They’ll snap your hands off soon as look at you,’ said Bruno.
‘They’re all muzzled and chained too! Can’t you give them a bit of freedom within their cage? They look so restless and miserable. Their eyes are so sad.’
‘They’re beasts. They need to be chained. It’s you that’s upsetting them. Clear off or I’ll fetch Mr Tanglefield,’ Bruno told her.
‘Hetty, Hetty, come and help me with the monkeys,’ I said, tugging at her arm.
She came willingly and introduced herself to Mr Marvel. He nodded at her kindly enough, but when she told him she was going to be the ringmaster he burst out laughing.
‘Is your new friend soft in the head, Diamond?’ he said. ‘Ringmaster! I’ve never heard the like!’
‘You wait and see,’ said Hetty loftily, though she looked a little vexed.
Very few people were willing to give her the time of day, and no one wanted her to help, but she didn’t give up. She scurried across the field and back again, until Madame Adeline tactfully asked her to wrap and store all her ornaments and china so that they wouldn’t fall and chip during the journey.
It took a full two hours before the tent was in little pieces and roped neatly into place in a wagon, and all the horses buckled into their shafts. Midnight was far too grand and important to pull any wagon, of course. He rode in a wagon so that he didn’t get tired and spattered with mud – but when we saw the spires and chimney tops of Gillford in the distance, Madame Adeline led him out and he stepped along proudly as part of the procession while she sat on his back in spangles and pink fleshings.
I had to parade in my fairy frock, skipping and smiling and turning the odd somersault. Marvo strode forward with Julip sitting on his shoulders, calling to the crowd of excited onlookers, while Tag capered crazily, expending far too much energy showing off, doing ten flic-flacs in a row and ending up in the crowd himself, nearly squashing the smallest children at the front.
We were all on show as Mr Tanglefield’s Travelling Circus. Mr Tanglefield was up in front, hair blacked, moustache waxed, in a black frock coat and white silk breeches and boots so shiny you could see your face in them. He rode one of the horses, cracking his whip in the air, which made everyone jump.
Hetty was given a horse to ride too – old Sugar Poke, the oldest shuffling mare, as sweet-natured as her name. I had ridden Sugar Poke myself and it was as simple as sitting in a chair, but Hetty sat too tensely, hunched up, clearly a novice – though she still managed to wave her hat in the air and smile at the crowds. I thought she looked splendid in her scarlet coat, and her shapely legs in white fleshings made many of the lads whistle – but even so, there was a resentful muttering amongst the circus folk.
‘Who is that silly girl? What does she look like, slumped on that horse like a sack of potatoes? It’s clear she knows nothing about riding.’
‘Why is she wearing that get-up – all dressed up like a showman but with no act to speak of?’
‘Riding right up at the front too, only second to the boss himself. Has he taken leave of his senses?’
Oh, the mutterings got riper and ruder, and my cheeks burned on Hetty’s behalf. She must have heard some of the comments, but she took no notice whatsoever. She held her head high and gestured grandly, though she had to grab frantically at Sugar Poke’s mane if she quickened her pace at all.
When we got to Gillford Meadow at last, we had a great to-do setting up. There was no afternoon show, but we were booked to
do an evening performance, so we had our work cut out getting the big top safely up with every seat in place, and the animals fed and watered and exercised.
Then we practised in the ring, as always. It was all confusion, for Flora could not get the tautness of her tightrope right, and a wheel was threatening to come off the lions’ cage, and the handlebar of Chino’s penny-farthing had got slightly knocked out of true in transit. There was a lot of swearing and shouting.
Hetty crouched in a corner, watching intently, then scribbling in a notebook.
While Mister was fixing the springboard with Marvo, I ran over to her. ‘Hello, Hetty!’ I said. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m making notes,’ she said, frowning a little.
I watched her fill line after line with fancy squiggles. I could sometimes pick out words in print, but this fine handwriting defeated me. ‘You’re very clever,’ I said admiringly.
She stopped writing and looked at me. ‘No one else thinks so – and I’m not sure I think it either,’ she said. She reached out and took hold of my hand. Her own was cold as ice. ‘Oh, Diamond, what have I done! Whatever possessed me? How did I ever have the nerve to think I was equal to this? I managed to convince old Tanglefield that I could be a novelty child ringmaster with an artful way with words – but I don’t know anything about the circus!’
‘It’s fine to be a little nervous,’ I said, trying to reassure her. ‘That’s the mark of a true performer. Even Madame Adeline gets scared before a show. I am always frightened.’
‘But you both do something splendid. I have nothing to offer but patter,’ said Hetty despairingly.
‘You can make a living out of pattering,’ I said. ‘My father . . .’ My voice wobbled and I felt the sting of tears in my eyes, because it still hurt so much to remember that he had sold me.
‘Oh, Diamond, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,’ said Hetty, quickly putting her arm round me. Her notebook fell to the floor. The pages flicked over, all of them crisscrossed with her squiggly writing.
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