Diamond

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘Mr Marvel?’ For one second I actually believed her, even though Mr Marvel was such a vast age and as wizened as his monkeys. And then I started giggling, and Hetty did too.

  ‘You’re teasing me!’ I said.

  ‘No, no, I’m absolutely serious. I shall set my cap at Mr Marvel and marry him, and all the monkeys will be my stepchildren and little Mavis will be my special baby,’ said Hetty.

  ‘No, Mavis is my baby!’

  ‘Oh, very well, you can have Mavis, but you’re definitely not getting my Marvel too, even though he told me you were his sweetheart.’

  ‘Did he really? He is very kind to me and I love him dearly, but he’s even older than my pa, and he is very elderly,’ I said.

  ‘I have quite a young pa,’ Hetty told me, suddenly serious.

  I was astonished. I’d thought Hetty was an orphan. I knew she’d lost her mother, but this father was total news to me. I wondered why she did not live with him.

  ‘Did he not want you, Hetty?’ I said. ‘My pa didn’t want me. He sold me to Beppo for five guineas.’

  ‘Then he was very silly, because you’re worth at least five thousand guineas, Diamond. No, I think my pa does want me. He made me as welcome as he could when I went to stay with him. But his new wife did not care for me at all. She’d sell me for five pennies and think she’d got a bargain!’

  ‘And . . . have you any other family, Hetty?’ I asked tentatively, thinking of the foster brother.

  Perhaps Hetty was thinking of him too, because her blue eyes looked very shiny, as if they were full of tears. But then she gave a great sniff. ‘You are my family now, Diamond,’ she said. ‘You and Madame Adeline.’

  This time I knew she was serious and I felt wondrously joyful. But she was certainly a little fond of dear old Mr Marvel, even if she didn’t quite want him for a sweetheart, because she bought new material the next time she found a clothes market, and made a whole set of clothes for the monkey family.

  She stitched Melinda and Marianne wonderful tiny frocks in silk bombazine – one heliotrope with navy stripes, one brilliant peacock blue, both with bonnets to match and fur-trimmed mantles. Both girl monkeys had to mind their manners now they were dressed as elegant ladies. It took them a while to get used to their new costumes, and they wriggled and scratched and pulled off each other’s bonnets in a very comical fashion. But Marmaduke and Michael adopted a dandy air as soon as Hetty kitted them out with little jackets and waistcoats and pinstripe trousers, and wore their mini bowler hats at a comical angle, crammed over their little round ears. Hetty dressed Mavis as a real baby, with a long cream gown and infant bonnet, and Mr Marvel taught her to tuck her gown up into her napkin, which always got a huge laugh from the audience.

  Hetty worked on her own clothes too. She cut a very fine figure in her borrowed fleshings, but she hated it when lads in the audience shouted out that she had ‘a cracking pair of pins’. She bought a length of good quality cream cotton and tried to make herself a proper pair of riding breeches. She had difficulty fashioning the legs at first, and wasted her first length of cloth, which made her swear because it was expensive. But the second time around she mastered the flair of the leg, while getting a good tight fit around the hips.

  It was perhaps a little too good a fit, because the lads started shouting rude remarks about her nether regions instead. One windy day she found a fine top hat that must have bowled right off some gent’s head. It was a little muddy, but after a stiff brush it came up as good as new. I thought she’d throw her stovepipe hat away, because even I knew it was old-fashioned and it had become very shabby – but she rolled it up in a length of silk and kept it stowed away in an old pillowcase as if it were as valuable as a jewelled crown.

  She gazed at herself in Madame Adeline’s looking glass, flourishing her top hat and striking poses in her new breeches.

  ‘You look lovely, Hetty,’ I said admiringly.

  ‘Hmn,’ said Hetty. ‘I really need proper boots though. Polished riding boots.’

  I was in awe of Hetty because she could make most things, but I knew even she couldn’t manage a pair of leather boots. I saw her eyeing Mr Tanglefield’s shiny black boots enviously.

  ‘Perhaps he’s got an old pair he doesn’t wear any more,’ she said thoughtfully.

  ‘He’s a small man, but his feet are still twice the size of yours,’ I pointed out.

  ‘I could stuff the toes with paper,’ said Hetty. ‘Oh, I wish I had a proper pair of boots.’

  ‘Are they very expensive, Hetty?’ I asked.

  ‘Desperately so. I’ve asked at the bootmaker’s in town. Their best pair is five guineas.’

  ‘Oh my goodness, I cost that much,’ I said.

  ‘I suppose I can save up, but it’s going to take such ages.’ Hetty kicked up her legs and sighed.

  But she didn’t have to wait ages after all. The next day Madame Adeline went out straight after breakfast and came back with a great brown paper parcel in her arms.

  ‘What have you got there, Madame Addie?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s a little present, Diamond,’ she said.

  ‘It looks like a very big present.’ I looked at it hopefully.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s not for you, sweetheart. But I dare say I can find you a chocolate treat, and that can be your very little present,’ said Madame Adeline.

  ‘Then who is it for?’

  She nodded towards Hetty, who was wobbling all over the meadow on Chino and Beppo’s penny-farthing cycle. She kept falling off, but she just brushed herself down and tried again, laughing.

  At that moment Mister spotted her too and came hobbling towards her, spitting with fury. ‘You, girl! Get off that machine immediately! What do you think you’re doing? That contraption cost a small fortune. If that wheel’s buckled, I’ll have your guts for garters.’

  Hetty jumped off the penny-farthing and untucked her skirts, laughing at him. ‘Don’t get so agitated, Mr Beppo. See – your penny-farthing’s utterly unblemished.’ She handed it over to him, dropping him a little curtsy.

  ‘Don’t put on airs and graces with me, you little trollop. You might have old Tanglefield so dazed he’s practically signing his whole circus over to you – but you don’t impress me one little bit,’ said Beppo.

  He climbed onto the penny-farthing himself to establish his rightful ownership – but he wasn’t as skilled as Chino, and when he rode away he wobbled precariously, got the front wheel stuck on a tuft of grass, and fell right off, landing comically on his behind.

  ‘You’re such a funny clown!’ said Hetty, and ran off to join Madame Adeline and me.

  ‘Watch yourself, Hetty. It’s not wise to tease Beppo too much. He can be a bad enemy,’ said Madame Adeline.

  ‘When you’ve grown up with terrible pig-faced matrons who hit you and locked you up in the attic, you don’t get frightened of silly little circus men,’ said Hetty.

  Madame Adeline shook her head at her, but I was thrilled to hear her talking like that, even though I knew she was showing off. It helped me not to be so frightened of Mister.

  ‘You’re a naughty girl, Hetty, and a bad example to little Diamond,’ said Madame Adeline. ‘You don’t really deserve a present – but here, take a look at this.’ She handed Hetty the parcel.

  Hetty held it, feeling the shapes under the paper, suddenly shocked into silence.

  ‘What is it, Hetty? Oh, quick, tear the paper off!’ I shouted.

  Hetty gave a tiny pull at the wrapping, exploring something that gleamed conker-brown underneath. She gasped, and then suddenly tore the rest of the paper off so that it fluttered in shreds to her feet. She was left holding a pair of polished riding boots.

  She cradled them as if they were two babies.

  ‘I hope they’re the right sort,’ said Madame Adeline. ‘They should be a reasonable fit. I took an outline of your shoes to show the bootmaker.’

  ‘Oh, Madame Adeline, they’re simply beautiful,’ Hetty whispered. ‘But –
but I can’t possibly accept them. They are far too expensive. They’re the best present in the whole world, but as you say, I don’t deserve them!’

  ‘No, Hetty, you gave me the best present in the whole world – my wonderful tulip wrapper, made so carefully and lovingly. All I’ve done is buy a pair of boots,’ said Madame Adeline.

  ‘But they’re so expensive. You must have used up all your savings!’

  ‘It seems a little silly for me to save for my future when I may not have one,’ said Madame Adeline. ‘You girls have all your lives ahead of you.’

  ‘And so have you!’ said Hetty fiercely. ‘You’re still the absolute star of the show.’

  ‘I don’t think so, dear, though it’s sweet of you to say so. No, you are both our little stars – our tiny fairy Diamond and you, Hetty, our loved and brilliant ringmaster.’

  ‘A ringmaster who now has the best boots in the world!’ said Hetty.

  WE SETTLED DOWN into a steady rhythm of setting up, practising, performing, taking down, travelling to the next village – and the next and the next and the next. I lost the tight feeling in my stomach, the squeeze of fear that made me tremble. I was still wary of Mister, but Hetty made sure she was nearby when we practised and he did not beat me in front of her. He stopped trying to teach me new tricks using the dreaded springboard. I was still anxious every time I scrambled up my silver brothers to make the human column, but it was becoming second nature now, almost as simple as running up a flight of stairs.

  Every single day I played with Hetty. My doll, Maybelle, stayed neglected in my sleeping hammock. I had no need for a cloth friend now. Hetty and I ran wild races and balanced on the sea lions’ rubber balls and stole the clowns’ penny-farthing. At these times Hetty forgot she was practically grown up, and gloried in being bold and boisterous, charging around with her skirts tucked up.

  ‘I never got to play when I was in the Foundling Hospital. I’m making up for lost time now!’ she declared.

  We had wonderful quiet times together too. She tried to teach me to read. I learned my alphabet and could figure out simple words, but I much preferred it if Hetty read to me, because she did so with such expression that it all came alive, as if the story was really happening. She read me her favourite book, David Copperfield. I grew a little fidgety when David became a man, but I loved hearing Hetty read the first few chapters when he was still a small boy. I wanted to play on the beach with him and little Em’ly. In the summer we had spent weeks at seaside venues and I couldn’t get enough of the sands and the great swooshing sea.

  Hetty had high hopes that we might visit a certain seaside town on the south coast called Bignor.

  ‘I had such a dear friend there called Freda – a very large lady, but so gentle and refined,’ she said. ‘Oh, I do so hope I get to meet her again.’

  But sadly we didn’t go anywhere near this Bignor, with its big lady, and Hetty did not mention her again.

  We turned back on ourselves and made our slow, meandering way through several counties, heading back towards London.

  I was so happy living day by day that I did not realize I was in familiar territory. I performed in the first show, I had my stew, I ate cake with Madame Adeline and Hetty, and then I went into the ring for the second evening show. There was the usual laughter and applause as I did my little routine – but when I started climbing up Marvo and Julip and Tag to make the human column, someone called urgently, ‘Watch out, Ellen-Jane – don’t fall!’

  I nearly did fall, I was so surprised. I couldn’t see until I got right up on Tag’s shoulders, and there, way down below me, was my dear sister Mary-Martha clutching a small boy, standing up in her seat, her mouth a big O of awe.

  I waved at her very proudly and she waved back, and made the child wave too – my own little brother Johnnie.

  I could hardly contain myself when I came out of the ring. ‘My family are in the audience!’ I said. ‘They were watching me!’

  I didn’t just tell Marvo and Julip and Tag and then Madame Adeline. I told Mr Marvel and every little monkey. I even hung on Elijah’s trunk and told him too.

  ‘It’s no use that pa of yours thinking he can come and fetch you back,’ said Beppo. ‘I bought you, fair and square, and he signed the piece of paper. You’re my property now and he’s not entitled to a penny of profit.’

  ‘Was Pa there too?’ I squeaked.

  He hadn’t come – of course he hadn’t. But Mary-Martha was there, and she was the one I loved most. At the end of the final parade, she came rushing up to me.

  ‘Oh, Ellen-Jane, I could scarce believe my eyes!’ she cried, giving me such a fierce hug that baby Johnnie was squashed between us.

  He wasn’t the only brother come to see me. Luke was hanging back awkwardly, scarcely recognizable, he’d grown so pink and plump and rosy-cheeked.

  ‘Oh, Luke!’ I said, and gave him a hug too. ‘You look very well!’

  ‘I look too well for my profession. On funeral days they have to powder my cheeks so that I still look respectably pale,’ he said. ‘They’re talking of reducing my food too. I do hope not – the missus is a marvel at cooking. You should taste her pies, Ellen-Jane! And her cake and tarts – oh my!’

  ‘Luke fetches some home for us if he can,’ said Mary-Martha. ‘Oh, we should have brought you some.’

  ‘I have cake too – pink and yellow with marzipan – and chocolates!’ I boasted. ‘And all the oranges I can ever eat. Did you see the folk throwing them?’

  ‘We saw you, Ellen-Jane – and oh, you were grand! I couldn’t believe it, my own sister got up like a little fairy queen and flying through the air! Don’t you get frightened at all?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ I lied. ‘Did you see my forward somersault? Shall I show you now?’

  I demonstrated. Mary-Martha and Luke gasped most satisfyingly, and little Johnnie went into peals of laughter.

  ‘I’ll have to take you home with us. You’d be wonderful at diverting him when he starts one of his crying fits,’ said Mary-Martha.

  ‘Then . . . can I come home?’ I said.

  She looked stricken. ‘Oh, me and my big mouth! I didn’t mean it like that. Oh dear, I wish you could come home more than anything, Ellen-Jane, I miss you something chronic, but Pa would go mad. He won’t even let us talk about you now.’

  I swallowed hard. ‘Perhaps I could creep home while Pa’s out drinking?’ I suggested.

  ‘He doesn’t drink a drop now, not since that day when you ran off with the circus man,’ said Mary-Martha.

  ‘I didn’t run off! He sold me!’ I said, starting to cry.

  ‘Don’t take on so, Ellen-Jane,’ Luke said uncomfortably. ‘He sold me too, didn’t he – and Matthew and Mark.’

  ‘Luke is doing so well now, and he comes to see me whenever he can. He earns a fortune in tips from the bereaved. He’s very generous,’ said Ellen-Jane. ‘Matthew is learning carpentry and doing well too – he carved Johnnie a lovely little wooden train. Ever so grand, isn’t it, Johnnie pet?’

  ‘And Mark?’

  ‘Mark’s a bad boy. He ran away from the fishmonger, says he couldn’t stand it. Oh, Pa was so cross. But he’s got a job in a department store now, just helping out with the stock, but they’ll put him to serving customers soon.’

  ‘And what about you, Mary-Martha?’

  ‘Oh, I just keep home and look after Baby, and I do all the colour work too of course, for the tracts and the story books. I lead the same ordinary old life – but you, Ellen-Jane, you are famous! You are so brilliant. My heart was fit to burst with pride when I saw you. My own baby sister, such a little star! So it’s all worked out for the best, hasn’t it?’ she said.

  ‘I . . . suppose so,’ I replied, ducking my head.

  ‘You are happy, aren’t you, Ellen-Jane?’ Mary-Martha swapped Johnnie to her other hip and seized my arm anxiously.

  ‘Of course she’s happy,’ said Luke. ‘She was always the little show-off, standing on her head and waggling
her legs. She’s doing the job she was born for. She’s Diamond now. What was it that ringmaster girl called you? She’s a caution too! You’re Diamond the Acrobatic Child Wonder.’

  ‘That girl is my friend Hetty. And yes, I am happy, very happy,’ I said.

  But that night I cried hard in my hammock because I wasn’t part of my family any more.

  Marvo saw my red eyes in the morning and asked what was wrong. I wouldn’t tell him. I didn’t even breathe a word to Madame Adeline when she gave me cocoa with cream for a breakfast treat, but as soon as I was alone with Hetty I burst out sobbing again.

  ‘Tell me, Diamond,’ she said, holding me close and rocking me.

  So I told her that I didn’t have a proper family any more, sobbing so much that I made her bodice wet.

  ‘Try not to take it to heart,’ she said softly.

  ‘But I am so, so sad! I don’t have a ma, and my pa don’t want me, nor my brothers, and even Mary-Martha don’t miss me very much,’ I wailed.

  ‘I don’t have a ma now either, though she’s always in my heart. I have a dear pa, but I dare say he don’t miss me either. I have sisters and brothers – very dear brothers – but they aren’t my family now.’

  ‘So you haven’t got a family either, Hetty?’ I said, knuckling my eyes.

  ‘Yes, I have. I’ve got you. And we’ve both got Madame Adeline. What more could we want?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, that’s true,’ I said, cheering up instantly.

  ‘And don’t forget, you’ve always got your dear old Grandpappy Beppo,’ said Hetty, which made me shriek with laughter.

  Seeing Mary-Martha and Luke did unsettle me for weeks though. I looked for them in the audience long after the circus had moved on to other towns.

  ‘Don’t you ever wonder if any of your kin are watching you?’ I asked Hetty.

  ‘Well, I did hope I might see my friend Freda when we were at the seaside back in the summer, but I’d have definitely spotted her in the audience. Freda is a girl who can’t help sticking out in a crowd,’ she replied.

  ‘But what about your brothers and sisters?’

  ‘Oh Lord, they’d never come,’ said Hetty.