Little Stars

by Jacqueline Wilson

  I thought I’d find all these in the circus. I suppose I did at first. But then I realized that it was a cruel, tawdry world and constantly pitching tents and travelling to the next gaff was dreary and depressing. It was such hard work too, performing twice, sometimes three times a day, and then falling asleep bone-weary. If it was hard for me, it was five times that for poor little Diamond, forced to crick her bones to make them abnormally bendy, rehearsing her act many times a day, and then performing in the ring long past a child’s bedtime, always white with fear in case she didn’t please that gargoyle clown.

  ‘Hetty?’ Diamond said insistently.

  I realized she’d been trying to get my attention while I’d been daydreaming. ‘What is it, darling?’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘We’re going to the Cavalcade, remember?’

  ‘But Mr Perkins said it was a den of something-or-other. Isn’t it a bad place?’ asked Diamond.

  ‘It’s a music hall, that’s all. I think it sounds wonderful. You and I are going to be music-hall artistes,’ I said, and I turned my voice into a trumpet and tooted a fanfare.

  A cluster of children hopping about in the gutter jeered at me. I gave them a little bow and consequently made the penny-farthing wobble dangerously. That made them laugh hysterically. Poor Diamond fell to the ground in the process, though thank goodness she’d been taught how to take a tumble.

  ‘Yes, very funny, ha ha,’ I said sarcastically to the gaggle of children. ‘I’m so glad we amuse you. We will amuse you even more when we take our rightful place on the stage of the Cavalcade and get paid good money for our antics.’

  They stared at me blankly, clearly not following.

  ‘So can you please tell us the way to the Cavalcade?’ I asked, gazing around at them all.

  Their faces were still as blank as china dolls.

  ‘What’s the Cavalcade when it’s at home?’ the biggest boy asked.

  ‘It’s the music hall. Isn’t it here? There’s an advertisement for it in the market place,’ I said, helping Diamond to her feet and dusting her down.

  ‘Oh, I get you. It’s in Fenstone, that music hall, miles and miles away,’ he said.

  My heart sank. My legs were stiff and sore from yesterday’s pedalling. I didn’t feel ready to tackle another marathon journey. ‘How many miles?’ I said wearily.

  ‘Three. Maybe four,’ he said. ‘It’ll take you an hour or more.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, that’s nothing!’

  I’d been brought up in the countryside till I was nearly six. I used to walk over the meadows and through the woods with Jem for hour after hour, and when my worn boots got too tight, I simply tugged them off and went barefoot.

  ‘Thank you, boy,’ I said in a lordly fashion.

  He sniggered and made a very rude response. I ignored him and remounted the penny-farthing (successfully, thank the Lord). Diamond scrambled up too. I let her stand on my shoulders, just to show off. I pedalled off, and this time several of the children clapped and cheered.

  ‘Idiots,’ I murmured to Diamond. ‘Better sit down when we’re out of sight. Phew, this pedalling is hard work!’

  ‘Let me take a turn,’ Diamond suggested, though she was so small her feet couldn’t even reach the pedals.

  ‘Maybe later,’ I said tactfully. ‘You’re a dear little sister, do you know that?’

  Diamond giggled. ‘You’re a dear little big sister,’ she said.

  It wasn’t a very pleasant route to Fenstone: drab terraced houses and dark factories. The grey roads were littered with reeking horse manure. But I was now in such high spirits that I could have been bowling down leafy lanes, past picturesque thatched cottages, breathing in roses and honeysuckle.

  Diamond was in good spirits too. She started singing hymn after hymn, her voice high and sweet. When she didn’t remember the words properly, she invented her own.

  ‘Praise my soul the King of Heaven,

  To his feet – oh tingaling,

  Ranting reeled restored forgiven,

  Who like Hetty and Di-mond bring . . .’

  ‘You’re a funny sausage! Where did you learn all these hymns? Did you go to church when you were little? I had to go to chapel every single Sunday but I don’t know half as many hymns as you,’ I said.

  ‘Mama used to sing them,’ said Diamond. ‘I sat on her lap and she sang to me. Did you sit on your mama’s lap while she sang to you, Hetty?’

  I shut my eyes momentarily because it was so painful. This was a mistake. I had to swerve violently to avoid the carriage in front of us, stationary because the horse was contributing to the mire on the road.

  ‘Whoops,’ I said as we wobbled past. ‘No, I wasn’t with my mama when I was little enough to sit on her lap. You know I was at the Foundling Hospital.’

  ‘But your mama worked there, you said.’

  ‘I didn’t know she was my mama for years and years. And then, when I found out, she was sent away. And then – and then . . .’

  I couldn’t talk about that terrible summer when Mama slowly faded away and died.

  Diamond was quiet for a minute or so too. Then she stroked my hair and said softly in my ear, ‘I think your mama and mine have made friends in Heaven. They peer through the clouds at us every now and then to make sure we’re being good girls.’

  ‘Well, my poor mama must get very agitated, because I am often a bad girl,’ I said.

  My mood lightened again when we saw a signpost to Fenstone. It was a proper town, with heavy traffic. The road was so crowded that eventually I thought it safer to dismount and push the penny-farthing along the pavement. Pushing was harder than pedalling, but Diamond kept me amused by choosing which house she wanted to live in when we were grown up and rich and famous.

  ‘Which do you like best, Hetty? The house with the pretty blossom trees, or the house with the green shutters, or the house with that dome thing on the roof?’ she asked earnestly.

  ‘If we’re going to be really rich and famous, couldn’t we have a much bigger house? A mansion or a castle with a hundred rooms, and we can choose a different bedroom every week. How about that?’ I suggested.

  ‘No, I wouldn’t like that at all, it would be far too big and scary. I’d get lost, and what would I do if I forgot which bedroom you were in?’ said Diamond, taking me seriously. ‘No, Hetty, please let’s have one of these houses – they’re so pretty and not scary at all.’

  ‘Very well. Let’s have the one with the dome. That can be our bedroom. And we’ll bolt the front door so no one can ever get in, but if a very dear friend comes visiting, we’ll open a window and let down our hair like Rapunzel and they can climb up to see us.’

  ‘Oh yes, I like the dome house best of all too. But we’re going to have to grow our hair right down to our feet,’ said Diamond.

  ‘That’s a good idea. When we’re music-hall stars we’ll be known as the Hairy Sisters and our famous hair will flow out behind us as we walk, like a bride’s train. Woe betide anyone who steps on it!’

  ‘We’re going to use up an awful lot of bottles of rainbow shampoo,’ said Diamond. ‘Hetty, what’s that house right over there, past the shops? The big, big house with the beautiful pale green roof? Is it a palace? Do you think it’s where the Queen lives?’

  ‘I very much doubt Queen Victoria has a palace in Fenstone,’ I said. ‘But let’s go and see.’

  It certainly looked like a palace, with its fine red brick and weathered copper roof, all towers and cupolas. The steps to the grand gilt doors were covered in deep red carpet, and through the windows we could see the glint of a grand chandelier.

  ‘It is a palace!’ said Diamond.

  ‘No it’s not. Read that great big word in gilt lettering, Diamond.’

  ‘You know I’m not very good at reading.’

  ‘Try, go on!’

  ‘Cav . . . cav-al-cad?’

  ‘Cavalcade! We’re here, Diamond. This is the music hall!’

&nb
sp; THERE WAS A big poster on either side of the doors advertising all the artistes. The names at the top were in large fancy writing. Lower down the list the writing grew smaller. I walked right up until my nose was nearly pecking the poster. I reached out and touched the name on the bottom line. Little Flirty Bertie.

  Could he be my Bertie, the cheeky butcher’s boy? I had walked out with him when I was a reluctant servant in Mr Buchanan’s household. Dear funny Bertie, who had been so self-conscious about reeking of meat. Bertie, the boy who had taken me to the fair and won me the little black-and-white china dog that was in my suitcase now, carefully wrapped in my nightgown to prevent any chips.

  ‘Them dogs always come in pairs,’ Bertie had said. ‘You put them on your mantelpiece either side of the clock. All married folk have them. Seems like I’ll have to win you another, Hetty.’

  He said it light-heartedly, but he’d blushed as red as a side of beef. And I felt my own cheeks grow hot, because he might well have been hinting that we become a married couple one day. I liked Bertie very much, but I couldn’t take him seriously. If I’d been prepared to settle down with any man, it would have been with dear faithful Jem.

  It had been so painful rejecting him. I thought he’d be happier with my friend Janet. I knew I would have led him a merry dance, but Janet would stay dear and true. She loved Jem with all her heart.

  I’d loved Mama so much I still felt only half a girl without her. I loved Diamond now as if she were truly my sister. But I didn’t love any man that way. So why was my heart thumping now, as I looked at Bertie’s name?

  Of course, it probably wasn’t my Bertie at all. But he had told me of his ambitions to be a music-hall artiste. He’d sung to me and taught himself a jaunty tap-dance routine. I could imagine him in a straw hat and striped blazer striding about the stage, entrancing any audience. Had he really given up his steady job at the butcher’s shop to have a go?

  It would have been such a big step for him to take. I was surely mistaken. Bertie was a common enough name, even bestowed on royalty. But I would be so royally proud if Bertie really had taken to the boards and was a true music-hall star, albeit at the very bottom of the bill.

  I let my eyes slide upwards. Araminta, the Exotic Acrobatic Dancer. Sven the Russian Sword-swallower. Peter Perkins and his Comical Capers. Lily Lark, the Sweetest Songbird, was right at the top, with a picture of a woman singing, songbirds flying all around her head.

  I wondered if one day Diamond and I would share top billing. Diamond, the Acrobatic Child Wonder! Emerald Star, Compère Extraordinaire! Oh yes, it had an authentic ring.

  ‘Are we going in?’ said Diamond, slipping her hand in mine. ‘I can’t wait to see if it’s like a palace inside too. Will it be all gold, like in a fairy story? Will they have gold furniture and gold goblets to drink out of, and even a gold water closet?’

  ‘I’m not sure about that, but I’ve heard there’s going to be a real little fairy there, and she has golden hair,’ I said, giving one of Diamond’s locks a gentle tug.

  ‘Don’t laugh, but I really feel like a fairy!’ said Diamond. ‘Let’s go in, Hetty!’

  ‘No, no. We must prepare first before we accost the manager, whoever he is.’

  ‘Prepare?’

  ‘Rehearse our acts,’ I said. ‘Hush a moment, I need to memorize all these folk on the playbill. Oh dear, there are so many!’ I opened up my suitcase and started scribbling down the names on the back of one of my memoir notebooks with an old stub of pencil.

  When I had them all written down safely, I smiled at Diamond. ‘There! Now, we must find some kind of temporary lodging. We need to have a proper wash as we still look very travel stained. We’d better have a nap too. You have such dark circles under your eyes, people will mistake you for a baby panda. Now come along.’

  ‘But I’d much sooner stay at the Cavalcade. Maybe they have gold beds for all their artistes!’

  ‘I don’t think it very likely. We’ll probably have to make do with ordinary iron beds just for now,’ I said. ‘Come on!’

  I started pushing the penny-farthing while Diamond trailed behind, dragging the suitcase. She kept looking back wistfully.

  I had no idea where to search for lodgings. It had been much easier when I spent the summer in Bignor. Seasides had hundreds of boarding houses, all competing for business. Fenstone seemed very different. There were row after row of private houses, then wider shopping streets, then rows of private houses again. Not one had a sign up advertising board and lodging.

  I found a hotel near the railway station. It was large, and perhaps it had been impressive once, but now it had a decidedly seedy air, with peeling paint and cracked windows. The smell of stale frying fat wafted out of the open door. Surely such a place couldn’t be too expensive? I’d had the presence of mind to take my purse with me when Diamond and I were running away. I had a week’s meagre wages and some savings. I hoped there would be enough to last us a little while. Then we would start earning, wouldn’t we?

  I didn’t want to leave the penny-farthing outside, not with all sorts of cheeky lads milling around the railway station. Even if they didn’t steal my bicycle, they might very well try a ride on it for a lark, and then they’d be bound to wobble and crash and damage it.

  I wheeled it inside the front door and marched along the hallway. Diamond tiptoed after me. The smell of stale fat was worse than ever, and we breathed shallowly.

  ‘Hello?’ I called. I tried again, with no result. I walked up to a little table, seized hold of a bell and shook it vigorously. Diamond put her hand over her mouth at the clamour. It worried me too, but I tried to look calm and confident.

  An old man in undershirt, trousers and carpet slippers came shuffling into the hallway from the nether regions of the hotel. He was clutching a mop that smelled sour. He did too.

  He glared when he saw us. ‘What are you two kids playing at? How dare you mess about with my bell! Go home to your mothers.’

  ‘We can’t. We haven’t got any,’ said Diamond, her voice shrill. She rubbed her eyes as if she were crying and then gave me a sly glance. She was clearly playing for sympathy to help our cause. It was a pity she wasn’t a very convincing actress.

  ‘Well, that’s not my fault,’ he said, unimpressed. ‘Now scarper!’

  ‘But we require board and lodging for a week,’ I said quickly, in my most authoritative voice.

  ‘Oh yes? And you two little guttersnipes have the fifteen shillings it will cost?’ the man sneered.

  Fifteen shillings! Was he truly serious?

  ‘Perhaps we will simply take the lodgings and never mind the board,’ I said. It would be easy enough to buy buns and apples and meat pies. We were both used to eating frugally.

  ‘Oh yes? And perhaps you’d like a room without a bed for a further reduction?’ he sneered.

  ‘You don’t have to be so unpleasant. I’ve said we will take the room. Look, I have the money here,’ I said, showing him my purse.

  ‘And who did you snatch that from, you little varmint?’

  ‘How dare you speak to me like that! I’m a young lady,’ I said, tossing my head.

  I’d convinced dear Mr Perkins that I was a little girl, but now I was trying to pass myself off as a young woman. It wasn’t working. It didn’t help when Diamond stuck her chin in the air and declared that she was a young lady too.

  ‘Scram, both of you,’ the man said, and he raised his smelly mop at us.

  We had to make a run for it. It was hard work manoeuvring the penny-farthing back over the brass step. He started screaming that we were scraping his polish, though it was clear that step hadn’t seen a scape of polish for months.

  ‘What a nasty man,’ said Diamond when we were safely outside.

  ‘Absolutely foul. And the hotel was ludicrously expensive,’ I said.

  ‘It smelled horrid too.’

  ‘So we wouldn’t have wanted to stay there anyway.’

  But we still had to find somewhere to
stay, and wasted the rest of the morning looking. We went to a tearoom to have a bite to eat for lunch, but it was nowhere near as pleasant as Bessie’s.

  Diamond pointed at slices of pink-and-yellow cake under a glass dome. ‘Look! It’s Madame Adeline’s cake!’ she cried.

  We were both immediately filled with longing for dear Madame Adeline who had looked after us as best she could – until she had to retire from circus life. We ordered a slice of cake each, but it was flavourless and stale, a bitter disappointment.

  ‘I wish we could go and see Madame Adeline,’ said Diamond, chewing without swallowing. Her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘I do miss her so. Hetty, couldn’t we go and stay with her for just a little while and then become music-hall stars?’

  ‘No, love. Madame Adeline and Mr Marvel can scarcely look after themselves. We can’t impose on them. And they live much too far away. There’s a limit to my pedalling. Cheer up. We’ll find a place to live soon, I promise.’

  We asked the tearoom lady if we could use her facilities, but she wasn’t kind like Bessie.

  ‘What do you think this is, a public convenience? I’m not having you rampaging through my private property, snatching whatever takes your eye. Do you think I was born yesterday? Be off with you!’ she said, loud enough for the whole tearoom to hear.

  She actually put her hand on our backs and pushed us towards the door while folk stared. Diamond was pink in the face with humiliation. I expect I was red with rage, especially as I’d actually left her an extra penny as a tip, even though her cake was stale and her tea indifferent.

  ‘Oh, Hetty!’ Diamond wailed, once we were outside. ‘And I really badly need to go!’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, though I was worried myself. But I was nothing if not resourceful. I pushed the penny-farthing along, Diamond hop-skipping beside me, down older, quieter streets until we found a narrow alleyway. It reeked a little. Clearly other people had also used it for the purpose I had in mind. I went first and then sent Diamond, promising that I wouldn’t let anyone else go down the alley while she was using it.