They all bared their teeth in a smile, even Olivelli, though it was clearly a strain.
‘Now, where’s that boy of mine? Propping up the bar, I dare say. Someone go and fetch him, as I make it one minute to opening time. Dear, oh dear, who’d be in charge of a music-hall theatre?’ said Mrs Ruby. ‘Any of you wish to take over? You’d be more than welcome. I’m getting old and tired. I’d be glad of a rest.’ She smiled smugly, because she was looking marvellously youthful in her cleverly boned purple frock, and she seemed electric with energy. Her little eyes were darting everywhere, checking on all her artistes, looking for her ‘son’ and seeing that I’d wheeled the penny-farthing further back in the wings.
Then she heard the orchestra strike a particularly arresting chord. She stood even straighter, thrusting out her magnificent chest, and sailed onto the stage, owning every inch of it. All the chattering artistes in the wings lowered their voices to whispers.
Bertie tiptoed over to Diamond and me. ‘Are you all right, Hetty? That bogus Eyetie warbler didn’t hurt you, did he?’ he murmured.
‘You stopped him! Thank you so much.’
‘Well, I’ll not have anyone bullying my girl. Girls,’ he corrected himself, patting Diamond on the shoulder. ‘How are you feeling, Twinkle?’
‘I feel sick!’ she said. ‘Just the way I used to at the circus. Maybe worse.’
‘It’s just stage fright, dear. We all feel it,’ said Bertie. ‘See, I’m shivery and sick too.’ He started trembling violently and then mimed vomiting.
Diamond giggled and then clapped her hand over her mouth.
We waited silently while Mrs Ruby warmed up the audience. Someone right up in the gallery had the cheek to heckle her, calling out something vulgar about her bosom.
Mrs Ruby put her head on one side, one hand behind her ear. ‘Sorry, dear? Didn’t quite catch that. You’ve got a little mouse squeak. Show yourself, my sweetheart. Ooh, I see you. Yes, a little mouse all right, hiding there amongst your big mates. Why don’t you whip down those stairs and come and join me on stage, where we can have a proper conversation and you can admire my abundant figure in close proximity. How about that for an invitation? Little mousy want to come and meet Mrs Pussycat?’
This drew huge laughter and applause, and the stupid youth slunk down in his seat, not inclined to take up her invitation.
‘Boys!’ said Mrs Ruby, shaking her head. ‘And what about my boy? Where’s he got to? He’s due up on stage with me and yet I can’t see him. No use going through all the usual spiel about my boy Samson if he’s not going to come bounding onto the stage on cue. Shall I send out a search party for the naughty lad?’
There was a sudden jostling in the wings, and Samson Ruby pushed his way through, though he paused to give one of the showgirls a big kiss on her cheek. Then he spotted me. ‘Hello! Who’s this funny little sprat? Ooh, and an even weenier one,’ he said, patting Diamond on the head. ‘Whose kiddies are you?’
‘We’re not anybody’s kiddies,’ I said fiercely. ‘We’re artistes.’
He laughed in my face, breathing whisky fumes all over me.
‘Where are you, little Samson?’ Mrs Ruby repeated on stage, an edge to her voice.
‘Here, big Mama,’ he said, rushing forward to kiss her hand.
I hated him, but he was very clever at bantering with her and dealing with the audience, because now half a dozen were cat-calling. As ringmaster at Tanglefield’s, I’d had to deal with a few drunks. It was like walking a tightrope. If they were merry, everything could go swimmingly and they’d laugh along with you in a cheery manner, but they could suddenly snap and turn nasty for no reason, and then they were a nightmare to control. Diamond wasn’t the only one who was trembling.
When Mrs Ruby came off stage, she breathed out heavily. ‘Be bold, dears. They’re a rowdy lot tonight. Squash ’em flat from the start.’ She turned to Diamond and me. ‘And keep your peckers up, little girlies. Don’t show you’re scared, whatever you do. You both look so sweet, I doubt that even the meanest drunk will pick on you. I’m going to my special box now. I’ll be watching over you.’
‘And I’ll be watching over you too,’ said Bertie as Samson Ruby started introducing him. He squeezed my hand, and I was surprised to discover that it was nearly as cold and clammy as mine.
‘Good luck, Bertie. I think your act’s brilliant,’ I said.
‘I do too,’ said Diamond earnestly.
‘There, what a lucky chap I am, having two sweethearts wishing me well!’ Bertie sprang on stage with a natty little skip, waving his boater in the air.
I was glad that Samson Ruby always sat at a special table in front of the stage, ready to announce all the artistes. I didn’t fancy the idea of being squashed up in the wings with him. I hated the way he’d looked at me. The girl he’d kissed was wiping her cheek, grimacing, while her friends were shaking their heads sympathetically.
I watched Bertie, marvelling at his courage as he sang and danced and cracked funny jokes as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
‘Bless his little cotton socks,’ said one of the showgirls.
‘He’s a cute one, our Bertie,’ said another.
I was glad he was a favourite of theirs. I didn’t want Ivy Green flirting with him, but the showgirls were talking about him as if he were a cute puppy, not a man to be reckoned with. They all trooped on stage for him to serenade them, while the audience laughed.
‘That’s it, Bertie, lad. Make them laugh. Then they’ll keep laughing for me,’ said Peter Perkins, the comic.
He didn’t look comical now, he looked deadly serious, and he had to keep mopping his brow with a yellow spotted handkerchief. He shook his head when he saw me staring. ‘It’s all right for you two. Like Mrs Ruby said, they’ll not turn on little girls. They might chew you up a little bit, but then they’ll spit you out. But a big sweaty chappie like me – oooh, they’ll swallow me whole if I’m not careful. Dear God, why did I ever take to the boards? I should have listened to my old dad,’ he said. ‘I’d have done an honest day’s work down the market and now I’d be safe at home with my feet up.’
‘Oh my goodness!’ I said. ‘I think we might have met your father. Is he Sam Perkins, with his own fruit and veg stall? He was so kind to Diamond and me. He took us for a slap-up breakfast and looked after us beautifully.’ I didn’t add that Mr Perkins had called the Cavalcade a den of iniquity.
‘That’s my dad all right,’ said Peter Perkins. ‘Does everyone a good turn and always has a kind word – well, except for me. I fair broke his heart when I wouldn’t join him in the family business, and it was the last straw when I joined the Cavalcade. He’s strait-laced, my dad – wouldn’t ever set foot in a music hall. He’ll barely talk to me now.’
‘Oh dear, I’m so sorry. But sometimes you just have to follow your dream,’ I said.
‘Sometimes your dream turns into a nightmare,’ he murmured gloomily.
Bertie came bouncing across the stage, all sunny smiles and cheery waves until he joined us in the wings. Then he pulled a face and mopped his brow. ‘Lordy, Lordy, that was uphill work,’ he said.
‘You were very good, Bertie,’ said Diamond. ‘I think I’ll be very bad.’
‘Nonsense. You’ll knock their socks off,’ said Bertie. ‘All crowds love little girls.’
There were cheers and whistles as the showgirls went back on stage to do their own routine.
‘They like big girls too,’ I said. My mouth was so dry I had to wet my lips to talk properly. How on earth was I going to project my voice to the back of the huge hall? Why had I tried so desperately hard to get a place here? What was really so glamorous about the music hall? Diamond and I didn’t have to do this. We could stay at Miss Gibson’s and I could sew pretty gowns and we could lead a quiet, tranquil life.
‘You’ll be fine, Hetty, I promise you,’ Bertie whispered.
‘I just feel so nervous!’ I admitted. ‘I never felt like this at the circus. I almost wi
sh I was back there . . . No, I don’t! The clown, Beppo, was so cruel to Diamond.’
She had crept to the edge of the wings, distracted by the dancers. She unconsciously clapped her hands and pointed her toes, imitating them.
‘You’re really fond of that kid, aren’t you?’ Bertie said. ‘You’re like a little mother to her. You’ll be marvellous when you have your own kids, Hetty.’
‘I’m not having any kids! Or any husband either,’ I said firmly.
‘Not even the sainted Jem?’
‘I expect he’s married someone else by now.’
‘Oh, Hetty! Did he jilt you, then?
‘No he didn’t. I left him,’ I said shortly.
‘There! You couldn’t get me out of your head, could you?’ Bertie was joking, but there was a hopeful edge to his voice.
‘I didn’t give you a second thought,’ I said, not entirely truthfully. It sounded harsher than I’d meant. ‘Sorry, Bertie, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.’
‘Don’t worry, you haven’t. I was just trying to distract you – stop you feeling so nervous,’ he said lightly.
‘Well, that’s very kind of you,’ I said. ‘Though it’s not working!’
The dancers’ routine seemed to be over in a flash. Peter Perkins bit his thumb for luck and then went on stage, walking like a soldier – left, right, left, right – then saluting so smartly he poked himself in the eye. It was a silly routine that had worked before, but tonight it barely raised a titter.
‘Oh, poor man,’ I said.
‘He’s a trooper, old Pete. He’ll get them on his side,’ said Bertie.
But poor Peter Perkins couldn’t make any of his jokes work – and they started booing him.
‘I can’t bear it,’ I said, putting my hands over my ears.
‘He won’t let it upset him too much. Sometimes they’re simply not in the mood for jokes. They just want to be a comic turn themselves,’ Bertie told me.
‘And some comics are no bally good anyway,’ Signor Olivelli muttered.
Peter Perkins came off looking chalk white, to hardly any applause. The other artistes turned away tactfully, though Bertie patted him on the back. Peter hurried off, shaking his head in despair.
Signor Olivelli didn’t have a much better reception, but he took no notice of the restless audience, simply singing louder and louder, his eyes closed as if he were singing to himself. The crowd liked Araminta, loudly applauding her very brief costume.
Mr Apple the ventriloquist joined us in the wings only a couple of minutes before he was due on. He stared at Diamond and me. ‘Who are you two?’
‘We’re artistes. I’m Emerald Star and this is Diamond,’ I said. ‘How do you do?’ I held out my hand, but he didn’t take it.
‘I don’t hold with kids littering up the place,’ he muttered.
‘I’m not a kid. I’m nearly sixteen. This is my costume,’ I said.
‘And you’ve got a little boy yourself,’ said Diamond.
Mr Apple glared at her.
‘She means Little Pip. She was very taken with him when we saw the show,’ I explained.
He sighed impatiently. But when he unzipped his bag and took out Little Pip, he handled him carefully, stroking the dummy’s wild hair into place and adjusting his tie. He slipped his hand up inside Little Pip’s coat and then pulled a funny face at him. Little Pip turned his head and pulled a funny face back.
I raised my eyebrows at Bertie.
He rolled his own eyes and tapped the side of his forehead. ‘Barmy,’ he mouthed.
I tried to concentrate on Benjamin Apple’s act, to see if I could get further inspiration for our own performance, but it was hard to concentrate. We were on next!
Diamond started squirming. ‘I think I need to go to the WC, Hetty!’
‘Well, you can’t. Not till after we’ve been on stage. It’ll all be over in ten minutes, Diamond,’ I whispered.
‘Will they shout at us?’
‘They might.’
‘Then can we run away?’
‘No, we’re going to carry on, no matter what. Mrs Ruby will be watching. We can’t give up. We’re going to give an immaculate performance and show everyone,’ I said. I took hold of Diamond’s hand. ‘We can do it!’
Benjamin Apple came off stage, still bowing. Little Pip was bowing too, his head bobbing up and down to show he was pleased.
‘Sticky night, boss,’ said Little Pip.
‘But they liked us,’ said Benjamin Apple. Then he took Little Pip off his arm and stuffed him back in his bag.
‘Liked us,’ Little Pip murmured in a muffled voice.
Diamond backed away from them, and I shivered because it was so creepy.
‘Did you enjoy Benjamin Apple and Little Pip, ladies and gents – and naughty boys up in the gallery?’ Samson Ruby bellowed. ‘A real comic turn, weren’t they? Well, you’re in for a very special treat, because there are two little girls who are going to do their best to entertain you in exactly the same way. Oh, this is going to tickle your fancy! Please put your hands together to welcome our new Little Stars to the stage, Emerald and Diamond!’
I picked Diamond up and made for the stage.
‘Wait a minute. What does he mean, exactly the same way? You’re not another bally ventriloquist act, are you?’ Mr Apple hissed, standing in front of us.
‘Get out of their way!’ said Bertie furiously, and he pulled him to one side.
I rushed on stage, five beats too late, as the audience started to murmur. I decided to exploit the situation. Instead of launching straight into the act, I stopped, acted totally startled, peered out into the audience, and then made my mouth a round O of astonishment.
‘Hello! Are you all guests at my party? I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you. I was upstairs, in the littlest room, doing what little girls have to do.’
The audience rocked with laughter. Diamond clutched me, surprised because I’d launched into a brand-new script. I patted her reassuringly, hoping she wouldn’t panic.
‘I am Emerald and it’s my birthday today. Mama said I could have lots of people to my party, but I didn’t realize she meant this many! There are lots and lots and lots of you. This is my best birthday present – my new dolly, Diamond. Isn’t she pretty? Just like a real little girl. I wish she was!’
The audience laughed knowingly, realizing what was coming. I hoped some still weren’t sure, wondering if Diamond really was a doll.
It was easy after that. We’d won them over. When Diamond spoke at last, in her expressionless chant, they all exclaimed delightedly. I lost all sense of time and place. We were simply Emerald and Diamond in the bright limelight, and I was tingling all over, because our act was working.
I’d seen how Lily Lark involved the audience, chatting to one gentleman in particular, and then to one lady. I copied this, only I called the man Papa and the lady Mamma. I stressed the double m. I didn’t want to call some stranger the precious name Mama. It worked a treat, bringing them into the act while everyone waited to hear how they’d respond. Then a lad in the gallery called something. I didn’t even properly hear what it was, but I quickly told the audience, ‘Oh, that’s my big brother Fred. Take no notice of him! He’s forever plaguing me.’ It won me another laugh.
I didn’t dare milk the situation for too long. I knew Mrs Ruby was strict about timings so the show didn’t drag on, and all the artistes had their fair turn. I started the pocket-money routine, emphasizing the words penny and farthing, and then fetched the machine and rode it onto the stage. Diamond was dancing around, holding her skirts out and looking pretty as a picture, but her eye was on me. With split-second timing she ran forward, leaping up as I pedalled to the right spot, where she could land perfectly on my shoulders!
The audience clapped hard, clearly taken aback. I heard Diamond give a little gasp of pleasure. Well, they were in for a bigger surprise. I wheeled us about, while Diamond held her arms out, gripping me hard with her knees, and then we wo
rked up to her handstand at the end of the act. She did it beautifully, and then managed to free one hand to wave as I pedalled off.
There was such applause! We’d had ovations at the circus, but we’d never experienced anything like this great roar of noise. We listened in the wings, trembling with excitement. Then we heard Samson Ruby shouting, ‘Wasn’t that spectacular, ladies and gents? I’m sure you’d like our Little Stars to run on and take a bow!’
We didn’t need to be told twice. We left the penny-farthing and ran on stage, hand in hand. I didn’t have to tell Diamond what to do. She curtsied like a little fairy, and I did too, while the clapping and cheers made us reel. Then we skipped off, waving. Diamond did one perfect forward flip just as she reached the curtain, a bit of showmanship that made me laugh.
Benjamin Apple wasn’t laughing. He was still in the wings, looking furious. ‘How dare you come here and make a mockery of my act! You don’t have any ventriloquist skills whatsoever. You’re just poking fun at my performance. Yours is a complete parody!’ he spat.
‘That’s the entire point, Mr Apple,’ I said. ‘It is a parody – and a homage to your great performance. It’s a traditional thing to do in the circus. Clowns come after all the biggest talent and try to copy their skills. It makes you look even more talented, don’t you see?’
‘Do you think I’m a fool? You can sweet-talk me all you like, but I know an evil little upstart when I see one. How dare you come skipping in here with your simpers and silliness and make a fool of me!’ he spluttered.
‘You’re making a fool of yourself, Apple,’ said Bertie. ‘The girls were brilliant in their own right, and you know it. Well done, Hetty, well done, little Twinkle. You really are stars!’
‘Stars! They’re slum children off the street with a few slick tricks, that’s all they are,’ said Benjamin Apple.
‘You say that again and you’ll get my fist connecting with your big mouth,’ said Bertie.
‘If anyone says any more, they’ll get my kid boot up their backside!’ said Mrs Ruby, who had come scurrying down from her box. ‘Shut up, the lot of you! Bertie, simmer down – less of the threats. Apple, you’ve done your turn, so clear off to your digs with your little chap and get over your peevishness by tomorrow or you’ll find yourself out on your ear. Right! Little girls, come with me, and take that penny-farthing with you or we’ll all be going farce over fit, if you get my rhyming slang.’
Little Stars Page 11