Little Stars

by Jacqueline Wilson

  I sat down on a bench, trying to concentrate on Diamond. But one word kept tolling like a bell in my head. Jem! Jem! Jem!

  When I left the house, I had thrust the letter into my pocket – I couldn’t bear the thought of Miss Gibson or Diamond reading it! I took it out again now, smoothing the creases, and read it through again. I lingered over the first three paragraphs, trying to recapture my feelings of wild irritation. But somehow Jem’s words failed to have the same effect second time round. He expressed himself a little stiffly, but that was because he was trying to write elegantly, showing me that he might be a farm labourer but he could turn a fancy phrase as well as anyone. His tone was teacherly, but his concern was genuine.

  I couldn’t really blame him for being worried about the music hall. Many folk shared his prejudice. Some of the acts were more than a little risqué, and many of the costumes were alarmingly brief. I thought of the shapely legs of the showgirls and the ballet dancers, of the practically bare body of Araminta the contortionist. I knew from the raucous response of the audience that most weren’t there to appreciate their dancing or acrobatic skills. Jem simply wanted to protect me from unpleasant cries and comments.

  I made myself re-read the last two paragraphs. I started crying all over again, and had to duck my head so the nearby mother wouldn’t see. Why was I reacting in such an emotional manner? I’d wanted Jem to marry Janet. I hadn’t wanted him as my own sweetheart. I’d thought of him as my brother. So why now, when Jem signed himself for the first time as Your ever-loving brother did that word seem to stab me in the stomach?

  I didn’t understand. I bent my head even lower, until it was on my knees. I put my hands over my ears, trying to block out the chatter of the small child, the murmur of the mother, the scrunch of the gravel path as someone else walked by. I wanted to crawl into a deep, dark, silent world to try to make sense of things.

  ‘Why, Mama?’ I whispered.

  Oh, Hetty! You know why. You want Jem – and yet you don’t want Jem.

  ‘So do I want Bertie?’

  It’s the same answer. You want Bertie – and yet you don’t want Bertie.

  ‘Why am I like this? Why can’t I make up my mind?’

  You’ve always been a contrary child!

  ‘Well, I know one thing. I want you, Mama. Why did you have to go and die when I was so young?’

  You were old enough to cope, dearie. Just about. You had to grow up very quickly. You should take a leaf out of Diamond’s book and try being a child again. Perhaps that’s the trouble. You’re too young for any sweetheart, Jem or Bertie.

  ‘Which one do you like best, Mama?’

  I can’t tell you that! You must make up your own mind.

  This wasn’t much help, but I felt a little more peaceful. I sat up awkwardly, conscious that the mother and child were staring at me. I wondered if I’d been talking aloud. I hurried away, hoping they didn’t think I was some poor soul whose mind was wandering. Perhaps I was?

  Miss Gibson seemed very relieved when I got home.

  ‘You gave us quite a fright, rushing off like that, Hetty. Poor Diamond wanted to run after you. She cried when I wouldn’t let her. You must try to act more responsibly, dear,’ she said reproachfully.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I won’t do it again, Miss Gibson. Thank you for looking after Diamond for me.’

  I was even sorrier for Diamond, who didn’t make a fuss or start crying again. She just clung to me, her hands hot and tight about my waist.

  ‘It’s all right, sweetheart. I just needed a little walk by myself, that’s all,’ I said.

  ‘I thought you were running away from me,’ she whispered.

  ‘As if I’d ever do that!’ I said, smoothing her hair and kissing the top of her head.

  ‘You promise you won’t ever?’

  ‘I promise. I tell you what, we’ll go for a little walk together now, to make up for your fright. And we might just find you something very, very special,’ I said.

  I fetched my purse, and we set off hand in hand. I took her to the toyshop.

  ‘You can choose a friend for Maybelle,’ I said.

  ‘Really? Oh, then please may I have the doll in the window?’ she asked.

  ‘Why don’t we look inside too? I think we’d better inspect each and every doll, just to make sure we find the right one.’

  The toyshop was a revelation. There were shelves and cabinets everywhere, crammed with the most wondrous toys. There were tiny replicas: a blue miniature steam engine with magenta and cream carriages, perfect in every detail; a black horse with a red leather saddle pulling a pitch-pine cart; a metal cooking stove with a full set of small pots and pans on the hob; an elaborate printing press with little letters; sets of small bricks, plain wood or red and yellow cubes, with alphabet squares for babies.

  There was livestock: brown fur bears with gaping red felt mouths; soft pink or blue rabbits with long limbs and floppy ears; a dappled rocking horse with a real mane and long bushy tail; and, most splendid of all, a Noah’s ark sheltering all kinds of wooden animals – hand-sized elephants and giraffes, down to two tiny mice smaller than my fingernail.

  Then there were the dolls: large lady dolls in silks with feathers in their straw hats; a gentleman doll with a top hat and tails and a tiny spotted bow tie; baby dolls lying on their backs, their long white christening robes draping the shelf; little girl dolls, blonde, brunette and even a redhead, in cream dresses with white knitted socks and weeny kid boots; there were even very small dolls peeping out of the windows of an elaborate red-brick doll’s house with gables and balconies and a turret.

  ‘Oh my goodness, how will you ever choose, Diamond?’ I said.

  She wandered from one to another, whispering under her breath, clearly talking to the dolls. I was worried the shop man might become impatient, but he nodded at her and mouthed at me, ‘She’s like a little doll herself!’

  I was also dazed by the toys. It seemed extraordinary that rich children had such choice! When I was a very little girl, I’d had my rag baby, an even less sophisticated dolly than Diamond’s Maybelle, though I’d loved her dearly. We’d had no toys at all at the Foundling Hospital, and scarcely any leisure time to play anyway. If our Little Stars act proved popular and we earned even more money, I wondered whether I’d like any of these beauties for myself.

  I didn’t want a doll, but I liked the grinning bear. I’d have loved to take him up into my tree house with Jem. I liked the horse and cart too. I’d have had wonderful games taking it back and forth to an imaginary market. And how about the splendid Noah’s ark? I knew the Bible story well. I could make Noah scurry around perfecting the ark and then help him line up all the animals in pairs so they could troop inside out of the rain. Was the ark waterproof? I imagined sailing it on the pond in the park, while the elephants trumpeted and the lions roared and Noah and his family prayed.

  I could act it all out for Diamond – but I knew that this time had long gone. I couldn’t immerse myself in play now. I’d left it too late.

  ‘So, Diamond, which doll is it going to be?’ I asked.

  ‘I can really, really have one? It isn’t just pretend?’

  ‘Really.’ I shook my fat purse. ‘See, I have the money with me.’

  ‘Well, they’re all so beautiful. It would be lovely to have a lady doll dressed in such finery, just like Mrs Ruby or Miss Lark – and I rather fancy this gentleman doll because he’s got a dear round face just like Bertie’s. The baby dolls are all very pretty, though they couldn’t talk to me, could they, not when they’re so young. The little girl dolls are all delightful, but I can’t choose between them and I don’t want to hurt their feelings. The little tiny dolls are maybe too little and tiny and might get lost, though I’d love to carry them around in my pocket,’ said Diamond, talking very fast and hopping up and down. ‘So the doll I’d really, really love is the one in the window, because she waved to me as soon as she saw me and she so hopes I’m going to be her mot
her.’

  ‘The sweet pet!’ said the shopkeeper.

  I felt Diamond might be acting for effect, but I couldn’t criticize her for behaving like a baby because I asked her to do just that every night on stage. I bought her the doll, the one in the window with long blonde curls and big blue eyes, looking just like a little Diamond.

  The shopkeeper insisted on wrapping her up carefully in soft linen and then storing her in a silk-lined box, before covering it with brown paper and string. It was a large, unwieldy parcel, but Diamond insisted on carrying it all the way back to Miss Gibson’s, though she was very pink in the face by the time she got there. Then she insisted on holding a ‘birthing’ scene on the cutting-out table.

  Miss Gibson looked slightly alarmed by this suggestion, but Diamond had no idea of the mechanics of real childbirth (I was actually a little hazy myself). She laid the box on the table and then shut her eyes, crossed her fingers and said fervently, ‘Oh, I wish I had a child! I wish wish wish I had my very own daughter!’

  Then she went ‘Ping!’ and lifted her finger. ‘Hark!’ she said theatrically. ‘I think my wish is granted!’

  She snipped the string, tore off the brown paper, lifted the lid of the box, carefully unwrapped the linen and then took the new doll in her arms.

  ‘There! Isn’t she beautiful! And she’s mine, she’s really mine!’ she said, rocking the doll in her arms.

  ‘What are you going to call her, dearie?’ said Miss Gibson, beaming at her.

  ‘I think I will call her . . . Hetty.’

  ‘Perhaps that might get confusing,’ I said, though I was very touched.

  ‘Then she will be Adeline,’ said Diamond. ‘It doesn’t matter calling her that, because I never get to see Madame Adeline now, though I wish I did. It’s a lovely name, isn’t it? And my Adeline’s the loveliest doll in the whole world!’

  She suddenly caught sight of Maybelle lying abandoned on her back on the floor. ‘Well, equally the loveliest doll in the world,’ she said, snatching up Maybelle too and hugging her hard. ‘Oh dear, her legs are still very wet from paddling in the sink.’

  ‘Perhaps I’d better peg her out on the washing line,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry, she’ll like swinging there – it will be a treat for her.’

  So we dried out soggy Maybelle while Diamond played with Adeline with a clear conscience. She didn’t want to stop playing and get into her Cavalcade clothes that evening. I could only get her to go if we took Adeline with us. She wanted to go on stage with her and make her part of our act, but I felt it would be too cumbersome.

  ‘I can make up lots of stuff for Adeline to say. It would be so sweet!’ Diamond insisted.

  ‘We’ve had enough sweet talk,’ I said firmly. ‘People aren’t paying good money to see you playing with your new dolly. They want a proper act.’

  ‘I’m sick of our boring old act,’ said Diamond. ‘I’m not doing it! You can’t make me.’

  I was taken aback. Diamond always did as she was told. I tried to persuade and cajole, but she was adamant. She’d become so over-excited that she was tired out now and refused to see reason. I got her to the theatre, still clutching Adeline, and she enjoyed showing her new doll to all the girls – but then she slumped down on the floor with her and wouldn’t get up.

  ‘No, we’re sleepy now,’ she said, and shut her eyes.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Diamond!’ I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t going to threaten her with a beating, like hateful Beppo, but she seemed immune to any kind of gentle persuasion.

  I tried being artful. ‘Adeline, can you ask your mama to be a good kind lady and get herself ready to go on stage, please?’

  Diamond opened her eyes and laid Adeline flat on her back so that her eyelids closed with a click. ‘She’s asleep,’ she said. ‘Ssh, Hetty, you’re disturbing us!’

  The ballet girls all giggled, which encouraged Diamond to play up even more. But then they started drifting off to warm up and dip their feet in the resin box so they wouldn’t slip. We were due on stage before them!

  ‘Diamond!’ I said urgently, shaking her. ‘We’re going to miss our spot and then Mrs Ruby will be furious with us.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ she muttered.

  There was a knock at the dressing-room door. ‘That’ll be her now!’ I said.

  But it was Bertie, looking concerned. ‘Are you girls all right? You’re cutting it a bit fine, aren’t you? Samson’s just about to announce you!’

  ‘Diamond’s playing up,’ I said, nodding at her.

  ‘Leave her to me,’ he said.

  He squatted beside Diamond. ‘Hello, little princess. It’s your old Bertie here,’ he murmured.

  Diamond opened her eyes, but Bertie wasn’t looking at her. He had taken Adeline’s china hand. He bent and kissed it.

  ‘My, you’re looking prettier than ever today, Twinkle. But we’d better feed you up a bit. You look very little.’

  Diamond burst out laughing. ‘No, Bertie, you’re talking to my new dolly, Adeline. I’m Diamond.’

  ‘What? No, you can’t be Diamond. Look at the time!’ Bertie consulted the pocket watch he was so proud of. ‘She’s doing her act in less than a minute. Diamond is brushing her lovely hair’ – he raked his fingers carefully through the doll’s hair – ‘and making sure her dress is hanging just so’ – he puffed out Adeline’s dress and petticoats – ‘and running to the wings as fast as her little legs will carry her!’ He eased the doll out of Diamond’s arms and bobbed her madly in the air as if she really were running.

  ‘No, it’s me, it’s me, I’m Diamond!’ she said, and she scrambled to her feet, shook her hair, twitched her dress and started running. I ran too. We made it to the stage just as Samson finished his spiel and the audience started clapping.

  I was still worried about her performance, wondering if she would dry during her speeches or miss her leap onto my shoulders again, but she did it all perfectly, looking as fresh as a daisy. But the moment we came off stage she drooped again. She wouldn’t even go back to the dressing room. She just seized Adeline and curled up in a corner. She was asleep almost instantly, not faking it this time. She started snuffling with little infant snores.

  Ivy Green and all the ballet girls were waiting in the wings now and they all chuckled.

  ‘Doesn’t she look sweetly pretty?’ said Ivy in an irritating voice.

  ‘Maybe, but she’s obviously tired out,’ I said. ‘How am I ever going to get her home? I can’t carry her and the wretched doll when I’ve got the penny-farthing.’

  ‘Wait until after I’ve been on with Ivy. I’ll carry Diamond home for you,’ said Bertie.

  Ivy pouted. ‘Oh, Bertie, that’s so kind of you, but I rather wanted you to see me home tonight. That lad might be in the audience again tonight – the one who’s so sweet on me. He was waiting for me at the stage door and got quite difficult when I wouldn’t go out to supper with him. He was very insistent.’

  ‘The one who wanted to treat you to oysters and champagne? I thought you were quite sweet on him. You certainly went on about him enough, love,’ said Bertie. ‘Tell you what, doesn’t old Ben Apply-Dapply live in digs down your road? I’ll tell him to hang on and escort you home. Then you’ll have two gentlemen protecting you, him and Little Pip.’

  ‘Oh, very droll,’ Ivy snapped. ‘No, thanks very much. Maybe I will go out for supper with my gentleman admirer.’ She nodded at Bertie as if that would make him care and change his mind – but it didn’t.

  So I waited while Ivy sang her little ditty and Bertie and all the other show lads danced about her, miming their adoration. Perhaps this wasn’t too hard a task. She looked especially beautiful tonight, her long bright hair glossy in the limelight, her figure particularly shapely in a new pink dress, her legs remarkably lithe in their white silk stockings. I couldn’t help feeling triumphant that Bertie had offered to help me with Diamond rather than escort Ivy home.

  But when we set off back to Miss Gibson�
��s, Bertie carrying Diamond and her doll, me pushing the penny-farthing, I started worrying, peering over my shoulder.

  ‘What’s up, Hetty?’ Bertie was panting a little, because Diamond seemed to weigh a ton when she was fast asleep, for all that she was so slight.

  ‘Do you think this man might pursue Ivy?’ I said. ‘I don’t like her, but I wouldn’t want her to get into difficulties because you’re looking after us.’

  ‘Oh, Ivy’s tough as old boots for all she acts so coy,’ he said. ‘She’s been out with half a dozen of her gentlemen admirers and could eat them all for breakfast. She was just being awkward because she didn’t want me to go home with you two girls. Three girls, if we’re counting this wretched doll. Who gave it to her?’

  ‘I did. I felt she deserved a treat – but she got too excited and then wouldn’t be sensible. Bertie, do you think I’m bad making her perform all the time? I’m sure it’s an awful strain on her.’

  ‘She seems to be having a whale of a time, silly. She loves all the fuss people make of her. You like performing, don’t you? Didn’t you once tell me that you rode a horse in the circus when you were only about five and that you absolutely loved it?’

  ‘Yes, I did. But Diamond has always been really worried about performing. Beppo was forever threatening her with a beating,’ I said anxiously.

  ‘You’re hardly threatening her, are you, you funny girl? You look after that little kid extraordinarily well.’

  ‘She’s like a little sister to me.’

  ‘You’re more like a mother to her, if you ask me. And to borrow Ivy’s sentimental phrase, I think that’s sweetly pretty. You’ll be a lovely real mother one day, Hetty,’ said Bertie.

  ‘Do you really mean that?’ I felt very near tears. Perhaps I was tired out too. Or perhaps it was just such a special thing for him to say. My own dear mama meant the world to me, but I had always thought I’d be a failure as a mother myself. The matrons at the hospital had always scoffed at the idea of any of us girls marrying, let alone bearing children. We were foundlings, only fit to be servants.