Little Stars

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘I can’t stand that oaf,’ Bertie said furiously.

  ‘What did she call him – strongman?’

  ‘Well, he was. That was his act – Samson the Strongman. There’s a picture of him in the corridor near Mrs Ruby’s suite of rooms. He looks a total fool in a leopardskin, showing his great hairy legs. God knows why the old girl took such a shine to him,’ said Bertie.

  They were sitting very close together. I saw that Mrs Ruby was holding Samson’s hand, out of affection – or perhaps restraining him. He craned round, looking over at me.

  ‘Shall we go now?’ I said. ‘I can’t stand Samson either.’

  ‘Right you are.’ Bertie waved at the waiter and dived into his pockets for money.

  ‘Will you let me pay my half, as we’re such friends?’ I said.

  ‘Never!’ said Bertie, paying in full and leaving a generous tip.

  He walked me back to Miss Gibson’s. We went the long way round, with the darkest alleyways. In between kisses I told Bertie I really did love him.

  ‘More than Jem?’ he persisted.

  ‘More than Jem,’ I said.

  ‘And you really don’t wish it was you marrying him on Saturday?’

  ‘I really, really don’t. Though I’d like to be there for the wedding. It would be good to see all the family again – and Janet is a special friend. I think she will look a lovely bride. I wish I could go. In fact, I don’t see why I shouldn’t.’

  ‘Are you crazy? It’s a Saturday. You can’t miss a performance.’

  ‘Maybe I won’t have to. There’s an early milk train. Diamond and I caught it when we went to Bignor. Then I could change at Waterloo and get a connecting train out into the country. I’d have to find a cart to take me the last few miles, but I reckon I could still make it by twelve,’ I said, calculating the hours on my fingers. ‘And then, so long as I left in plenty of time, I could toast the bride and have a slice of wedding cake – and be back for the middle act. Just.’

  ‘It sounds as if you’d be cutting it very fine.’

  ‘Well . . . I’ll leave Diamond with Miss Gibson for the day, otherwise she’d be too tired to perform. If someone could possibly walk her to the theatre, wheeling the penny-farthing, then I could change into my performing clothes somewhere on the journey and then dash straight from the railway station to the Cavalcade,’ I said.

  ‘Someone?’ asked Bertie.

  ‘Oh, Bertie, would you?’ I said, in a wheedling tone.

  ‘I – I think I will.’

  ‘Only think?’

  Then we kissed again, and I decided I really, really did love him.

  I lay awake half the night, sometimes making feverish plans for getting to the wedding, sometimes thinking of Bertie. I told Diamond about it the next morning, and at first she plagued me to come to the wedding too.

  ‘But you won’t know any of the people, darling,’ I said.

  ‘I’m sure I do know them. You’ve told me all about them, especially Jem. And I’d really love to see a wedding where the bride wears a long dress.’

  ‘I’m not sure what Janet will wear. She likes very simple clothes,’ I said.

  Diamond wrinkled her nose at such a thought. ‘You’ll make yourself a pretty new dress, won’t you, Hetty?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t think there’s time,’ I said.

  ‘Well, could you make one for me?’ she begged. She went on clamouring to come to the wedding until I told her that if she were a good girl and stayed at home, then Bertie would come and escort her to the theatre. That pleased her immensely. Miss Gibson said she was willing to look after Diamond for me. She even let me off my daily sewing duties so that I could make Janet and Jem a wedding present. I sewed a pair of fine white cotton pillowcases, embroidering Janet’s name in pink, with little sprays of pink rosebuds in each corner, and Jem’s name in green, with strands of ivy twirling decoratively here and there. I added a small strand of ivy around each spray of rosebuds on Janet’s pillowcase and added four little rosebuds to the ivy on Jem’s.

  ‘You’ve made a beautiful job of those pillows, Hetty dear,’ said Miss Gibson.

  She’d been busy herself, putting the final touches to an elegant primrose yellow silk dress edged with pearly grey lace, very fresh and stylish.

  ‘It’s a lovely dress and it’s really quite little,’ said Diamond, peering at it. ‘Do you think it might fit me, Miss Gibson?’

  ‘I think it will be rather too big for you, dear. But I’m hoping it will fit Hetty perfectly,’ said Miss Gibson.

  ‘Fit me?’

  ‘You need to wear something special for a wedding.’

  ‘Oh, Miss Gibson, you’re so kind! It’s a simply beautiful dress,’ I said, giving her a hug.

  ‘Careful, careful, you’ll crease the silk!’ she said, but she seemed delighted with my response.

  So I was all set to go to the wedding on Saturday.

  On Friday night Bertie walked us home from the theatre again.

  ‘I can’t really come out with you to Maudie’s again, Bertie,’ I said, after Diamond had run indoors. ‘I have to go to bed now myself because I need to be up so very early.’

  ‘I know, I know – but I’d like to give you this. It won’t take a minute.’ He put his hand in his pocket and brought out a small rounded box.

  My heart started thudding again. Bertie pressed the box into my hand. ‘Open it,’ he whispered.

  ‘But – but Bertie—’

  ‘Please.’

  I opened the box. There was a ring inside, a gold band with a word etched carefully on it. Not my name – a strange foreign word.

  ‘Mizpah?’ I read.

  ‘It’s Hebrew. It means – the Lord keep us safe when we are absent, one from another,’ said Bertie.

  ‘It’s lovely.’ I swallowed. ‘It’s not an engagement ring, is it, Bertie? I really do love you, but I think I’m too young to get engaged.’

  ‘It’s not exactly an engagement ring. I want to give you a massive diamond when the time comes – or perhaps it should be a sapphire or an emerald? But I haven’t got the cash just yet. This is an I love you ring, Hetty.’

  ‘Then I will be very happy to wear it,’ I said as Bertie slipped it on my finger.

  I WAS WORRIED I wouldn’t wake up in time, but I hardly slept. I crept out of bed at four, washed and dressed myself, packed my suitcase with the pillowcases and my Cavalcade costume and a book to keep me busy, all without waking Diamond. She murmured a little when I kissed her goodbye, but snuggled up with Adeline and Maybelle, still fast asleep.

  I was too excited and anxious to eat any breakfast. I ended up running all the way to the railway station, worried I might miss the milk train – and arrived there a good ten minutes early. I stood shivering on the platform, twisting my Mizpah ring round and round my finger.

  The Lord keep us safe when we are absent, one from another. I liked the sentiment. Mama and I had whispered similar words when I was stuck in the Foundling Hospital and she was working as a maid in Bignor.

  I felt it about Madame Adeline too. Was she safe? Why was her letter so much shorter than usual? Was she feeling very weary now? And why was there no mention of Mr Marvel? I so wanted them to be living happily together, with all the monkeys as a furry family. Now that I was getting used to travelling, perhaps I could take Diamond to visit one Sunday?

  I wanted Jem to be safe too. When I ran away to Tanglefield’s, I’d felt too guilty to write to him. Perhaps if I’d kept in touch, he wouldn’t be marrying Janet now?

  What was I thinking? I wanted Jem to marry her, didn’t I? I’d practically engineered it. I knew she’d make Jem a fine, true, loving wife. She’d cherish him far better than I could. She’d cook him good meals and tackle the washing every Monday and keep a tidy house for him and chat to him companionably by the fireside, taking all his concerns to heart. She’d be a marvellous mother too. I saw her with a baby in her arms, a little girl leaning against her knee, and a fine strong boy with tou
sled brown hair and his father’s bright eyes smiling at her side.

  As I was jolted about on the train to Waterloo, I thought about their life together. I didn’t really want to be in Janet’s place. I didn’t want to make meals for anyone, even though Mama had done her best to interest me in cooking. I certainly didn’t want to do any housework. At the hospital I’d done enough scrubbing to last me a lifetime. I’d like chatting to Jem, but I’d want to discuss my concerns too. It would never be enough for me to stay at home and raise my children.

  I’d loved being a ringmaster, striding about in breeches and boots, even though circus life could be cruel. And I loved my life as a music-hall artiste even more. I still tingled with excitement, right down to the soles of my feet, whenever I heard that roar of applause at the end of our act. I knew it was mostly for little Diamond, who looked so fetching and was truly talented – but I was part of the act too, though it barely needed any skill to ride a penny-farthing around a stage.

  I’d made up the words though. I could invent fresh ones whenever necessary. I’d always loved words, talking incessantly as a small child, and inventing all kinds of pretend games. I’d thirsted after stories, loving the fairy tales Nurse Winterson read while we darned at the hospital. I also adored the lurid accounts of murder in Cook’s Police Gazette. I’d read Father’s copy of David Copperfield so many times that the pages opened at my favourite passages.

  This was the book I’d chosen for my journey back to the village. I’d read it for the first time on my way back from Monksby. I read it now, all the way to Waterloo. I went on reading on the train to Gillford, but now I was getting too excited to concentrate on David’s story.

  I looked out of the window, counting the stations, trying to see familiar landmarks. I’d travelled the opposite way along that same rail track when Gideon and I were only five, on our way to the Foundling Hospital. We’d had no idea then that our happy carefree childhood was already over.

  At long last the train drew in to Gillford station. I jumped out onto the platform clutching my suitcase. I was worried about reaching Havenford now. I didn’t want to walk the six miles and arrive hot and damp and dusty, too late to see Jem and Janet say their wedding vows. I didn’t want to hitch a ride on a cart either. I had grim memories of a wizened old man who demanded kisses for the favour. I hoped Gillford might have a hansom cab, though I wasn’t sure I could afford the fare.

  I was deliberating these options when I saw a plain woman in a surprisingly fancy gown struggling to control two little boys who were trying to run in different directions.

  ‘Big Eliza!’ I cried.

  She looked up, frowning, clearly not recognizing me. Again!

  ‘It’s me, Hetty! We last met at Father’s funeral – don’t you remember?’

  ‘Oh yes. Of course,’ she said. She smoothed down her over-ruffled skirt, breathing in sharply. ‘Why did you call me “big”?’

  ‘Because Mother fostered another Eliza, remember, so she was Little Eliza and you became Big Eliza. Little Eliza isn’t so little now. I expect she’s taller than me, but then nearly everybody is. Still, it works to my advantage sometimes, being so small, because I’m now a music-hall artiste, and I pretend to be a child for my act. I don’t want to sound as if I’m boasting, but we’re a big hit. I do the act with a real little girl, my dearest friend, Diamond.’

  Eliza wasn’t even listening. ‘Hold Wilfred,’ she said, thrusting one little boy at me. ‘Ernest, don’t! You’ll get pecked!’ She scurried off to retrieve the other child, who was poking his finger into a pigeon carrier.

  A thin, weedy, bespectacled man in a creased Sunday suit came hurrying up and seized hold of little Wilfred. ‘Let the little boy go!’ he demanded.

  ‘Leave him be! He’s nothing to do with you. He’s my nephew, more or less!’ I said, yanking Wilfred back. He started crying, not appreciating the tug of war.

  ‘Hetty, let go of poor little Wilfred!’ Eliza came running up, holding Ernest by the scruff of his neck.

  ‘You told me to hold him!’ I said indignantly. ‘I’m protecting him. This man was trying to drag him away!’

  ‘He is my husband, Frank,’ said Eliza coldly. ‘Frank, this is Hetty Feather, one of Mother’s little foster children. She came to Father’s funeral. Do you remember I told you all about her?’

  ‘I do indeed.’ Frank held out his hand. ‘How do you do, Hetty. So you’re the girl who ran off to a circus?’

  ‘Yes, I did, but now I am a music-hall artiste,’ I said proudly.

  He raised his eyebrows so that his spectacles waggled on his thin nose. He didn’t seem very impressed.

  ‘I’m not a showgirl,’ I said quickly. ‘I have a proper novelty act with my young acrobat friend. We’re called the Little Stars. We’ve been promoted to the second act already.’

  ‘Very nice,’ said Frank, though his tone implied the exact opposite. ‘And might I ask what you’re doing here, at Gillford station?’

  ‘Why, I’m going to Jem’s wedding, of course.’

  ‘And so are we,’ said Eliza.

  ‘I have transport waiting outside the station,’ said Frank. ‘Perhaps you’d care to join us, Hetty?’

  Frank’s transport turned out to be a man with a cart – but thank goodness, he was a respectable tradesman who was happy to be paid in cash rather than kisses. Frank sat up front with him, while Eliza and I squashed into the cart with the twins. Eliza was fuss-fuss-fussing about her gown, especially when Wilfred and Ernest clambered over her.

  ‘Boys! For goodness’ sake, mind your muddy boots. This gown cost a fortune!’ She gave me a little nod. ‘It’s cut from a French pattern, you know. The very latest fashion. Still, your dress is very pretty too, Hetty, though the cut’s a little skimped.’

  I smiled at her pityingly. Stupid woman! That style was at least ten years out of date. I was dressed in the latest fashion, and she was too ignorant to realize it. She was the one who was boasting now, chattering on about her house, with its three bedrooms and its indoor water closet and her little servant girl.

  ‘She came from the Foundling Hospital, Hetty, just like you,’ she said.

  My smile stiffened.

  ‘She’s a dear little thing, quick to learn as long as I’m firm with her.’

  I ached for this poor foundling girl, stuck with bossy Eliza.

  ‘She’s fallen on her feet with us,’ Eliza went on. ‘Frank is very kind to her too, and is helping her with her general knowledge. Frank is a schoolmaster, Hetty. We live in the school house, and it’s very splendid.’

  ‘Are you a teacher too, Eliza?’ I asked, remembering how she used to play school with us little ones.

  ‘Of course not! I’m a married woman with twin boys,’ she said. ‘I don’t work!’

  ‘But wouldn’t you like to?’ I asked curiously. ‘You could teach while your foundling girl looked after the twins. I can’t imagine just staying at home and not working. Doesn’t it get a little boring?’

  ‘You talk such nonsense, Hetty. Of course, you were brought up to be a working girl, so I suppose any genteel way of life seems strange to you,’ she said smugly.

  I was getting so sick of my foster sister I contemplated jumping out of the cart and walking the rest of the way to the village. Instead I simply ignored her as we trundled round Carter’s Bray towards Havenford. I had my first glimpse of the village, hazy in the sunlight. It was going to be a beautiful day for the wedding. I looked for Pennyman’s Field, where Tanglefield’s Travelling Circus had camped. I peered closely at the woods, wondering if my squirrel house was still there. We passed the first few cottages – and then I saw our cottage, small and square, still a little crumbling, but with new thatch on the roof and the garden full of roses.

  Jem would be too busy with his farm work to keep the garden tidy and Mother was long past it. So was it Gideon who tended it?

  A tall man in a dark suit and an uncomfortably starched white collar came out of the front door, shading his
eyes from the sun, looking at the cartful of visitors. He lowered his hand, and I saw the black patch over one eye and the livid scars on his cheek.

  ‘Gideon!’ I didn’t wait for the carter to hand me down. I seized my case, held up my skirts, and jumped. ‘Oh, Gideon, Gideon!’

  ‘Hetty!’ he said, and he clasped me tight and gave me a wonderful warm hug.

  ‘How are you, Gid? Do you still like it here with Mother? You’re not lonely?’ I asked.

  He held me at arm’s length, smiling into my face. I stopped noticing his wounds, and just saw the dear brother I’d shared a basket with when we were babies, the brother I’d played with at the cottage, the brother I’d tried to protect at the hospital.

  ‘I love it here. It’s home!’ he said simply. ‘Oh, Hetty, I’m so glad you could come for Jem’s wedding. It wouldn’t be the same without you.’

  I could hear Eliza sniffing behind me, because her family weren’t getting the same welcome.

  ‘Mother?’ she called, going into the cottage. She turned to Gideon. ‘I had better help get Mother dressed for the church.’

  ‘Beth and Rosie are helping her,’ he told her. ‘Do come in, all of you. I have refreshments waiting!’

  On the large wooden table stood two big enamel jugs, one containing fresh milk, the other lemonade. There were several plates of dark malt bread thickly spread with butter. Various small children were eating slices, licking the butter off appreciatively.

  ‘I made the lemonade myself – and the malt bread,’ said Gideon proudly. ‘Of course, it’s not a patch on Mrs Maple’s baking. You should see what she’s prepared for the wedding breakfast! But I thought folk would like a bite beforehand too, seeing as you’ve all travelled so far.’

  I poured myself a glass of lemonade and bolted down a slice of bread, starving hungry because I’d had no breakfast.

  ‘Oh, your malt bread is absolutely delicious, Gid! And the lemonade is perfect – not too sweet, not too tart. What a lovely idea of yours,’ I said enthusiastically, though I could see Eliza raising her eyebrows and exclaiming at the chipped crockery and thick slices, the crusts left on country style.