Little Stars

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘I am pleased,’ said Bertie, hugging me to him at last. ‘So, are you going to grow your hair even longer and talk in a husky manner and wear odd gowns without waists and have beads clanking down to your knees now that you’re an actress?’

  I giggled, though I thought Miss Royal looked wonderful, and certainly had considered fashioning myself a gown in the new art style.

  ‘I’m going to wear a little fur suit with a tail,’ said Diamond. ‘And Hetty says I can wear special red greasepaint on my lips to make my mouth look really smiley. She’s shown me how to stretch like a cat, and bat at people with my paw if I don’t like them. She says I’ll make everyone laugh.’

  ‘And you will. You two will be the stars of the show,’ said Bertie. ‘My Little Stars.’

  I so hoped he was right. I took the rehearsals very seriously indeed, straining to prove that I could be as good an actress as anyone. Well, I knew I could never be as good as Marina Royal. She was wonderfully scary as the Red Queen, striding about the stage bellowing ‘Off with her head!’ However, I was pretty certain I was already better than Stella. I wondered if she was annoyed with me for taking over her part, but she seemed relieved more than anything.

  She seemed very vague and distracted, mumbling her way through her series of minor parts. I gathered from the way she kept looking at Cedric, the young male lead, that she was hopelessly in love, but he seemed barely aware of her existance. She only came into her own as the Mock Turtle towards the end of the piece, playing it in her natural melancholy manner. She had a surprisingly good singing voice, high and pure.

  The whole cast had to join in the Lobster-Quadrille dance, which was very nearly my undoing. I had never danced before and discovered I was hopeless at it.

  ‘It’s a very simple routine, Emerald. You’re so quick at picking things up, you’ll learn it in ten minutes,’ said Miss Royal.

  It soon became obvious that I’d still be stumbling and getting my feet mixed up in ten hours. I wondered if I were simply self-conscious in front of the others, but I was equally hopeless when I tried to practise at home. When I failed to remember the dance for what seemed like the fiftieth time, I threw myself on the bed, thumping my pillow in despair.

  ‘Don’t get upset, Hetty. Shall I help you learn it?’ Diamond offered.

  She really had learned the dance in ten minutes, moving naturally this way and that, her feet tapping and thumping and pointing obediently.

  ‘Yes please, do help me,’ I said humbly.

  Our usual roles were now reversed. Diamond instructed me in every way she knew, being endlessly encouraging, while I did my best to copy her.

  ‘How do you know to start with your left foot rather than your right, and to turn round clockwise rather than anti-clockwise, when I didn’t even think you could tell left from right, and I know for a fact that you can’t tell the time properly,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t know how I know. I just sort of do it.’

  She could also turn perfect cartwheels and walk bent backwards like a crab. She hadn’t needed to be taught. She could just do it instinctively.

  It took me a long, painful time to learn the dance. I found I was even stumbling through it in my sleep. I practised everywhere I could. Thelma saw me trying to perfect the simple step-tap-tap, step-tap-tap in a corner of the crowded dressing room and laughed at me. But then she stood alongside me and showed me how to do it very slowly until I stepped out properly instead of dithering and hopping all over the place.

  ‘That’s it, girl, you’re getting it!’ she said. ‘Then you can progress to this – and this – and this!’ She danced the most complicated little routine in her high-heeled boots, her strong muscled legs moving so fast I could barely follow what she was doing.

  ‘You’re so clever, Thelma,’ I said, clapping her.

  ‘I wish I was,’ she said. ‘It strikes me you’re the clever one. You’re already everybody’s pet. You’ll go far. But you’ll have to learn to look out for yourself. Is Samson still giving you grief?’

  ‘Oh, I’m managing to keep out of his way,’ I said cheerily.

  I was also having to keep out of his so-called aunt’s way. Mrs Ruby wasn’t at all pleased that Diamond and I were taking part in the play.

  ‘You should have asked my permission first! I’m the one who employs you. The Players aren’t part of my company, they’re just here for the season. They’ve no right to involve you and your little sister. You’ll get distracted and mess up your performance – if you can be bothered to get here on time,’ she said snippily.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Ruby. I’ve only been late once, and I’ll make sure it never happens again. Our performance will be perfect every night, I promise you,’ I said sincerely. She simply sniffed at me, refusing to be mollified.

  I didn’t really care. I’d rather admired her before, but now I only had eyes for Miss Royal. She was being so kind, helping me with all sorts of little suggestions for playing Alice. Mr Parkinson was the director, but he basically told me to stand here or turn there. He didn’t help me become Alice.

  ‘No need to take it so seriously – it’s hardly Shakespeare, just a little piece of childish comic business to amuse the hoi polloi,’ he said loftily.

  But Miss Royal had a different attitude altogether. She took all acting seriously. We had long discussions about what kind of little girl Alice was. It was hard for me at first because I couldn’t imagine a girl like Alice in the Foundling Hospital. She was so calm, so confident, so curious. She coped splendidly in the bizarre world of Wonderland. I wondered how she’d fare dealing with Matron Bottomly. If she’d shaken her head contemptuously and poked her starched apron and told her she was nothing but a playing card, she’d have been whipped.

  I was disconcerted by the long blonde wig Miss Royal fished out of the props box. It was a little big for me, but she managed to tie a blue ribbon tightly round it so that it didn’t slip too much. I looked so strange with fair hair.

  ‘You really do look like my big sister now!’ said Diamond.

  The fair hair somehow made my face look softer, and not quite so pale, and my eyes looked more intensely blue. I peered hard in the looking glass in Miss Royal’s dressing room. Did I actually look pretty now? I was so used to being plain.

  I couldn’t wait for Bertie to see me transformed. I asked Miss Royal if he could possibly sit in on a rehearsal. She looked doubtful, and said that the company always liked to rehearse in private.

  ‘Oh please, please, Miss Royal. Bertie will be very quiet and very discreet. You won’t even know he’s there,’ I said. ‘And it’s not as if he’s some outsider. He’s one of the Cavalcade artistes.’

  ‘It sounds as if you’re really fond of him. Is he your sweetheart?’ she asked, sounding amused.

  I felt myself blushing. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Well, try not to lose your heart to someone you’ve only known five minutes, dear.’

  ‘I’ve known him a long time, since I was a servant and he was the local butcher’s boy,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, that sounds exactly like a music-hall song! Very well, Bertie can come and watch tomorrow, so long as he doesn’t make you lose concentration. You have the makings of a superb little actress, Emerald. I don’t want you to be distracted.’

  ‘Oh, I won’t be, I promise!’ I declared. ‘I’m so grateful to you, Miss Royal. Thank you so much.’

  It was all wasted effort, because when I told Bertie he could come the following day, he shook his head. ‘I don’t think I really want to, if it’s all the same to you,’ he said.

  ‘What? Look, this is a special favour! Miss Royal doesn’t usually let anyone watch rehearsals,’ I said indignantly.

  ‘I don’t want any special favours from Miss Royal, thanks very much.’

  ‘Don’t you want to watch me? Don’t you care? This is the most important thing in my life!’

  ‘I know it is,’ said Bertie shortly.

  ‘Well, the most important work thing. Not
as important as you,’ I told him, trying to win him round.

  ‘Look, I’ll see you on stage next Monday. And every day after that. Isn’t that enough? Besides, I’ve got things to do tomorrow.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘Look, you lead your life and I’ll lead mine,’ said Bertie.

  I thought he was just bluffing. I hoped he would change his mind and come to the rehearsal after all, but he didn’t.

  ‘So where’s your constant swain?’ Miss Royal asked, peering around the darkened auditorium. ‘Is he hiding somewhere?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid he had a former engagement,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, I see. Well, never mind. Let’s get started. Gerald, are we having a complete run-through this morning?’

  We went through the whole play twice. Perhaps it was just as well that Bertie didn’t show because I wasn’t at my best. I fluffed my lines several times and couldn’t get the inflection right on several of the jokes, mostly because I didn’t really understand them. I wore the fair wig to try to feel as much like Alice as possible, but I hadn’t tied the ribbon tight enough and it kept slipping. I held my neck as still as possible to keep it in place – until Mr Parkinson told me that I looked like a wooden coat hanger and would I please loosen up!

  By the evening I felt exhausted, too tired even to eat the coddled eggs Miss Gibson gave us.

  She took offence. ‘I suppose you’ve got used to eating oysters with all those acting folk,’ she said huffily. ‘My simple suppers aren’t good enough for you now.’

  I tried to explain but she didn’t want to listen, and just grumbled on about my taking advantage of her.

  ‘And you’re leading your poor little sister astray too! She told me she’s playing a cat in this wretched play! What are you doing, dressing her up as a heathen animal? She says she has to hide all her beautiful hair inside a hood with ears!’

  ‘Cats don’t usually have long fair hair, Miss Gibson,’ I said sharply, wishing she’d mind her own business.

  Even during our Little Stars routine, I was going over Alice in my mind. It seemed easy enough because I’d done it so many times – and yet I was just half a second late pedalling back on stage. Diamond was already springing up to land on my shoulders. I speeded forward and just reached the right spot on time, but poor Diamond had to clutch on hard to stop herself falling, and then the penny-farthing wobbled and we very nearly both went sprawling. It didn’t happen. I controlled it somehow. We carried on, and rode off to our usual applause.

  Half the people in the audience weren’t even aware that I’d made a mistake – but we knew. And unfortunately Mrs Ruby had been in her box, watching the show. She was downstairs in two minutes, absolutely furious.

  ‘I knew this would happen! What a shambles! It’s because you’ve been concentrating on this wretched play all day, isn’t it? How dare you compromise your performance! I’m paying you good money for a quality novelty act. Your loyalty belongs to me, not to a troupe of actors who are here today and gone tomorrow! One more slip like that and you’ll be out on your ears, both of you,’ she said.

  ‘It wasn’t Diamond’s fault, Mrs Ruby. I messed up my timing. I promise it won’t ever happen again,’ I said, so exhausted and worried that I actually burst into tears, right in front of all the other artistes.

  ‘Look at you, bawling like a baby!’ hissed Mrs Ruby. ‘When will I ever learn? Child performers might be popular, but they’re always more trouble than they’re worth. Mop that face – all your greasepaint is running. What do you look like?’ She swept out angrily, stamping her glacé kid boots.

  Bertie pushed his way through and put his arms round me. ‘Don’t take it to heart, Hetty. Or you, little Twinkle. She threatens everyone like that. She’s just in a black mood because Samson’s been playing fast and loose with her. Cheer up!’

  ‘Here, let me help,’ said Ivy Green, dabbing at my face with her little handkerchief in the most irritating manner. ‘Oh dear, look at these dark circles under your eyes! Perhaps you really are working yourself too hard. You need to relax during the day, not rehearse with all those old actors. Take a walk in the fresh air. There’s a beautiful little park not far away, with the sweetest ducks on the pond – isn’t there, Bertie?’

  The last three words were like a punch in the stomach. I stared at Bertie. He looked straight back, but his eyes couldn’t quite meet mine. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to give Ivy the satisfaction. But the moment she went on stage to start her act, I said quietly, ‘A walk with Ivy in the beautiful little park with the sweetest ducks?’

  ‘No!’ said Bertie. ‘No, you’ve got it all wrong.’

  ‘So you didn’t go to this beautiful little park?’

  ‘Well, I did, eventually, but—’

  ‘With Ivy?’

  ‘Look, I was simply mooching about town, feeling pretty fed up, if you must know, wishing I’d come to your rehearsal after all. And then Ivy came skipping out of Miss Gibson’s after buying some ribbons or fancy whatevers and we walked along the pavement for a bit, and then she said she’d like a little sit down, and we just happened to be near this park—’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘No, you don’t. It was all totally innocent. Two friends taking a stroll. I didn’t stay with her for long, I swear to you, Hetty, I—’

  ‘Bertie! You’re on in two ticks!’ Peter Perkins hissed.

  ‘Wait here, Hetty! Just let me get the dance over and then I’ll explain everything.’ He rushed on stage to do his Ivy routine with all the other men.

  ‘Come on, Diamond, let’s go home,’ I said.

  ‘But Bertie said wait.’

  ‘We don’t have to do what Bertie says,’ I said firmly. ‘Come on.’

  ‘Don’t be cross with him,’ said Diamond, trotting obediently by my side.

  ‘I’m not the slightest bit cross,’ I said, though of course I was fuming. Bertie’s stage name was so apt. He couldn’t seem to help flirting with any girl who came his way. And Ivy seemed particularly keen. It could have been a chance encounter, a stroll, a totally innocent interlude – or they could have spent the whole day walking hand in hand.

  How could I know? Why did it matter so much? I told myself I couldn’t care less, though inside I cared terribly. But I couldn’t fuss about Bertie too much now. I had to concentrate on being Alice.

  We were rehearsing full time because there were so many ragged patches, so many little bits of business that weren’t slick enough, and the wretched Lobster-Quadrille was still far from perfect. We even rehearsed all day Sunday, in full costume.

  ‘I’d much sooner be having a picnic with Bertie,’ Diamond moaned to me. ‘It’s so hot and itchy in my cat costume. And I rather think I need to go to the WC. How can I go when I’m stuck in all this fur?’

  I had to take her off stage mid-scene, and Mr Parkinson glared at us. Even Miss Royal seemed irritated.

  The morning rehearsal went very badly. People missed their cues or forgot their lines, and Mr Parkinson kept shouting, which made everything worse.

  Diamond got so anxious she forgot to mew, and Mr Parkinson bellowed at her. ‘Dear God, you can’t say a single line properly so we let you simply mew like a cat, and yet you still mess it up! We should have used the rug for the Cheshire Cat. It’s a better actor than you!’ he exploded.

  Diamond burst into tears.

  ‘Don’t shout at her like that! She’s doing her best. You forget, she’s only a child!’ I said furiously.

  ‘Exactly my point! I never wanted children in my play in the first place. I told you it would never work,’ he said, frowning at Miss Royal.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, the child simply forgot to mew and you go throwing a tantrum! And you’re conveniently forgetting that Emerald here has been word perfect right from the start and is acting her little socks off. So stop throwing tantrums, Gerald. You’ve been in the business long enough to know that a bad dress rehearsal means a marvellous performance,’ she said.
/>   ‘In my experience a bad dress rehearsal means an even worse performance.’

  ‘Come along, dearies, don’t peck each other,’ said Harry, smiling benevolently, though he looked terrifying in full Duchess regalia. ‘It’s not as if tomorrow is opening night at the Shaftesbury or Her Majesty’s. We’re doing a risqué parody in a seedy music hall in the provinces. Nothing to get het up about, surely?’

  ‘I have my reputation to think of,’ said Miss Royal grandly. She couldn’t help sounding pompous, but I really felt for her when the rest of the cast burst out laughing. She was clever enough to laugh too, and suddenly everyone was friends again, thank goodness.

  Even so, I was disconcerted by Harry’s words. The Cavalcade, in all its gold and glittering splendour, seemed so impossibly grand and glamorous, yet the Players clearly looked down on their surroundings, half ashamed to be here. I wondered what the large theatres in London were like. I pictured them in my head: as large as Buckingham Palace, with solid gold fittings and vast chandeliers, the audience in full evening dress every night.

  But the Cavalcade was still very important to me, and my part in Alice so special. I spent the night feverishly dreaming I was on stage, and everything went horribly wrong. I was stuck in a Blunderland, where my wig fell off, and I opened my mouth and no words came out, and my legs fell off and rolled off the stage during the Lobster-Quadrille.

  On Monday morning Bertie came round to Miss Gibson’s.

  ‘Come on, girls. I’m taking you out to distract you,’ he said.

  ‘Where are we going? The beautiful little park with the sweetest ducks?’

  ‘Stop that! No, I thought we’d go back to Ledbury Hill. You’ll help fix a picnic, won’t you, dear Miss Gibson?’ he said.

  ‘I might be able to,’ she said, dimpling.

  ‘We can’t go, Bertie! I mean, it’s sweet of you to suggest it, but we have to rehearse,’ I said.

  ‘No you don’t! Old Parkinson said he wanted you all to have a good rest today so you’re fresh for the evening performance, I heard him,’ said Bertie.