Sapphire Battersea

by Jacqueline Wilson

  When it was nearly time to see Mama, I paid a penny to use a public convenience and washed my face and brushed my hair, trying to spruce myself up a little lest I alarm her. I struggled along the road to the infirmary with my suitcase.

  I went right up to the window and Mama crept out of bed. We stood together, only the pane of glass between us. I kissed her lips and laid my hand against hers. We stood motionless for a minute or two, gazing deep into each other’s eyes. Then a nurse came and pulled Mama back to bed. She tapped on the window for me to be gone.

  I did not go straight away. I walked round the walls of the infirmary to the main entrance and approached another nurse there.

  ‘No children are allowed in here, dear,’ she said briskly.

  ‘I’m not a child,’ I said, standing on tiptoe. ‘I’m a working girl. In fact I would like to work here. Perhaps I could train as a nurse?’

  ‘Nonsense! You’re far too young.’

  ‘I’m sixteen, nearly seventeen,’ I lied.

  ‘Run along now and stop wasting my time.’

  ‘I’ll do any kind of work. I could do the cleaning. I’m very used to scrubbing floors. Or I could help in the kitchen. I practically cooked single-handed in my last household,’ I gabbled. ‘Or perhaps there is a children’s ward. I’m very experienced with babies. I have a good character reference. Please let me show it to you.’

  ‘Go away, you silly girl. Why won’t you take no for an answer?’

  ‘Because I’m desperate!’ I snapped.

  ‘Well, this is no place for young girls, working or otherwise. Come along, out you go.’

  She sent me firmly on my way. I trudged along the promenade, lugging my suitcase, wondering what on earth I was going to do now. I had spent all day looking for work and had got nowhere. I was so tired I sat on my suitcase for a while, gazing about me despairingly. When I ran away from the hospital I had done a little begging. I hadn’t even needed to ask for money, I had just looked mournful – but no one seemed to understand the concept of begging in Bignor. People barely gave me a second glance.

  I had also sold flowers with Sissy, but there was no sign of any flower sellers along the promenade.

  How else could I earn money? There seemed no way at all. At least I had enough left for a couple of nights’ lodging. I decided I’d better look for a cheap room now.

  I wandered back along the sea front, utterly weary, scarcely able to put one foot in front of the other. I remembered all the happy times running along beside Charlotte and Maisie, strolling on the pier, listening to the band, marvelling at Mr Clarendon’s Seaside Curiosities … and then it suddenly came to me.

  I marched along with sudden determination until I reached the red-and-white pavilion tent. Mr Clarendon stood outside in his bizarre scarlet suit and bowler hat, talking through his megaphone.

  ‘Roll up, roll up! Come and encounter the greatest collection of living breathing curiosities you’ll ever see in a month of Sundays! Marvel at Henry, with his hundred tattoos, gasp at Fantastic Freda, the Female Giant—’

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ I said.

  ‘Would you like a sixpenny ticket, little miss?’

  ‘No, I have already been in and seen all the people inside. I was wondering, sir – would you like a brand-new attraction?’

  He stared at me. ‘What might you have in mind, missy?’

  ‘I could be … Emerald, the Amazing Pocket-Sized Mermaid, half girl, half fish,’ I said.

  ‘And how are you going to be a mermaid, missy? I don’t see no tail, I see two little feet in shabby boots.’

  ‘If I come back tomorrow as Emerald the Mermaid, will you take me on?’

  He looked me up and down, his eyes narrowed. I reached up and unpinned my hair, so that it fell past my shoulders in a long red wave. His lips twitched.

  ‘I’ll have to see your costume first. I’m not making no promises. But I reckon you could be a draw.’

  ‘How much would you pay me?’

  ‘That depends on the takings, girl. We’d have to negotiate.’

  ‘Very well. I’ll be back tomorrow,’ I said.

  I did not like him very much. I especially did not like the way he looked me up and down. But if this was my only way of earning money so I could stay on in Bignor, then I’d have to put up with it.

  Now I needed a roof over my head. I did not try any of the lodging houses near Mrs Brooke’s. I deliberately walked away from the sea and picked a street of tumbledown houses on the far side of town with ROOMS TO LET signs.

  I took the first one available. It was an attic room with a narrow bed and the sheets looked distressingly dirty, but I was too tired to seek anything better. The landlady was as grimy as the bedding, her hair lank, her fingernails black, her dress shiny with grease stains. But she was kind enough, and brought me up a supper tray: cold sausage, and a slice of bread and dripping, with a mug of tea. I did not like to think of her filthy fingers touching the food, but I was so hungry I ate it all the same. Though the sheets were grey, I got into bed willingly enough, and fell asleep as soon as my head touched the grubby pillow.

  I was up early the next day, my money counted out and wrapped in my handkerchief. As soon as the shops were open I went to the nearest draper’s. I bought a sharp pair of scissors, a tape measure, a paper of pins and needles, and a reel of green cotton. I thought some more, and selected a packet of pearl beads, another of green sequins, and some fancy green braid. I thought again, and had a couple of yards of cheap pale-pink muslin measured out, with matching pink cotton thread.

  ‘Is that it now, missy?’ said the draper’s assistant, rolling her eyes.

  ‘Yes, thank you. Please wrap them all in a paper parcel for me,’ I said briskly.

  I went down the street until I found a fishmonger’s. I asked him for two scallop shells, then I purchased a tube of strong adhesive glue from the stationer’s shop. There! I had everything I needed now.

  I went back to my grimy attic room, sat cross-legged on the floor, and set about constructing my mermaid costume. I measured myself with the tape measure first, and then sketched out shapes on the pages of an old newspaper. When I was sure I had the pattern right, I laid my green velvet gown out on the grubby carpet and seized the scissors. It took me several minutes before I had the courage to make the first cut. It was my only decent dress, the costume I’d fashioned with such care. I wasn’t even sure that my idea was going to work. I didn’t have enough material to cut out a proper tail in one piece. I took off the redundant trimmings, pinned the newspaper pattern in place, and started snipping out the shapes to make a mermaid’s tail. I had to fiddle around, cutting a patch here, a length there, and somehow try to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together to make the tail. It was a tiresome, complicated procedure. Several times I held the ruined velvet to my cheek and wept bitterly, but then I carried on with my task.

  I stitched and stitched until my hands were sore and pricked, but slowly, slowly, the mermaid’s tail grew. When the basic shape was stitched together at last, I stuck my legs cautiously into it. Thank goodness it fitted as snugly and smoothly as a glove. I sewed green brocade in stiffened strips to the fork at the end of the tail, and then started the tedious chore of stitching handfuls of little pearls and sequins into place to give the tail the shimmering effect of scales.

  My eyes were twitching now and my hands cramped, but I still had to make my top. The mermaids I had seen in picture books were naked, though their long hair more or less preserved their decency. I wasn’t sure my hair was quite long and thick enough, and I wanted to make certain I preserved my decency, so I sewed myself a pink gauze bodice and carefully stuck a scallop shell at either side to cover my chest (not that I yet had anything much to cover!). I sewed more pearls around the edges, and then assembled the entire costume, brushed out my hair, and peered at myself in the spotted mirror on the wall. I wasn’t sure I looked utterly convincing, but then again, neither had Harold the Two-Headed Marvel. I looked decorative �
� and I guessed that might be Mr Clarendon’s primary requirement.

  I packed my costume very carefully into Sarah’s mother’s invaluable suitcase, and set off. I walked over to the infirmary first, and peered through the window. Mama was lying back on her pillows, coughing and coughing. My heart turned over at the sight of her. She saw me and tried to get up, but I shook my head fiercely, gesturing to her to stay in bed. I mouthed I love you over and over again, and blew her kisses. Mama managed to stop coughing long enough to smile valiantly and blow kisses back.

  I set off for Mr Clarendon’s Seaside Curiosities with renewed determination. Every step I took I whispered, I love you, Mama, I love you, Mama, I love you, Mama, trying to give myself courage. I still felt shy and frightened when I approached the red-and-white pavilion. Mr Clarendon was outside in his ridiculous red suit, inviting all the passersby to roll up.

  I stood beside him, waiting for him to reach the end of his spiel. He eyed me up and down again.

  ‘You still don’t look like a mermaid to me,’ he said, waggling his eyebrows in a way that was meant to be amusing.

  ‘I need to change into my costume, Mr Clarendon,’ I said. ‘You can’t expect a mermaid with a tail to walk down the street.’

  ‘Ooh, hoity-toity!’ he said, chuckling. ‘Well, come this way, missy. I’ll escort you to your dressing room.’

  I followed him through the tent, past the fish and seagulls and sad seal, past the tattoed man, Pirate Pete and his parrot, Freda the Female Giant and Harold the Two-Headed Marvel. They did not have much of an audience as yet and were lounging around, scratching and yawning. Freda saw me and nodded down at me in a friendly fashion, waving her great hand. I waved mine back, trying hard to stay composed.

  The ‘dressing room’ was a curtained-off cramped corner at the back of the tent.

  ‘Come on, then, little mermaid, give us a swish of your tail,’ said Mr Clarendon. He stood there rubbing his hands together.

  ‘I cannot change in front of you, sir,’ I said. ‘Surely you realize it wouldn’t be decent. Please go away and return in five minutes.’

  ‘You’re a fiery little snippet!’ he said. ‘You don’t order me around. I’m the one who gives the orders. I’m the boss of this establishment.’

  ‘Yes, sir, and I very much hope you will be my boss – but I would still appreciate a little privacy.’

  I stood firm, and he shrugged his shoulders, sighed, and walked off, though I sensed he had not gone very far away. I hoped he wasn’t peeping.

  I unsnapped the suitcase, pulled off my dress, and inserted myself into the elaborate tail and pink bodice. I could not walk in my costume. I could not even stand. I lay down gingerly on the dirty tarpaulin. I let my hair down and combed it vigorously, trying to look as fetching as possible.

  Then I called out: ‘Roll up, roll up, come and see the new attraction at Mr Clarendon’s Seaside Curiosities! Marvel at Emerald, the Amazing Pocket-Sized Mermaid.’

  Mr Clarendon came bustling in, laughing – and then stopped short when he saw me. My heart started beating fast but I forced myself to lie still, lounging on the squalid flooring as if it were the sandy shore. I combed my hair, arching my back, and moved my legs so that my tail twitched.

  ‘You little beauty!’ he said, walking around me, peering at me from every angle. ‘Where did you get your costume from, tiddler? Are you on the stage?’

  I took this as an immense compliment, and murmured something ambiguous. If he thought I was professional, maybe he’d pay me more.

  ‘So you’ll exhibit me, then, Mr Clarendon?’

  ‘I’ll say! I think we can build you up into quite a little novelty. We can make you a suitable setting – have you lying on a pile of sand, spread a bit of seaweed around, a few shells, to get the right atmosphere. I think you’ll pull the lads in even more than Freda.’

  ‘So how much will you pay me?’

  ‘Half a crown a week – if the takings are good. A florin if they’re not.’

  ‘What? I could get more than that as a maid!’

  ‘Well, go and get it then, little girlie.’

  ‘But – but I’m not sure I can live on that.’

  ‘You’ll get tips. Wink at the fellows and they’ll start raining coins, you’ll see. And you can have free lodging with the rest of us. You can share with Freda.’

  I did not like the idea of winking at the fellows. I did not see that there would be much room for me in lodgings if I had to share with a giant. Even so, joining this strange group of sad souls seemed my only viable option now.

  ‘I’ll join your troupe, then,’ I said.

  ‘That’s the ticket! You’ll have every morning off. Folk don’t seem to have the stomach for freaks straight after breakfast. We open at two, but you’ll be here at one forty-five to change into your costume. Then we go straight through till midnight.’

  ‘Ten hours!’

  ‘You’ll have five-minute breaks at four and nine, and a half-hour for supper at six thirty.’

  ‘Can I go out during my supper break?’

  ‘Well, you’re not going to get far in that costume, are you?’ he said, ‘No, you’ll take your supper here, like all the others.’

  I sat up straight. ‘I’m not like all the others. I’ll go without supper if necessary – but I must go and see someone at that time every day. I’ll make sure I’m back at seven sharp, in costume. Is that a deal, Mr Clarendon?’

  ‘I told you, I’m the one who makes the deals, not you,’ he said, but he held out his hand and we shook on it.

  SO I STARTED my bizarre new career as Emerald, the Amazing Pocket-Sized Mermaid. I moved into the lodging house with Mr Clarendon and the rest of his Curiosities. Mr Clarendon had an entire suite of rooms all to himself on the first floor. The rest of us had to make do in small cramped bedrooms – but at least they were clean, with washed linen.

  I barely said a word to the tattoed man or the pirate or two-headed Harold. They would drink together late into the night and only surface at noon, shuffling up and down the stairs in undervests and trousers, bleary-eyed and smelling of stale beer. The tattoed man and the pirate seemed more interested in each other, but Harold leered at me with his real head, and I learned to whisk myself away from him quickly to avoid his pats and pinches.

  I hated him, and disliked the other men, including Mr Clarendon – but I grew to love Freda! I had been a little frightened of her at first, because she was so very large, even when not standing on a bucket. She had been given a double bed to accommodate her vast size. I was told I had to share it with her. I was very anxious about this, scared that she might suddenly turn in the bed and squash me flat. I resolved to sleep on the floor with a blanket.

  When we went upstairs together after my first very long and gruelling afternoon and evening as Emerald, Freda was kindness itself.

  ‘You poor little baby, you must be exhausted,’ she said. ‘But what a little star you are! All the boys were beside themselves!’

  ‘They crowded round you too,’ I said.

  ‘Ah, but they only want to mock me,’ said Freda sadly.

  ‘No, I heard someone say that you’re a fine figure of a woman,’ I said.

  ‘Fine figure of a freak, more like,’ said Freda. ‘But you’re a real little beauty, Emerald.’

  I did not tell her my real name. I did not want anyone ever knowing that Hetty Feather – or Sapphire Battersea, indeed – was now a performing curiosity in a freak show. I pretended to Mama that I had found a respectable position as a nursery-maid. I did not write to Bertie or Jem any more. I knew what they would think of me, though I was not doing anything so very wrong, and my costume was perfectly respectable, if exotic.

  ‘I am not the slightest bit beautiful, Freda,’ I said ‘I have red hair, and I am much too little and scrawny.’

  ‘I am so tall and stout no one even notices my hair,’ said Freda. She took off her flounced bathing hat and let her hair down. It was fine fair hair, but a little sparse
– it barely covered her huge shoulders. She crouched down to try and look in the mirror to brush it. She knelt instead of sitting on the chair – she was probably fearful of breaking it. She was scarcely able to move, trapped in this tiny room, and I felt so sorry for her.

  ‘Here, may I brush you hair for you?’ I offered timidly. ‘It is such a fine shade of yellow. It’s very becoming, Freda.’

  Her hairbrush was the smallest size. All her possessions were tiny and dainty: her little pot of rose face cream, her papier-mâché trinket box, her cherub candlestick. I realized that vast Freda had a tiny feminine creature imprisoned inside her. I turned round so that she could undress modestly, though I have to confess I took a tiny peek. Her body was even more extraordinary when liberated from her bathing costume. She quickly hid her huge pink bulk with her nightgown. It barely reached her knees, though it would have trailed on the ground like a bride’s train on me.

  I put on my own nightgown, and Freda exclaimed at the simple lazy daisies I had embroidered on the bodice.

  ‘They’re so pretty, Emerald!’

  ‘I will embroider some on your nightgown, Freda,’ I offered.

  She got into bed, trying very hard to keep to her side, but she couldn’t help spreading over the mattress, taking up nearly all the room. Her poor huge feet stuck out at the end. They were sadly callused because she was forced to walk barefoot: no shoes were big enough for her.

  It now seemed like an insult to lie on the floor with a blanket, so I crept into bed beside her. She was holding herself rigid, scarcely drawing breath.

  ‘I fear you have nowhere near enough room, Emerald,’ she said sadly.

  ‘No, no, I am perfectly fine, Freda,’ I said, though I was clinging to the edge.

  She blew out her candle – and in the darkness we became two ordinary girls. Freda asked me what had brought me to Bignor, and I told her about Mama. I cried a little, and Freda cautiously patted my shoulder with a huge hand.

  I asked Freda if she had a mama, privately wondering if she might be even more enormous than her daughter.