The Twinkling Tutu

by Gwyneth Rees

  ‘There is one way you could help him,’ Ava said at once. ‘You see, Tom thinks his father is dead, but I know that he’s not!’ She quickly told Madame Varty about her visit to the children’s aunt and uncle that afternoon and what she had discovered there. ‘So if you could help me find their father . . .’

  Madame Varty let out a loud sigh and went to sit down on the piano stool. ‘This is all too much to take in,’ she said. ‘First you bring me this amazingly talented child with this heartbreaking story about her mother. And now I find that it doesn’t end there . . . far from it . . . And I still don’t know who you are! You clearly come from a wealthy home judging by your appearance. But you seem to be permanently unaccompanied. I don’t understand it. Where do you live and who are your parents? And why on earth did you come to audition for me this morning when you clearly have no interest in ballet for yourself ?’

  Ava didn’t know what to say, and she felt tired of lying. But she knew she couldn’t tell Madame Varty the truth. Just as she was about to start stammering some sort of reply there was a knock on the door and the friendly-faced maid entered saying, ‘Excuse me, Madame, but the gentleman who called earlier is here to see you. I’ve shown him into the drawing room.’

  ‘What gentleman, Violet?’ Madame Varty asked a little impatiently.

  ‘The one who wants to interview you about your new school, Madame. You told him to come back this afternoon.’

  Ava only just managed not to gasp out loud in relief. It was Dad – and she found that she couldn’t wait to see him, even if he was going to be cross with her for coming through the portal on her own.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Madame Varty was saying. ‘But I am afraid I am rather too tired to be interviewed today, Violet. For one thing, I haven’t quite finished here yet . . .’ She looked across at Ava. ‘If you tell me where you live, child, I shall send for my carriage and take you home myself. I wish to speak personally with your mother or father.’

  And suddenly Ava had had enough of lying and trying to sort everything out on her own. ‘The gentleman who’s waiting downstairs is my father, Madame Varty,’ she blurted out.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Madame Varty looked taken aback. ‘Well, if that is true then I should certainly like to speak with him. Perhaps he can explain why his daughter roams around completely unsupervised, attends ballet auditions for no good reason and swaps her clothes with chimney sweeps!’

  Ava gulped. ‘Well, the thing is, he doesn’t actually know about all that . . .’

  Madame Varty looked stern as she replied, ‘Really? Well, in that case I imagine it will prove of great interest to him to find out!’

  9

  ‘Ava!’ Dad exclaimed in surprise as soon as he saw her. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Aware that Madame Varty was watching them closely, Ava replied carefully, ‘I followed you this morning, but when I got here I couldn’t find you, so I came to see Madame Varty by myself.’

  ‘She came to audition for my ballet school,’ Madame Varty added.

  ‘Audition?’ Dad looked puzzled.

  ‘I was wearing a ballet tutu when I first got here, so it sort of just happened,’ Ava explained.

  ‘What I want to know is why your daughter was allowed to come here unescorted,’ Madame Varty said. ‘And to remain unescorted for most of the day, so it seems!’

  ‘Is Marietta not with you?’ Dad asked Ava sharply.

  ‘Marietta is the child’s nanny?’ Madame Varty enquired as Ava shook her head.

  ‘Her aunt,’ Dad replied grimly. ‘The aunt who was meant to be looking after her today . . .’

  At that point Violet knocked on the door and entered the drawing room holding a small pile of clothes. Ava immediately recognized the ballet tutu and other items she had lent to Florrie.

  ‘What did you want me to do with these, Madame?’ the maid asked politely. ‘Shall I wash them or—’

  ‘It’s all right – I’ll just take them with me as they are,’ Ava broke in quickly.

  Violet continued to look at her mistress questioningly until Madame Varty slowly nodded her head.

  ‘Wrap them in some brown paper and bring them back to us as they are,’ she told the girl. She turned to Ava, adding, ‘Perhaps you should explain to your father why we have them.’

  Ava’s father was frowning at her. ‘Yes, Ava, please do explain.’

  So Ava told him all about swapping clothes with Florrie so that the little girl could win a place at Madame Varty’s ballet school. When Ava had finished, Dad looked at the ballet mistress questioningly.

  ‘What the child says is true,’ she told him. ‘In fact your daughter has done this little girl, Florrie, a great favour. But how she has gone about it . . . well . . . it is a strange way for a girl of her background to behave, I must say. I wonder what your daughter’s mother will say when she hears of it. The child has a mother I presume?’

  ‘Yes . . .’ Ava’s father grunted a little cautiously. ‘As it happens her mother is away at the moment.’

  ‘Really?’ Madame Varty raised one eyebrow, clearly deciding that that explained a lot, before saying smoothly, ‘Well, I am not suggesting, of course, that you are having any problems running your household in her absence . . . but I do hope your wife will be back soon.’

  Ava wanted to laugh at the look on Dad’s face, but she just managed to stop herself. Instead she said quickly, ‘There’s something I really need your help with now you’re here, Da— I mean, Papa.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ He looked at her warily.

  ‘Yes . . . you see, I want to try and find Tom and Florrie’s father! Tom is Florrie’s brother and he’s a chimney sweep too. He ran off just before you got here. It was before I had a chance to tell him that his father is alive, and—’

  ‘Our father is alive?’ gasped a small voice from the doorway.

  Ava turned to see Florrie, her face pink from being scrubbed so vigorously in the bath and her cropped hair surprisingly fair now that the remaining soot was gone. She was standing hand in hand with Violet, dressed in an adult-sized maroon silk cape, which covered her from chin to toe. Whatever she had on underneath it – if anything – was completely hidden from view.

  ‘I was just about to take her out to buy some new clothes as you requested, Madame—’ Violet began, breaking off as Florrie abruptly dropped her hand and took several steps away from her.

  Florrie was staring wide-eyed at Ava as she prompted, ‘My father, miss . . . ?’

  Ava looked uncertainly at Madame Varty, who sighed and said, ‘Oh dear – I’d rather have waited, but I suppose you had better tell her now.’

  Aware that all eyes in the room were upon her, Ava began hesitantly, ‘Florrie . . . I . . . I went to your aunt and uncle’s house today and I spoke to their maid. She told me your father did go back there to look for you. It was six months ago, she says. But your uncle didn’t tell him he had sold you to the sweep. He told him that you and Tom had run away and . . . and that you had probably died.’

  Florrie looked dazed at first. Then she began muttering, ‘I knew he’d come back for us . . . I knew it . . .’ over and over.

  ‘Yes, but, Florrie, we don’t know where he went after that,’ Ava continued anxiously. ‘We have to find him you see, and let him know that you’re still alive.’

  ‘Surely their father would have left a contact address with their aunt and uncle?’ Ava’s dad said.

  ‘Yes, but their uncle lost it,’ Ava explained. ‘At least that’s what the maid heard him tell their aunt.’

  ‘Florrie, do you have any idea where your father might be?’ Madame Varty asked.

  But Florrie just looked at her blankly, muttering, ‘I told Tom he’d come back, I did . . .’

  ‘Florrie, do you know where Tom might have gone when he ran off this afternoon?’ Ava asked her instead. ‘We need to let him know about your father too.’

  The little girl turned to face her, seeming to come out of herself a little. ‘Tom might �
�ave gone back to the theatre,’ she whispered.

  ‘The theatre?’

  Florrie nodded. ‘There’s a theatre near here that we walks past a lot. A few weeks ago they put a big poster up outside of a beautiful ballerina. She looks like our mother did the last time we saw her dance. We try an’ walk by it as slow as we can, but the master always makes us hurry. Tom got angry the other day an’ said if it weren’t for me, he’d run away and sit across the street gazin’ at that poster all day long.’

  ‘I think I know of which theatre the child speaks,’ Madame Varty said.

  ‘So do I,’ Dad put in. ‘I passed by it myself today. It’s the one Marietta told you about, Ava.’

  ‘I suppose someone should go there and look for the boy,’ Madame Varty continued. ‘I would go myself but I’m afraid I am feeling quite exhausted and my leg is aching badly.’

  Ava felt very sorry for the teacher.

  ‘Very well, Ava. You and I will go,’ her dad said at once.

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ Ava said gratefully.

  ‘Florrie – I want you to go to the shop with Violet now,’ Madame Varty told the little girl gently, pointing her towards the hall where the young maid had tactfully removed herself to wait for further instructions.

  ‘But I want to go and look for Tom,’ Florrie protested.

  ‘I’m sure when Tom hears Ava’s news, he will happily return here to be with you, Florrie,’ Madame Varty told her. ‘Ava, if . . . when . . . you find the boy, please tell him that he is welcome to stay here with us while we try to locate his father.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Madame Varty!’ Ava gushed.

  ‘Come on, Ava, let’s go,’ Dad said, standing up. ‘And at some point, Madame Varty, I very much hope you’ll allow me to interview you for the book I’m writing about reforms in the world of theatre and dance. I believe your ballet school may prove to be a leading light in that area.’

  Madame Varty inclined her head in recognition of the compliment. ‘When I am feeling well enough and we have more time, then I shall certainly grant you an interview. Now I really must go and rest for a while.’ As she stood up and reached for her cane, Ava’s father offered her his arm. And as they walked towards the door together she added, ‘If you have any problems finding the boy be sure to ask the theatre manager for his help. If you mention my name I am sure he will do all he can to assist you.’

  ‘OK, Madame Varty, we will!’ Ava responded excitedly.

  ‘What a very strange way you do talk, child,’ came the slightly irritated reply – and Ava could see her father concealing a grin of amusement as he escorted the still-graceful ballerina out into the hall.

  As they made their way to the theatre together, Ava’s dad wanted to know everything that had happened to her that day, and he listened without interrupting as she did her best to fill him in as completely as possible.

  It was late afternoon by now, but the sun was still shining and there were plenty of people out taking a walk – nannies pushing frilly-bonneted babies in prams, ladies in pretty, light crinoline dresses shielding their faces with parasols, and young men in smart suits and top hats strutting along with their heads held high. There were servants hurrying by too, many of them busy on errands judging by all the packages they were carrying. Children dressed similarly to Ava ran happily along the pavement playing with colourful hoops, while others stood whipping energetically at brightly coloured spinning-tops. Inside a small park fenced off with railings, two little boys in sailor suits and three little girls in knee-length crinoline dresses were laughing in a carefree way as they played marbles together in the sunshine while their nannies chatted in the shade nearby.

  Ava wished she felt as comfortable as all the children around her appeared to be, for she was longing to loosen her skirt a little. Also her dainty shoes were rubbing her heels so much that she was sure they were giving her some very undainty blisters.

  ‘Maybe Marietta didn’t put enough magic in the leather,’ her father commented when she complained to him about the shoes. And not for the first time Ava found herself staring at his perfectly straight face, trying to work out whether he was serious or whether he was joking.

  He was certainly being serious when – after she had finished relating all the day’s events – he began to scold her severely for coming through the magic portal alone. As he went on about how foolish she had been she wished she hadn’t told him about nearly being forced up a chimney by Mrs Potter or almost getting stranded here after lending Florrie her magic clothes. Just when she thought he had finished telling her off about each of the things that had happened to her, he launched into a list of the evenmore- dangerous things that might have happened, sounding every bit the stern Victorian father as he concluded angrily, ‘I can hardly believe that you disobeyed me and travelled here alone when I expressly forbade it!’

  Tearful and defensive, Ava finally snapped, ‘Well, I wouldn’t have had to if you’d taken me with you in the first place instead of going off with that nanny!’ She sniffed crossly as she added, ‘Marietta says she’s 186 taken quite a shine to you!’

  Dad stopped scowling and actually laughed at that. ‘Don’t be silly, Ava. She’s interested in me because I’m a travelling person like her, that’s all. Today was her day off, so when Madame Varty couldn’t see me this morning she offered to show me some places I hadn’t been to before. I accepted because it was far too good an opportunity for a historian to miss.’

  ‘Well you could have taken me along too,’ Ava pointed out hotly.

  Her father shook his head. ‘Some of those places weren’t at all appropriate for a child to visit, Ava.’

  ‘That’s exactly what Marietta said you’d say!’ Ava exclaimed. ‘She says you wouldn’t let her do anything exciting when she was young either! She says it was just as well 187 your parents gave her so much freedom!’

  ‘Really?’ Dad was scowling again now. ‘Marietta’s childhood memories must be very different to mine then. What I remember is spending half the time feeling terrified while our parents dragged me with them on their so-called adventures – and the rest of the time being left behind to look after Marietta! And now it seems my dear sister can’t even manage to return the favour by looking after you properly for a few hours when I ask her!’ He strode along the pavement in silence after that, with a face like thunder, but Ava didn’t care. She felt cross too, and she was glad not to have to speak to him.

  Presently they turned a corner into a much busier street and Ava’s father gruffly pointed out the theatre to her. It was like a giant fairy-tale building, Ava told herself. The facade was very decorative, with pretty scrollwork over the windows and a gleaming green dome protruding from the top of the building. Beautiful winged fairies and woodland creatures were carved into the large mahogany theatre doors, looking for all the world as if they were about to dance off the wooden panels and down the street at any moment.

  Several big posters were pasted to the front of the building. They were advertising the show that was currently on – which was indeed a ballet. There was one poster in particular of the principal ballerina dancing en pointe, dressed in a beautiful flowing tutu, wearing a garland of flowers in her hair and an angelic expression on her face.

  ‘That must be the poster Florrie was talking about,’ Ava whispered as they inspected it from where they stood on the opposite side of the road. ‘Florrie said Tom talked about sitting across the street to look at it – which means this side of the street, doesn’t it?’

  ‘We’ll have to be careful, Ava,’ her dad murmured. ‘If he is here and he sees you before we get the chance to talk to him, he might try and run off again.’

  Luckily, at that moment a lady and gentleman moved away from where they had been standing looking in a shop window a little further along the pavement. ‘Look, Dad,’ Ava said, pointing to what looked like a narrow passageway between that shop and the next.

  The two of them walked together as far as the shop – which was directly op
posite the ballerina poster – and there Ava’s dad took out a shiny coin from his pocket. ‘This might allow me to get closer to Tom if he is here,’ he whispered before taking another step forward and peering into the narrow alley.

  Ava guessed at once that somebody was there for her father immediately crouched down and offered out the coin, muttering a little awkwardly, ‘Here you are, boy!’

  Ava held her breath as her dad began to shuffle backwards still holding out the coin, clearly trying to entice whoever was there out on to the pavement.

  Ava heard a small cough and a slight scuffle. Then a sooty cap appeared and Ava immediately recognized the tear-streaked little black face peering out from under it.

  ‘Tom!’ she gasped in relief, rushing over to him. ‘Thank goodness!’

  And forgetting how dirty he was she flung her arms round him and gave him an enormous hug.

  10

  Ava lost no time in telling Tom about his father, and at first his reaction was the same as Florrie’s – he seemed almost too shocked to speak. Then he flopped down on the pavement and began to cry.

  Ava thought he would never stop sobbing. In the end she sat down beside him and put her arm round him – ignoring all the strange looks she was getting from passers-by. Her dad didn’t seem to care about the passers-by either, for he didn’t attempt to stop her.

  Eventually Tom wiped his nose and eyes with his sooty arm and started to ask Ava questions. How had his father looked when the maid had seen him? Had he seemed healthy? Had he given any clue as to where he had been all this time? Had he said where he was staying now or whether he would come back to look for them again?