Little Stars Read online

  ‘I should breakfast in your nightgowns, dear. You don’t want to have cold egg and toast. Run up and fetch your sister.’

  Diamond was still fast asleep. I shook her gently. She woke, rubbed her eyes, and then curled up again, pulling the quilt over her head.

  ‘Diamond, come on! Breakfast’s ready. We’re keeping Miss Gibson waiting,’ I said, pulling her arm.

  ‘Miss Gibson?’ said Diamond sleepily. ‘Is she the lady in the blue dress with all the jewellery?’

  ‘No, no, that was Mrs Ruby. Miss Gibson is our landlady now. She’s the lady who makes all the gowns, remember?’

  ‘It’s hard remembering,’ Diamond complained, reluctantly sitting up and swinging her legs out of bed. ‘We met so many people yesterday. There were too many names. I don’t want to meet anyone else today. I don’t want to do anything either. I just want to stay in bed!’

  ‘Nonsense! We have work to do,’ I said briskly. ‘Come on! You can wear my shawl if you’re chilly. I’m warm as toast. Ah, I’ve made toast. Come and eat it, dripping with butter.’

  Madame Adeline used to make us buttered toast when she’d run out of cake. Diamond loved it – and was already running across the room, wide awake now.

  She behaved well, chattering politely to Miss Gibson, looking angelic in her little nightgown with her clouds of fair hair hanging down her back. When we’d all eaten, I insisted on clearing away and doing the dishes, and I swept the floor for good measure. I washed and dressed and supervised Diamond, and then sat down with her in the back sewing room, while Miss Gibson perched her large behind on a padded stool in the shop, serving the occasional customer.

  I started tacking the waistband of Mrs Ruby’s new purple gown, following Miss Gibson’s neat line of pins.

  ‘Can’t I sew too?’ asked Diamond. ‘I can do big stitches like that.’

  ‘No, these stitches have to be perfect. I need you to learn this instead.’ I handed her the pages torn from my memoir book. ‘This is our new act, Diamond. We’re still going to be music-hall stars, I promise you.’

  Diamond puzzled over the paper. She couldn’t get to grips with my handwriting, so I copied it out in large print for her. As she still wasn’t making much progress, I stopped stitching again and read the lines out to her over and over again. She did learn the words eventually, but she couldn’t seem to say them with the right expression.

  ‘I know you’re trying very hard, Diamond, but you’re not saying it quite right,’ I said as tactfully as I could.

  ‘What do you mean? I said all the words, I know I did!’

  ‘Yes, but in such a monotone!’

  ‘What’s a monotone?’

  ‘Speak-ing-like-this-as-if-you’re-not-real.’

  ‘But I’m not supposed to be real! You said I had to be a doll, like that Little Pip boy with the funny mouth!’ said Diamond indignantly.

  ‘Yes, but you have to have some expression, otherwise it sounds so dull,’ I said.

  ‘I am . . . dull?’ said Diamond, her lip quivering.

  ‘No! You just sound it,’ I said, exasperated.

  Diamond started to cry.

  ‘Oh don’t! Please don’t. You make me feel so mean. Look, I think it’s simply because we’re not acting it out properly. Come here!’ I eased Mrs Ruby’s silky costume onto the table and patted my lap.

  Diamond climbed up onto it, still sniffling.

  ‘There now. You’re my little dolly Diamond, my very pretty beautiful dolly, just like the one we saw in the toyshop. Remember, if we get hired by Mrs Ruby, I’m going to save up all my wages, and when I have enough, I’ll buy you that special dolly,’ I said, hoping that bribery might work.

  ‘Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes!’ said Diamond, childishly clapping her hands.

  All the time I’d known Diamond at the circus she’d been like a sad little woman trapped in a child’s body. She rarely relaxed or played games or had fun. She looked strained and wary, forever glancing around in case Beppo was watching her. But now we’d run away she seemed to have reverted to early childhood, seemingly younger and more dependent than the usual eight-year-old.

  I felt a pang, realizing how distorted her entire childhood had been. I wondered if I should be pushing her so hard now. But her fairy looks and sweet little ways would be our act’s biggest asset. My own looks counted for nothing – I was just a voice, so I had to use it as artfully as I could.

  ‘Hello, everyone,’ I said, in a childish lisp. ‘I am Emerald and it’s my birthday today. Goodness, see how many of you have come to my party! I hope cook has made lots and lots of jellies and jam tarts. Perhaps you’ve brought me some presents? Do you see the wonderful dolly Mama and Papa have got me? Isn’t she beautiful?’

  I tapped Diamond on the back as her signal to speak.

  ‘Yes-I-am-ve-ry-beau-ti-ful,’ chanted Diamond.

  ‘No, don’t do it as if you’re reading – do it as if you’re speaking. Just like the ventriloquist doll last night. And much louder. Really, really loud. They’ve got to hear you right at the back of the theatre. Positively shout it out!’

  Diamond’s shout was more of a squeak, and she complained it hurt her throat when I made her try harder. And she still couldn’t put any expression into her lines.

  ‘Act it, Diamond!’ I said.

  But Diamond couldn’t act. When I showed her how to move jerkily and turn her head from side to side like a little dummy, she copied me accurately enough, but she still couldn’t get the right inflection to her words. I gave up coaching her in the end because we were both getting so frustrated. I decided it would have to be enough for Diamond to know the words and manage the moves. Perhaps she was right – dolls might well speak in a monotone if they came to life.

  We managed to get all the way through our little piece, though it was very slow and laborious.

  ‘Well done,’ I said, falsely bright. ‘Now, let’s do it again.’

  ‘Again?’ said Diamond, wrinkling her forehead. ‘I’m a bit tired of doing it, Hetty. It’s making my head ache.’

  It was making my head ache too, but I made us go through it several further times as I stitched. Then we had a mid-morning break while I made us all a cup of tea. Miss Gibson was in a good mood because some grand Lady Someone had come into the shop and ordered a new ball gown while Diamond and I had been gabbling away in the back.

  ‘A real lady! Did she look very grand? Did she swish about the shop and look haughty?’

  ‘No, she was very kind and polite,’ said Miss Gibson, ‘but a little exacting. She wants it just so, tight about the waist, with a firm bodice, but not too restricting because she likes to dance. And she wants it by the end of the week, which is well-nigh impossible.’

  ‘It’s not impossible if you style it, and then I tack and sew the easier bits,’ I said. ‘Diamond can pass the pins and brew tea and make herself useful.’

  ‘Yes indeed,’ said Miss Gibson. ‘I’m starting to be very glad my last girl flounced off!’

  I concentrated hard on stitching Mrs Ruby’s gown for the rest of the morning, wanting to show Miss Gibson just how quick and neat I could be, though I still forced Diamond to chant through our routine with me.

  ‘We’ll act it out properly when we take a quick break for lunch,’ I said.

  Diamond sighed heavily. ‘Are you sure we still have to be music-hall stars, Hetty? Couldn’t we just be sewing girls?’

  I knew this was actually a sensible suggestion. Quite by chance we now had board and lodging and I had a respectable occupation. I liked sewing too, and took pride in my work – but it still wasn’t quite enough. I needed to make something of myself, to try to be truly special. I remembered vowing to myself that one day my name would be famous, recognized all over London. It meant even more to me now. Bertie had made his childish dreams come true, so why couldn’t I?

  Then the shop door rang again and I heard Miss Gibson talking to someone.

  ‘Oh dear, another customer? I hoped it was lunch time no