Little Stars Read online

  They all bared their teeth in a smile, even Olivelli, though it was clearly a strain.

  ‘Now, where’s that boy of mine? Propping up the bar, I dare say. Someone go and fetch him, as I make it one minute to opening time. Dear, oh dear, who’d be in charge of a music-hall theatre?’ said Mrs Ruby. ‘Any of you wish to take over? You’d be more than welcome. I’m getting old and tired. I’d be glad of a rest.’ She smiled smugly, because she was looking marvellously youthful in her cleverly boned purple frock, and she seemed electric with energy. Her little eyes were darting everywhere, checking on all her artistes, looking for her ‘son’ and seeing that I’d wheeled the penny-farthing further back in the wings.

  Then she heard the orchestra strike a particularly arresting chord. She stood even straighter, thrusting out her magnificent chest, and sailed onto the stage, owning every inch of it. All the chattering artistes in the wings lowered their voices to whispers.

  Bertie tiptoed over to Diamond and me. ‘Are you all right, Hetty? That bogus Eyetie warbler didn’t hurt you, did he?’ he murmured.

  ‘You stopped him! Thank you so much.’

  ‘Well, I’ll not have anyone bullying my girl. Girls,’ he corrected himself, patting Diamond on the shoulder. ‘How are you feeling, Twinkle?’

  ‘I feel sick!’ she said. ‘Just the way I used to at the circus. Maybe worse.’

  ‘It’s just stage fright, dear. We all feel it,’ said Bertie. ‘See, I’m shivery and sick too.’ He started trembling violently and then mimed vomiting.

  Diamond giggled and then clapped her hand over her mouth.

  We waited silently while Mrs Ruby warmed up the audience. Someone right up in the gallery had the cheek to heckle her, calling out something vulgar about her bosom.

  Mrs Ruby put her head on one side, one hand behind her ear. ‘Sorry, dear? Didn’t quite catch that. You’ve got a little mouse squeak. Show yourself, my sweetheart. Ooh, I see you. Yes, a little mouse all right, hiding there amongst your big mates. Why don’t you whip down those stairs and come and join me on stage, where we can have a proper conversation and you can admire my abundant figure in close proximity. How about that for an invitation? Little mousy want to come and meet Mrs Pussycat?’

  This drew huge laughter and applause, and the stupid youth slunk down in his seat, not inclined to take up her invitation.

  ‘Boys!’ said Mrs Ruby, shaking her head. ‘And what about my boy? Where’s he got to? He’s due up on stage with me and yet I can’t see him. No use going through all the usual spiel about my boy Samson if he’s not going to come bounding onto the stage on cue. Shall I send out a search party for the naughty lad?’

  There was a sudden jostling in the wings, and Samson Ruby pushed his way through, though he paused to give one of the showgirls a big kiss on her cheek. Then he spotted me. ‘Hello! Who’s this funny little sprat? Ooh, and an even weenier one,’ he said, patting Diamond on the head. ‘Whose kiddies are you?’

  ‘We’re not anybody’s kiddies,’ I said fiercely. ‘We’re artistes.’

  He laughed in my face, breathing whisky fumes all over me.

  ‘Where are you, little Samson?’ Mrs Ruby repeated on stage, an edge to her voice.

  ‘Here, big Mama,’ he said, rushing forward to kiss her hand.

  I hated him, but he was very clever at bantering with her and dealing with the audience, because now half a dozen were cat-calling. As ringmaster at Tanglefield’s, I’d had to deal with a few drunks. It was like walking a tightrope. If they were merry, everything could go swimmingly and they’d laugh along with you in a cheery manner, but they could suddenly snap and turn nasty for no reason, and then they were a nightmare to control. Diamond wasn’t the only one who was trembling.

  When Mrs Ruby came off stage, she breathed out heavily. ‘Be bold, dears. They’re a rowdy lot tonight. Squash ’em flat from the start.’ She turned to Diamond and me. ‘And keep your peckers up, little girlies. Don’t show you’re scared, whatever you do. You both look so sweet, I doubt that even the meanest drunk will pick on you. I’m going to my special box now. I’ll be watching over you.’

  ‘And I’ll be watching over you too,’ said Bertie as Samson Ruby started introducing him. He squeezed my hand, and I was surprised to discover that it was nearly as cold and clammy as mine.

  ‘Good luck, Bertie. I think your act’s brilliant,’ I said.

  ‘I do too,’ said Diamond earnestly.

  ‘There, what a lucky chap I am, having two sweethearts wishing me well!’ Bertie sprang on stage with a natty little skip, waving his boater in the air.

  I was glad that Samson Ruby always sat at a special table in front of the stage, ready to announce all the artistes. I didn’t fancy the idea of being squashed up in the wings with him. I hated the way he’d looked at me. The girl he’d kissed was wiping her cheek, grimacing, while her friends were shaking their heads sympathetically.

  I watched Bertie, marvelling at his courage as he sang and danced and cracked funny jokes as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  ‘Bless his little cotton socks,’ said one of the showgirls.

  ‘He’s a cute one, our Bertie,’ said another.

  I was glad he was a favourite of theirs. I didn’t want Ivy Green flirting with him, but the showgirls were talking about him as if he were a cute puppy, not a man to be reckoned with. They all trooped on stage for him to serenade them, while the audience laughed.

  ‘That’s it, Bertie, lad. Make them laugh. Then they’ll keep laughing for me,’ said Peter Perkins, the comic.

  He didn’t look comical now, he looked deadly serious, and he had to keep mopping his brow with a yellow spotted handkerchief. He shook his head when he saw me staring. ‘It’s all right for you two. Like Mrs Ruby said, they’ll not turn on little girls. They might chew you up a little bit, but then they’ll spit you out. But a big sweaty chappie like me – oooh, they’ll swallow me whole if I’m not careful. Dear God, why did I ever take to the boards? I should have listened to my old dad,’ he said. ‘I’d have done an honest day’s work down the market and now I’d be safe at home with my feet up.’

  ‘Oh my goodness!’ I said. ‘I think we might have met your father. Is he Sam Perkins, with his own fruit and veg stall? He was so kind to Diamond and me. He took us for a slap-up breakfast and looked after us beautifully.’ I didn’t add that Mr Perkins had called the Cavalcade a den of iniquity.

  ‘That’s my dad all right,’ said Peter Perkins. ‘Does everyone a good turn and always has a kind word – well, except for me. I fair broke his heart when I wouldn’t join him in the family business, and it was the last straw when I joined the Cavalcade. He’s strait-laced, my dad – wouldn’t ever set foot in a music hall. He’ll barely talk to me now.’

  ‘Oh dear, I’m so sorry. But sometimes you just have to follow your dream,’ I said.

  ‘Sometimes your dream turns into a nightmare,’ he murmured gloomily.

  Bertie came bouncing across the stage, all sunny smiles and cheery waves until he joined us in the wings. Then he pulled a face and mopped his brow. ‘Lordy, Lordy, that was uphill work,’ he said.

  ‘You were very good, Bertie,’ said Diamond. ‘I think I’ll be very bad.’

  ‘Nonsense. You’ll knock their socks off,’ said Bertie. ‘All crowds love little girls.’

  There were cheers and whistles as the showgirls went back on stage to do their own routine.

  ‘They like big girls too,’ I said. My mouth was so dry I had to wet my lips to talk properly. How on earth was I going to project my voice to the back of the huge hall? Why had I tried so desperately hard to get a place here? What was really so glamorous about the music hall? Diamond and I didn’t have to do this. We could stay at Miss Gibson’s and I could sew pretty gowns and we could lead a quiet, tranquil life.

  ‘You’ll be fine, Hetty, I promise you,’ Bertie whispered.

  ‘I just feel so nervous!’ I admitted. ‘I never felt like this at the circus. I almost wi