Little Stars Read online

  ‘But you were kissing him yesterday!’

  ‘To distract him from you, you fool,’ said Thelma.

  ‘Goodness!’ I felt a fool, and an ungrateful one at that. ‘Oh, thank you, Thelma!’

  ‘I’ll watch out for you, and so will most of the other girls. But we can’t be around all the time, especially now you’re in the second act. So watch out. Keep as far away from him as possible or he’ll eat you for breakfast,’ she said. ‘Got it, kid?’

  ‘I’ve got it,’ I said.

  She smiled, and I saw that underneath all her make-up she was only a few years older than me, and a sweet kind girl for all her rough ways.

  ‘I wish I had lovely shiny yellow boots like Thelma’s,’ Diamond said, after she’d gone home. ‘Will you buy me a pair one day, Hetty?’

  ‘No, I will not!’

  ‘That’s not fair. Madame Adeline bought you boots!’

  ‘Yes, riding boots. Thelma’s boots are quite different.’

  ‘And I like her black stockings with holes in. Can I have pretty stockings like that?’

  ‘No, they’re fishnets and totally unsuitable for a little girl,’ I said, sounding as prim as a matron. I started worrying again. I knew that the music hall wasn’t really the right environment for an impressionable child. It couldn’t be good for Diamond to be amongst such girls all the time. They were kind-hearted and made a big fuss of her, but most folk wouldn’t consider them respectable. Still, most folk would sneer at a foundling and a circus child who’d been sold by her own father.

  ‘Thelma and all the girls who dance here are very kind girls and I like them a lot, but they’re not considered “good” girls, Diamond,’ I said carefully.

  ‘I think they’re good,’ she said stoutly.

  ‘Well, perhaps you’re right,’ I said. ‘But I’m certain of one thing. Samson Ruby isn’t a good man at all – he’s very, very bad. We must both keep away from him.’

  ‘Why?’ Diamond asked.

  ‘Because he might try to kiss us.’

  ‘Bertie kisses us. He’s not bad – he’s very, very good.’

  ‘Yes, he is,’ I said.

  ‘And he looks after us. When Mr Apple was horrid, Bertie stood up for us. So we don’t need to worry about Samson Ruby. Bertie will fight him if tries to do anything bad,’ said Diamond.

  I thought about it. Bertie was brave and hot-headed. He would fight. But Samson Ruby was tall and well-muscled. Bertie was strong and a street scrapper, but I didn’t see how he’d ever beat Samson. I didn’t want him to get hurt. And if by some miracle he managed to hurt Samson, what would happen then? Mrs Ruby adored Samson. One of the artistes thought he was her nephew. Most sniggered, and implied he might be a closer companion, though he was half her age. Whatever his relationship to Mrs Ruby, she would be furious if anyone hurt him. And if you fell out with Mrs Ruby, you wouldn’t last long at the Cavalcade.

  ‘We mustn’t tell Bertie,’ I said firmly. ‘We don’t want him to get into a fight or he’ll be in trouble. We’ll just keep away from Samson Ruby, that’s simple enough.’

  I still felt a little anxious, but I told myself I was worrying unnecessarily. It was a relief to go on stage and concentrate on our act. The audience were rowdy, and one quartet of drunken toffs in the front stalls were especially annoying, calling out silly things so that folk in the stalls missed half our jokes. I tried to ignore them, but it was impossible. I remembered how Mrs Ruby had confronted a heckler.

  ‘Wait a second, Diamond dolly,’ I said in my little-girl stage voice. I gently pushed her off my lap. She stared at me in surprise. ‘Sit there like a good dolly. Don’t move. Well, you can’t, can you?’ It got me an uncertain laugh. I stood up and skipped to the front of the stage, peering across the lights. ‘You see, there’s four fine dummies down there and it seems they all want to play with me too.’

  This time the laugh was huge. I smiled. ‘Do you want to come and sit on my lap, fine sirs? You’re very good at saying silly things, so you’ll make all the fine folk laugh.’

  The audience cheered and, thank goodness, the toffs subsided. I returned to Diamond and everyone clapped hard. We had not one, not two, but three curtain calls that night.

  THE NEXT MORNING I had two letters, one from Madame Adeline and one from Jem. They were both unsettling.

  I opened Madame Adeline’s first, pulling Diamond close so she could try to spell it out for herself. I’d been trying to encourage her, but she had grown too used to my reading everything aloud for her.

  ‘Dear Hetty and Diamond . . .’ She frowned at the next paragraph. ‘Madame Adeline’s writing is too swirly to read properly,’ she said. ‘And where are my pictures?’

  In all our previous letters, Madame Adeline had written the news, while Mr Marvel had drawn comical sketches of his family of monkeys. The littlest, Mavis, featured most prominently because she was Diamond’s favourite and they’d always had a special bond. Mr Marvel showed Mavis getting up to all kinds of naughty tricks: sometimes she’d be hunched at the corner of their table, tail curled like a handle, so that she resembled a monkey teapot. In the next picture she’d be grabbing a sandwich, and then holding a whole Victoria sponge, nibbling all round the edge. He’d draw Mavis in their bed with Mr Marvel’s old-fashioned nightcap on her head, so that all you could see were her paws and tail. The funniest picture was of Mavis wearing Madame Adeline’s red wig, looking like an ugly little girl with Rapunzel hair. Diamond would laugh and laugh at these pictures and keep them carefully folded beneath Maybelle’s belongings.

  I peered inside the envelope again, but Diamond was right – there were no monkey pictures. And no mention of Mr Marvel. Madame Adeline’s letter was unusually short.

  Dear Hetty and Diamond,

  Oh, girls, what a relief to know you are safe and sound! My last letter to Tanglefield’s was returned with NO LONGER HERE! scrawled across it. As you can imagine, I was very worried. I think you were very wise to leave. I never trusted Beppo – he was far too harsh with my little Diamond. I am very excited that you are music-hall artistes now. My clever girls! Please give me details of your act. I hope the other artistes there are kind to you. I wonder if they give you cake like your loving

  Madame Adeline

  ‘It’s too short! She always adds that Mr Marvel sends his love too – and sends a message from Mavis. Madame Adeline hasn’t written it properly this time,’ said Diamond.

  ‘I expect she’s busy. Or tired. And my letters to her are never very long,’ I said guiltily. ‘I’ll write her a really long letter next time – and you could write too, Diamond. It will be good practice for you.’

  ‘Writing makes my hand ache,’ she whined.

  ‘You should have been brought up in the Foundling Hospital. We had to write the same sentence for hours, and if we made any spelling mistakes or ink blots we had our knuckles rapped,’ I said.

  It had been such a cruelly strict regime – and yet by Diamond’s age I had a clear flowing hand and could read my way through any volume. I could sew and darn, and parrot all kinds of general knowledge, learned by heart.

  ‘Maybe I should enrol you in a local school now that we’re settled here,’ I said to Diamond.

  She looked appalled. ‘I don’t care for school at all,’ she said firmly.

  ‘How do you know? You’ve never actually attended one.’

  ‘I’m sure I wouldn’t like it. Besides, I don’t want to be anywhere else. I want to be with you, Hetty. And Miss Gibson. I like to join in your talking, and do my own sewing,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t think Miss Gibson and I are the attraction. You only perk up when a certain Mr Bertie comes calling,’ I said, pulling her hair.

  ‘Well, I love Bertie,’ said Diamond merrily, ‘and so do you, Hetty.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ I said, and bent my head so that my hair swung forward, hiding my burning cheeks.

  I opened the second letter. This was longer and much more informative.

  Dear H