Little Stars Read online

  I sat down on a bench, trying to concentrate on Diamond. But one word kept tolling like a bell in my head. Jem! Jem! Jem!

  When I left the house, I had thrust the letter into my pocket – I couldn’t bear the thought of Miss Gibson or Diamond reading it! I took it out again now, smoothing the creases, and read it through again. I lingered over the first three paragraphs, trying to recapture my feelings of wild irritation. But somehow Jem’s words failed to have the same effect second time round. He expressed himself a little stiffly, but that was because he was trying to write elegantly, showing me that he might be a farm labourer but he could turn a fancy phrase as well as anyone. His tone was teacherly, but his concern was genuine.

  I couldn’t really blame him for being worried about the music hall. Many folk shared his prejudice. Some of the acts were more than a little risqué, and many of the costumes were alarmingly brief. I thought of the shapely legs of the showgirls and the ballet dancers, of the practically bare body of Araminta the contortionist. I knew from the raucous response of the audience that most weren’t there to appreciate their dancing or acrobatic skills. Jem simply wanted to protect me from unpleasant cries and comments.

  I made myself re-read the last two paragraphs. I started crying all over again, and had to duck my head so the nearby mother wouldn’t see. Why was I reacting in such an emotional manner? I’d wanted Jem to marry Janet. I hadn’t wanted him as my own sweetheart. I’d thought of him as my brother. So why now, when Jem signed himself for the first time as Your ever-loving brother did that word seem to stab me in the stomach?

  I didn’t understand. I bent my head even lower, until it was on my knees. I put my hands over my ears, trying to block out the chatter of the small child, the murmur of the mother, the scrunch of the gravel path as someone else walked by. I wanted to crawl into a deep, dark, silent world to try to make sense of things.

  ‘Why, Mama?’ I whispered.

  Oh, Hetty! You know why. You want Jem – and yet you don’t want Jem.

  ‘So do I want Bertie?’

  It’s the same answer. You want Bertie – and yet you don’t want Bertie.

  ‘Why am I like this? Why can’t I make up my mind?’

  You’ve always been a contrary child!

  ‘Well, I know one thing. I want you, Mama. Why did you have to go and die when I was so young?’

  You were old enough to cope, dearie. Just about. You had to grow up very quickly. You should take a leaf out of Diamond’s book and try being a child again. Perhaps that’s the trouble. You’re too young for any sweetheart, Jem or Bertie.

  ‘Which one do you like best, Mama?’

  I can’t tell you that! You must make up your own mind.

  This wasn’t much help, but I felt a little more peaceful. I sat up awkwardly, conscious that the mother and child were staring at me. I wondered if I’d been talking aloud. I hurried away, hoping they didn’t think I was some poor soul whose mind was wandering. Perhaps I was?

  Miss Gibson seemed very relieved when I got home.

  ‘You gave us quite a fright, rushing off like that, Hetty. Poor Diamond wanted to run after you. She cried when I wouldn’t let her. You must try to act more responsibly, dear,’ she said reproachfully.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I won’t do it again, Miss Gibson. Thank you for looking after Diamond for me.’

  I was even sorrier for Diamond, who didn’t make a fuss or start crying again. She just clung to me, her hands hot and tight about my waist.

  ‘It’s all right, sweetheart. I just needed a little walk by myself, that’s all,’ I said.

  ‘I thought you were running away from me,’ she whispered.

  ‘As if I’d ever do that!’ I said, smoothing her hair and kissing the top of her head.

  ‘You promise you won’t ever?’

  ‘I promise. I tell you what, we’ll go for a little walk together now, to make up for your fright. And we might just find you something very, very special,’ I said.

  I fetched my purse, and we set off hand in hand. I took her to the toyshop.

  ‘You can choose a friend for Maybelle,’ I said.

  ‘Really? Oh, then please may I have the doll in the window?’ she asked.

  ‘Why don’t we look inside too? I think we’d better inspect each and every doll, just to make sure we find the right one.’

  The toyshop was a revelation. There were shelves and cabinets everywhere, crammed with the most wondrous toys. There were tiny replicas: a blue miniature steam engine with magenta and cream carriages, perfect in every detail; a black horse with a red leather saddle pulling a pitch-pine cart; a metal cooking stove with a full set of small pots and pans on the hob; an elaborate printing press with little letters; sets of small bricks, plain wood or red and yellow cubes, with alphabet squares for babies.

  There was livestock: brown fur bears with gaping red felt mouths; soft pink or blue rabbits with long limbs and floppy ears; a dappled rocking horse with a real mane and long bushy tail; and, most splendid of all, a Noah’s ark sheltering all kinds of wooden animals – hand-sized elephants and giraffes, down to two tiny mice smaller than my fingernail.

  Then there were the dolls: large lady dolls in silks with feathers in their straw hats; a gentleman doll with a top hat and tails and a tiny spotted bow tie; baby dolls lying on their backs, their long white christening robes draping the shelf; little girl dolls, blonde, brunette and even a redhead, in cream dresses with white knitted socks and weeny kid boots; there were even very small dolls peeping out of the windows of an elaborate red-brick doll’s house with gables and balconies and a turret.

  ‘Oh my goodness, how will you ever choose, Diamond?’ I said.

  She wandered from one to another, whispering under her breath, clearly talking to the dolls. I was worried the shop man might become impatient, but he nodded at her and mouthed at me, ‘She’s like a little doll herself!’

  I was also dazed by the toys. It seemed extraordinary that rich children had such choice! When I was a very little girl, I’d had my rag baby, an even less sophisticated dolly than Diamond’s Maybelle, though I’d loved her dearly. We’d had no toys at all at the Foundling Hospital, and scarcely any leisure time to play anyway. If our Little Stars act proved popular and we earned even more money, I wondered whether I’d like any of these beauties for myself.

  I didn’t want a doll, but I liked the grinning bear. I’d have loved to take him up into my tree house with Jem. I liked the horse and cart too. I’d have had wonderful games taking it back and forth to an imaginary market. And how about the splendid Noah’s ark? I knew the Bible story well. I could make Noah scurry around perfecting the ark and then help him line up all the animals in pairs so they could troop inside out of the rain. Was the ark waterproof? I imagined sailing it on the pond in the park, while the elephants trumpeted and the lions roared and Noah and his family prayed.

  I could act it all out for Diamond – but I knew that this time had long gone. I couldn’t immerse myself in play now. I’d left it too late.

  ‘So, Diamond, which doll is it going to be?’ I asked.

  ‘I can really, really have one? It isn’t just pretend?’

  ‘Really.’ I shook my fat purse. ‘See, I have the money with me.’

  ‘Well, they’re all so beautiful. It would be lovely to have a lady doll dressed in such finery, just like Mrs Ruby or Miss Lark – and I rather fancy this gentleman doll because he’s got a dear round face just like Bertie’s. The baby dolls are all very pretty, though they couldn’t talk to me, could they, not when they’re so young. The little girl dolls are all delightful, but I can’t choose between them and I don’t want to hurt their feelings. The little tiny dolls are maybe too little and tiny and might get lost, though I’d love to carry them around in my pocket,’ said Diamond, talking very fast and hopping up and down. ‘So the doll I’d really, really love is the one in the window, because she waved to me as soon as she saw me and she so hopes I’m going to be her mot