Little Stars Read online

  ‘Of course I mean it,’ said Bertie. ‘You never take me seriously, Hetty.’

  ‘Because you’re always joking around and teasing so,’ I said. ‘But you’re a truly good sort, Bertie. It’s very kind of you to carry Diamond all the way home. You must be exhausted.’

  ‘Not at all. I’m bright and bouncy and the night is still young, Hetty Feather. Tell you what. You tuck little Twinkle up in her bed and then how about you and me stepping out? How about champagne and oysters? What do you say?’

  I hesitated. Then I smiled.

  ‘I say Yes, please!’

  MISS GIBSON LOOKED a little wistful when I asked her if she’d mind keeping an eye on Diamond while I went out with Bertie.

  ‘Well, of course, dear. Though it is a little late. Where exactly are you taking her, Bertie?’

  ‘Not quite sure yet, Miss Gibson. We’re just going to have a bite to eat.’

  ‘But I can make you a special little supper here. What do you fancy? I’ve got some very nice cheese and my own home-made pickle – or if you’d prefer something hot, then I could make you bacon and eggs,’ she said, all eagerness, already reaching for her apron.

  ‘Oh, you’re such a lovely lady, Miss Gibson dear, but Hetty and I feel in need of a breath of air tonight. I’m sure you understand,’ said Bertie, giving her a kiss on her plump cheek.

  ‘Oh, I do, I do,’ she said, shaking her head a little.

  I rushed upstairs to change. I’d never get served champagne in my Cavalcade outfit. I had resolved never to drink alcohol again, but I wanted to try champagne! Diamond was already fast asleep, curled up in bed, with Adeline on one side of her and Maybelle on the other.

  I changed into my grey dress, wishing it wasn’t so plain. I seemed to be always making outfits for other people, but still had nothing decent to wear myself. I put on the striped blazer I’d worn at the picnic to make my outfit more interesting, and tied up my hair.

  When I ran down the stairs, Miss Gibson didn’t say a word about my borrowing the blazer again. ‘Have a lovely time, dears. Don’t worry about Diamond. Or me!’

  ‘Oh dear,’ I said to Bertie as we walked down the road. ‘I feel a bit mean leaving her with Diamond. I do feel sorry for her sometimes.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re deciding against the life of a lonely spinster after all?’ he replied.

  ‘I don’t think I want Miss Gibson’s life – but one’s life doesn’t have to be lonely if you stay single,’ I said, tossing my head. ‘I’d rather like Lily Lark’s life. Top of the bill, much admired, with gentleman admirers hanging around the stage door – though she doesn’t seem to give a fig for any of them. She doesn’t stay in cheap digs. The girls told me she’s taken a mansion flat near the park for the whole season.’

  ‘She leads a good enough life, I grant you, but I feel a bit sorry for the old bird. She’s had her time in all the big London gaffs. She’s on the slippery slope now. The Cavalcade’s good, but it’s only the provinces. Give old Lil another five years and she’ll be history,’ said Bertie.

  ‘Well, I can’t see Ivy Green taking her place at the Cavalcade,’ I snapped.

  ‘Me neither,’ said Bertie wisely. ‘It’ll be you and Diamond, of course, Hetty. You’re a big draw already.’

  ‘And you can be second on the bill, Bertie – how about that?’

  ‘No thanks. I think I’ll be top of the bill at the Alhambra or the Criterion,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘No one can ever get the better of you,’ I said.

  ‘I think we’re evenly matched. That’s why I’m sweet on you, Hetty. You’re not like all the other girls.’

  ‘Not at all like other girls. Not pretty, not shapely, not tall, not a lady,’ I said.

  ‘Same as I’m not handsome, not a fine figure, and definitely not a gentleman,’ said Bertie. ‘But we’re both sharp and cunning because we’ve had to make our own way in life. We know how to fend for ourselves. We make out we’re tough as old boots, but inside we’re soft as butter and just want a little bit of loving.’

  ‘I think you’ve probably had more than enough loving in your life,’ I said tartly.

  ‘And I don’t think you’ve had enough, Hetty,’ said Bertie, taking my hand.

  ‘So where are we going, Mr Flirty Bertie? I hope you’ve got a suitable establishment in mind.’ I adopted Miss Gibson’s girly murmur. ‘Respectable, I hope!’

  ‘Ultra-respectable – in its way,’ said Bertie. ‘I’m taking you to Maudie’s.’

  ‘Ah, Maudie’s,’ I said in a nonchalant manner.

  ‘You haven’t a clue what Maudie’s is, have you?’ said Bertie, chuckling. ‘Don’t worry – it’s a drinking club, but I’ve never seen anybody behave badly there. It’s all quite swish, and you can get a bite to eat.’

  ‘So is this one of your regular haunts, then?’

  ‘Every night I down the old bottle of champers and generally make merry,’ said Bertie. ‘Nah! I’ve only been there once before, when Peter Perkins had a windfall on the gee-gees and took a whole bunch of us out to celebrate. Even the Rubys came. And I liked it so much, I thought if ever I got a specially lovely lady friend – one like that little Hetty Feather I courted way back when I was a lowly butcher’s boy – then I’d take her there to impress her.’

  ‘You don’t have to take me anywhere swish to impress me, Bertie,’ I said. ‘We’re both quite good at picturing, I seem to remember.’

  ‘Yes, you were a little sport that day when I was out of cash and couldn’t treat you to anything. One of our best times together, wasn’t it? I’ve never known a girl so good at pretending.’

  ‘Well, you got the hang of it too,’ I said.

  ‘I like to think I’m the only boy you’ve pictured with,’ said Bertie.

  I hesitated for a second, remembering all those long-ago days in the squirrel tree. ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘No I’m not,’ said Bertie. ‘So you and Jem used to picture too?’

  ‘You will go on about Jem. I might have had all sorts of sweethearts, you’re not to know,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, but I do know you, Hetty, through and through. So it’s no use lying to me, especially about Jem.’

  ‘I didn’t lie,’ I lied. ‘Well, only a bit. When we were little children, Jem and I used to play simple games. We had a special tree in the woods and we used to climb up and pretend we were squirrels.’

  ‘How sweetly pretty,’ said Bertie sarcastically.

  ‘Don’t you dare parrot Ivy Green to me!’

  We glared at each other – but then Bertie pulled me close. ‘Don’t let’s spoil our special evening, Hetty,’ he said.

  ‘All right. I’ll hang onto my temper. And actually there’s no need for you to get all het up about Jem any more.’

  ‘I don’t get het up!’

  ‘Just listen to you! Jem’s betrothed. He’s actually getting married this very Saturday,’ I said.

  ‘He’s never!’

  ‘I told you he had a sweetheart.’

  ‘You were always his sweetheart.’

  ‘When I was a tiny girl, before I went to the hospital. He made a fuss of me, the way you make a fuss of Diamond,’ I said.

  ‘And – and you don’t mind that he’s getting married now?’

  ‘Of course not!’ I said, my third lie in three minutes. It wasn’t totally a lie. Part of me, maybe nearly all of me, was very happy for Jem and Janet. It was what I’d wanted, what I’d hoped for. But there was still a squirmy little piece of jealousy inside me, as if the five-year-old Hetty were screaming, He’s my Jem and no one else can have him but me!

  I thought of little Eliza in the Foundling Hospital and wondered if she’d been told. She would mind dreadfully. She’d set her heart on marrying Jem herself. It seemed ironic that one sweet, gentle boy had already broken the hearts of two little girls.

  ‘You’ve got that dreamy look on your face, Hetty,’ Bertie said accusingly.

  ‘Maybe I’m dreaming of you.’