Sapphire Battersea Read online

  When it was nearly time to see Mama, I paid a penny to use a public convenience and washed my face and brushed my hair, trying to spruce myself up a little lest I alarm her. I struggled along the road to the infirmary with my suitcase.

  I went right up to the window and Mama crept out of bed. We stood together, only the pane of glass between us. I kissed her lips and laid my hand against hers. We stood motionless for a minute or two, gazing deep into each other’s eyes. Then a nurse came and pulled Mama back to bed. She tapped on the window for me to be gone.

  I did not go straight away. I walked round the walls of the infirmary to the main entrance and approached another nurse there.

  ‘No children are allowed in here, dear,’ she said briskly.

  ‘I’m not a child,’ I said, standing on tiptoe. ‘I’m a working girl. In fact I would like to work here. Perhaps I could train as a nurse?’

  ‘Nonsense! You’re far too young.’

  ‘I’m sixteen, nearly seventeen,’ I lied.

  ‘Run along now and stop wasting my time.’

  ‘I’ll do any kind of work. I could do the cleaning. I’m very used to scrubbing floors. Or I could help in the kitchen. I practically cooked single-handed in my last household,’ I gabbled. ‘Or perhaps there is a children’s ward. I’m very experienced with babies. I have a good character reference. Please let me show it to you.’

  ‘Go away, you silly girl. Why won’t you take no for an answer?’

  ‘Because I’m desperate!’ I snapped.

  ‘Well, this is no place for young girls, working or otherwise. Come along, out you go.’

  She sent me firmly on my way. I trudged along the promenade, lugging my suitcase, wondering what on earth I was going to do now. I had spent all day looking for work and had got nowhere. I was so tired I sat on my suitcase for a while, gazing about me despairingly. When I ran away from the hospital I had done a little begging. I hadn’t even needed to ask for money, I had just looked mournful – but no one seemed to understand the concept of begging in Bignor. People barely gave me a second glance.

  I had also sold flowers with Sissy, but there was no sign of any flower sellers along the promenade.

  How else could I earn money? There seemed no way at all. At least I had enough left for a couple of nights’ lodging. I decided I’d better look for a cheap room now.

  I wandered back along the sea front, utterly weary, scarcely able to put one foot in front of the other. I remembered all the happy times running along beside Charlotte and Maisie, strolling on the pier, listening to the band, marvelling at Mr Clarendon’s Seaside Curiosities … and then it suddenly came to me.

  I marched along with sudden determination until I reached the red-and-white pavilion tent. Mr Clarendon stood outside in his bizarre scarlet suit and bowler hat, talking through his megaphone.

  ‘Roll up, roll up! Come and encounter the greatest collection of living breathing curiosities you’ll ever see in a month of Sundays! Marvel at Henry, with his hundred tattoos, gasp at Fantastic Freda, the Female Giant—’

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ I said.

  ‘Would you like a sixpenny ticket, little miss?’

  ‘No, I have already been in and seen all the people inside. I was wondering, sir – would you like a brand-new attraction?’

  He stared at me. ‘What might you have in mind, missy?’

  ‘I could be … Emerald, the Amazing Pocket-Sized Mermaid, half girl, half fish,’ I said.

  ‘And how are you going to be a mermaid, missy? I don’t see no tail, I see two little feet in shabby boots.’

  ‘If I come back tomorrow as Emerald the Mermaid, will you take me on?’

  He looked me up and down, his eyes narrowed. I reached up and unpinned my hair, so that it fell past my shoulders in a long red wave. His lips twitched.

  ‘I’ll have to see your costume first. I’m not making no promises. But I reckon you could be a draw.’

  ‘How much would you pay me?’

  ‘That depends on the takings, girl. We’d have to negotiate.’

  ‘Very well. I’ll be back tomorrow,’ I said.

  I did not like him very much. I especially did not like the way he looked me up and down. But if this was my only way of earning money so I could stay on in Bignor, then I’d have to put up with it.

  Now I needed a roof over my head. I did not try any of the lodging houses near Mrs Brooke’s. I deliberately walked away from the sea and picked a street of tumbledown houses on the far side of town with ROOMS TO LET signs.

  I took the first one available. It was an attic room with a narrow bed and the sheets looked distressingly dirty, but I was too tired to seek anything better. The landlady was as grimy as the bedding, her hair lank, her fingernails black, her dress shiny with grease stains. But she was kind enough, and brought me up a supper tray: cold sausage, and a slice of bread and dripping, with a mug of tea. I did not like to think of her filthy fingers touching the food, but I was so hungry I ate it all the same. Though the sheets were grey, I got into bed willingly enough, and fell asleep as soon as my head touched the grubby pillow.

  I was up early the next day, my money counted out and wrapped in my handkerchief. As soon as the shops were open I went to the nearest draper’s. I bought a sharp pair of scissors, a tape measure, a paper of pins and needles, and a reel of green cotton. I thought some more, and selected a packet of pearl beads, another of green sequins, and some fancy green braid. I thought again, and had a couple of yards of cheap pale-pink muslin measured out, with matching pink cotton thread.

  ‘Is that it now, missy?’ said the draper’s assistant, rolling her eyes.

  ‘Yes, thank you. Please wrap them all in a paper parcel for me,’ I said briskly.

  I went down the street until I found a fishmonger’s. I asked him for two scallop shells, then I purchased a tube of strong adhesive glue from the stationer’s shop. There! I had everything I needed now.

  I went back to my grimy attic room, sat cross-legged on the floor, and set about constructing my mermaid costume. I measured myself with the tape measure first, and then sketched out shapes on the pages of an old newspaper. When I was sure I had the pattern right, I laid my green velvet gown out on the grubby carpet and seized the scissors. It took me several minutes before I had the courage to make the first cut. It was my only decent dress, the costume I’d fashioned with such care. I wasn’t even sure that my idea was going to work. I didn’t have enough material to cut out a proper tail in one piece. I took off the redundant trimmings, pinned the newspaper pattern in place, and started snipping out the shapes to make a mermaid’s tail. I had to fiddle around, cutting a patch here, a length there, and somehow try to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together to make the tail. It was a tiresome, complicated procedure. Several times I held the ruined velvet to my cheek and wept bitterly, but then I carried on with my task.

  I stitched and stitched until my hands were sore and pricked, but slowly, slowly, the mermaid’s tail grew. When the basic shape was stitched together at last, I stuck my legs cautiously into it. Thank goodness it fitted as snugly and smoothly as a glove. I sewed green brocade in stiffened strips to the fork at the end of the tail, and then started the tedious chore of stitching handfuls of little pearls and sequins into place to give the tail the shimmering effect of scales.

  My eyes were twitching now and my hands cramped, but I still had to make my top. The mermaids I had seen in picture books were naked, though their long hair more or less preserved their decency. I wasn’t sure my hair was quite long and thick enough, and I wanted to make certain I preserved my decency, so I sewed myself a pink gauze bodice and carefully stuck a scallop shell at either side to cover my chest (not that I yet had anything much to cover!). I sewed more pearls around the edges, and then assembled the entire costume, brushed out my hair, and peered at myself in the spotted mirror on the wall. I wasn’t sure I looked utterly convincing, but then again, neither had Harold the Two-Headed Marvel. I looked decorative �€