Diamond and I looked at each other and then peeped round the door. It was a much bigger room than the other ones we’d seen. This wasn’t really a dressing room at all, more like a lady’s boudoir, with little gilt tables set with silver photo frames and pretty ornaments. There were pink velvet chairs and a magnificent pink chaise-longue. Miss Rubichek was lying decorously on the chaise-longue, wearing an amazing Prussian blue silk ensemble, her neatly crossed feet shod in silver kid slippers with high heels that emphasized their arches.
I wondered if she’d been a dancer in her youth. Her dancing days were clearly over now, but she still cut an impressive figure. Her magnificent blue bosom was a wonderful display cushion for her strings of milky pearls, and her many-ringed hands were lightly clasped on a smooth mound of stomach, but her waist was still impressively small. She was clearly wearing a very strong corset under her blue gown.
‘Well, don’t just stand there gawping. In you come, in you come. My, my, what are you two girlies doing here?’ she asked.
‘Please, ma’am, we’re looking for Mrs Ruby,’ I said.
‘Well, look no further. Here I am!’ she said, with a grand theatrical gesture that set her diamond bracelets tinkling.
‘Oh! But it says Miss Eva Rubichek on the door . . .’
‘Yes, well, that’s me too. I once married Mr Rubichek – big mistake, that was – but even though I got rid of him soon enough, I decided to hang onto his fancy name. Better than plain Smith, the name I was born with. Most folk can’t get their tongues round anything different, so they shortened it to Ruby, and though I’m a single lady now – well, most of the time – I’m given the title Mrs out of respect. Like a cook!’ She cackled with laughter. ‘Oh dear, I expect I’ve confused you.’
‘Not at all, Mrs Ruby,’ I said. ‘I understand perfectly. Our circumstances are very similar.’
‘You’re never telling me a little girl like you has been married!’
‘No, no! But I was called Hetty Feather as a child, and then I took the name Sapphire Battersea because that was Mama’s name for me, and then, when I became an artiste, I called myself Emerald Star,’ I said.
‘Good heavens. Your story’s even more complicated than mine! And what about you, little sweetheart?’
Diamond looked fearful and fidgeted with her pinafore.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ Mrs Ruby asked.
Diamond put her hand over her mouth, as if a real cat were about to steal her tongue.
‘Bit simple, is she?’ Mrs Ruby said to me.
‘Oh no, ma’am, she’s as bright as a button, and extremely talented, but she’s a little over-awed,’ I said quickly.
‘That doesn’t seem to be your problem, child,’ said Mrs Ruby. She put her head on one side. ‘Are you a child? It’s hard to tell. How old are you?’
I thought quickly. ‘I’m as old as you need me to be,’ I said. ‘If you employ me as an artiste, I will have more novelty value as a child performer. I think I can pass for twelve, maybe even younger. But I am actually nearly sixteen, with an old head on my shoulders, so you need have no worries about chaperones – and I take full responsibility for Diamond here.’
Mrs Ruby laughed. ‘Yes, you’ve certainly got an old head on your shoulders, Hetty-Sapphire-Emerald. So you are both child artistes? What is the nature of your double act?’
‘Oh, we perform separately. We have very different skills. Diamond is the really talented one,’ I said proudly. ‘She is an acrobatic wonder. If you will permit us to get changed into our costumes, we will show you what we can do.’
Mrs Ruby gestured to a Japanese screen in the corner of her room. ‘Pop behind there then, dears. Best be quick about it – I’ve only got ten minutes or so before all the real artistes start arriving.’
She didn’t seem to be taking us seriously as artistes. There was a gleam in her dark eyes, as if we were amusing her in the wrong way. Well, we would show her!
‘Chin up, Diamond,’ I whispered, unsnapping the suitcase.
I wished there had been time to iron the satin bodice of Diamond’s fairy costume and my own crumpled scarlet jacket. My boots could do with a good polish, and the star on Diamond’s wand was drooping.
‘There now! Don’t we look grand?’ I whispered firmly in Diamond’s ear as we dressed behind the screen. ‘We’re going to cut a fine figure, aren’t we?’
Diamond nodded, but she still looked frightened.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Will she beat me if I tumble?’ she murmured.
‘No, absolutely not!’ I said.
‘But Mister beat me.’
‘Yes, and that was awful, and I wish I could have stopped him. But Mrs Ruby’s not cruel like Beppo. If she so much as raises her hand to you, I’ll kick her in her fat tummy, and when we get back to Miss Gibson’s, I’ll stick pins inside her new costume,’ I murmured.
I was trying to make Diamond laugh, but she took me seriously. ‘Will she really raise her hand to hit me?’ she said.
‘Oh, Diamond, for goodness’ sake! No. A hundred times no. Now come on, she’ll be getting impatient.’ I took Diamond’s hand and led her out into the room.
Mrs Ruby chuckled at the sight of Diamond in her fairy outfit and me in my scarlet ringmaster’s coat and riding breeches. I swept her a bow and told Diamond to curtsy.
‘Very pretty,’ said Mrs Ruby. ‘Very well, let’s get on with it. Give me a little snippet of your performance. Three minutes each, maximum.’
‘You first, Diamond,’ I said, thinking she’d better get it over quickly.
She looked around the room anxiously. ‘It’s not a big enough space!’ she hissed.
‘Well, use your initiative, dearie. Only do mind my ornaments. Adapt your act,’ said Mrs Ruby.
I didn’t have much idea of Diamond’s new act because I’d been cooped up sewing. She didn’t seem to have much idea of it, either. She did a back-flip, she walked on her hands, she cartwheeled around Mrs Ruby’s chaise-longue, but each acrobatic trick was hesitant and awkward and the performance didn’t flow. She pranced a little and waved her hand and smiled, showing all her teeth the way Beppo had taught her. It had looked effective in a circus ring but it seemed bizarre here.
‘Right, dear, I think I’ve seen enough now,’ Mrs Ruby said after less than two minutes. ‘Now you, Little Miss Breeches. Are you going to somersault too? I hope not!’
‘No, I have another speciality. But perhaps you’d like to give Diamond another try first? If she could only use the stage, I’m sure she would be able to show herself off to more effect. She was positively the little star of Tanglefield’s Travelling Circus. Folk came from miles to see her,’ I said.
‘I dare say,’ said Mrs Ruby. ‘But she’s had her turn now. We can’t possibly use the stage. There will be men fiddling with the lighting and rushing around with props. We have a show to put on.’ She consulted her gold fob watch. ‘You’d better get started, pronto.’
I didn’t know what to do. I was worried that Diamond had blown her chances. It was all my fault. I should have supervised her rehearsal. It was ridiculous to expect her to adapt her act herself. I sometimes forgot how little she was, and still so cowed by her life with brutal Beppo that she could scarcely decide anything for herself. I had let her down badly. I could hardly bear to look at her now, her head bent, her face hidden by her golden hair. Her hands were clenched tight. Her wand had fallen to the floor. Her skinny legs looked about to buckle.
I should scoop her up and take her out of this place – but we had to find some way of supporting ourselves. It was our best chance. If I became a star of the Cavalcade, I could earn enough to keep the two of us. I could pay the rent, buy us food, get Diamond a little treat from the toyshop. She could go to school so she could learn to read and write properly and make some friends her own age. When she came skipping home, I’d be there to make a fuss of her and give her a mug of cocoa and read to her, and then after she’d had her supper, I’d tuck her up
in bed, kiss her goodnight and make my way to the Cavalcade for the performance.
So I started my spiel.
‘My lords, ladies and gentlemen, plus all you good humble folk and little children like myself, welcome to the great and glorious golden Cavalcade, the cream of all music halls in this country and beyond,’ I declared, striding around the room and waving my arms.
Mrs Ruby burst out laughing and poured herself a drink from a dark red bottle. This was surely a good sign! I concentrated hard, trying to remember the list of names on the poster.
‘Come and see the littlest chap on the bill – but, oh my goodness, this young man stands tall with talent. Hold onto your hats, sirs – and hold onto your sweethearts too, because although he’s pocket-sized, he certainly attracts the loveliest of ladies. He’s little Flirty Bertie, who’ll sing his heart out and dance the two-step till your own toes start tapping.
‘Then, my goodness me, marvel at the magnificent Araminta, our exotic acrobatic dancer, who will lure your eyes with her lithe body. Araminta’s artistic acrobatics will set your hearts a-thumping – and they will thump again when Sven, the Russian Sword-swallower, swaggers on stage. Sven’s manly charms set every girl in a dither, and the way he swallows six-foot swords is enough to make anyone swoon—’ I stopped, because Mrs Ruby was choking, drops of red wine dribbling down her big white chest.
‘Are you all right, Mrs Ruby? Diamond, thump Mrs Ruby on the back!’ I said anxiously.
‘No, no!’ Mrs Ruby waved her away, and mopped herself with a white embroidered handkerchief.
When she’d recovered, I started on Peter Perkins and his Comical Capers. I wasn’t quite sure what comical capers were, but I capered about as comically as I could, and set Mrs Ruby laughing all over again.
‘Oh, child, you’ll be the death of me,’ she gasped, mopping her brow this time. ‘No more!’
‘Could I not just announce Miss Lily Lark? I have such a glorious introduction for her. It even rhymes, to make it special,’ I gabbled. I threw back my head. ‘And finally, top of the bill, we all know the drill – oh my, what a thrill! Put your hands together and applaud until they sting when you hear Miss Lily Lark sing. Oh, what a glorious angelic chorus. Her soaring soprano will certainly floor us.’
I had to stop again, because Mrs Ruby had fallen back on her chaise-longue, shrieking.
‘Mrs Ruby?’ I asked.
‘Oh my Lord, you’ve certainly floored me!’ she said. ‘Help me up then. I’m stuck on my back like a stag beetle!’
‘So you like my showman skills?’ I asked eagerly as I hauled her upright again. It was a good job Miss Gibson was such an expert seamstress. Mrs Ruby was straining the stitches of her gown to bursting point.
‘I absolutely relish them, Hetty-Sapphire-Emerald!’
Diamond perked up and clapped her hands. ‘So can Hetty be your ringmaster, Mrs Ruby?’ she asked.
‘We don’t have ringmasters in the music hall, dear. We have a master of ceremonies,’ said Mrs Ruby.
‘Then am I your new little mistress of ceremonies?’ I said, peering at her expectantly.
‘What? Don’t be ridiculous, child! Of course not,’ she said.
I felt as if she’d stamped all over me. ‘But you liked my introductions! They made you laugh!’ I protested.
‘Indeed they did. You’re a real little comic, and very inventive, I’ll give you that. But you can’t possibly believe you could run my whole show, a slip of a girl like you! The audience would eat you for breakfast.’
‘I’m very used to keeping the rowdiest crowd under control,’ I said indignantly.
‘I dare say, in a two-bit travelling circus. How many seats are taken on a rainy Tuesday, eh? A hundred, if you’re lucky. And them mostly country bumpkins, too dumb to heckle,’ said Mrs Ruby.
‘You needn’t be so insulting. Country folk are just as bright as city slickers,’ I said, feeling as if she were personally insulting my Jem.
‘The Cavalcade seats a full two thousand, and the bar does a roaring trade. After the second interval it’s hard even for me to keep them under control, and I’ve been in the business over thirty years. No, dears, it’s no go for both of you, I’m afraid. But thank you very much for the entertainment. Off you go now!’ said Mrs Ruby, downing the rest of her drink.
‘You’re making a big mistake, Mrs Ruby. You have to give us another chance. We can come back during the day. Put us on stage and you’ll see for yourself. Diamond’s a little tired now from our long journey, but she will twinkle like a true star tomorrow, I promise you. And if you care to sit right at the back of your magnificent theatre, you will find my voice so powerful it will carry past you, right through the wall and out into the street! If anyone in the crowd grows restless and tries to insult me, I shall quell them immediately. I am absolutely the queen of quell.’
‘Don’t set me off again, please! Look, dear, you get a gold star for persistence, I’ll grant you that. But my music hall is no place for two little girls. See for yourselves . . .’ She scribbled a quick note and thrust it at me. ‘Present this at the box office in the main entrance. They’ll give you two tickets to sit in my own personal box. You shall watch the show tonight and then you will understand.’
She heaved herself off her chaise-longue, straightened her gown, steadying herself on her feet. They were a little swollen and bulged out of her tiny silver slippers, but she walked as lightly as a girl as she crossed the room.
‘Off you go, dears.’ She ushered us out, and then shut the door in our faces.
We stood staring at each other in the corridor.
‘So we’re not going to be music-hall stars after all?’ said Diamond.
‘I don’t think she’s totally made up her mind against us,’ I said. ‘Maybe we should rehearse all tomorrow and then try again.’
‘I did rehearse, but I couldn’t seem to do it right,’ said Diamond. ‘Beppo would have beaten me. Hetty, maybe you should beat me and then I might perform better.’
‘Nonsense. I’m never, ever, ever going to beat you, you silly girl,’ I said. I clasped her hand. ‘We mustn’t give up, Diamond. I’m sure all true artistes have to fight and struggle for a while before they are given a chance to star.’
I spoke with spirit, but inside I was doubting. It was such a shock to be rejected. I had always persuaded people to take a chance on me before. They’d let me manage a market stall, yelling my head off to attract new customers, until half the girls in town were vying with each other to buy my silks and satins. I’d dressed as a mermaid and talked Mr Clarendon into letting me be part of his extraordinary Seaside Curiosities. I’d burst into Mr Tanglefield’s wagon and strutted about in my makeshift costume, convincing him I could do a better job than he could. I was a showgirl to my very soul. Why couldn’t Mrs Ruby see that? She was clearly a businesswoman, shrewd and sharp. Why didn’t she see my potential?
I found out why when Diamond and I sat in Mrs Ruby’s box watching the show. It was nothing like the circus. This wasn’t a family show. Diamond was the only child in the entire theatre. There were courting couples and several rows of ladies – though they didn’t quite seem like ladies, with their painted faces and raucous laughter. There were crowds of excitable young men joshing each other, and throwing sweet wrappers and orange peel at the so-called ladies. There were older men, the smell of beer wafting from them like rotten perfume. Many were the coarse, red-faced, big-bellied kind, looking for trouble. There were toffs too, all top hats and cloaks and walking canes, equally raucous.
Diamond shrank back in the box, but I leaned over the edge, eagerly observing everyone. I still thought I might just be able to entertain them. Surely they’d have to quieten and settle when the lights went down and the curtain went up. But they didn’t. The lights went down and the curtain went up right enough, but then they all started roaring. When Mrs Ruby herself walked out on stage they made such a noise we had to put our hands over our ears.
Mrs Ruby didn’t seem a
jot perturbed. She sashayed across the boards, looking like a voluptuous girl with her wasp-waist figure. She waved her hands, waggling her jewelled fingers, and then threw back her head and addressed the crowd.
‘Hello, all you naughty boys and girls!’ she said, smiling with newly reddened lips. ‘Out for a night on the tiles, eh? Well, you’ve come to the right place. We have beer, we have mother’s ruin for the ladies – and, oh my, many a mother will doubtless be ruined before the night is out!’
‘What does she mean, Hetty?’ Diamond whispered while the crowd roared.
I wasn’t terribly sure myself.
‘Welcome to the Cavalcade, dearies!’ Mrs Ruby continued. ‘Sit back on my lovely plush seats – ooh, there’s a treat for you! – and wiggle your toes happily because you’re about to enjoy an unforgettable night. Feel free to totter backwards and forwards to the bar as often as you like, swell my profits – ooh yes, that’s what I like – and appreciate all the stars of my amazing show. And here to be our master of ceremonies tonight and introduce them is my dear boy, Mr Samson Ruby himself.’
‘She has her own little boy as part of the show?’ Diamond whispered. ‘So why wouldn’t she let us be stars too?’
But he wasn’t a little boy at all, and later I discovered that he wasn’t her child, he was more like her sweetheart, though he was certainly much younger than her. He was a strapping young man, well over six foot, with broad shoulders and a very determined chin that belied his foppish appearance. His hair was long and curly, his moustache elaborately waxed. He wore a frilly white shirt, a crimson velvet smoking jacket, and trousers so tight it didn’t look as if he could sit down. He held his fat cigar aloft in an affected manner.
There was a lot of whistling from the crowd. The ladies were especially shrill. He played up to them for all he was worth, striding about, pointing at several in the audience, even inviting one up on the stage and pretending to hypnotize her with his pocket watch. He spoke with Mrs Ruby’s innuendo, even wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.