Contents

Cover

About the Book

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

About the Author

Also by Jacqueline Wilson

Visit Jacqueline’s Fantastic Website!

Copyright

To Rhian Harris, with many thanks.

Hetty Feather wouldn’t exist without you.

I WOKE WITH a start, my head hurting, aching all over. For a moment I didn’t know where I was. Indeed, I felt so fuddled I didn’t even know who I was. Hetty Feather, Sapphire Battersea, Emerald Star? I had three names now.

Was I Hetty, curled up in my soft feather bed in the cottage or shivering in the narrow iron bed in the Foundling Hospital? Was I Sapphire, tossing and turning on the servant’s truckle bed in the attic or still as a statue in my mermaid’s costume at the seaside? Was I Emerald, still reeking of fish in my nightgown, or exhausted in my caravan bunk, with Elijah the elephant trumpeting in the distance?

I could hear shouting, thumping, scraping. I must be at Tanglefield’s Circus. Oh Lord, was Diamond in trouble? I had to protect her. Had that evil clown Beppo beaten her cruelly because she’d tumbled during her act?

‘Diamond?’

‘I’m here, Hetty,’ she murmured, clinging to me, strands of her long yellow hair tickling my face.

‘Oh, Diamond, you’re safe!’ I said, holding her tight.

‘Of course I’m safe. We ran away,’ she said sleepily.

We ran away – yes, of course we did. I’d grabbed the clowns’ penny-farthing, little Diamond balanced on my shoulders, and I pedalled and pedalled and we got away from Beppo and Mr Tanglefield. I felt my ear throbbing. Tanglefield had caught the tip of it with his whip, making it bleed. But we’d escaped! We were miles away from the circus camp. We’d fetched up in this little town, and here we were, huddled in a shop doorway near the marketplace.

I gently nudged Diamond to one side and sat up straight, stretching and yawning. I peered around anxiously, worried about the bicycle, but there it was, leaning against the wall beside us. It was still very early, but the market square was full of carts and burly men setting up their stalls with fruit and vegetables. I watched for a minute or two, fascinated by the way their great ham fists delicately arranged a row of apples, a ring of cauliflowers, a circle of salad stuffs upon the fake green grass of their stalls so that they looked like a prize garden in bloom.

One man looked up and saw me watching. He frowned and started walking purposely towards us.

I grabbed Diamond’s arm, giving her a little shake. ‘I think we’d better get going,’ I said urgently, because I trusted very few men.

But as we stumbled to our feet and I tried to right the penny-farthing, he cried out to us. ‘Don’t run away, little girls! You mustn’t be frightened. I don’t mean you any harm. Why, I’ve brought up three little lasses of my own – plus a son, but the less said about him, the better. You look so cold and tired. Let me buy you each a hot drink.’ He seemed genuinely concerned. It was clear by his tone that he thought me not much older than Diamond. It was a curse to me that I was so small and slight, but sometimes it had its advantages.

‘That would be very kind, sir,’ I said.

‘And what are your names, little girls?’

‘I’m Hetty and this is my sister, Ellen-Jane.’ I used our real names. Emerald and Diamond would sound too fancy for this plain market man, and it seemed a wise precaution to keep quiet about our professional names. Mr Tanglefield might try to hunt me down, and Beppo would certainly do his best to find little Diamond. She’d become the star of his Silver Tumblers acrobatic act, a real little crowd-pleaser. He’d paid her father five guineas to own her, body and soul, and he’d certainly got his money’s worth.

I glanced at Diamond, hoping she wouldn’t find it odd that I’d used her old name, but she was beaming. Her face was pale and tear-stained, her hair tangled and her clothes badly creased, but she still looked angelic.

‘Sister!’ she murmured, putting her hand in mine, clearly loving the notion.

I squeezed her hand tight.

‘Aaah!’ said the market man. ‘Bless the little cherub! Well, I’m Sam Perkins, and that’s my stall over there. Perkins, pick of the crop! Finest root vegetables and greens.’ He gave a little bow.

‘Good morning, Mr Perkins,’ I said, bobbing him a curtsy, and giving Diamond’s arm a little tug so she’d do likewise. ‘We’re pleased to meet you too.’

‘Oh, you pets! Ain’t you got lovely manners! But look, the little one’s shivering. Let’s warm you with that hot cup of tea.’

There was a small teashop at the side of the market, open from the crack of dawn for the market trade. We followed in Mr Perkins’s wake. I gave Diamond our little suitcase while I carefully wheeled the penny-farthing. I was reluctant to leave it leaning up against the wall of the teashop.

‘It’ll be safe there, don’t you fret,’ said Mr Perkins. ‘Hey, you – young Alfred!’ he called to a boy at the nearest stall. ‘Keep an eye on this here contraption, will you? Give us a whistle if anyone so much as walks near it.’

Alfred gave a nod and a wave. Mr Perkins was obviously well respected at the market. He led us into the warm steamy interior of the teashop. It was thick with the smell of bacon and sausage, so strong it made us reel. I felt starving hungry. I also had another pressing urge. I went and whispered to the large lady behind the counter, and she let Diamond and me through to her WC at the back of the shop. When we had relieved ourselves, we had a quick wash in the basin and I tried to comb Diamond’s tangled curls with my fingers.

‘There now!’ said Mr Perkins when we came back. ‘Bessie, three mugs of tea and three special breakfasts, if you please.’

‘Certainly, Sam. Are these two your grandchildren then? Hello, dears! Have you come to see your grandpa at his work?’ Bessie asked. She was all over smiles, her round face rosy red, her curly hair damp, her white apron pulled taut over her plumpness.

Mr Perkins led us to a table away from all the other market men. ‘Not mine, Bessie. Two new little friends,’ he said cheerfully.

‘And where do they come from, then?’ Bessie asked.

‘Ah, it’s a long story,’ said Mr Perkins, sitting down beside us. He lowered his voice. ‘I thought you’d maybe want to keep your circumstances to yourselves, rather than broadcast them to all and sundry.’

‘That’s so tactful of you, Mr Perkins,’ I said gratefully.

‘That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to know,’ he said. ‘Not just out of nosiness. I’d like to think I can help in some way. You’re a pair of runaways, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, sir,’ I said, because it was pointless denying the obvious.

‘Well, I’ll let you get your breakfasts first, and then I’ll want to hear the whole story,’ said Mr Perkins.

I bent down, unlatched the suitcase and felt for my purse. ‘I can pay for the breakfasts, Mr Perkins. We’re not destitute,’ I said.

He roared with laughter. ‘Bless you, dear, I didn’t think it for a minute. I can see you’re two nicely turned out little ladies. Such fine and fancy dresses clearly cost a pretty penny.’

I smiled, because I’d made both our outfits myself. I kept my purse in my hand, but Mr Perkins shook his head.

‘Now, pop that purse back in your case. The breakfasts are on the house. Bessie’s a dear friend of mine, and very kind-hearted. A good cook too. A good plate of Bessie-food will put some roses in those peaky little faces.’

It was wonderful food. Beppo had half starved Diamond to keep her as light as possible for her acrobatic tumbling, and I had been feeling so tired and run down these last few months at the circus that I’d barely been able to choke down my own food. But now we both made short work of our bacon, sausage, egg, tomato and fried bread, and had enough room left for several slices of buttered toast with marmalade.

‘Oh, my!’ said Diamond, rubbing her full tummy. ‘Bessie-food is the best food ever!’

‘Did you hear that, Bess? The little lass thinks you’re a rival to Mrs Beeton,’ said Mr Perkins.

‘Better than Mrs Beeton,’ I said. I’d tried several of her recipes with Mrs Briskett when I first went into service, and it had seemed an awful lot of fiddling about for very average results. Or perhaps it was simply my culinary skills that were lacking. I wished I’d had more time with Mama so that she could have taught me. I felt a longing for her as sharp as toothache and bent my head.

‘What is it, lass? Come now, whet your whistle with your tea and tell your Uncle Sam all about it,’ said Mr Perkins, patting my hand in a kindly fashion.

I wished he were really my uncle. I had a moment’s fantasy that he might take a shine to us and treat us like real grandchildren. We would no longer need to try to earn our own livings. I could be a little girl again, safe and cosy, still at school. Diamond would become the pet of the whole family. Mr Perkins would show her that men could be kind instead of cruel. I thought of her father selling her for a handful of silver guineas, Beppo beating her savagely if she made some slight mistake. The tears in my eyes spilled over.

‘Hey, now, don’t you start crying or you’ll set me off. I blub like a baby, I’m warning you,’ said Mr Perkins, pressing his own crumpled handkerchief on me.

I sniffed and dabbed at my eyes fiercely. I told myself I was only tearful because I was tired. I knew Diamond was looking at me anxiously.

I gave her a watery smile, managing to control myself. ‘I’m sorry. I’m being silly,’ I said. I wondered if I dared tell Mr Perkins the whole truth.

‘Are you going to tell me what you two are doing here? Who have you run from? You’ve no need to be frightened now. If it’s anything truly bad and you’re scared someone will come after you, we’ll whisk you over to Sergeant Browning at the police station. He happens to be a pal of mine, and he’ll look after you and keep you safe.’

That brought me to my senses. Sergeant Browning might be Perkins’s pal, but he was still a policeman. If he knew who I really was, then he might well march me straight back to the Foundling Hospital to be disciplined and then sent off into service again. And what about Diamond? Beppo had his official document saying that she belonged to him now. I couldn’t risk that fate for her.

It was better to lie – and through necessity I had become very good at it.

‘It’s nothing like that, Mr Perkins, I promise you. Ellen-Jane and I are sad because we’re grieving for our poor mother. She died of the consumption. She suffered something cruel.’ Tears poured down my face again. I felt bad when I saw the concern on Mr Perkins’s face, but after all, we had both lost our dear mothers, and still sorely missed them.

‘What about your pa, dear? Can’t he manage to look after you two girlies?’

‘Oh, Pa’s a sailor and away at sea,’ I said glibly.

‘So who’s been looking after you two, then?’ he asked.

‘That’s the problem. They put us into a home for destitute girls but it was quite hateful. There was a wicked matron who treated us cruelly and we had to wear hideous brown uniforms with white caps and pinafores and we were punished if we dirtied them. We weren’t allowed to keep our own dolls or story books and they threatened to cut off our hair,’ I said, remembering all too well the regime of the Foundling Hospital.

‘Cut off your pretty hair!’ echoed Mr Perkins, looking at Diamond’s beautiful long blonde curls.

‘And then my sister made some little childish mistake and they threatened her with a beating, so we decided to run away, didn’t we, Ellen-Jane?’ I said.

Diamond nodded, though she was clearly muddled by my account.

‘And no wonder,’ said Mr Perkins. ‘But where are you running to? Do you have any plans? We can’t have you two little girls walking the streets and sleeping rough. There’s all sorts of dangers, especially when you’re such a pretty pair.’

I knew perfectly well that I wasn’t pretty, with my carroty hair and pale peaky face, but Diamond’s beauty was undeniable. I guessed it would trouble him if I said we had plans to join the Cavalcade music hall. I’d been out in the world long enough to know that men might like to enjoy themselves in a music hall, but wouldn’t think it a place for women to work, especially ‘genteel’ girls.

‘We’re going to the Cavalcade,’ Diamond blurted out, before I could stop her.

Mr Perkins looked horrified. ‘You’re never! That den of iniquity! What are you thinking of?’ he said to me, suddenly furious.

Diamond clapped her hands over her mouth. She was always terrified when men lost their tempers. She had so often borne the brunt of Beppo’s fury.

‘Oh, Mr Perkins, please don’t get angry. Diamond is only little, she doesn’t understand. She saw a poster bill and asked what it was all about, and when I told her it was ladies singing and men telling funny stories, she took a fancy to going to see for herself. But of course I’d never dream of taking her to such a place.’

Diamond stared at me, astonished.

‘We have plans, Mr Perkins, don’t you worry,’ I continued hastily. ‘We’re going to stay with our uncle and aunt. We have written to let them know. It is all arranged. We couldn’t cover the entire distance yesterday, but will be there by lunch time today if we set off shortly on our bicycle.’

‘Well, that’s a relief. You’re a rum one, knowing how to pedal that monstrosity. And what does the little one do, run along beside you?’ asked Mr Perkins.

‘I balance on Hetty,’ said Diamond proudly.

‘You never! A little lass like you! Surely that’s highly dangerous?’

Diamond looked at Mr Perkins as if he were a little soft in the head. Balancing on a penny-farthing was a trivial feat compared with hurtling off a springboard and landing on the top of a human column of three boys, the act for which she was famous.

‘Ellen-Jane is brilliant at balancing, I promise you,’ I assured him. Diamond nodded her head eagerly.

‘You’re a droll little pair,’ said Mr Perkins. ‘I still feel anxious about letting you wander off on your own. I’d accompany you myself, but I can’t abandon my stall all day. Perhaps I’ll ask Sergeant Browning if one of his young bobbies can walk along beside you.’

‘Oh no, that’s not at all necessary,’ I said quickly. ‘I dare say Uncle will come and meet us halfway. We will be fine, Mr Perkins. We’re well set up now with our delicious breakfasts. We’ll never forget your kindness.’

We said goodbye, thanked Bessie for our superb meals, and went outside to grapple with the penny-farthing. I couldn’t mount the wretched thing properly with Mr Perkins and half the market watching me. I got my skirts caught, and then, when I clutched my suitcase, I overbalanced and very nearly landed on my head. The boys on the stalls laughed raucously, but Mr Perkins looked worried.

‘My dear Hetty, I think you’re too little to ride that iron monster. How old are you? Ten? Twelve?’ he said.

I wanted to toss my head and tell him firmly that I was fifteen years old and had been entirely independent for a good year, but I didn’t want to disillusion him, especially when he’d been so kind to us. And in spite of my embarrassment and irritation I was also pleased. My childishness had helped when I was Tanglefield’s ringmaster. People were amused by my loud expressive voice, my swaggering air of authority, my overblown introductions, impressed that a little girl could take command.

I needed to appear a child to the manager of the Cavalcade. It was clearly my winning card. Diamond looked much younger than her age too. We could pretend she was a tot of five or six. Folk loved a performing infant. All we had to do was bounce on stage and act cute and they’d start clapping.

This thought buoyed me up – literally so, because at the third attempt I hitched myself neatly onto the saddle, so that Diamond could scramble up after me.

‘Sit behind me, sharing my seat,’ I whispered, because I feared her shoulder stand would look too flamboyant. We were already drawing far too much attention to ourselves.

I freed one hand to give Mr Perkins a little wave, and then started pedalling determinedly.

‘Goodbye, Hetty! Goodbye, Ellen-Jane. You take care now!’ Mr Perkins called, waving his handkerchief at us.

‘Goodbye,’ we chorused, feeling truly sad to leave him.

Diamond was muddled by my glib lies. ‘Are we really going to see our uncle, Hetty?’ she asked. ‘I didn’t even know we had one.’

‘No, Diamond,’ I said patiently. I suddenly wondered if I had a real uncle. Mama had never mentioned having a brother, but then she’d never mentioned her family at all. I’d met her father once, when I was up north finding my father, but this grandfather of mine was such a demented, angry old man I was determined never to go near him again, not even to find out if I had any other family.

It had been a pleasure getting to know my own handsome red-haired fisherman father, though I was less enthusiastic about his new wife. Father had never mentioned a brother or sister either, come to that. I was an only child too, if I didn’t count my two half-siblings.

If I ever married, I resolved to have a whole handful of children, just so they should never feel alone. I knew I could have had dear Jem as a sweetheart and married him some time in the future. He would have made a truly loving husband. And yet I had run away to the circus because I knew, deep down, that I didn’t love him in quite the right way. I was too restless to stay in that little hamlet for the whole of my future life. I wanted excitement, glamour, adventure . . .

I thought I’d find all these in the circus. I suppose I did at first. But then I realized that it was a cruel, tawdry world and constantly pitching tents and travelling to the next gaff was dreary and depressing. It was such hard work too, performing twice, sometimes three times a day, and then falling asleep bone-weary. If it was hard for me, it was five times that for poor little Diamond, forced to crick her bones to make them abnormally bendy, rehearsing her act many times a day, and then performing in the ring long past a child’s bedtime, always white with fear in case she didn’t please that gargoyle clown.

‘Hetty?’ Diamond said insistently.

I realized she’d been trying to get my attention while I’d been daydreaming. ‘What is it, darling?’

‘Where are we going?’

‘We’re going to the Cavalcade, remember?’

‘But Mr Perkins said it was a den of something-or-other. Isn’t it a bad place?’ asked Diamond.

‘It’s a music hall, that’s all. I think it sounds wonderful. You and I are going to be music-hall artistes,’ I said, and I turned my voice into a trumpet and tooted a fanfare.

A cluster of children hopping about in the gutter jeered at me. I gave them a little bow and consequently made the penny-farthing wobble dangerously. That made them laugh hysterically. Poor Diamond fell to the ground in the process, though thank goodness she’d been taught how to take a tumble.

‘Yes, very funny, ha ha,’ I said sarcastically to the gaggle of children. ‘I’m so glad we amuse you. We will amuse you even more when we take our rightful place on the stage of the Cavalcade and get paid good money for our antics.’

They stared at me blankly, clearly not following.

‘So can you please tell us the way to the Cavalcade?’ I asked, gazing around at them all.

Their faces were still as blank as china dolls.

‘What’s the Cavalcade when it’s at home?’ the biggest boy asked.

‘It’s the music hall. Isn’t it here? There’s an advertisement for it in the market place,’ I said, helping Diamond to her feet and dusting her down.

‘Oh, I get you. It’s in Fenstone, that music hall, miles and miles away,’ he said.

My heart sank. My legs were stiff and sore from yesterday’s pedalling. I didn’t feel ready to tackle another marathon journey. ‘How many miles?’ I said wearily.

‘Three. Maybe four,’ he said. ‘It’ll take you an hour or more.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, that’s nothing!’

I’d been brought up in the countryside till I was nearly six. I used to walk over the meadows and through the woods with Jem for hour after hour, and when my worn boots got too tight, I simply tugged them off and went barefoot.

‘Thank you, boy,’ I said in a lordly fashion.

He sniggered and made a very rude response. I ignored him and remounted the penny-farthing (successfully, thank the Lord). Diamond scrambled up too. I let her stand on my shoulders, just to show off. I pedalled off, and this time several of the children clapped and cheered.

‘Idiots,’ I murmured to Diamond. ‘Better sit down when we’re out of sight. Phew, this pedalling is hard work!’

‘Let me take a turn,’ Diamond suggested, though she was so small her feet couldn’t even reach the pedals.

‘Maybe later,’ I said tactfully. ‘You’re a dear little sister, do you know that?’

Diamond giggled. ‘You’re a dear little big sister,’ she said.

It wasn’t a very pleasant route to Fenstone: drab terraced houses and dark factories. The grey roads were littered with reeking horse manure. But I was now in such high spirits that I could have been bowling down leafy lanes, past picturesque thatched cottages, breathing in roses and honeysuckle.

Diamond was in good spirits too. She started singing hymn after hymn, her voice high and sweet. When she didn’t remember the words properly, she invented her own.

‘You’re a funny sausage! Where did you learn all these hymns? Did you go to church when you were little? I had to go to chapel every single Sunday but I don’t know half as many hymns as you,’ I said.

‘Mama used to sing them,’ said Diamond. ‘I sat on her lap and she sang to me. Did you sit on your mama’s lap while she sang to you, Hetty?’

I shut my eyes momentarily because it was so painful. This was a mistake. I had to swerve violently to avoid the carriage in front of us, stationary because the horse was contributing to the mire on the road.

‘Whoops,’ I said as we wobbled past. ‘No, I wasn’t with my mama when I was little enough to sit on her lap. You know I was at the Foundling Hospital.’

‘But your mama worked there, you said.’

‘I didn’t know she was my mama for years and years. And then, when I found out, she was sent away. And then – and then . . .’

I couldn’t talk about that terrible summer when Mama slowly faded away and died.

Diamond was quiet for a minute or so too. Then she stroked my hair and said softly in my ear, ‘I think your mama and mine have made friends in Heaven. They peer through the clouds at us every now and then to make sure we’re being good girls.’

‘Well, my poor mama must get very agitated, because I am often a bad girl,’ I said.

My mood lightened again when we saw a signpost to Fenstone. It was a proper town, with heavy traffic. The road was so crowded that eventually I thought it safer to dismount and push the penny-farthing along the pavement. Pushing was harder than pedalling, but Diamond kept me amused by choosing which house she wanted to live in when we were grown up and rich and famous.

‘Which do you like best, Hetty? The house with the pretty blossom trees, or the house with the green shutters, or the house with that dome thing on the roof?’ she asked earnestly.

‘If we’re going to be really rich and famous, couldn’t we have a much bigger house? A mansion or a castle with a hundred rooms, and we can choose a different bedroom every week. How about that?’ I suggested.

‘No, I wouldn’t like that at all, it would be far too big and scary. I’d get lost, and what would I do if I forgot which bedroom you were in?’ said Diamond, taking me seriously. ‘No, Hetty, please let’s have one of these houses – they’re so pretty and not scary at all.’

‘Very well. Let’s have the one with the dome. That can be our bedroom. And we’ll bolt the front door so no one can ever get in, but if a very dear friend comes visiting, we’ll open a window and let down our hair like Rapunzel and they can climb up to see us.’

‘Oh yes, I like the dome house best of all too. But we’re going to have to grow our hair right down to our feet,’ said Diamond.

‘That’s a good idea. When we’re music-hall stars we’ll be known as the Hairy Sisters and our famous hair will flow out behind us as we walk, like a bride’s train. Woe betide anyone who steps on it!’

‘We’re going to use up an awful lot of bottles of rainbow shampoo,’ said Diamond. ‘Hetty, what’s that house right over there, past the shops? The big, big house with the beautiful pale green roof? Is it a palace? Do you think it’s where the Queen lives?’

‘I very much doubt Queen Victoria has a palace in Fenstone,’ I said. ‘But let’s go and see.’

It certainly looked like a palace, with its fine red brick and weathered copper roof, all towers and cupolas. The steps to the grand gilt doors were covered in deep red carpet, and through the windows we could see the glint of a grand chandelier.

‘It is a palace!’ said Diamond.

‘No it’s not. Read that great big word in gilt lettering, Diamond.’

‘You know I’m not very good at reading.’

‘Try, go on!’

‘Cav . . . cav-al-cad?’

‘Cavalcade! We’re here, Diamond. This is the music hall!’

THERE WAS A big poster on either side of the doors advertising all the artistes. The names at the top were in large fancy writing. Lower down the list the writing grew smaller. I walked right up until my nose was nearly pecking the poster. I reached out and touched the name on the bottom line. Little Flirty Bertie.

Could he be my Bertie, the cheeky butcher’s boy? I had walked out with him when I was a reluctant servant in Mr Buchanan’s household. Dear funny Bertie, who had been so self-conscious about reeking of meat. Bertie, the boy who had taken me to the fair and won me the little black-and-white china dog that was in my suitcase now, carefully wrapped in my nightgown to prevent any chips.

‘Them dogs always come in pairs,’ Bertie had said. ‘You put them on your mantelpiece either side of the clock. All married folk have them. Seems like I’ll have to win you another, Hetty.’

He said it light-heartedly, but he’d blushed as red as a side of beef. And I felt my own cheeks grow hot, because he might well have been hinting that we become a married couple one day. I liked Bertie very much, but I couldn’t take him seriously. If I’d been prepared to settle down with any man, it would have been with dear faithful Jem.

It had been so painful rejecting him. I thought he’d be happier with my friend Janet. I knew I would have led him a merry dance, but Janet would stay dear and true. She loved Jem with all her heart.

I’d loved Mama so much I still felt only half a girl without her. I loved Diamond now as if she were truly my sister. But I didn’t love any man that way. So why was my heart thumping now, as I looked at Bertie’s name?

Of course, it probably wasn’t my Bertie at all. But he had told me of his ambitions to be a music-hall artiste. He’d sung to me and taught himself a jaunty tap-dance routine. I could imagine him in a straw hat and striped blazer striding about the stage, entrancing any audience. Had he really given up his steady job at the butcher’s shop to have a go?

It would have been such a big step for him to take. I was surely mistaken. Bertie was a common enough name, even bestowed on royalty. But I would be so royally proud if Bertie really had taken to the boards and was a true music-hall star, albeit at the very bottom of the bill.

I let my eyes slide upwards. Araminta, the Exotic Acrobatic Dancer. Sven the Russian Sword-swallower. Peter Perkins and his Comical Capers. Lily Lark, the Sweetest Songbird, was right at the top, with a picture of a woman singing, songbirds flying all around her head.

I wondered if one day Diamond and I would share top billing. Diamond, the Acrobatic Child Wonder! Emerald Star, Compère Extraordinaire! Oh yes, it had an authentic ring.

‘Are we going in?’ said Diamond, slipping her hand in mine. ‘I can’t wait to see if it’s like a palace inside too. Will it be all gold, like in a fairy story? Will they have gold furniture and gold goblets to drink out of, and even a gold water closet?’

‘I’m not sure about that, but I’ve heard there’s going to be a real little fairy there, and she has golden hair,’ I said, giving one of Diamond’s locks a gentle tug.

‘Don’t laugh, but I really feel like a fairy!’ said Diamond. ‘Let’s go in, Hetty!’

‘No, no. We must prepare first before we accost the manager, whoever he is.’

‘Prepare?’

‘Rehearse our acts,’ I said. ‘Hush a moment, I need to memorize all these folk on the playbill. Oh dear, there are so many!’ I opened up my suitcase and started scribbling down the names on the back of one of my memoir notebooks with an old stub of pencil.

When I had them all written down safely, I smiled at Diamond. ‘There! Now, we must find some kind of temporary lodging. We need to have a proper wash as we still look very travel stained. We’d better have a nap too. You have such dark circles under your eyes, people will mistake you for a baby panda. Now come along.’

‘But I’d much sooner stay at the Cavalcade. Maybe they have gold beds for all their artistes!’

‘I don’t think it very likely. We’ll probably have to make do with ordinary iron beds just for now,’ I said. ‘Come on!’

I started pushing the penny-farthing while Diamond trailed behind, dragging the suitcase. She kept looking back wistfully.

I had no idea where to search for lodgings. It had been much easier when I spent the summer in Bignor. Seasides had hundreds of boarding houses, all competing for business. Fenstone seemed very different. There were row after row of private houses, then wider shopping streets, then rows of private houses again. Not one had a sign up advertising board and lodging.

I found a hotel near the railway station. It was large, and perhaps it had been impressive once, but now it had a decidedly seedy air, with peeling paint and cracked windows. The smell of stale frying fat wafted out of the open door. Surely such a place couldn’t be too expensive? I’d had the presence of mind to take my purse with me when Diamond and I were running away. I had a week’s meagre wages and some savings. I hoped there would be enough to last us a little while. Then we would start earning, wouldn’t we?

I didn’t want to leave the penny-farthing outside, not with all sorts of cheeky lads milling around the railway station. Even if they didn’t steal my bicycle, they might very well try a ride on it for a lark, and then they’d be bound to wobble and crash and damage it.

I wheeled it inside the front door and marched along the hallway. Diamond tiptoed after me. The smell of stale fat was worse than ever, and we breathed shallowly.

‘Hello?’ I called. I tried again, with no result. I walked up to a little table, seized hold of a bell and shook it vigorously. Diamond put her hand over her mouth at the clamour. It worried me too, but I tried to look calm and confident.

An old man in undershirt, trousers and carpet slippers came shuffling into the hallway from the nether regions of the hotel. He was clutching a mop that smelled sour. He did too.

He glared when he saw us. ‘What are you two kids playing at? How dare you mess about with my bell! Go home to your mothers.’

‘We can’t. We haven’t got any,’ said Diamond, her voice shrill. She rubbed her eyes as if she were crying and then gave me a sly glance. She was clearly playing for sympathy to help our cause. It was a pity she wasn’t a very convincing actress.

‘Well, that’s not my fault,’ he said, unimpressed. ‘Now scarper!’

‘But we require board and lodging for a week,’ I said quickly, in my most authoritative voice.

‘Oh yes? And you two little guttersnipes have the fifteen shillings it will cost?’ the man sneered.

Fifteen shillings! Was he truly serious?

‘Perhaps we will simply take the lodgings and never mind the board,’ I said. It would be easy enough to buy buns and apples and meat pies. We were both used to eating frugally.

‘Oh yes? And perhaps you’d like a room without a bed for a further reduction?’ he sneered.

‘You don’t have to be so unpleasant. I’ve said we will take the room. Look, I have the money here,’ I said, showing him my purse.

‘And who did you snatch that from, you little varmint?’

‘How dare you speak to me like that! I’m a young lady,’ I said, tossing my head.

I’d convinced dear Mr Perkins that I was a little girl, but now I was trying to pass myself off as a young woman. It wasn’t working. It didn’t help when Diamond stuck her chin in the air and declared that she was a young lady too.

‘Scram, both of you,’ the man said, and he raised his smelly mop at us.

We had to make a run for it. It was hard work manoeuvring the penny-farthing back over the brass step. He started screaming that we were scraping his polish, though it was clear that step hadn’t seen a scape of polish for months.

‘What a nasty man,’ said Diamond when we were safely outside.

‘Absolutely foul. And the hotel was ludicrously expensive,’ I said.

‘It smelled horrid too.’

‘So we wouldn’t have wanted to stay there anyway.’

But we still had to find somewhere to stay, and wasted the rest of the morning looking. We went to a tearoom to have a bite to eat for lunch, but it was nowhere near as pleasant as Bessie’s.

Diamond pointed at slices of pink-and-yellow cake under a glass dome. ‘Look! It’s Madame Adeline’s cake!’ she cried.

We were both immediately filled with longing for dear Madame Adeline who had looked after us as best she could – until she had to retire from circus life. We ordered a slice of cake each, but it was flavourless and stale, a bitter disappointment.

‘I wish we could go and see Madame Adeline,’ said Diamond, chewing without swallowing. Her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘I do miss her so. Hetty, couldn’t we go and stay with her for just a little while and then become music-hall stars?’

‘No, love. Madame Adeline and Mr Marvel can scarcely look after themselves. We can’t impose on them. And they live much too far away. There’s a limit to my pedalling. Cheer up. We’ll find a place to live soon, I promise.’

We asked the tearoom lady if we could use her facilities, but she wasn’t kind like Bessie.

‘What do you think this is, a public convenience? I’m not having you rampaging through my private property, snatching whatever takes your eye. Do you think I was born yesterday? Be off with you!’ she said, loud enough for the whole tearoom to hear.

She actually put her hand on our backs and pushed us towards the door while folk stared. Diamond was pink in the face with humiliation. I expect I was red with rage, especially as I’d actually left her an extra penny as a tip, even though her cake was stale and her tea indifferent.

‘Oh, Hetty!’ Diamond wailed, once we were outside. ‘And I really badly need to go!’

‘Don’t worry,’ I said, though I was worried myself. But I was nothing if not resourceful. I pushed the penny-farthing along, Diamond hop-skipping beside me, down older, quieter streets until we found a narrow alleyway. It reeked a little. Clearly other people had also used it for the purpose I had in mind. I went first and then sent Diamond, promising that I wouldn’t let anyone else go down the alley while she was using it.

Then we went on our way, relieved but still down-hearted. We were in a much poorer part of Fenstone, which wasn’t really a good idea. A weasel-faced old man eyed our penny-farthing and sidled up to us, asking if he could examine our marvellous bicycling machine.

‘No, I’m sorry, we’re in a hurry,’ I said firmly. ‘No! Absolutely not! Leave go or I’ll call a policeman!’

He laughed unpleasantly – it was unlikely a policeman would wander down such dismal streets – and seized hold of the handlebars, elbowing Diamond sharply out of the way. That was enough. I was wearing the beautiful hard leather boots I’d worn in the circus ring. I raised my leg swiftly and kicked him extremely hard in his softest and most vulnerable place. He collapsed, groaning, and we started running back towards the town centre.

I knew we were safe when we got to wider streets. In fact, we soon found ourselves in the most stylish part of town, with rows of interesting shops. We urgently needed to find lodgings and prepare our acts for the Cavalcade, but we both became momentarily distracted. Diamond leaned her forehead against the window of a toyshop, dazzled by the dolls, gazing longingly into their blue china eyes.

‘They’re just like real children!’ She pointed at their jointed legs, their dainty knitted stockings, their kid leather boots. ‘Do you think they can walk?’ she wondered.

‘No, they’re only dolls,’ I told her.

‘But such dolls!’ said Diamond. ‘I wish Maybelle had little leather boots.’

Maybelle was her own home-made doll. I had sewn features on her plain rag face and fashioned her a little outfit, but of course she wasn’t anywhere near as fine as these china beauties.

‘If only I could have one of these dolls,’ said Diamond. But then, conscious of Maybelle stuffed into our suitcase, she said loudly, ‘But I will always love Maybelle best because she is my first born.’

I suddenly remembered the rag baby my foster mother Peg had made me when I was tiny. She had done her best, but she was not a fine seamstress. The rag baby had ill-matching limbs and a lumpy face, but I remembered loving that ugly little doll as truly as any mother loved her child. It was such a shock when I arrived at the Foundling Hospital clutching my cloth baby to have her snatched from me by Matron Peters. She burned my baby, along with all my Sunday best clothes from home.

I’d grown up in the Foundling Hospital without any toys at all, and Diamond’s early childhood had been equally bleak. We gazed at the toys in the window with awe, coveting each and every one, even though I at least was long past the age for such things. But I still longed to sink my hands in a tub of glass marbles, ached to fly a red-and-yellow kite with a long tail, and yearned to sit on the great rocking horse I saw stabled at the back of the shop.

‘Can we go into the shop, just to look?’ Diamond asked.

I hesitated. But then I heard a church clock strike three. ‘No, there isn’t time. And they’d probably chase us away. But I promise that when we’re stars at the Cavalcade, we will come back here with my first wage packet and I’ll buy you a present. I probably won’t be able to afford a china doll just yet, but perhaps I could buy Maybelle a pair of boots.’

‘Oh, you would absolutely love that, wouldn’t you, Maybelle?’ said Diamond, talking into the suitcase.

‘Yes, yes, yes!’ she said again, in a tiny Maybelle voice.

We carried on along the street, hoping that when the shops petered out there might be suitable lodgings nearby. But then I was stopped in my tracks by another shop. It was a small fashion emporium. GIBSON’S GOWNS said the sign above the door, in discreet gilt lettering. There was a window either side of the door, with just one finely dressed mannequin in each.

I was startled to see such a sparse display. I was used to shops stuffed with a hundred and one items.

‘Just look, Diamond!’ I said.

Diamond looked obediently, but didn’t seem impressed. ‘The windows are nearly empty,’ she said dismissively.

‘Yes, because this is a very special, elegant shop,’ I said, as if I knew all about it. ‘They don’t need an enormous vulgar display. They are content to let each gown speak for itself. And so it does. Eloquently!’

Diamond wrinkled her nose. ‘Why are you talking so silly, Hetty?’ she said.

‘Well, you’re just a little girl. I don’t suppose you could understand,’ I said.

I felt I understood, even if it was just by instinct. Each mannequin stood serenely in her own window, white arms outstretched as if bestowing queenly blessings on passers-by. The one on the left was dressed in a blue and violet gown with extraordinary huge sleeves. They made such a statement that the rest of the dress was restrained, almost subdued. It was breathtakingly effective.

The one on the right was a deep emerald green, almost the exact shade of the velvet gown I’d once made, and then cut up in an attempt to fashion myself a mermaid’s costume. At the time I’d thought it a masterpiece, but I could now see that it had been clumsily designed and cobbled together. This green gown was silk, with an iridescent gleam as it caught the sunshine. It was styled in a perfect hourglass that would make any woman’s waist look minute.

I thought how that bright green would set off my red hair, though I knew I was being ridiculous. I could tell by the sweep of the skirts that the gown would be at least nine inches too long on me, and the style and stitching told me that it would be extremely expensive, beyond my pocket even if I got star billing at the Cavalcade.

I sighed wistfully and wouldn’t budge, though Diamond was pulling at my arm, starting to get bored. Then the door to Gibson’s Gowns opened with a musical trill of the bell, and a very stout lady peered out at me, twitching her pince-nez up her snub nose. She was dressed in severe black satin.

I started, though I had been doing nothing wrong. She looked at me enquiringly. ‘Have you come to collect your mistress’s gown?’ she asked. Her voice was surprisingly girlish and high-pitched.

I flushed. ‘I am not a servant, ma’am,’ I said with dignity, although I had been exactly that the year before.

‘Oh my dear, I do apologize. Then might I ask why you’ve been staring at my windows for the past ten minutes?’ she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

‘I was admiring your gowns. I have never seen anything like them before. Did you invent the new styles yourself?’ I asked.

‘I did, though I’m influenced by the French fashion journals,’ she said.

‘French fashion journals,’ I repeated. ‘Oh, where can you buy them?’

‘I send for them from Paris.’

‘Paris!’ I echoed, as awed as if she’d told me she’d sent for them from the moon.

‘You seem very interested in fashion.’ The woman’s small eyes peered through the pince-nez at my dress. ‘Did you make that dress yourself?’

It was my best dress, and I’d worked hard at the stitching, but now I felt ashamed of the cotton sprigging and girlish styling.

‘This old thing,’ I said hurriedly, blushing.

‘Why, Hetty, it’s your bestest dress,’ said Diamond. ‘And this is my best dress. Isn’t it lovely?’ She held out her blue skirts and crumpled pinafore and twirled around happily.

‘It is indeed lovely,’ said the stout lady, and she didn’t sound as if she were mocking us. She even took two steps out onto the pavement and examined Diamond’s collar and hem.

‘I didn’t have a proper pattern,’ I said hastily. ‘And it’s a little tight on her now because she’s grown.’

‘I can grow as big as big can be now, because I’m no longer a circus girl,’ said Diamond.

‘Ellen-Jane!’ I said sharply.

But the stout lady looked interested rather than shocked. ‘Circus girls!’ she said. She nodded at the penny-farthing propped against her windows. ‘Well, I guessed you were something out of the ordinary. And you have an air about you.’

‘An air,’ I echoed, relishing the phrase. Oh yes, I loved the idea of having my own air. I’d spent nine long years in the Foundling Hospital, clothed exactly like all the other girls, in hideous brown dresses and white caps and aprons. All my life I’d fought so hard to be myself, whether I was Hetty Feather, Sapphire Battersea or Emerald Star.

‘But we’re not going to be circus girls any more,’ Diamond confided. ‘We’re going to be music-hall stars.’

‘Are you indeed!’ The stout lady looked at me. ‘Is that true?’

‘Yes, it is,’ I said. I decided to trust her. ‘We are going to try for work at the Cavalcade.’

She didn’t seem too shocked. ‘Well, it’s one of the finest music halls. Folk say it rivals any London hall. All the stars have appeared there.’

‘Have you been to see them?’ I asked.

‘No dear, not to a show! I’m a single lady. It wouldn’t be proper. But some of my best clients are Cavalcade artistes. As a matter of fact, I make all Mrs Ruby’s gowns,’ she said proudly.

I raised my eyebrows as if impressed, though I’d never heard of Mrs Ruby. Perhaps she was a star performer – a fine figure of a woman, like Madame Adeline in her prime.

‘Does Mrs Ruby sing or perhaps dance?’ I asked.

‘No, no, she’s the manager of the Cavalcade,’ said Miss Gibson. ‘I’m in the middle of making her a gown now, with the modern leg-o’-mutton sleeve, the styling very similar to the gown in the window, but my apprentice has just let me down badly. Run off with a gentleman friend, the silly little fool. He’ll tire of her in a few weeks, and then where will she be? I know. Saddled with a baby, her life in ruins.’

I felt my face flushing fiery red, because Mama had done something similar. ‘Perhaps she fell in love and couldn’t help herself,’ I said.

‘Love!’ The stout lady said it contemptuously, but there was a wistfulness about her expression. She was past middle age, but I suddenly saw her as a young girl, still much too stout, but her ringlets brown instead of grey, her face a smooth white moon, her eyes gleaming hopefully behind her tiny spectacles.

I glanced at her left hand and saw she wore no rings. Did she regret her staid spinster life, or was she perfectly content with her elegant little shop and wealthy clients?

‘So you’re off to the Cavalcade then, girls?’ she said.

‘Yes, but we badly need to find lodgings first. We’ve been looking for hours for somewhere suitable,’ I said.

‘Hours and hours and hours,’ said Diamond, sighing.

‘We tried at the Station Hotel but—’

‘Oh, you don’t want to go there! It’s a hovel now, and not at all suitable for young girls . . .’ The lady had her head on one side, thinking. ‘I tell you what. You can have my girl’s room for tonight. It’s in the attic and there’s only one narrow bed, but I dare say you can double up.’

‘Oh, that would be wonderful! Thank you so much, Miss . . . Gibson? What sort of charge did you have in mind?’ I asked joyfully.

‘How about working for your board? Can you tack? I’ve pinned most of the pieces for Mrs Ruby’s costume. If you tack the skirts and bodice into place, I can concentrate on those tricky sleeves.’

‘When would you need me to do that?’ I asked.

‘Well, right now. There’s no point going to the Cavalcade till six thirty or seven – it will all be shut up till then,’ said Miss Gibson.

I hesitated. Diamond and I needed to rehearse, didn’t we? But when Miss Gibson showed us a yard behind her shop where we could safely stow the penny-farthing, I set Diamond practising her routine there.

‘But what shall I do?’ she asked. ‘I can’t perform the human column without the Silver Tumblers. I can’t do the springboard without them. I can’t curtsy and clap if they’re not there.’

‘Stop saying “I can’t” all the time! Of course you can. Work out your own little solo routine. Didn’t you use to perform all by yourself for pennies?’

‘You mean like I did in the marketplace when I was little?’ said Diamond.

‘Yes, yes! If it impressed Beppo, it must have been good,’ I told her.

Diamond’s face darkened when I mentioned his name, but she started circling the yard obediently, turning cartwheels.

‘The little pet!’ said Miss Gibson. ‘Now, dear, what’s your name?’

‘My stage name is Emerald Star. Mama’s chosen name for me was Sapphire. But most folk call me Hetty,’ I said.

‘Then I shall call you Hetty too. Let us see your sewing skills in action.’

For the next three hours I sat stitching away at a very distinctive purple costume in Miss Gibson’s back room. When I’d finished all the tacking, she set me hemming, standing over me to make sure that my stitches were tiny and even, and then leaving me alone when she was satisfied.

I stitched and stitched, my hand cramping, my neck aching. All the while I muttered under my breath. Lily Lark, Peter Perkins, Sven, Araminta, Flirty Bertie . . .

‘DON’T BE NERVOUS,