I ran across the billiard table, kicking balls in all directions, and jumped off the other side. There was a door – I hoped it was my escape route. I threw it open and found myself in a vast library full of men in leather armchairs. The door banged against the wall. The murmur of quiet talk died, replaced by a horrified silence. They were looking at me as if I was something particularly disgusting that the cat had dragged in. Just at that moment, I hated them and everything they represented. ‘And to hell with you lot too!’ I shouted as I streaked across the polished floor. My heavy boots made an echoing noise as I galloped through, upsetting side tables and decanters in my passage. At the far side, I crashed into a waiter carrying a tray of drinks. Wine glasses exploded all around me as they hit the ground. Past caring, I ran full pelt down the stairs, ducking under arms that reached out to stop me, and burst out of the front door.
‘And that,’ I heard one crusty member say loudly as I bolted on to the street, ‘is exactly why we don’t admit females.’
An hour to curtain up. Pedro’s chief supporters were gathered in the Green Room to plan how to distribute our forces for that evening.
‘And what did you do then, Cat?’ asked Syd, rubbing the back of his neck in bewilderment.
‘And then I bit him.’
Pedro whooped and clapped his hands as Joe ‘The Card’ grinned like a basket of chips. Mr Equiano gave a throaty chuckle. Mr Kemble patted me on the shoulder, trying not to appear too pleased. Lizzie was the only one to look worried.
‘I hope you bit him good and hard,’ said Frank, leaning over his sister’s shoulder.
‘I drew blood,’ I said with satisfaction. ‘He tastes disgusting.’
‘That’ll teach him,’ said the duchess approvingly. She sat back in her chair, breathing in the air with relish. Surrounded by actors in costume, she clearly felt at home.
‘What happened next?’ asked Lizzie. Her jewelled headdress glowed against her dark hair and I had already noticed a number of admiring glances coming her way from the stage crew. It was rare to see the real thing backstage. Here, we’re all paint and paste that doesn’t bear too close an inspection; Lizzie’s a true beauty in any light.
‘I ran for it, telling them . . .’ I remembered to whom I was talking. ‘Well, telling them what they could do with their tickets. Oh, and I may have said something along the same lines to the members in the library.’ My temporary exhilaration drained away as it struck me that I probably hadn’t heard the last of my exhibition of female hysteria in Brook’s.
‘You’ve certainly put the cat among the pigeons,’ said Frank.
The duchess noticed my glum expression. ‘Don’t fret, Miss Royal – those clubs could do with a kick up the –’
‘At least,’ interrupted Frank quickly, ‘at least we know for certain that Hawkins is going to be here tonight. We’d better continue with our plan. In view of what’s just happened, Cat, I suggest you keep a low profile. That leaves the rest of us. We need to put our supporters in every part of the house as we don’t know where Hawkins might strike. It’s imperative our side drowns his men out. Syd, you take the gods – Joseph will be there to help. Mama and Lady Elizabeth will be in our box, of course. We’re expecting Father to join them with some allies from the House of Lords. I’ll be in the Pit with Mr Equiano and Mr Sharp. The other members of the Society will be sprinkled about in the gallery.’
‘Very good, my lord,’ said Mr Equiano with a bow. ‘All that remains is for us to wish Pedro “good luck”.’
‘No, don’t do that,’ I said quickly. ‘Tell him to break a leg.’
‘What’s that, sugar?’
Mr Equiano may have travelled the world, but he was woefully ignorant about life in the theatre. ‘It’s bad luck to wish “good luck” backstage,’ I explained. Mr Equiano raised an eyebrow but the duchess nodded vigorously in agreement. ‘You have to wish someone to break a leg.’
‘How extraordinary! What a barbaric nation you are. Well then, break a leg – both if that’s doubly lucky.’
‘I’ll try my best,’ said Pedro. He was beginning to look sick with nerves.
‘That’s all Drury Lane asks of you,’ said Mr Kemble with a reassuring smile as he left the room.
‘And I’m sure you will make our people proud, Pedro,’ declared Mr Equiano, thumping him on the chest. Pedro looked choked with emotion. For years he’d been starved of a father’s love and I could tell he was beginning to look on Mr Equiano as a surrogate – and no bad choice was it too.
Pedro now retired to get in costume. Everyone else got up to take their positions. In the confusion, Lizzie came over to me and touched my arm.
‘Cat, you won’t get into trouble, will you, for what you did?’
‘Probably.’ I shrugged.
Lizzie clenched her fists. ‘I feel so angry that Hawkins gets away with treating you like that while you’re the one who’ll be punished.’
‘I know. But that’s life, isn’t it? Never fair.’
‘I think you’re very brave. It must have been very humiliating to be treated like that.’
‘It was. But I tell you what, Lizzie – afterwards, it made me think about all those thousands of people who are poked and prodded by men like Hawkins in the slave markets each day. At least with me it was only a horrid game. Just think what it must be like to be bought by someone like him – what it was like for Pedro and Mr Equiano.’
ACT II
SCENE 1 – A TEMPEST
‘Here, Cat, have you seen this?’ Caleb, the old doorkeeper, thrust a piece of paper in my hand. Outside, a crowd of ticketless onlookers had gathered by the stage door, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the stars. So far their luck was out as all they could see was Caleb and me. I held the paper up to the light.
Kemble the thief!
Wanted for the theft of one Pedro Hawkins, property of Mr Kingston Hawkins. Britons, your possessions are no longer safe when men like Kemble are allowed to deprive honest businessmen of their servants. Show your displeasure at this despicable act tonight when both the thief and the stolen boy appear on stage together.
*
‘We expected something like this,’ I said, scrunching up the paper and throwing it in the gutter. ‘Did you see our flyer?’