BOW STREET RUNNERS – the magistrate’s men who police the streets around Westminster (not my favourite people) BREECHES ROLE – girls playing boys on stage
BROOK’S – an exclusive gentlemen’s (though I have my doubts about some of its members) club known for its gambling CANISTER – head (and some of us have a lot more in our canisters than others) CANTING CREW – informal society of thieves with its own code of honour CAPITAL TOPPER – top-rate drinker
CARD SHARP – someone who’s handy with the pack, a professional trickster CLAPHAM – village on outskirts of London, home to many abolitionists CLOUGH’S – my boarding house at Westminster School TO CUT A CAPER ON NOTHING – dance of death on the scaffold TO DIE DAMNED HARD AND BOLD AS BRASS – praise often given to a condemned person’s brazen attitude on the scaffold FAG – a kind of schoolboy skivvy
FLASH – showy, rich
TO FLING ONE’S CAP AFTER – to make a hopeless appeal for something GADSO – ah yes, oh dear, sorry about that . . . see within for Frank’s explanation GOOD PASTING – to be well and truly beaten (and don’t I know how it feels!) TO HOP THE TWIG – to get going
HOYDEN – boisterous girl (a term that’s been applied to me – I can’t think why . . .) JARVEY – hackney cab driver
LIGHTER – flat-bottomed boat used to ferry cargo to and from ships MIDDLE PASSAGE – second leg of three-part trading voyage that takes slaves from Africa to the West Indies MONIKER – name, title
NAN BOY – a boy about whom you entertain doubts as to his manliness NOUS – intelligence, knowledge
OTTLEY’S – a second-rate boarding house at Westminster School PANTHEON – a ballroom, now on the slide (especially since Billy bought into it) PISSPOT BULLY – small-scale, vulgar bully (an accurate description of Richmond, don’t you think?) THE PIT – lowest level in the theatre, frequented by gentlemen and those aspiring to be counted in that class THE POOL – moorings in the Thames
POPPYCOCK – rubbish, nonsense
QUEER COVE – strange gent
RATS’ CASTLE – decrepit building in middle of the Rookeries ROOKERIES – also known as St Giles, a desperate and dangerous place RUM ’UN – odd person
SHADOW – new boy looked after by a ‘substance’ or older boy at school SKIVVY – me most of the time – downtrodden maid of all work STOCK-IN-TRADE – what one does for a living SUBSTANCE – older boy sponsor at school
THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY LANE – the best theatre in the world. And my home, just off Covent Garden TENTER GROUND – place for stretching out cloth
TRAP – magistrate’s man (NB also to be avoided)
VAPOURS – fainting fit, to be overcome, hysterical (NB only for rich girls) WESTMINSTER SCHOOL – supposedly a place of learning for young gentlemen; in truth a den of floggers and bullies WIPE – handkerchief
London and Paris, 1791
Curtain rises.
MOVING ON
In the theatre, there comes a moment when we bid goodbye to a play. The scripts are put back on the shelf, the scenery dismantled, the actors move on to new roles. Yesterday, my life at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, came to the end of its run.
What can I say to you, Reader? For me, everything is over.
I admit that I’m scared. I don’t know what I shall do. I wasn’t prepared for such a sudden termination to the life I thought I was going to lead. And so strange to think that the curtain was brought down with such a simple question.
Mr Sheridan caught me in the corridor backstage as I carried the actresses’ wigs out of the powder room. ‘Cat, come here. Tell me what you think.’
From the stage came the sounds of the orchestra tuning up. My friend Pedro would already be in his place, sitting with the other violinists. Counting the audience we were expecting a full house. Backstage was abuzz with excitement as the moment of performance approached. I really didn’t have time to linger but my patron, Mr Sheridan, could not be denied. He hauled me into his office, snatched the tray, and dumped it unceremoniously on the floor.
‘Watch it, sir! I’ll get skinned if anything happens to those!’ I protested as I tried to prevent many guineas’ worth of powdered curls tumbling on to the hearth.
‘No, no, forget about those,’ he said, heedless in his enthusiasm. ‘I want you to be one of the first to see the plans,’ and he hooked me by the elbow and propelled me to the desk.
‘Fifteen minutes!’ called the stage manager outside. Three actors rushed by, not yet in costume. They’d obviously lingered too long in the Players’ Tavern.
On the scuffed leather surface of the desk lay a sheaf of crackling white parchment scored with lines and tiny numbers.
‘So?’ Mr Sheridan asked, rubbing his hands eagerly, looking across at me, his brown eyes sparkling.
He evidently wanted my opinion – a fact that I would have found flattering if I hadn’t been in such a rush to deliver the wigs; the actresses would not thank me if I made them late for their first entrance. I had better get this over with. I turned my mind to the papers in front of me. It was clearly a design for a grand building of some sort – a palace perhaps. Maybe Mr Sheridan’s extravagant friend the Prince of Wales had yet another construction project in his sights?
‘Er . . . what is it?’ I asked.
‘It’s Drury Lane, of course.’ My patron’s flushed face beamed happily. Was he drunk already?
I took a closer look. I could now see the vast stage and auditorium, but this wasn’t my theatre. None of my familiar landmarks were here; he must be joking. ‘No, it’s not, sir. Where’s the Sparrow’s Nest? Where’s the scenery store?’
‘You don’t understand, Cat. Not this worn-out pile of bricks and cracked plaster,’ he waved dismissively at the ceiling. ‘These are the plans for the new Theatre Royal – one fit for our modern age that will rise from the ashes of the old.’