This was no good: we were getting nowhere. Frank would have to learn that, if you want directions, it was best not to pick on a halfwit beggar. I jumped down from the fiacre, determined to take matters into my own hands.
‘Look!’ I tugged Frank’s sleeve as I’d spotted a woman standing with her face to the wall, shielding herself from the dust kicked up by a passing carriage. ‘There’s someone else. Let me ask her.’ The woman was now moving swiftly, keeping to the shadows. We had to be quick if we were going to catch her.
‘Excusez-moi, madame!’ I called. The woman sped up, perhaps suspecting some assault as I too would have done in her situation. ‘We mean you no harm. We’re lost!’ I called after her.
She turned, her face shadowed in a deep hood, but I saw the faint sparkle of eyes wide with alarm. She was of middle age and dressed in black, but smelling of expensive perfume and powder.
‘Ssh!’ she hissed, glancing over her shoulder as if fearful of pursuit. ‘You are English, yes? Did Count Fersen send you for me? Speak softly now.’ Her accent was strange: French laced with a hint of German.
None of this made sense to me. ‘Sorry, madame, I don’t know any Count Fersen. I was just saying that we were lost and wondered if you could direct us to the Opera?’
The woman’s reaction was most strange. She sprang away from me without so much as a word and hurried off into the night.
‘Friendly soul,’ I commented sourly to Frank as we got back into the coach. ‘French women are very odd. I mean, what is a lady of her quality doing wandering around the streets at this time of night on her own?’
‘She probably had an assignation with this Fersen person,’ said Frank with an air of worldly wisdom. ‘No wonder she dashed off; she probably didn’t want to be recognized and cause a scandal.’
‘Well, that doesn’t help us, does it? We’re still lost.’
Frank gave me a wink and took out the map again. ‘Nothing else for it, eh, Cat? Got to trust me now your plan has failed?’
‘If you’d asked at the gate we would never have got ourselves into this mess.’
‘Ah, but where’s the adventure in that? You would never have seen Notre Dame by starlight.’
‘That’s right. I’d’ve been tucked up in bed, asleep. What a hardship!’ I grumbled though I knew he was right. I would not have missed it for the world.
‘Come on, let’s try again. If Captain Cook found his way to Australia, surely we can find our way to the Opera,’ Frank said happily, consulting his map.
SCENE 3 – TO THE LAMP POST
To give Frank his due, we did eventually find our way to Madame Beaufort’s lodgings. It was with no feeling of regret that we waved our driver off. I doubted very much if he would make it far without steering into a ditch. Only Joseph’s careful watch had prevented a like accident for us. But mercifully that was no longer our concern – all we needed do was find a bed and sleep.
The concierge of the apartment was waiting up for us and showed us through to where a cold supper had been laid out in the kitchen. I was almost asleep on my feet but Frank and Joseph managed to make a significant impact on the bread and meat between them.
‘Go on up to bed. You look like you need your beauty sleep,’ said Frank when he noticed me nodding over my plate.
‘What are you going to do?’ I asked, picking up my candle.
‘Well, as my honoured parents know nothing of my arrival, I suppose I’d better wait until morning before I burst in upon them.’
‘You can stay here,’ said the concierge in a growl of a voice. He wore a red floppy cap on his sparse white hair and stooped as if perpetually searching for a pin on the floor. ‘In exchange for a small consideration, of course.’
‘That would be splendid.’ Frank dug in his well-filled purse and threw the man a coin. The concierge’s eyes twinkled with lively interest as he eyed my friend’s riches. ‘Two blankets and two chairs by the fire are all we need.’
Leaving Frank and Joseph to catch what rest they could, I went upstairs. Madame Beaufort had lodged her girls all under one roof. Expecting to find myself sharing with one of them, I discovered that I had been allocated a room right at the top of the house – a little cupboard of a place, but as it had a bed with clean sheets I was not complaining. On my bed was a note scrawled in black ink.
Daily routine for Madame Beaufort’s dancers
Breakfast at six-thirty
Ballet rehearsal ten till two
Study two till three-thirty
Dinner at four
Performance six till ten
Supper
Lights out midnight
Performance – well, that was nothing to do with me. I could count on some free time in the evenings then. I would have to negotiate more if I was to do my job properly. Not even bothering to find my nightgown, I tumbled on to the mattress in my shift and instantly fell asleep, plunging into a dream where I was rooted to the spot, arms flailing like a windmill, while butterfly dancers floated elegantly across the stage.
A bell rang downstairs. Dragging myself out of bed, I rubbed my eyes. I could smell fresh coffee and bread. For the first time in two days, I felt hungry. Dragging a comb through my hair and dressing in my pink gown, I followed my nose down to the kitchen. Frank was sitting with Mimi, Belle and Colette at one end of the long table, while Joseph stood at his shoulder waiting to serve his master. I stood unseen in the doorway for a moment observing them. Frank was flirting outrageously – mussing up his hair and giving Mimi his most twinkling smile. I’d never seen Frank flirt before; it was highly entertaining, though I would have recommended he find a more worthy object for his attentions.
‘Good morning, miss,’ said Joseph solemnly when he spotted me. He pulled out a chair. ‘Would you care for some coffee?’
‘I’d prefer milk if they have it,’ I replied, taking a seat opposite Frank and winking at him. He blushed.