She missed my rudeness in her surprise. ‘But where are we going? Will we lose our positions?’ she exclaimed.
An excited babble broke out in all quarters as the cast began to discuss their fate. Sooty wigs forgotten, the news spread as dancers darted off to whisper it to their boyfriends among the stagehands. Soon there was no corner of the theatre that did not know what was afoot, no doubt as Mr Sheridan had intended when he chose to tell me first.
‘Five minutes to curtain up! Beginners, please,’ called the stage manager as he tried to hush the hubbub behind the scenes.
Miss Stageldoir swept past me without a word, her velvet train leaving a trail in the powder. With a sigh, I picked up a broom to sweep the floor.
The orchestra began the overture as I made my exit from an empty dressing room. There was no one to see me go as all eyes were now on the stage.
With leaden feet, I climbed the stairs to my lonely corner of the Sparrow’s Nest, and huddled on my couch counting the days until I had to fly away.
Only twelve left.
ACT I
SCENE 1 – THE PROMISE
The following morning, Syd Fletcher, leader of Covent Garden’s Butcher’s Boys gang, spotted me passing the door of his father’s shop.
‘Oi, Cat!’ he called, striding out on to the sun-drenched pavement and wiping his bloodied hands on his apron like Hercules returning from the slaughter of the lion. His hair shone gold in the dazzling light.
‘Oh, hello, Syd,’ I said, pausing to rub my brow with a handkerchief. I was wearing my best clothes and already sweltering in the heat. ‘I can’t stop: I’ve been invited to Frank and Lizzie’s this morning. They’re expecting me. Why don’t you come too?’
‘What, like this?’ laughed Syd, spreading his arms wide to display his stained working clothes. ‘Nah, Kitten. You look swell, all togged up in that white dress of yours; I’d lower the tone if I came with you.’
‘But Frank and Lizzie would love to see you.’
He grinned and rubbed his yellow-bristled chin. ‘Perhaps, but not like this. I’ll see Frank happily enough down ’ere any day, but ’e won’t want me sippin’ tea and eatin’ off china plates any more than I’d like to be there. Nah, dook’s children ’ave their world and I ’ave mine: that’s ’ow it is and ’ow it’s meant to be.’
‘So what about me? Are you saying I shouldn’t be mixing with the likes of them?’ I suddenly felt very inadequate in my cheap muslin dress, knowing that Lizzie would doubtless be beautifully decked out and there might even be other visitors quick to notice my humble origins.
Syd beckoned me to take a seat in the shade, first wiping the top of a barrel with his apron. The whole street had a tired, languid feel, like an old dog stretched out panting in the sun. Carriers’ carts rumbled wearily by, raising clouds of choking dust. The gutters smelt foul. ‘Course not, Cat. You’re an exception to the rule, you are.’
That made me feel a bit better. I was, after all, going to visit my friends, not take part in a fashion parade. Lizzie and Frank wouldn’t care what I turned up in. Their mother had been an opera singer before her marriage to the Duke of Avon so her children had not inherited the usual prejudices of people of their rank. They did not regard me as beneath their notice.
‘So, what did you want me for, Syd? Was it about the theatre?’ I wondered how far the rumour about its closure had spread since last night.
‘What about the theatre?’
Not very far yet then.
‘Mr Sheridan’s knocking it down to build a bigger one.’
‘What ’e want to go and do that for?’ asked Syd in amazement.
‘The march of progress, Syd, the winds of change,’ I said ironically.
‘The march of what? What you goin’ on about?’
‘Put it another way, some fool’s lent him the money and my patron wants to make his mark on London – leave something for him to be remembered by.’ I was feeling ungenerous to Mr Sheridan today. ‘Oh yes, and I s’pose there might be the little matter of making a bigger profit by selling more tickets.’
Syd whistled and shook his head. ‘That’s a rum do – spending a fortune to make one.’
‘I couldn’t have put it better myself.’
‘But what about you, Cat? Where are you goin’ to live now, eh, when they knock your theatre down?’
I shrugged, not wanting him to think I couldn’t look after myself. Pedro had asked me the very same question when I’d broken the news to him the night before. But I couldn’t bear to confess my worries to two of my best friends. Pedro was in no position to help me and as for Syd, he’d never let me in his gang if I appeared incapable of sorting out even this simple matter. I have my pride.
‘I don’t know yet, but I’ll find somewhere,’ I said more cheerfully than I felt.
Syd nodded. ‘Mr Sheridan won’t let you down, not after all you’ve done for ’im in the past.’
I didn’t want to tell him that this was exactly the kind of matter over which my patron was entirely unreliable. I just gave Syd a non-committal smile and got up to go.
‘’Ere, Cat, wait ’alf a tick. I ’aven’t told you my news yet.’
‘What’s that?’
A country girl walked past with a tray of strawberries and gave Syd the eye. He winked back then blushed when he remembered who he was with.
‘I . . . er . . . I’m leavin’ London for a bit.’
‘No!’ I was astounded. Neither Syd nor I ever left town. Our bones were made from the dust of its streets and our blood from the water of the Thames. I couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d announced he was going to the moon.