The Twinkling Tutu Read online

  Ava felt her excitement mounting as she thought about what this could mean. ‘Do you think this man might actually know where your parents are? Do you think he might have a message from them?’

  But Marietta was frowning now and looking flushed. ‘Ava, I just don’t know,’ she said a little sharply. ‘I haven’t even told your dad about it yet because he’ll only get himself all worked up, and there may not be anything worth getting worked up about. Do you understand?’

  Marietta was obviously much touchier on the subject of her parents than Ava had previously realized. Not wanting to upset her further, Ava quickly nodded and suggested they try on some more clothes while they waited for Marietta’s visitor to arrive.

  ‘OK then,’ Marietta agreed, sounding relieved at the prospect of the distraction. ‘What is it you want to try on?’

  ‘Something Victorian, please,’ Ava said at once, nearly bouncing up and down with delight at the thought.

  So after they had finished tidying all the crowns and tiaras they headed back to the little room at the end of the corridor.

  This time Marietta led Ava straight through to the dressing room. It was a bigger room than Ava had anticipated and she saw at once that this was where most of the Victorian outfits were kept. There was a small area of free space in one corner where a chair (currently strewn with Dad’s discarded clothes) had been placed, and there were some hooks on the wall above it for people to hang things. But the rest of the room was crammed full with rack upon rack of Victorian clothes.

  ‘Are these dresses all from the Victorian period?’ Ava asked in surprise, because the ladies’ gowns hanging on the nearest rail seemed to be so varied in style. There were heavy silk dresses with massive crinoline skirts, brightly coloured satin gowns with huge bustles extending out from the back, and tighter, more figure-hugging gowns with lots of ruffles and pleated frills. In addition, a wide shelf on one wall was piled high with a huge variety of ladies’ headwear – straw hats with pretty ribbon streamers, heavily decorated bonnets with high brims that tied in big bows under the chin, plainer bonnets with veils attached, and small linen indoor caps decorated with lace and ribbons.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Marietta replied. ‘Queen Victoria was on the throne for a very long time, remember, so fashions changed a lot throughout that period. In 1861 – which was around the middle of Queen Victoria’s reign – the crinoline dress was in fashion. You wore a wire hoop cage underneath your skirt to hold it out. Even young girls like you wore them. You can try one on if you like. I’ve got a whole rack of children’s clothes here somewhere.’

  ‘Oh, yes please!’ Ava exclaimed enthusiastically as she watched her aunt squeeze behind the front rail of elegant gowns to reach the other racks behind.

  ‘Hey, look what I’ve just found!’ Marietta suddenly gasped in delight as she held up a child-sized Victorian ballet costume to show her. The Victorian tutu wasn’t anything like the short, stiff, sticking-straight-out-from-the-waist sort of ballet tutus that Ava was familiar with. It was longer, much fuller and more free-flowing, made of several layers of very fine white netting that gave it a delicate, floaty look. It was attached to a white-satin bodice that had a scooped neckline edged with lace, and short off-the-shoulder sleeves. The bodice was decorated at the front with delicate pink and gold beadwork and the mesh of the skirt also had beads embroidered on to it – shimmering pinky-pearl ones and gold-flecked glass ones – which gave the tutu a very eye-catching, twinkling appearance.

  ‘Oh, please can I try that on?’ Ava begged.

  Marietta smiled. ‘Of course. Look – there’s a pretty cape here too and a little silk bag with ballet shoes inside. Oh – and you can wear this with it as well.’ She lifted up a pretty hair wreath decorated with large silk white daisies and passed it to Ava along with the little shoe-bag. Ava quickly undid the bag and took out a pair of white satin-covered pointe shoes. They looked in perfect condition, as if they had never been worn.

  As Marietta squeezed out from between the clothes rails, holding the ballet dress and cape, she glanced at Dad’s clothes strewn over the chair and muttered, ‘I wonder how your dad’s getting on. I just hope he doesn’t say anything to offend this ballerina he’s gone to interview – he never has liked ballet.’

  ‘He didn’t offend anyone when he came to Cinderella-land with me,’ Ava pointed out. ‘In fact he seemed much more polite to everyone there than he is to people in the real world!’

  Marietta laughed, agreeing that there was probably nothing to worry about.

  She carefully hung up the tutu and the cape on the free hooks and stood back with Ava to inspect them. The cape had three layers and was made from very fine cream material decorated with hand-embroidered flowers and trimmed with fancy scalloped edging. ‘The cape will help keep you warm,’ Marietta said, turning round to point out a small wooden trunk pushed against one wall. ‘And if you look in there you should find some stockings that will fit you too. Now –’ she glanced at her watch – ‘as you know, I have to stay in the shop today, but I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t go on a little journey through the mirror by yourself if you want to, Ava.’

  For a few moments Ava wondered if she’d heard her correctly. ‘Really? But Dad said—’

  ‘I know what Otto said, and of course it’s totally up to you . . .’ Marietta interrupted at once. ‘But if you want my advice . . . well . . . let’s just say that if I was you, I wouldn’t let your dad stop me from doing what I was born to do. The travelling gift is a part of you, Ava – and if you miss out on making the most of it now, you’ll never get this time back again.’ She sounded extremely passionate as she added, ‘Your dad thinks you should use your gift sparingly until you’re an adult, but I disagree. Believe me, Ava, some of the most exciting travel adventures you’ll ever have are now, while you’re still a child, not later when you’re grown up!’

  ‘But I don’t understand,’ Ava said, feeling confused. ‘Do you mean you think it’s OK for me to disobey Dad?’

  ‘Not usually, no,’ her aunt replied. ‘But he is SO protective about travelling, he always has been . . . and on the other side of the Victorian portal there’s another shop and the owner of it is a travelling person too. If you decide to go there then I know he’ll look after you.’ And before Ava could say anything else, Marietta had given her an encouraging smile and swiftly left the room.

  Ava’s confusion rapidly started to change into excitement as she unbuttoned her cardigan at the same time as kicking off her sandals. Her aunt had almost made her feel as if it was OK to disobey her dad and go though the magic mirror on her own. Almost . . .

  One thing she was sure of was that she couldn’t wait to see what she looked like dressed as a Victorian ballet dancer – and when she finally inspected herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the dressing-room door, she could hardly believe the transformation. The floral wreath was a little too big for her head and the pointe shoes a little tight, but apart from that the whole outfit – including the cape – fitted her perfectly. Her feet looked very dainty in the shoes fastened on with their pink crisscrossing ribbons.

  But the most amazing thing was the tutu itself, which seemed to be twinkling with an almost visible magical energy now that she was actually wearing it. The beads in the skirt were sparkling like miniature jewels and Ava could hardly take her eyes off them.

  She was certain that if she stood in front of the magic mirror dressed like this it wouldn’t take long for the portal to open up. But should she actually go ahead and use it?

  She went through to the little Victorian sitting room, walking slowly over to stand in front of the magic mirror. No ordinary person would guess that the mirror was special in any way. Yet Ava knew that if she stared into it for even a few seconds wearing these clothes she would cause the magic reaction to start. In fact, even as she stood there thinking that, the mirror was starting to give out a little warning glow.

  Ava knew she had to turn away at once if she want
ed to make the magic reaction stop, but she found herself thinking about how badly she wanted to see Victorian London. What should she do? Marietta thought she should ignore her father’s instructions and go. In fact Marietta had made it sound as if not going was something Ava might regret for the rest of her life. But what about her loyalty to her dad? And what would he say if he found out?

  Ava’s reflection in the mirror was glowing more strongly now, and she still hadn’t quite made up her mind. But her feet seemed to have decided for her, because she found herself staying put exactly where she was in the mirror’s glow. Her head felt swimmy and all she could hear was the sound of her pulse racing inside her ears. Seconds later she couldn’t see her reflection any more because the light was so dazzling. The magic had already taken hold . . .

  As she closed her eyes against the glare she knew that when she opened them again she would be in Victorian London. And that’s when she stopped feeling uncertain and started to feel determined – determined that after she got there she was going to prove she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, despite her dad’s misgivings!

  3

  Ava opened her eyes to find that she was inside what seemed to be a smart Victorian furniture shop, facing her reflection in a large oval-shaped wall-mounted mirror very similar to the one in Marietta’s shop.

  Her head was still spinning and she stood where she was, waiting for the dizzy feeling to pass.

  As she caught her breath she saw that the mirror had a little card tucked into the bottom inside edge of the frame, which said NOT FOR SALE in curly old-fashioned writing.

  Turning round she immediately saw the reason for the card. The shop sold several other grand-looking mirrors, in amongst other items of expensive-looking furniture. Clearly the shop’s owner only had the one portal mirror and wanted to make sure that it didn’t accidentally get sold. Strangely though, there was no sign of the shopkeeper, or any customers.

  Ava began to make her way towards the door, taking care not to bump into any of the pieces of ornate furniture as she squeezed past. She edged round an impressive display of shiny mahogany tables of various shapes and sizes, all of them with beautifully carved legs, then sucked in her tummy to pass between two high-backed velvet-upholstered armchairs.

  Dad must have been here too this morning, Ava thought – but where had he gone after that?

  As soon as she stepped outside she knew the answer.

  She was in a wide Victorian street on a lovely sunny summer’s day – a street that had upmarket shops on one side and large detached houses on the other. And in the house immediately facing her two young girls in ballet costumes could be seen peering out from a large ground-floor bay window to admire two fine-looking ladies in crinolines and pretty bonnets who had stopped to talk to each other in front of the gate.

  This is amazing, Ava thought, feeling like she was walking around in the middle of a dream.

  There was no sign of Ava’s father, but Ava was sure that the house opposite must belong to the ballerina he had come to interview. She waited for a horse and carriage to pass, before crossing the cobbled street to the other side. One of the ladies glanced at her briefly as she passed through the small iron front gate and up the gravel drive that led to the porch of the house.

  Since this was clearly the perfect house to visit if you were dressed as a Victorian ballet dancer, Ava reached up and rang the doorbell without hesitation. She wasn’t sure exactly what she would say when the door was opened, but she knew she would think of something. Marietta had told her that the magic power in the clothes meant that nobody on the other side of the portals ever asked too many questions about who you were or where you came from. And that had certainly been true in Cinderella-land, where no one had ever questioned Ava’s disguise as a royal princess.

  The front door was quickly opened by a thin, sour-faced young girl in a Victorian maid’s uniform, who took one look at what Ava was wearing and admitted her into the house without question.

  Ava found herself in a large, very grand hallway, which had a wide curved staircase ascending from it.

  ‘All the other girls are waiting in the drawing room, miss,’ the maid said, showing Ava into a room off the hall. ‘Madame Varty will send for you when she’s ready.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Ava said quickly, deciding it was better to know for sure if she was in any danger of bumping into her father or not. ‘I think a . . . a writer gentleman was coming here this morning to interview Madame Varty. Do you know if he’s still here?’

  ‘There was a gentleman called to interview her this morning,’ the maid replied. ‘He said the nanny from the house next door had told him about Madame’s school. Madame sent him away but said she would see him if he came back later this afternoon. Now . . . I really must be getting on with my work, miss.’

  Since her father clearly wasn’t here any more, and since he hadn’t returned to Marietta’s shop, Ava could only assume that he had gone off to explore some more of Victorian London on his own. Which was really unfair of him, she thought crossly, since he knew how badly she wanted to visit Victorian times and he could quite easily have come back to fetch her.

  Ava turned to inspect her surroundings and saw that she was in a typically cluttered Victorian drawing room along with a little group of other girls in ballet dresses – much simpler than Ava’s – who were all standing staring at her.

  ‘Why are you so late?’ one of them asked. ‘Not that it matters! We’ve been waiting here for almost an hour already. Why, our mothers will be coming back to collect us soon!’

  ‘Did you really wear your pointe shoes out on the street?’ another girl said, sounding horrified. ‘My mama would have a fit if I did that!’

  ‘Aren’t you going to wear your hair up for the audition?’ asked a third girl, reaching up to touch her own hair pinned into a neat bun. ‘It doesn’t look very tidy like that, you know.’

  ‘Oh, let her be,’ said yet another girl, giving Ava a little smile. She was looking at Ava’s ballet dress admiringly. ‘I do so love your tutu. I’ve never seen one like it before, with all those pretty beads sewn on to it! Your cape is very pretty too. What’s your name? I’m called Victoria – after the Queen, of course.’

  ‘I’m Ava,’ Ava said, smiling as she removed the cape and placed it over the arm of the nearest sofa.

  Before Victoria could say anything else, the girl who had first spoken said snootily, ‘Well, Ava, just because you have a much fancier tutu than the rest of us, it doesn’t mean you’ll definitely get a place here. My mother says only the most talented girls will be accepted for Madame Varty’s school.’

  ‘Yes, and my ballet teacher says I have more talent than any other girl she has ever taught!’ boasted the girl who had commented on Ava’s hair.

  ‘Really? That’s exactly what mine said as well,’ Victoria put in grinning. ‘I think they all say that because they know how it pleases our mothers!’

  At that moment, a different young maid entered the room and gave them all a friendly smile. ‘Madame Varty is sorry to have kept you waiting and she says that she will see you now,’ she told them.

  ‘What, all of us?!’ exclaimed the girl nearest the door in surprise.

  ‘Yes, miss. I’ve to show you all up directly.’

  Ava quickly decided that she may as well stick with the other girls for now. It wasn’t as though she could wander around the streets on her own for very long dressed as she was without drawing attention to herself and, besides, she was curious to meet the ballet teacher Dad seemed so impressed by.

  The maid led them back out into the hall and up the grand staircase to the next floor. From there she led them along a corridor and into a very large room at the back of the house. As Ava stepped inside she saw that this room, in contrast to the drawing room downstairs, was very sparsely furnished. It had a wooden floor with no rugs and was almost completely empty apart from a massive open fireplace and a large, very beautiful mahogany piano at one end, w
here a grey-haired woman in a dark crinoline dress sat on a stool watching them.

  Standing in the centre of the floor, dressed in a very glamorous turquoise crinoline gown, was a fine-featured blonde-haired woman who Ava assumed must be Madame Varty. She was much younger than Ava had expected. Her shiny hair was done up in an elegant roll on top of her head and she had high cheekbones and bright, inquisitive blue eyes. She was looking at all the girls with undisguised curiosity as they each lined up in front of her and gave her a respectful little curtsy. Ava, who was the last in line, also curtsied before following the others as they were waved across to stand at a long practice bar attached to the far wall. There were several large mirrors placed around the room and as Ava caught sight of herself in one of them she realized that her hair did look terribly messy compared to the neat buns of the others.

  Madame Varty moved across the room towards the girls – who numbered eight in total – and it was only then that it became apparent that she was leaning on a thin, silver-handled wooden cane and that she walked a little stiffly.

  ‘Good morning, young ladies,’ she began in a crystal-clear voice that held just the trace of a foreign – possibly French – accent. ‘I am Amelia Varty, but you may call me Madame.’

  ‘Good morning, Madame!’ they all chorused back obediently.

  ‘As you probably know, I have recently returned from Europe to set up a new ballet school here in London – one that will take in mainly paying pupils like yourselves, but only pupils who show real talent. I shall also be offering places to one or two girls who shall board here with me and be taught for nothing, purely because I believe they have exceptional talent. All my girls will be treated equally, whether they are paying pupils or not.’ She paused. ‘I intend my ballet school to be a shining example to others. It will not only be exemplary in its high standard of teaching but in the fact that the health and safety of my dancers will be prioritized at all times. And when my pupils are ready to perform in public, I shall not be hiring them out to any theatres with poor safety records or unacceptable working conditions.’ She paused again before adding in a quieter voice, ‘I myself know only too well the cost of performing in such places.’