The Twinkling Tutu Page 4

  ‘It’s no trouble, but . . . Florrie, how old are you?’ Ava suddenly asked.

  ‘Near enough eight, miss.’

  ‘And how long have you been working as a chimney sweep?’

  ‘It’s been almost two years now, miss.’

  ‘And have you practised any dancing in all that time?’

  ‘Not much, miss. Sometimes I do a little if I’m not too tired. But mostly I’m too sore to dance.’

  Ava frowned thoughtfully, hardly daring to hope that her idea might work. ‘And you say your mother thought that you were a very good dancer?’

  ‘That’s what she said, and she was a ballerina herself. But Tom says as how mothers always think that, whether it’s true or not.’ Florrie shrugged. ‘It’s no matter now, in any case.’

  Ava squatted down beside Florrie again. ‘Listen, Florrie . . . what if you had the chance to go to a ballet school? One where you would be taken care of and learn to be a dancer like your mother.’

  Florrie was silent now, looking as if she thought Ava might be a little mad.

  ‘Listen,’ Ava said urgently. ‘The lady who lives in this house is setting up a new ballet school. She’s holding auditions for pupils today – mostly paying, but she’s also going to take on one or two girls for free. They’ll be allowed to live here in this house and attend her school for nothing – but only if she thinks they’re exceptionally gifted. It sounds like you might be the sort of girl she’s looking for. Do you think you could audition for her?’

  The little sweep was staring at her in disbelief as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘But how can I go to an audition dressed like this, miss?’

  ‘You won’t be dressed like that!’ Ava was getting excited now. ‘You can borrow what I’m wearing. I know this ballet tutu will be a bit big for you, but I’m sure we can adjust it somehow. You’ll need a wash, of course, so we’ll have to find somewhere to do that. But if you come with me, I think I know where we can get some help.’

  Florrie was clearly in two minds about whether to trust Ava or not. And she was obviously worried about going off without her brother. But the expression on Ava’s face was so genuine and Florrie badly wanted to trust her. It was just that nobody apart from her brother had shown her any kindness in such a long time that it was difficult. However, Florrie could still remember a very different life from the one she led now, where there had been no shortage of people who cared about her. Perhaps it was the memory of that other life that gave her the courage to stand up and let Ava take her hand . . .

  Together the two girls walked across the road to the furniture shop, the sight of them hand in hand causing quite a stir among some lady shoppers on the pavement opposite. The shop had a side entrance and Ava instructed Florrie to go round to the back of the building to wait for her. Then she took a deep breath and went inside the shop, hoping that the owner would be there this time and willing to help.

  ‘Can I assist you?’ asked a crusty voice from behind a desk in the corner, and Ava saw an elderly man peering at her over the top of his gold-rimmed spectacles.

  Ava decided there was only one thing to do. Since there were no other customers she said shyly, ‘My name’s Ava. I’m . . . I’m a travelling person . . . My aunt Marietta said you would help me . . .’ She trailed off, watching his face closely.

  He was silent for a few moments. ‘I don’t travel much myself these days,’ he eventually grunted. ‘But I’m always happy to help those who do. What is it that you need?’

  ‘Somewhere to get changed, please,’ Ava said quickly. ‘And some soap and water and a place to wash.’

  The old man frowned. ‘You don’t look particularly dirty to me.’

  ‘It’s someone else I need the soap and water for,’ Ava explained.

  ‘I see.’ The old man looked puzzled, but he also looked like he had heard stranger requests before from his travelling customers. ‘You’d better come out back then. I can’t promise much hot water, you understand, but I’ll see what I can do.’

  5

  In the little kitchen area at the back of his shop the old man heated up a large pan of water on the iron range and poured it into a tin tub for Florrie to use as a bath. He also found them a bar of soap and a towel. Then he left them to it.

  Looking as if she thought she must be dreaming Florrie stripped off her filthy rags and climbed into the tub a little nervously. It turned out that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a bath, and that much chimney soot wasn’t easy to get off. On seeing the task that lay ahead of them, the old man had given them quite a generous amount of hot water, even putting another pan on the stove to heat up so they could fill the tub a second time if necessary.

  It clearly was necessary, for by the time Florrie – with some help from Ava – had thoroughly scrubbed her completely sooty body and black-as-tar hair, the first tub of water was as black as she had been herself. Once Florrie had stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself up in the towel, the old man came back into the kitchen. He took the tin bath and emptied it into the back alleyway before filling it again with clean water. The little half-washed sweep cowered shyly behind Ava all the while.

  This time Ava concentrated on scrubbing the remaining coal tar out of Florrie’s hair, feeling thankful that at least it was cropped short so that there wasn’t much of it to do. ‘There’s not enough of it to go into a bun, but we can use my hairpins to pull it back off your face,’ Ava said. ‘The white stockings will completely cover your legs, so the only parts that will be showing are your face and neck and arms. Let’s try and get those as clean as we can, shall we?’ As she applied what was left of the soap as vigorously as she dared, the little sweep whimpered a little. ‘I’m sorry. Am I being too rough?’ Ava asked gently. ‘I’ll try not to start your poor elbows bleeding again, but we’ve really got to get more dirt off or you won’t look right.’

  ‘Are you sure ’tis all right for me to wear your lovely things, miss?’ Florrie asked her for the umpteenth time.

  And for the umpteenth time Ava replied, ‘Yes – otherwise I wouldn’t have suggested it! And please just call me Ava!’

  When they were finished Ava couldn’t help smiling at the change in the sweep’s appearance. Her hair was a whole shade lighter and her face was almost free of soot entirely. Her skin still had a greyish appearance in places and the scabs and cuts on her limbs were pink and even more obvious now than they had been before her bath. But all in all Florrie looked a lot less like a chimney sweep and a lot more like a normal little girl. In fact she was rather pretty!

  ‘Right,’ said Ava, starting to undress herself. ‘Gosh – I’ve got these ballet clothes quite sooty, haven’t I?’ She should have changed out of the ballet clothes before she helped Florrie with her bath, she realized. Still, at least now the tutu looked a bit less perfect than when she had worn it herself – as if it might well belong to a poorer girl who couldn’t afford ballet school fees. ‘If these shoes are too big for you we can stuff some crumpled paper in the toes,’ Ava added as she undid the ribbons.

  ‘What are you going to wear, miss?’ Florrie asked, drying herself quickly before accepting the ballet dress from Ava.

  ‘I guess I’ll just have to wear your tunic and trousers,’ Ava replied, sitting down to take off the ballet shoes and remove her white stockings. ‘I reckon I should be able to fit into them since they seem quite big for you.’

  ‘They’re big because they’re Tom’s old ones,’ Florrie told her. ‘But, miss, they are little more than rags and so dirty—’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Ava interrupted swiftly with a smile. ‘And as I want to blend in out there as a chimney sweep I’d better make the rest of me dirty too.’ She glanced across at the small kitchen fireplace. ‘I guess I’d better use some soot to blacken my skin a bit,’ she said. ‘I can rub some into my hair as well.’

  ‘You can put my cap on your head and tuck your hair up under it if you like, miss,’ Florrie suggested.

>   So while Florrie changed into Ava’s ballet outfit, Ava set about turning herself into a convincing chimney sweep, rubbing soot into her arms, legs and face and putting on Florrie’s discarded clothes, which felt as rough as sandpaper against her skin.

  Both girls let out exclamations of surprise as they turned to face each other.

  ‘You look so different!’ Ava burst out. ‘No one would ever believe you were the same person!’

  Florrie spun on the spot delightedly as the tutu twirled and twinkled about her. ‘Nor would they you, miss!’ she added when she stopped.

  ‘Come on,’ said Ava excitedly, leading the way out through the open back door. ‘You must go straight to Madame Varty’s and ring the bell as confidently as you can. If you tell the maid who opens it that you’re there for the audition today, I’m sure she’ll let you in.’

  ‘Do you really think so, miss? I mean, I don’t look as fine as all those other girls, and it’s not like they’re expecting me. And what if the maid turns me away? I’m not sure I am brave enough to say anything if she does . . .’ Suddenly Florrie’s bottom lip started to tremble.

  Ava frowned, wishing she could introduce Florrie to Madame Varty herself, but of course now that they had swapped places that was impossible.

  Then she had an idea. ‘I know! I’ll write you a letter to take with you – a letter of introduction! They can hardly refuse that – and then you don’t even have to speak, Florrie!’

  ‘A letter . . . ?’ Florrie sounded uncertain.

  ‘Yes. It can say that you’re an orphan – that your mother was a ballet dancer and that you are also very talented, but that you have no money to pay the tuition fees for her school. We just need to find some paper and a pen . . . maybe you should write the letter rather than me because my handwriting isn’t going to look very Victorian . . .’ Ava trailed off as she saw the expression on Florrie’s face.

  ‘I can’t read or write, miss!’ Florrie was looking at Ava incredulously.

  ‘Oh, of course not,’ Ava said hurriedly. ‘Maybe we could ask the old man in the shop to do it. Yes . . . you wait here for me and I’ll go and speak to him.’

  Ava emerged from the back of the shop ten minutes later holding an envelope addressed to Madame Varty in curly Victorian script.

  ‘Here,’ she said, giving the envelope to Florrie. ‘All you have to do now is get the maid who answers the door to take this straight to Madame Varty.’

  ‘But what shall I dance at the audition?’ Florrie asked uncertainly.

  Ava frowned. ‘Isn’t there something your mother taught you?’

  ‘There was a piece my mother learned me. I’ve been trying to remember it, but I can only think of the beginning.’

  ‘Maybe the rest will come back to you when you start dancing,’ Ava said, trying to sound confident, even though she was beginning to feel a bit nervous herself. What if Florrie couldn’t remember and wasn’t deemed good enough after all for a place in Madame Varty’s school? Ava would have got Florrie’s hopes up for nothing – and probably got her into terrible trouble with the cruel sweep master as well.

  Florrie however was starting to look more confident, lifting up her small chin in a determined way as she replied, ‘You know, I’m sure I can feel my mother looking down on me from heaven. If I think of her as I dance, she will help me remember.’

  ‘Good.’ Ava gave her an encouraging smile as they set off. ‘I’ll just come across the road with you and wait at the gate to check they let you in.’

  Florrie smiled back at her gratefully. ‘There’s one more thing, miss. If you meet my brother, you mustn’t tell ’im where I am. He made me promise not to dance no more, see.’

  ‘But surely if you actually got a place at Madame Varty’s school . . . ?’

  ‘Tom wouldn’t let me audition if ’e knew, miss. I know ’e wouldn’t!’

  ‘Well, don’t worry. I won’t tell him where you are,’ Ava reassured her, but at the same time she couldn’t help thinking that it was a bit strange that Florrie’s brother was so set against his sister following in their ballerina mother’s footsteps. She understood his desire to keep them together, but if it came to a choice for his sister between the dangers and hardships of being a sweep and the magic of being a ballerina, surely he would understand?

  Ava looked on from the bottom of the drive as the friendlier of the two young maids opened the front door and accepted the letter of introduction from Florrie. The maid immediately invited Florrie inside, presumably to wait in the hall while she took the letter upstairs to her mistress.

  Ava was intending to wait for just long enough to ensure Florrie wasn’t refused a chance to audition. After that she planned to walk around the streets by herself for a little while, just to see how it felt to be a barefooted chimney sweep in Victorian times. But as she stood there Ava was suddenly hailed by another barefooted figure, hurrying towards her from up the road, carrying a tankard of something. It was another child chimney sweep, a year or so older than Florrie, who Ava guessed must be Tom, the little girl’s brother.

  ‘Hello,’ Ava called out, attempting to give him a reassuring smile. He was slightly taller than Ava, a lot less fragile-looking than Florrie, but still covered from head to toe in black soot, with blood running down from one knee.

  He looked puzzled as he inspected Ava, as if she didn’t seem like a normal climbing boy, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He obviously didn’t notice that she was wearing his sister’s clothes as he said, ‘I’m lookin’ for a little lad. Like me, only smaller and thinner. I hope he ain’t run off. Our master’s gonna thrash the both of us somethin’ terrible if ’e has.’

  ‘You mean Florrie. Don’t worry. She’s fine,’ Ava told him quickly.

  ‘You know Florrie?’ The boy looked at her suspiciously. ‘Wait a minute. Yer a girl too, ain’t yer?’

  Ava nodded. ‘Florrie and I . . . just met and had a . . . a little talk.’

  The boy frowned. ‘What sort o’ talk were that then?’

  ‘Oh . . . well . . . she was just telling me how your uncle sold you to that horrible chimney sweep,’ Ava replied, deciding it was probably safest not to say too much about their conversation.

  But even that mention of his family seemed to infuriate Tom, who stamped his foot on the ground in frustration. He started speaking very rapidly. ‘Don’t tell me she’s gone back to find our uncle’s house? I was afraid she’d try that when she knew we was workin’ in the next street. An’ she can’t miss the house on account o’ that big ugly lion statue at the gate. She keeps thinkin’ our father will go back there to find us one day, only I keep tellin’ her ’e must be dead ’iself or he’d have come back and fetched us in the first place like he promised.’ He shook his head angrily. ‘Now she’s goin’ to get us in a whole lot of trouble. What am I to do? The master’s sent me out to buy him some ale and ’e told me to check if Florrie was still waitin’ where he left her and to bring her back too. Now what am I gonna tell him?’

  As they stood there, neither of them noticed that the master sweep had appeared from the side pathway to the house and was now standing scowling in their direction. Suddenly he yelled at the top of his voice. ‘You get back ’ere this minute, you lazy little beggars – or I’ll thrash the both of you!’

  Tom looked panicky. ‘He thinks you’re Florrie,’ he said, ‘or Fred, as he calls her, tho’ I’m sure he must’ve cottoned on by this time that she’s a girl.’

  ‘Why don’t I come with you for now – just to buy Florrie some more time?’ Ava offered, thinking that, above all, she didn’t want any sort of commotion to ruin Florrie’s audition.

  Tom looked grateful. ‘What do they call you anyhow? Live round ’ere, do you?’

  Ava told him her name, thinking very fast before adding quickly, ‘I’m here with my father.’

  ‘Oh yeah. Do you work for ’im then? Is ’e a sweep too?’

  Ava didn’t answer as she followed Tom along the path that led round
the side of the house. The master sweep had already gone on ahead of them, clearly assuming they would follow. ‘Tom, won’t your master know I’m not Florrie as soon as we get close enough for him to have a proper look?’ she asked him, anxious about it suddenly.

  ‘There’s a good chance he won’t bother getting any closer to you than this. He’s been ranting on about how he can’t stand the sight o’ Florrie at the minute on account o’ ’er coming down the wrong chimney. If we’re lucky we might get you up the flue without him gettin’ a proper look at yer at all.’

  ‘Oh, but I couldn’t actually climb a chimney!’ Ava gasped.

  Tom gave her a strange look. ‘It’s a funny kind o’ chimney sweep who can’t climb a chimney!’ he declared.

  ‘I know, but . . . but you see, I’ve never been up one before!’ Ava said, flushing.

  Tom looked perplexed. ‘Are you kiddin’ me? I thought you jus’ said your father’s a sweep an’ you work for ’im?’

  ‘Yes, but . . . but . . .’ Ava began, trying to think how to talk her way out of this. ‘He hasn’t actually sent me up a chimney yet, you see . . . Or shown me how to do it. Is it . . . is it ever so difficult?’’

  Tom looked incredulous. ‘He’s left it a bit late to start you off, hasn’t he? You’ll be too big to be any use to ’im soon. An’ how comes you’re so sooty already if you haven’t even been up a flue?’

  Ava shrugged, not knowing what else she could say.

  Tom let out a loud sigh. ‘Well, don’t worry because it’s pretty easy once you get the knack. You jus’ push yer way up by pressin’ your knees and elbows against the sides of the flue, see. When yer shoulders and yer elbows are fixed firm, you shuffle yer legs up. Then, when yer legs are fixed, you shuffle your shoulders up. As you’re shuffling, you sweep most of the soot away and you only sometimes need to use a scraper for the hard stuff. But listen . . . you don’t want your first time up a flue to be with my master underneath you. You best forget it.’