The Twinkling Tutu Page 9

  Florrie just stood staring at them, silently smiling. Finally she pointed up at the poster of the principal ballerina. ‘She must be making all this happen from up in heaven,’ she murmured shyly. ‘Our mother, I mean. An’ I’ve got a funny feelin’ about you, Miss Ava, like you’re an angel or something sent down to earth to help me and Tom.’

  ‘Well . . .’ Ava began, smiling, ‘I wouldn’t say I was an angel exactly, Florrie . . .’ And she couldn’t help wondering what Florrie would say if she told her where she really came from.

  If only mobile phones had been invented in Victorian times. Ava could have rung her dad and told him to come straight back. Instead they had to wait until six o’clock that evening before he and Tom finally returned, both looking thoroughly exhausted and downhearted after a fruitless day of searching.

  As soon as they heard what the others had discovered, however, they cheered up and Tom immediately began asking excited questions about the man who might hopefully turn out to be his father.

  ‘The manager couldn’t remember his name and I’m afraid he couldn’t tell me anything useful about his appearance either,’ Madame Varty answered apologetically. ‘Average height, average build, with an average sort of face was the description he gave!’

  Tom frowned at that. ‘Our father were skin an’ bone last time we saw him,’ he said. ‘He never seemed to eat a thing after we lost our ma. So I don’t think you could say he looked average exactly . . .’

  ‘Well, if he’s better now – and it sounds like he must be if he’s well enough to work – then he may have regained most of his weight,’ Madame Varty pointed out. ‘But you’re right, Tom. We can’t just assume that this man is your father. You and Florrie must meet him for yourselves, and since he apparently hardly ever misses a performance he’ll probably be there tonight. This evening’s show is sold out apart from two seats in the dress circle – which the manager has presented to me with his compliments – and a few cheap seats up in the gallery, one of which is right next to the seat this man has every night. So I asked for that one as well.’

  ‘You mean . . . ?’ Tom was looking at her a little uncertainly.

  ‘I mean that the three of us shall go to the theatre tonight and find out if this man is indeed your father. Florrie and I shall take the two seats in the dress circle and you, Tom, shall have the other.’ She glanced at the mantelpiece clock before adding, ‘But we shall have to hurry if we are to get there on time.’

  Her expression seemed a little strained as she spoke, and perhaps it was that which prompted Dad to say, ‘That sounds like an excellent idea, Madame Varty – but are you sure you feel well enough?’

  Madame Varty nodded. ‘Our seats in the dress circle are very good ones, where I believe I shall be reasonably comfortable,’ she told him. ‘And I do so love the ballet . . .’ She broke off as her eyes filled with tears.

  Ava looked at the beautiful ex-ballerina, wondering if it might be difficult for her to watch others dancing on stage now that she could no longer do so herself. But she had a feeling Madame Varty would think it quite inappropriate of her to ask such a question.

  ‘Now . . . I’m afraid we really must go and get ready,’ Madame Varty said, rising stiffly to her feet. ‘Come along, children. Violet is waiting upstairs to help you get dressed. I just hope the theatre won’t be too hot tonight. Sometimes it can be quite unbearable at this time of year.’

  ‘Dad, can we go to the theatre tonight as well?’ Ava suddenly asked. ‘We can use those tickets you left with Marietta!’

  Her dad pulled a face. ‘Ava, it’s already been a very tiring day and we’d need to go back and get changed all over again!’

  ‘I’m not tired!’ Ava protested. ‘And Marietta will help me get changed! Oh, please, Dad! If you don’t want to take me, then I bet Marietta will!’

  ‘You also have tickets for tonight’s performance?’ Madame Varty asked Ava’s father in surprise.

  ‘I believe my sister has a couple,’ he said, letting out a sigh as he looked at Ava’s eager expression. ‘She’d be more than willing to accompany Ava, I suppose. But, Ava, I’m still not sure that there’s enough time.’

  ‘I shall be taking my carriage to the theatre tonight,’ Madame Varty informed him. ‘I can ask the driver to call in for your sister and Ava on the way if it would help.’

  ‘Oh, no, thank you,’ Ava’s dad replied swiftly, giving Ava a meaningful look as he added, ‘We have our own transport, don’t we, Ava?’

  And Ava just about managed to keep a straight face as she thought about the magic mirror and agreed that they certainly did.

  Ava and Marietta stepped out of the furniture shop that evening to find a small horse-drawn carriage waiting outside with a ruddy-faced driver perched on the top. The shopkeeper had summoned it for them when they’d told him they were going to the theatre, and as Ava climbed aboard first, reaching out to pat the snorting white horse in its harness, she felt as if she was embarking on a wonderful adventure.

  Marietta had been only too pleased to accompany her, and despite the rush to get there on time, she had taken great pains to ensure that they were both dressed perfectly for their night out.

  For Ava, Marietta had found a beautiful mauve silk dress with an off-the-shoulder neckline trimmed with a wide lace collar. She had a matching sparkling necklace with a garnet centre, which caught the light whenever she moved. She felt very special. Marietta had also given her some much more comfortable shoes this time – simple flat ones made of gorgeous soft lilac leather. To complete her outfit she wore a pair of lace fingerless gloves and carried a silk drawstring wrist-purse, which had a purple and green beadwork peacock on the front.

  Marietta was looking especially radiant in a bronze-coloured floor-length evening gown made of shiny satin, which had bands of gold lace trim decorating its crinoline skirt. The bodice had a low neckline and short lace-edged sleeves and she wore a gold-coloured triangular shawl around her shoulders. Her thick copper-coloured hair, which she had braided at the sides and pinned into a roll at the back of her neck, was contained in a decorative hairnet edged with gold ribbon.

  As Ava and her aunt sat side by side in the carriage, looking out at the street ahead over the horse’s briskly bobbing head, Marietta pulled off one of her long silk gloves and reached inside her wrist-purse. She took out some coins ready to pay the driver, at the same time retrieving the theatre tickets and passing them across for Ava to look at.

  ‘See how today’s date has magically appeared on them,’ Marietta whispered. ‘Isn’t it amazing?’

  ‘Everything about the magic portals is amazing,’ Ava whispered back. ‘I can still hardly believe I’m really here!’

  Marietta smiled at her. ‘You’ll get used to it. Though I must say some things surprise me even now – like how the magic works on these tickets. They don’t even look old and yellow any more, do they? It’s just the same with these coins. They were antique-looking on the other side of the portal and now they look like they’re fresh from the mint.’

  Neither of them spoke about the party invitation Marietta had brought with her, for Ava had already seen Marietta glance at it and confirm that as yet it hadn’t undergone a similar transformation.

  It didn’t take very long for them to arrive at the theatre, where the carriage stopped in the middle of the street for them to disembark. All around them were carriages of different sizes drawing up or pulling away, and there was a great deal of noise and smell from all the horses. Their driver helped them down, politely accepting Marietta’s coins and wishing them a pleasant evening before climbing back on to his seat and driving off again. Everyone was in their best theatregoing attire, and the men looked very smart in their top hats, while the women rustled their silk skirts and fluttered their colourful fans. Ava could barely contain her excitement at it all.

  Marietta allowed Ava to lead the way as they entered the theatre foyer, which was such a lively bustle of activity that at first Ava was unable to spot
Madame Varty or the children. Then she saw them standing close to the door watching all the other theatregoers arrive. Tom and Florrie must be trying to spot their father as he came in, Ava thought. She led Marietta over to join them, and after the two women had been formally introduced they stood making polite conversation while Ava waited with the impatient siblings.

  They stayed where they were until it was time for the performance to begin, by which time Tom and Florrie had scanned the faces of every man who passed by, but to no avail.

  ‘P’raps he’s not comin’ tonight after all,’ Tom said shakily, and Florrie, who was holding her brother’s hand, looked like she was about to start crying.

  ‘There’s still a chance we may have missed him in the crowd,’ Madame Varty told them firmly. ‘In any case I think we should go and take our seats now. You will be all right up in the gallery on your own, won’t you, Tom?’ Madame Varty was looking quite tense herself, Ava thought, though whether that was to do with the lack of appearance of the children’s father, or more to do with her own feelings about being inside a theatre as a spectator rather than a dancer, Ava couldn’t tell.

  ‘Of course I will,’ Tom said, clutching his ticket. ‘An’ I’ll be sittin’ right next to him if ’e does turn up. That’s all I care about!’

  ‘We shall meet you back here at the interval then,’ Madame Varty told him, taking Florrie’s hand.

  ‘We’re in the stalls, aren’t we, Marietta?’ Ava said.

  Her aunt nodded, taking out their tickets to inspect them again as if she half expected the magic to have worn off since she had last looked. But they were admitted to the auditorium without question and an usher immediately directed them to their seats in the centre of one of the middle rows of the stalls.

  ‘So what do you think of it all?’ Marietta asked her as they looked around.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Ava replied in an awed voice, staring up at the majestic gold domed ceiling. The whole auditorium was extremely ornate, lavishly decorated in rich colours with fancy plasterwork everywhere and an impressive gold arch framing the stage.

  It was as she scanned the colourful and noisy audience that Ava noticed many of the ladies fanning themselves furiously – and she soon realized why.

  ‘It’s boiling in here!’ she whispered to Marietta. ‘And it’s so stuffy!’

  ‘I know – I think the air conditioning must have broken down,’ Marietta joked before pointing to the numerous gas-lamps which lit both the stage and the sides of the auditorium and adding more seriously, ‘All this gas-lighting eats up a lot of the oxygen, I’m afraid.’

  The mention of the gas-lamps reminded Ava of some of the things Tom had said when he told them how his and Florrie’s mother had died – and she wondered if they were thinking of their mother as they waited for the curtain to go up. She tipped back her head to look upward, longing to know how Tom was getting on up in the gallery. He would be in one of the highest, furthest-away seats, but Ava knew that he wouldn’t be nearly so interested in his view of the stage as in his view of the seat next to him. Had its occupant turned up yet – and if so, would it indeed prove to be Tom’s father?

  Ava sighed, knowing she would have to wait until the interval to find out. And as she wiped a bead of sweat from her brow she wished she wasn’t feeling so nervous – or so hot and sticky – as she waited with increasing impatience for the ballet to begin.

  12

  The first act turned out to be a wonderful spectacle, with the ballerinas flitting effortlessly across the stage in their floaty tutus, while the principal dancer, whose picture had so attracted Tom and Florrie by its resemblance to their mother, thrilled the audience with her amazing bounds and leaps.

  Ava could see that Marietta was enjoying the performance despite the uncomfortable heat and stuffiness, but Ava couldn’t help fidgeting and wishing for it to be over. Neither Marietta nor Ava had a fan, and Ava found herself thinking longingly of the little hand-held battery-operated one that her mother always carried around in her bag during the summer.

  At last the curtain dropped on the first act and they could leave their seats, though that turned out to be a long process as they had to wait for everyone else to move out first. When they finally reached the aisle, a lady just ahead of them suddenly fainted, and there was a huge kerfuffle while she was given smelling salts to revive her. Ava thought it was surprising that more people weren’t fainting in the airless atmosphere, and she noticed quite a few heading for the open theatre doors as soon as they reached the foyer.

  ‘Look!’ Ava exclaimed excitedly to Marietta. For over by the doors, close to where they had been standing before, she could see Tom and Florrie being embraced by a slim young dark-haired man who had tears streaming down his face. Madame Varty was standing a little further away, smiling.

  ‘Maybe we should wait for a minute before—’ Marietta began, but Ava had already left her side and rushed over to her friends.

  ‘Tom! Florrie!’ she called out in delight. ‘You found your father!’

  As Ava stood beaming at the little huddle Marietta went to join Madame Varty, and the two women spoke together in quiet voices for a minute or two. Then Madame Varty announced, ‘As my carriage is waiting outside I think we should all leave now rather than waiting until the end of the performance.’

  She led them to her carriage, which was much larger than the one in which Ava and her aunt had travelled to the theatre, and was drawn by not one but a pair of beautiful grey horses. It had two double seats facing each other, and Marietta and Madame Varty sat together on the forward-facing seat while Tom and Florrie’s father sat (looking dazed) on the reverse-facing seat with the three children.

  On the journey back Tom told how he had been too upset by his father’s lack of appearance to concentrate on the ballet, so had slipped out just before the end of the first act. Down in the foyer he had immediately spotted a familiar-looking man who was standing very still, gazing at the poster of the beautiful ballerina.

  ‘He got there late so he was waitin’ to take ’is seat after the interval, wasn’t you, Pa?’ Tom said, at which his father nodded silently in reply.

  ‘Did you recognize each other straight away?’ Ava wanted to know.

  Tom looked expectantly at his father, who swallowed and spoke shyly for the first time. ‘Not immediately,’ he admitted hoarsely as he twisted his head to look at Tom with a very soft expression in his eyes. ‘Tommy’s changed a lot, I must say.’

  ‘But I recognized ’im all right,’ Tom added quickly. ‘An’ it didn’t take you long to see that it was me under all these posh clothes, did it, Pa?’

  ‘Your clothes are not that posh, Tom!’ Madame Varty half smiled, half reprimanded.

  ‘They’re not?!’ Tom exclaimed, and he had such a look of shocked disbelief on his face that everyone in the carriage, including Madame Varty, started to laugh.

  Once they were all sitting comfortably in Madame Varty’s drawing room, sipping cups of tea and eating the dainty triangular sandwiches that Violet had prepared for them, Tom’s father explained where he had been for the last two years. He flushed with shame as he told how he had gone to the dreaded workhouse initially, where he had been forced to work hard despite being sick, and had suffered terribly from illness and malnutrition during the first few months. But miraculously his health had slowly improved until he had grown strong enough to leave and look for a job outside. Believing his children to be better off with their aunt and uncle, and feeling too disgraced by his recent experience at the workhouse to dare contact them, he had travelled out of London and found work as a carpenter repairing a church that had been partly destroyed in a fire. The vicar had been a kind man who had counselled him a great deal and helped him come to terms a little with his wife’s death. He had stayed there until the job was finished, receiving plenty of food, shelter at night in a nearby barn, and a small amount of money in exchange for his labour. When he had finally returned to London, feeling able at last to take
care of his children, he had heard the terrible news that they had run away. He had been devastated, blaming himself for not returning for them earlier – and he had been searching for them ever since.

  ‘We never did run away,’ Tom told him now. ‘We’ve been workin’ for a chimney sweep all this time.’ And he related the whole story to his father – who sat and listened with a stunned expression on his face.

  ‘Your uncle sold you to this sweep?’ he kept repeating when Tom had finished. ‘Why . . . I’ll . . . I’ll . . .’ His cheeks were reddening in anger now.

  ‘The children’s uncle – is he your brother?’ Madame Varty asked him quickly.

  Tom’s father shook his head. ‘My wife and his were sisters,’ he explained. ‘My wife was judged to have married beneath her and she was more or less cut off by her family afterwards. But I thought maybe my wife’s sister and her husband might take a shine to the children after she died, specially as they had none of their own. But obviously I was wrong.’

  ‘Well, I think you should stay well away from them from now on,’ Madame Varty told him briskly. ‘It certainly won’t help the children if you end up getting into a fight with their uncle, possibly being arrested. I think it best if you leave it to me to call on their aunt to make sure she knows that others are aware of what she and her husband did. We shall have to think very carefully about what else we do with the information – if anything.’ She glanced briefly at Florrie, who was leaning tiredly against Tom, absent-mindedly tugging at the lace hem of her dress. ‘Now . . . where is it that you reside at present?’ she asked their father.

  ‘I’ve just a small room in a lodging house at the moment, but I’ve got work now and I know where I can get more after this. The children will have enough to eat and a warm place to sleep at night, so you don’t have to worry about them no more,’ he assured her at once.