Liza seldom went to school, her mother always had an excuse ready: one of the babies was ill and she had to keep Liza at home to help out or Liza had been having private lessons, any lie would do which could pacify the attendance man sent to find where she was. On the day Margaret was missing Liza’s mother had a job, so Liza was at home cooking the children’s lunch, for all eight had been kept at home while the fog lasted. When there was a knock on the door Liza sent one of the younger children to answer it.
‘Tell ’im we’ve ’ad measles, I’ll hide in the other room.’
Liza ran into the bedroom and pressed her ear to the door to hear a boy’s voice say, ‘Telegram for Miss Wigan.’
A telegram could come from only one place and that was The Dolphin. Liza dashed back into the kitchen and snatched the telegram from the boy and tore it open. It said: ‘COME AT ONCE TO THEATRE YOU WILL BE PLAYING TONIGHT. SMITH.’
Liza sent the eldest boy off to find his mother to tell her what had happened. Then, shutting all the other children in the kitchen, she went into the bedroom to change into her theatre-going clothes.
‘Here’s a turn-up,’ she thought. ‘What can have happened to Margaret? Right as a trivet she was last night.’ She put on the clean underclothes her mother always kept ready for an emergency. ‘Don’t want that la-di-da Ivy turning up her nose,’ she thought.
The fog was lifting slightly so Liza ran all the way to the theatre and burst through the stage door panting for breath.
‘Oh, Mr Todd, what’s wrong with Margaret?’
Instructions had been given that no one was to mention that Margaret was missing, the story put out was that she had a chill. Even if there had been no story put out, Bill Todd was not having any jumped-up understudy forgetting her place.
‘Good morning, Miss Wigan. Mr Gay is waiting for you on the stage. I believe Miss Thursday is confined to the house with a chill.’
Liza was not that easily snubbed. ‘You don’t believe anythin’ of the sort but I’ve got to go now. I’ll be back to hear the truth later.’
Edward Gay, the stage manager, was waiting for Liza. He knew her well because he took her understudy rehearsals.
‘Morning, Liza. This is just a run through for lines and, in your case, aitches. Don’t you dare drop an aitch tonight or Sir John will have me hanged, drawn and quartered.’
Liza grinned at him. ‘Don’t fret, I can talk like a lady when I want and you know it.’ Then she lowered her voice. ‘What’s really the matter with Margaret? And I don’t want to hear she’s got a chill, I’ve heard that one.’
‘That’s what they’ve told me and I’ve no reason to think it isn’t true, anyone could catch a chill this weather.’
Liza temporarily gave in. ‘All right. Are we starting at the beginning?’
‘Straight through, then later this afternoon you’re to run through your scenes with Sir John.’
Liza was right when she said she could talk properly when she had to. It was over-refined English. She was nowhere near as good an actress as Margaret but, once those who listened to her over-careful English were used to her, she had a perky charm.
The rehearsal over, Liza had hoped to find someone who would give her news of Margaret, but she was immediately sent to the wardrobe to have any alterations required made on the clothes.
It was while she was in the wardrobe that she noticed her inside was rumbling and she remembered it was lunchtime and she had no money to buy anything to eat. She could, she supposed, ask for a sub on her salary but she did not want to do that, it was her pride to take home every Friday her two pounds intact. It was a pity that Mrs Beamish was not around, she would have found her something to eat, but she would of course be at home looking after Margaret – or would she?
‘There, that’ll be all,’ said the wardrobe mistress. ‘If the coronation dress doesn’t fit it can do the other thing for none of us dares touch it.’
Out in the passage Liza stood undetermined. Her inside was rumbling more than ever. She thought longingly of that stew she had been cooking, mainly vegetables mostly picked up by the children in the market, but there was a few pennyworth of scrag ends of meat. Liza could almost smell it and it made her stomach turn over worse than ever.
There was the sound of clumping feet coming down the staircase and in a few seconds Miss Grey came into sight. No instructions had been given to her or to Katie that they were to keep the fact that Margaret had been kidnapped to themselves so, knowing Liza had been told that Margaret was threatened, she burst out at once:
‘Oh, Liza dear, isn’t it dreadful? The police are getting in touch with that Lord and Lady Corkberry where Lavinia worked before her grandfather found her. They feel they will know where the orphanage is.’
Liza was for once startled into silence. Then she asked: ‘How was she got at? Do they know it was that Matron?’
Miss Grey felt in some way she had blundered. ‘Oh dear, you didn’t know? I suppose I shouldn’t have told you.’ Then a new thought struck her. ‘So inconsiderate of me thinking only of Margaret, for I suppose you are going to act in her place tonight.’
Liza felt the need to hold on to someone for the floor seemed to be going round. She clutched at Miss Grey who, after a glance at her, led her to the stairs and sat her down.
‘I suppose you have been rehearsing all the morning and have had no lunch. Ours is just coming up, so you can have it with Katie and me. I shall be glad for someone to distract Katie, for she is in a terrible state of anxiety. Now, just wait there a moment and I’ll call Henry to help you up the stairs. Poor child, what a day for you with that long part to act and the worry over Margaret.’
A little more life seemed to creep into Liza. She raised her head and looked Miss Grey firmly in the eye.
‘I’m not worried about Margaret. She’s not one to scare easy. I bet she’ll give that Matron as good as she gets. You’ll see.’