Maisie struggled out of bed the next morning at her usual time to do her cleaning, but Gran sent her straight back again. “You can do your housework later on,” she said firmly. “You need rest. You’re already earning your keep, Maisie. I might not like the thought of you at that theatre, but I can’t deny they’re paying you well. And it was nice of Miss Sarah to send you home in a cab. Considerate.”
Maisie went back to bed with Eddie curled luxuriously on her feet, but she found it hard to sleep, even though she was tired. She was worrying about the necklace – and how she could work out who it was playing the mean tricks at the theatre. Perhaps she could set some sort of trap to see if she could catch one of the girls in the act?
Miss Sarah didn’t quite believe in the curse any more, so the pranks weren’t scaring her in the same way, but they were still dangerous. Poor Lucy was still laid up at home. Miss Sarah had said that she was going to visit her today, and take her some nice food.
Maisie yawned and turned over, squeezing her eyes tight shut. She had to sleep – she was still weary after her second late night, and she had to do it all over again later on. As she fell asleep, sparkling emeralds seemed to dance in front of her eyes, just as she imagined the chorus girls did at the theatre.
Later that afternoon, Maisie set off for the Dauntry Theatre, with Eddie trotting happily beside her. She was glad to be taking the little dog with her – she had missed him, even with all the excitement of the theatre. But she walked a little slower as she came up the alley to the stage door, hoping that she wouldn’t get shouted at by the doorkeeper for trying to bring a dog inside.
Mr Jones the doorkeeper did peer out of his little booth in surprise, but he seemed to like dogs, and he smiled down at Eddie. “He’s a fine little lad, isn’t he.”
“He’s very good at catching mice,” Maisie explained. (It was quite true. Eddie lined them up outside the back door and dragged Maisie out to admire his haul every so often. It annoyed him that she cleared them away.) “Miss Sarah said there were a lot of mice around, so I offered to bring him.”
“Good idea,” nodded Mr Jones. “Send him down this way, Maisie – the little blighters are always after my sandwiches.”
Maisie hurried in, hoping that Sarah would approve of her idea, too. It helped that, by pure luck, Eddie happened to dive under the costume rack that was still standing in the passage and came out with a limp, furry little mouse in his jaws, just as Sarah hurried down the passage.
“Oh! Is he yours, Maisie? He’s so sweet. What a clever little dog!”
“Yes, Miss. I thought he’d be a help with the mice.” Maisie leaned over and added, in a whisper, “And he can guard the dressing room, Miss, if we need him to.”
“Yes, of course! That would be good. Mr Lorenzo – he plans the dances, you see – he’s made a change in one of the scenes. So now I’ll need you in the wings to help me take off that awful hat as well, and give me the parasol for the Sunny Days number.” Sarah smiled. “It’ll mean you can watch some of the show, Maisie. Would you like that?”
Maisie beamed at her. So far, all she knew about the show was that it was set around a circus and that lots of the musical numbers involved juggling, and even a high-wire that was stretched across the back of the stage. She would love to see what all the backstage work was actually for.
She waited eagerly for the second half of the show, when Sarah would need her to be on the side of the stage. As they left the dressing room at the end of the interval, Maisie settled Eddie on an old blanket in the corner of the room and they hurried away.
Maisie hadn’t known what to expect of the theatre – she had peeped in at the rows and rows of dusty-looking velvet seats and been rather disappointed. It was almost shabby. But now, watching from the wings as the chorus rushed on for the big dance number that opened the second act, Maisie found it hard to catch her breath. The stage glittered with light and there were pale watching faces stretching away into the darkness for miles. Here and there the stage lights picked out a gilded statue at the side of one of the boxes. It was like a palace. Or as close as Maisie had ever been to one.
It was wonderful to feel that she belonged here, just a little – more than the people out on the other side of the lights did, anyway. She watched delightedly as the dancers milled across the stage in delicate, shifting patterns, with Sarah twirling in the midst of all of them. Maisie had never seen her dance before, of course, but to her, Sarah seemed perfect. Surely no one could think she wasn’t up to the part any more.
There was a huge surging wave of applause and even cheers as Sarah ran off hand in hand with Mr Edward Hart, who played her suitor. He smiled at Sarah approvingly as Maisie started to unpin her hat.
“Good show tonight,” he said, nodding, and Sarah stared at him for a second in surprise, and then smiled.
“You’re bringing me luck, Maisie,” she whispered, as he strode away. “He never says anything nice normally.”
Sarah had to be on stage again in minutes, with her hair loose, and a frilled parasol to twirl in the dance. Maisie was looking forward to this bit. Sarah had described it to her – how she had to walk about the stage as if she was in a daze, while the circus performers rehearsed around her. She had to walk in an exact pattern, she’d explained, or the jugglers would hit her.
Maisie watched, holding her breath, as the balls flew backwards and forwards, arching over Sarah’s head as she went on dreamily twirling her parasol. It was very pretty, and funny, too, and she could hear the audience laughing.
They laughed even more when a small white and brown dog appeared at the edge of the stage, athletically leaping up to catch one of the balls in his teeth. It looked just like part of the act, but it wasn’t…
“Eddie!” Maisie gulped from the wings, and she tried to beckon her dog off the stage. But she couldn’t call him, of course, and he didn’t pay any attention. He just sat there with the ball between his paws, looking pleased with himself and letting everyone dance around him.
“I’ll be sacked,” Maisie muttered to herself miserably. “I will be, for sure. Oh, Eddie, come here!”
Perhaps it was because she was crouching down, trying to call Eddie back, but Maisie was the only one who saw what happened next. It was so quick that she almost didn’t see it at all. It was just the tiniest glimpse as Sarah whirled past the little cluster of chorus girls who were pretending to sew sequins on to circus costumes. Just the smallest sighting of pink ballet slipper, as one of the girls stuck her foot out. It could almost have been an accident, but as she saw Sarah trip, and hop, and twirl her way cleverly back into the proper steps, Maisie was almost certain that it had been done on purpose. Not only that, but she’d seen who the pink ballet slipper belonged to. It was Arabella!
Arabella, Sarah’s friend, had deliberately tried to trip her up!
“But she’s so nice,” Maisie said, shaking her head as she sat with her friend, Alice, back at Albion Street the next day. “She’s the only one who is. Some of the others mutter horrible things about Miss Sarah behind her back, but Arabella stuck up for her. She told me off, when I was trying to stir up gossip! It can’t be her. She was the one who came to tell Sarah about the posters, she was worried about her.” Maisie frowned. “I must have imagined it. Perhaps Sarah tripped after all.”
“Sometimes people aren’t always what they seem, Maisie,” said Alice, as she glanced carefully through the banisters to make sure no one was coming.
Maisie was supposed to be sweeping the landing and Alice had escaped from her French conversation lesson with Madame Lorimer. The French lady had a terrible habit of falling asleep in the afternoons, which Alice and Maisie found very useful.
“Just keep an eye out for Miss Sidebotham,” Alice murmured. “It would be so like her to come back and fetch me early, just when we’re getting to the interesting bit. I wish I was too old for a governess.”
“It really can’t have been Arabella. She’s too sweet to do something like that – but then again, I did see it…” Maisie nibbled her thumbnail anxiously.
Alice rolled her eyes. “Maisie, for goodness’ sake! Arabella’s an actress! And she must be a good one, if they’re thinking of giving her Sarah Massey’s role. Just because she looks sweet and sounds sweet, it certainly doesn’t mean she really is!”
Maisie stared at her. “I never thought of it like that,” she admitted. “So … you think it could be an act?”
“Of course it could be!” Alice said triumphantly. “And she didn’t have to tell Miss Sarah about the posters, did she? They could have been cleaned up and Miss Sarah would never have known.”
Maisie nodded, thinking it through. “Maybe she was throwing people off the scent by being so nice about Miss Sarah… Perhaps it’s been her all along,” she murmured. “All the horrible tricks.”
“You’d better keep an eye on that Arabella,” Alice agreed. “So what happened about Eddie? Did you get into trouble for bringing him?”
Maisie shook her head. “I thought I would. I was sure they’d get rid of me. But Miss Sarah told the theatre manager that we’d definitely shut the dressing-room door, and that the only way he could have got out was if someone had gone in there, which is true. And no one should have done, of course. So then everybody started fussing about who it was who went in, and they forgot about Eddie going on stage.” She giggled. “Except that Mr Lorenzo asked me if I thought he could be trained to do it again. I said he could try, but Eddie isn’t very good at doing things when you want him to. And now he has to be tied up if we leave him in the dressing room, poor Eddie. Still, it’s better than leaving him here to annoy Gran.”
“Ssshhh! That’s Miss Sidebotham. Goodbye, Maisie! I wish I had French more often. Do you think you’ll have solved it by next week?” Alice slipped back into Madame Lorimer’s room, waving to Maisie.
Now that Alice had given her the idea, Maisie did her best to watch Arabella as much as she could. But it seemed that she was a much better actress than anyone had suspected. She was always, always nice.
So nice that it was quite suspicious, actually, Maisie decided, after a couple more evenings watching her at the theatre. Surely nobody could be so sweet-natured absolutely all the time?
Maisie watched Arabella thoughtfully as she gossiped to Sarah in the dressing room. She did seem to know an awful lot of stories about smart society people – perhaps she had recognized plain old Timmy as Lord Tarquin Fane.
Maisie was tidying Miss Sarah’s make-up, checking it as carefully as she could. Only last night, she had put away all the sticks of greasepaint, and felt something scratch her fingers. It had taken her ages to work out what it was, and then she had felt sick with disgust. Someone had pushed a hat pin up under the foil cover of the greasepaint stick, so that as it wore down, Sarah would eventually draw a great scratch down her face. It made Maisie even more determined to find out who was playing these horrible tricks. Maisie didn’t quite know what she would do when she found out who it was, but she was considering punching them on the nose.
Could it really be Arabella? Maisie would need proof.
Maisie drifted closer to Sarah and Arabella, with the open jar of face powder in her hand (Sarah had sent her out to buy a new jar, after they had discovered the itching powder). As Arabella waved her hand to demonstrate just how ridiculously large a hat the lady in the front row had worn the night before, Maisie squeaked and tipped the powder all down Arabella’s dress.
“Oh! You stupid little brat!” Arabella screamed, aiming a slap at Maisie. Maisie dodged so she mostly missed her. Then she ran to the corner and pretended to cry.
Arabella snarled something furious and began to dust frantically at the dress – it was a beautiful navy-blue velvet, and it was going to be a beast to clean. But Maisie didn’t feel all that sorry.
“Arabella, it wasn’t Maisie’s fault, you knocked the powder!” Sarah said, looking surprised.
“Oh…” Arabella seemed to suddenly remember her sweetness. “Sorry, Maisie. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. This is my favourite dress, that’s all. But it really doesn’t matter,” she added, smiling, but with gritted teeth.
Maisie sniffed and smiled back, but she had to bite her lip to stop herself laughing. So Arabella wasn’t so nice after all. Maisie was beginning to think she would really rather enjoy proving her guilty.