7

Aurora and Rose, the latter wheeling the daisy-sprigged green bicycle that they used in their act, ran off the stage together. The audience were still roaring their approval. The girls had been doing their bicycle act for almost six months now but the audience never seemed to tire of it, and Rose made sure that they kept on making little changes so it was never exactly the same and stayed fresh. Thomas had reminded her that if an audience liked an act enough, they didn’t seem to mind even if they had seen it over and over.

As the Rubber Rubies, a pair of contortionists, ran past the girls and on to the stage to do their routine, Aurora swept the boy’s cap from her head and her rusty brown hair tumbled down over her shoulders. She rubbed at her britches. The rough material was making her thighs itch in the heat from the gaslights.

“That’s a terrific little act you’ve got there,” said Inspector Cliff, stepping forward from the shadows and making Rory jump. Rose thought that the inspector was a bit like a cat, prowling around watchfully and suddenly appearing in places where you’d least expect him.

“We do our best,” said Rose cheerfully, peering out into the auditorium. She could see Lydia and Edward at a centre table near the front. They were gazing at each other rather than at the stage. She glanced at Rory. Her friend had said nothing about her father and Lydia’s blossoming relationship and Rose sensed that it was off-limits. She wondered if Rory realised quite how infatuated the pair were with each other even though they had only met just over a week ago.

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it,” said the inspector turning to Aurora, “the way the people watching know that you are a girl and yet believe you are a boy when you’re on stage.”

Rory nodded. “That’s the point. They enjoy the fact that they know. They don’t feel that they’re being deceived because they’re already one step ahead. It’s what makes it fun for them.”

“Have you ever seen Vesta Tilley perform, Inspector?” asked Rose. The inspector nodded. Vesta Tilley was the toast of the music halls, and had been dressing up as a boy and singing since she was very small. “Well,” said Rose, “when Vesta first began dressing up as boy, audiences thought that she really was a boy, and they didn’t like her act at all. It was only when she changed her name to Vesta, which is clearly a girl’s name, and began being introduced as Miss Vesta Tilley, so it was clear to audiences that she was a girl pretending to be a boy, that she found success.”

“Interesting,” said the inspector. “I suppose, in your world, people are always pretending to be somebody they’re not.”

Rory frowned. “Of course,” she said. “We’re all performing or acting when we’re out there.” She nodded towards the stage.

“Yes,” said the inspector. “I realise that. I was thinking more about when people are off stage rather than on stage. That they may pretend to be something they are not.”

Rory looked confused. “You mean you think I might only be pretending to be me?” Then she added indignantly, “I’m Edward’s daughter. It’s been proven beyond doubt. I’m not an imposter. Although…” The others looked at her expectantly. Rory blushed quite crimson and said, “…although when I was out with Edward and Lydia in Hyde Park this afternoon wearing all that finery I did feel like a complete fraud. I look at Lydia, and whatever people say about her, and that she might not have born to it, you can see that being a lady comes naturally to her.” Rory sighed heavily. “But me? I feel as if I’m just playing a part or conning people, and that they will see through my silk dress and bonnet and start pointing at me and saying, ‘She’s just a little guttersnipe who was dragged up by that blackmailing con-woman, Lizzie Gawkin, in the music halls.’”

Inspector Cliff bowed gallantly and took her hand. “Miss Aurora, if I may say so, I thought you were the one who looked every inch a lady when I saw you arrive at Campion’s earlier.”

“That’s kind of you to say, Inspector,” said Rory graciously. Then she grinned wickedly. “But those silk bonnets aren’t half itchy on a hot day like today.” All three of them laughed, and Rose felt relieved. Maybe she wasn’t losing Rory quite as quickly as she had thought.

“Inspector, Campion’s has always been full of people pretending they are something or somebody they’re not. After all, I’m not really Rose Campion. I’m just a baby who was abandoned here without even a name. But that’s one of the reasons I love Campion’s. It lets people be whoever they want to be. It can be a haven. And if they’re not quite who they say they are – well, often they have a good reason for it. They’re not trying to con anyone else out of anything – they’re just looking for a place where they can be safe and be themselves.”

“You love Campion’s very much, don’t you, Rose?” said the inspector quietly. Rose nodded vigorously. “You must have been very worried when Thomas’s investments failed and it looked as though he would lose Campion’s if he couldn’t raise a great deal of money very quickly.”

Rose was suddenly as alert as a rabbit sensing a fox. Maybe the inspector was less of the fool that the newspapers would have him be, and was actually being very clever hanging around Campion’s, always watching, and engaging people in conversation when they weren’t expecting it. She glared at him. “You don’t think that Thomas…You couldn’t possibly think…?!” She shook her head as if she had never heard such stupidity. “Thomas hasn’t got a crooked bone in all his body.” She drew herself up indignantly. “You’d do far better to look elsewhere, Inspector, and spend your time observing those who are quite obviously pretending to be something that they are not.”

The inspector followed her gaze out through the auditorium to the heaving bar, where the customers were four deep waiting for their drinks and Billy Proctor was looking very flustered. He gave a wry little smile.

“I think that you are very observant, Rose,” he said softly. But Rose had already turned on her heel and stalked away.