VINCENT VON GREAZLE, A MEMBER OF THE Pringle Players from the beginning, was 50 years old. Now grey, grizzled and missing his front teeth, he was no longer able to play the Noble Hero unless the lights were exceptionally dim. Worrying about his future made him tetchy. From time to time, after a particularly heated argument, Pa Pringle threatened to dismiss him; but everyone knew this was unlikely to happen. He was too much part of the family: Charlie and Rosie called him Uncle Vinnie, even though he was no relation, and they were fond of him – he told them stories, and often slipped a penny into their pockets.

Returning with his wife after a brief family visit, Vinnie was astonished to find the company not only had a new name, but had determined on a New Beginning. He was peevish at first, but his wife – known to audiences as “Miss Gertrude Gracegirdle, the Canary of Covent Garden”, and to the Pringle family as “Gertie” – told him not to be silly.

“Really, Vinnie! Can’t you recognize an opportunity when you see one? A whole new audience! And travel, as well. Sounds more than splendid to me. I’m bored to death with London and singing in back rooms for half-nothing. If you don’t want to come you can stay right here, and I’ll go on my own.”

Vinnie, who was half his wife’s size, knew when to give in. “I was only saying, dear heart—”

“Well, don’t.” Gertie glared at him, then turned to Ma Pringle. “So, what’s going to happen to the horse? Going to sell her to the knacker’s yard?”

Rosie had just come in with Charlie. They had been singing to entertain the queues outside the music hall, and Charlie’s cap was full of farthings and halfpennies; but Rosie’s cheerful expression vanished as she heard what Gertie was saying. “No! That’s a horrible, horrible idea! We can’t ever sell darling Hetty!”

Gertie raised her eyebrows. “No good being sentimental, Rosie. The knacker’s yard pays good money for horse-meat, and money’s what’s needed right now.”

Aunt Mags folded her arms – she had been persuaded to take her flannel petticoats to the pawnbroker earlier in the day, and was feeling the cold. “It certainly is.”

“You’re cruel, both of you!” Rosie stamped her foot. “Hetty’s one of the family! You wouldn’t send me or Charlie or baby Joe to the knacker’s yard, would you?”

Seeing a storm blowing up, Ma handed the baby to Charlie and put her arm round Rosie’s shoulders. “Don’t you worry, my pet. It’s all sorted. I’m staying here with Sally-Ann and the little ones, and Mr Dobbs is going to keep Hetty and use her for his grocery deliveries. She’s not too old to pull a little cart full of carrots and apples, and it’ll help Mr Dobbs ever such a lot. What’s more, it’ll go towards paying what we owe.”

Rosie gave a gasp. Her face pale and her lip trembling, she stared at her mother. “Ma, you can’t stay here! What’ll we do without you? Pa – tell her! She’s got to come! She’s got to!”

“Now, now!” Ma hugged Rosie tighter. “You’re a big girl, Rosie. You and Charlie, you’re part of the company. And think about it! We don’t know what it’ll be like in the North, or where you’ll be staying. Could be snow and ice and howling winds for all we know – and Little Billy, he gets colds at the drop of a hat. No … Pa and I have talked it over, and it makes much more sense for me to wait here with the little ones. Think what a lot you’ll have to tell me when you get back!”

Rosie’s stomach felt hollow – as if she hadn’t eaten for a fortnight. “It’s the money, isn’t it?” she said. “There’s no money for your ticket!” She dug in her pocket, untwisted her hankie and pulled out a silver three-penny bit. “See? People even give us silver! We can all go, Ma … we really, really can!”

Ma gave Rosie one last squeeze before taking the bawling baby back. As she began to rock him to sleep, she said, “It’s no good fussing, pet. Pa’s going to try the North for a couple of months, and see how it goes. If it’s looking like the big success that I’m sure it will be, he’ll find lodgings for all of us – and then me and Sally-Ann and the little ones will come and join you.”

“But what if it isn’t a success, Ma?” Rosie asked. “Can we can come home then?”

Charlie had had enough. “You’re such a baby, Rosie. I say we leave you behind and take Sally-Ann instead.”

Sally-Ann bounced to her feet. “Take me! Take me, Charlie! I can be a norphan! I can sing! I can sing lots ’n’ LOTS of songs!”

“Really, Charlie!” Ma Pringle was not pleased. “I have enough trouble with Sally-Ann without you putting ideas into her head! Rosie’s going, and that’s that. Now, seeing as you’ve got that silver threepence, why don’t you run down the road and fetch us some meat-pies?”

The thought of pies cheered everyone, and the evening ended peacefully enough – but after Rosie and Charlie had gone to bed, and Vinnie had taken the Covent Garden Canary home to their lodgings, Pa, Ma and Aunt Mags talked late into the night.

“Be kind to Rosie, Mags,” Ma said. “Charlie’s tough, but Rosie – she’s up and down like the weather. And it’s likely to be longer than a couple of months. That’s right, isn’t it Pa?”

“Could well be,” Pa agreed. “No need to tell her, though.”

Aunt Mags sniffed. “It’s a hard life. She needs to get used to it.” Softening a little, she added, “But I’ll keep an eye on her.”