FRIDAY DAWNED, BRIGHT AND SUNNY; THE hens had laid and breakfast was a jolly affair. There was even butter to go with the bread – Aunt Mags had been out the day before, and set up an arrangement with the local grocer.

The curtains were pronounced dry and so were the company’s costumes: the only casualty was the dress Rosie wore as Cordelia. Hearing it had shrunk beyond recognition, Arabella offered to take her up to the attic. “You should see what’s up there,” she said. “Dresses belonging to Henry’s mother, grandmother and even his great-grandmother! They never threw anything away.”

“Quite right,” Aunt Mags said approvingly.

Rosie followed Arabella up the flights of stairs, and Edie came too for company. Rows of dresses were hung on dusty wooden racks, and there were more folded into large leather trunks or heaped on the floor under thick cotton dust-sheets. Rosie hadn’t been looking for long when she gave an excited squeak, and pounced on an old fashioned blue dress. “Can I wear this?”

“Blue’s your colour, dear.” Arabella surveyed the collection. “I don’t remember there being quite so many. It seems such a shame that they’re not being used.”

Edie was tenderly smoothing the skirt of a red velvet gown lying crumpled on the floor. “These must be worth a fortune, Ma’am. What about giving them to Miss Twillfit? She’s always making new dresses from old ones. She’d pay you for them, too.”

Arabella gave a little gasp. “Edie! Would she really? Will you ask her?”

“I’ll go today, Ma’am,” Edie promised, then hesitated. “What time is you doing the play, Rosie? I really, REALLY wants to see that.”

“About two o’clock, I think,” Rosie said. “Pa and Aunt Mags are taking the curtains to The Golden Lion this morning, and they’ll bring back a few props we need for a full dress rehearsal in the drawing room … if that’s all right with you, Mrs Poskett.”

Arabella nodded. “Of course, dear.” She bent down and picked up the gown Edie had been admiring. “Edie, when you go to see Miss Twillfit take this with you. I’ll give you a note explaining you have my permission, and suggesting perhaps she should come here to have a look for herself.”

In the drawing room, Vinnie, Charlie and Gertie were moving chairs into rows, as if they were expecting an audience. “It gives us the right atmosphere,” Rosie told Edie. “Lots of people stand to watch, but it’s nice if there’s chairs as well.”

Edie nodded, her face serious. “Can I sit on a seat?”

“You can sit in the front row.” Charlie grinned at her. “Did you know I play the fool? I keep the king company when he gets thrown out of his palace.”

“What do the others do?” Edie wanted to know.

“Pa is Lear, of course, and Rosie’s Cordelia. Gertie is Goneril, Aunt Mags is Regan and Vinnie is lots of different dukes … mostly Gloucester.” Charlie clutched his head and gave a realistic groan. “He has his eyes put out in the play, so he’s blind.”

Edie’s eyes widened. “That’s not nice. I don’t have to watch them doing it, do I?”

Charlie laughed. “Not in Pa’s version.”

“I’ll sit next to you when they don’t need me to play the piano,” Arabella said, “and we can be scared together.”

This pleased Edie, and she rewarded Arabella with one of her beaming smiles.

An hour later Edie was walking towards Miss Twillfit’s little shop with the red velvet dress in a bundle under her arm. She waved to Mr Tramways, who was standing outside his Post Office smoking his pipe in the sunshine, and gave a little skip of happiness as she thought how her life had changed. The Honourable Henry had done at least one good thing in his life, she decided; he had rescued her from the harshest of lives as a kitchen skivvy.

“I got friends, I got friends!” she sang, and she skipped again.

Miss Twillfit, at first decidedly chilly, became a different person after reading Arabella’s note. She read it twice, then took the dress and laid it out on her counter.

“Beautiful,” she sighed. “Absolutely beautiful. And there are more like this?”

Edie nodded. “Loads, miss. And all kinds of colours! Some are all lacy, and some are velvety with lots of bows, and some have got little tiny beads sewn all over them.”

“I will visit very soon,” Miss Twillfit declared, her cheeks pink with excitement. “Thank you, Edie!” She pulled out a drawer and chose four scarlet ribbons. “Here … a present for you. It’s not every day I have such wonderful news!”

“Thank you, miss! Thank you very, very much!” Edie was breathless. “But is it all right if I gives two to my friend Rosie?”

“They’re yours to do with as you wish,” Miss Twillfit said.

Edie, in a state of ecstasy, left the shop with a cheerful wave. Seeing Pa and Aunt Mags approaching she ran towards them … and stopped.

Shortly before his unfortunate demise, the Honourable Henry had invited a friend to visit him by air balloon. Edie had been enthralled by the arrival of the huge red and yellow globe; she had never seen anything quite as magnificently buoyant since, until she met Pa. But now he was like the balloon after the gas had escaped, leaving a sagging empty bag.

“What is it? What’s happened?” Edie chose to ask Aunt Mags, who was scarlet with rage – but still fiercely upright.

“Trashed,” Aunt Mags said tersely. “Everything’s gone. All our props, the scenery, the screens … everything. Someone got into the shed and destroyed every single thing in there.”

There was nothing Edie could say – she walked beside Aunt Mags silently, down the high street and in through the gates of Uncaster Hall.

Through the front door, down the hallway and into the drawing room they went, where Rosie, wearing the blue dress from the attic, spun round and round in front of them.

“Look, Pa! Look—” she saw their faces, and froze. “Pa! What is it?” And then, thinking of the worst possible thing that could ever happen, she asked in a trembling voice, “Has something happened to Ma?”

This terrible thought brought Pa back into the real world with a jolt. He managed a half-smile, and patted Rosie’s arm. “No, pet. Ma’s fine.”

It was Aunt Mags who told the assembled company about the destruction of all their theatrical possessions. “Everything’s covered in whitewash, too,” she said. “It was as if someone hated us so much they couldn’t make it bad enough by smashing and trashing everything – they had to pour paint on it as well.”

Arabella gave a gasp of horror. “But that’s a terrible thing to do!”

“George said someone must have climbed over the wall after everyone had gone home last night. He said nobody could have done it while the Lion was open … they’d have been seen or heard.” Aunt Mags sighed wearily as she sat down. “And he said we were nothing but trouble, and we weren’t welcome. So we haven’t got a venue any more, even if we could replace what we’ve lost.”

Charlie, who had been silently taking in the horror of the situation, came forward. “So what do we do now?”

“We’ll have to go home,” Rosie said, but Pa shook his head.

“No money for tickets, pet. We’re sunk.” He looked at Arabella, his large round face white and strained. “I’m so sorry, Ma’am. We won’t be able to pay you. We’ll move out at the end of the week.”

Rosie stared at him. “But where will we go if we can’t go home? Pa?”

“Hush, pet,” Pa said, and he put his arm round her.

“Couldn’t we stay here?” Rosie was trembling as she turned to Arabella. “Just for a little while?”

Arabella had tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. Unless Aunt Jocasta helps us – and I’m afraid I don’t think it’s very likely – Uncaster Hall won’t be mine much longer. But while it is, of course you are all most welcome to remain.”

There was a lengthy silence, before Vinnie said, “Sounds as if we’ve all been rowing in leaking boats … and now we’re sinking.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “Watch out for sharks. They’ll be swirling round any minute now, you mark my words.”

“Be quiet, Vinnie!” Gertie was shocked. She pulled a shilling out of her pocket and handed it to Pa. “Here’s what that old skinflint at the Supper Rooms gave me. It’s not much, I know – but it’s better than nothing.”

Pa took a deep breath. “Thank you, Gertie.” He breathed again, and a little colour came back to his face. “You remind me that we are a group with talent, with skills, with flair. We may yet be able to survive this tragedy—”

“It’s no good, Fred.” Vinnie was hunched over, the picture of defeated misery. “We’re done for.”

“NO!” Edie stamped her foot; her eyes were sparking. “You ain’t done for ’til you’re dead! That’s what my gran told me – and my gran, she was ALWAYS right!” She pointed to the chairs, and the empty space that was the stage area. “Why can’t you do the play here? It’s all got ready!”

Vinnie sighed. “It’s not that easy, Edie. We need to get a paying audience, you see—”

“I knows that!” Edie stamped her foot again. “I ain’t silly! But you can get one if you try! Them posters – change them! March up and down the street! And that Jago, he didn’t get your costumes, did he? They was here … so wear them! Uncaster folk, they’ve been dying to see what’s what in this place for years and years, nosy blighters that they are. They’ll come. Stake my life, they will!”

“And so they will!” Pa roared. He was visibly swelling back to his normal circumference, and his eyes were shining like stars. “We are saved … saved by the wisdom of our precious Edie—”

“Just a minute, Fred.” Aunt Mags was on her feet. She was smiling, but cautiously. “Isn’t there something you and Edie are forgetting? This is Uncaster Hall and it belongs to Mrs Poskett. We can’t just take over.”

“But you can!” Arabella clasped Aunt Mags’ hands. “I beg of you, please do!” A shadow crossed her face. “It may only be for a few days – Mr Sleevery is pressing me for my decision – but it would give me such pleasure if I could help you.”

“Then we are agreed.” Pa swept her a low bow. “And we will forever remain in your debt, dear lady.”

Aunt Mags nodded. “Fred’s spoken for us all. Thank you.”

Vinnie was stroking his chin: always a sign he was thinking. “Gertie … when you’re at the Supper Rooms tonight, you must tell everyone there’s a performance here tomorrow. If Mrs Moore doesn’t like it, it won’t matter. We won’t be around to bother her much longer.”

Gertie chuckled. “That’ll upset the child magician no end!” She glanced at Charlie. “Forgot to tell you … Jago was helping him last night, instead of his mother. That should stop him from hanging around in the street.”

Charlie laughed. “I’ll be all right as long as I’ve got Edie to protect me.” He turned to grin at Edie, only to find she wasn’t there. By the time he reached the front door to look for her, Edie was out of sight, running up the high street as fast as she could go.