‘Go,’ Father said and raised his head. Only then did he look at me properly. ‘Don’t worry. We will go through everything for tomorrow when we get there.’
I ran inside and could see the glow of a candle from the drawing room. Mother was up, sitting in her armchair, looking at the volumes in her bookcase. I thought it a most beautiful pose: her face in profile, lit softly by the candle, her fine chin tilted upward, tightening the muscles of the neck, her kind hands crossed upon her lap. I wished to commit this pose to memory forever but she turned slowly and her red, swollen eyes extinguished any sense of beauty.
‘Come here, child,’ she said. I ran to her and threw myself at her feet, my head buried in her lap. I felt her hands upon the back of my head, stroking my hair.
‘I don’t want to go,’ I said.
‘You must,’ she said. ‘Think of all the work you have done.’
‘But what will happen? When will I return?’
She continued stroking my hair.
‘When will I see you again?’
‘I will come to you if you do not come to me,’ she said.
‘Oh Mother.’ I wrapped my arms around her waist. I could sense Eugen standing behind me, watching.
‘Keep an eye out for me in the crowd,’ she said. ‘Both of you.’
‘Come on,’ Eugen said. ‘You will want to pack your diary at least.’
‘Will I have time to write?’ I asked. I was in a panic. Things I had been told before, hundreds of times, had slipped from my mind. ‘Will I have time to read?’
‘Go and pack a few clothes,’ she said. ‘I have a book in mind for you to take.’ She stood and ran her fingers slowly, lovingly, over the spines.
Eugen guided me to our bedroom. He was so calm.
‘Don’t you care for her?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘This is how it was always going to be. There’s no point getting upset.’
I knew he was right. But it seemed to be happening so suddenly.
‘What about the piano?’ I asked. ‘Oh Eugen, how will you survive without your music?’
‘It’ll be all right,’ he said, touching my shoulder.
Back in the drawing room, Mother handed me a book with a faded red cover. ‘I’ve been saving this book for you, for this very moment. Look after it, Avis.’
We embraced for a long time. I could feel Eugen just behind me. Mother reached out her hand and rubbed his cheek.
Outside, Father had a covered wagon hitched to Emily and Charlotte, Father’s two horses (though the names were Mother’s doing). He asked Eugen to help him lift our wooden pedestals into the wagon. Mother stood beside me, clutching my hand.
‘All right,’ Father said, ‘in you get.’
‘Good luck,’ she said brightly, though I could see the strain on her face.
Eugen helped me into the wagon. There were several hay bales arranged around the sides. Father threw a blanket to Eugen. ‘Both of you lie down and put this over you. You mustn’t be seen.’
We did as instructed and waited.
‘Right,’ I heard Father say, eventually. ‘We’ll be off then.’
We were rocked side to side as Emily and Charlotte led us down the drive. This was to be the first time Eugen and I had ventured beyond our front gate. I expected us to pause for Father to open it, but we soon lurched to the right, meaning the gate must have been left open and we were now on the road.
‘So this is the wide world,’ Eugen whispered, mischievously, for we knew we mustn’t talk. His hand felt for mine and found it. He gave it a squeeze.
We were jostled left and right as the wagon made its way into town. I tried counting the turns but after a short time beneath the blanket I lost all sense of direction and my head filled with other thoughts. Eventually we came to a stop. Eugen and I lay perfectly still, the blanket over our heads, waiting for Father’s instructions. I felt the wagon dip as he stepped up and leant over us.
‘Quickly now,’ he said, pulling the blanket off in one quick tug. ‘Inside.’
By the light of his candle I could see that the wagon had been backed up against a large double doorway. Father hopped down and held out his hand. ‘Duck your head,’ he whispered.
Eugen followed without Father’s assistance.
Father led us along a dark corridor and into a large cavernous space that smelt of perfume, though different from Mother’s. It was much stronger and seemed to assault me from every direction. The light of Father’s candle did not reach the ceiling, but as we made our way deeper into this space, past racks and racks of clothes and hats and gloves, I decided it must be a giant wardrobe. Perhaps we would have the choice of all of these items for our costumes? The thought delighted me.
We came to what I assumed was the back of the giant wardrobe. Father felt around for a keyhole and having found it, he opened the door.
‘In here,’ he said.
Eugen entered first and I followed. For a moment it was pitch black until Father came in and the room was suddenly illuminated with bright electric light that made us all rub our eyes.
Father blew out his candle and laid it on a small dresser. I can accurately describe what I saw when I looked around the small room as this is where I reside at this minute. The room is narrow (Eugen has measured it with his feet and says it is fifteen by six, though I am not sure how his feet correspond with the imperial measurement) and it was quite a squeeze with the three of us inside. There was a second door to our left, which was closed. Two stretcher beds were stacked one on top of the other against the far wall, with a pile of blankets and two pillows on them. A small wooden stool stood alongside. In another corner there was a chamber pot, a wash basin and two jugs of water. Apart from the dresser by the first door, which I have already mentioned, and the single electric bulb that dangled from a brown cord in the centre of the room, that was all in the way of furnishing. The Spartan appearance was lessened only by the posters of Mr Sandow on the cream walls.
‘Through there,’ Eugen said, pointing at the second door, ‘is that the window?’
Father nodded. He went over and unlocked it.
‘This door should always remain locked when I am not here,’ he said before opening the door to reveal a heavy black curtain. ‘We can’t turn the lights on in there now. We don’t want to attract any attention. You never know who might be around, even at this hour. Eugen, come and help me with the pedestals.’
‘Can I go through?’ I asked.
‘You can but don’t touch anything.’
They left me alone and I approached the black curtain slowly. I held out my hand to part it, but I could not find an edge. I had to step forward into the curtain and slide along the wall until I found where it ended and I emerged into another space, dark and silent. I felt around behind me and lifted the curtain to let in the light from the bulb in the first room. Three walls were draped in black and the fourth was covered by a different sort of curtain lined with yellow silk. Just now, as I looked up from writing this, sitting cross-legged on my stretcher bed in the first room, I noticed a winch in the corner which must raise the curtain at the beginning of our performance.
‘Pull this thing right back,’ Father said as he backed through the black curtain, holding one side of my pedestal. They carried it to the far wall and placed it down. Father drew back the curtain nearest him to reveal a small storage space and they pushed the pedestal inside this recess. Eugen placed his hands on his hips and inspected the space. He shrugged and followed Father out