Dilly Court - Ragged Rose

‘I don’t see how that helps.’

‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if she were to invite our parents to stay for a while? A little holiday for them both.’

‘Rose, you are so devious.’

‘You don’t think it’s a good idea?’

‘No – I think it’s a marvellous idea. With our parents away we can work at Fancello’s without fear of being found out.’

‘And Mama will get well again.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Cora said hastily. ‘That goes without saying.’

‘You’re late,’ Fancello said crossly. ‘This is not a day of rest for you, young ladies.’

Rose bit back a sharp retort. She would have liked to spend the evening quietly at home, sitting by the fire in the parlour with a good book, or attending to the heap of mending that awaited her attention. Instead she and Cora had braved the cold and rain to walk to Cupid’s Court, only to be greeted by a scolding from their employer.

‘We are so sorry, signor,’ Cora said apologetically. ‘It won’t happen again.’

‘It had better not.’ Fancello looked them up and down, shaking his head. ‘You look like two drowned sparrows. Go and change at once. Make yourselves look beautiful for the patrons.’

‘Yes, signor.’ Rose drew back the curtain just far enough to get a view of the saloon. ‘It’s very quiet out there. Is it always like this on Sunday nights?’

Fancello bridled visibly. ‘More will arrive soon.’ He stomped off in answer to an urgent summons from his wife.

‘Don’t take any notice of him, Rose,’ Cora said, slipping her arm around her sister’s shoulders. ‘I suspect that he’s had a row with Graziella, and he was taking it out on us.’

‘You’re right. I’ll just think of the money we’re adding to the amount in Aunt Polly’s strong box, and ignore his bad temper.’

Cora peered through the gap between the heavy velvet curtains. ‘Gerard isn’t there. I wonder if he’ll come tonight.’

‘I know I’ve said it before, but be careful, Cora. He might have a wife and children waiting for him at home, or at the very least a fiancée. Men like the Honourable Gerard Barclay don’t marry girls like us.’

‘That is so mean,’ Cora whispered. ‘You don’t know him, Rose. He’s a gentleman and he wouldn’t lead me on. I know he wouldn’t.’ Cora hurried off in the direction of the dressing room.

‘I hope you’re right,’ Rose said in a whisper, but Cora was already out of earshot. Rose caught up with her as Cora squeezed into the tiny dressing room. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

Cora sniffed and turned away. ‘I know what you think. You don’t have to keep telling me, Rose. I’m not a child.’

‘I’m sorry. I care about you, Corrie. I don’t want you to end up broken-hearted.’

‘I’ll take that chance.’ Cora stepped out of her dress and slipped her costume over her head.

Rose was about to close the door when she heard the sound of shouting from the upstairs apartment and the sound of breaking glass. ‘Another family squabble,’ she said, chuckling. ‘Thank goodness we don’t throw things when we get cross.’

‘Their fights used to worry me, but I’m getting used to them.’ Cora turned her head. ‘Will you tie my laces, please, Rose? As tight as possible.’

Another loud crash from above made them both jump, and then there was silence. Rose did as Cora asked and then concentrated on getting herself ready.

She was just adding the finishing touches to her stage make-up when Tommy stuck his head round the door. ‘You’re wanted upstairs, Miss Perkins.’

She stared at him in astonishment. ‘Upstairs?’

‘The signora is in hysterics. The signor wants you.’

‘Shall I come with you?’ Cora asked anxiously.

‘I’ll be all right. I expect it’s something and nothing.’ Rose stepped into the corridor. She could hear Fancello’s raised voice, and, as she climbed the narrow stairs, the sound of Graziella’s hysterical sobs grew louder. The door to the Fancellos’ flat was ajar and she pushed it open.

The sight that met her eyes made her gasp with shock and her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, my goodness.’

‘Don’t you dare breathe a word of this to anyone.’ Fancello grabbed Rose by the arm, dragged her inside and slammed the door.

The sight that met her eyes was so shocking that she could only stand and stare.

‘What are you gawping at?’ Clementia was naked except for a small towel tied around her waist, and then she braced her shoulders exposing a flat chest covered with a soft, downy fuzz of hair.

Graziella had been cowering on the sofa, but her child’s words seemed to galvanise her into action and she sprang to her feet, throwing her shawl around Clementia’s shoulders. ‘You have killed me, my son,’ she cried. ‘You have stuck a knife into your mamma ’s heart.’

‘Y-you’re a boy.’ Rose felt the blood rush to her cheeks and she hastily averted her gaze.

Fancello clenched his fists. ‘You are a wicked boy, Clementino.’

‘I don’t understand.’ Rose looked from one to the other. ‘Why have you made your son pretend to be a girl?’

‘Are you mad?’ Fancello demanded angrily. ‘The patrons would not pay to hear a choirboy sing. They want to see pretty girls on stage.’

‘But I am not a girl,’ Clementino protested. ‘I never wanted to be a girl. You have turned me into a freak.’

‘You are an ungrateful child,’ Graziella stormed, clutching her hands to her breast. ‘Haven’t we given you everything?’

Rose looked Clementino in the eye and experienced a sudden surge of sympathy. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t you want to perform any more?’

‘Don’t put ideas into his head.’ Fancello glowered at her. ‘He is our little star.’

‘I’m not your little star,’ Clementino’s voice deepened. ‘You hear this? I can no longer be a girl. I am a man now.’

‘You are not yet fourteen.’ Graziella held her hands out to him. ‘You are my baby still.’

‘I am growing up, Mamma.’ Clementino dropped the shawl to the ground, flexing his biceps. ‘You cannot force me to wear a dress and sing like a girl.’ He fingered his chin. ‘I have to shave twice a day. Do you want to put me in the circus as a bearded lady?’

Rose picked up the shawl and laid it on the arm of the sofa. ‘You must listen to him, signor. Can’t you see how unhappy he is?’

Fancello turned on her. ‘I didn’t send for you so that you could give me a lecture. I want you to persuade this bad son to honour his parents and do as we say. He might listen to you because he will not listen to his mamma or me.’

‘Clementino is right,’ Rose said slowly. ‘You are making a show of him and it isn’t fair. He just wants to be himself.’

Clementino pointed a shaking finger at Rose. ‘She speaks the truth. She understands me, but you don’t. I will kill myself if you make me go on that stage tonight.’ He reached for a bottle of gin and held it to his lips.

‘No!’ Graziella leaped to her feet and snatched it from him. ‘What will we do, Alessandro?’

‘I am ruined.’ Fancello subsided onto a chair. ‘Ruined by an ungrateful child. The show will close tonight. I cannot go on.’

Clementino threw back his head and laughed. ‘It is a punishment for the way you have forced me to live these past five years, wearing dresses and bows in my hair. I will do it no longer.’

‘Where will we find another act to compare with our dear child?’ Graziella moaned.

‘Where will you find someone who works for next to nothing?’ Clementino reached for a shirt and slipped it on. ‘I intend to go home to Naples where I hope to join the opera buffa, and train to be a basso buffo. You have used me long enough.’