Journey to the River Sea

‘What we must know,’ squeaked Mr Low. ‘He is to be brought back to Westwood without delay.’

The professor blinked at him.

‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible,’ he said.

‘Why is that?’

‘Because Bernard Taverner didn’t have a son,’ said the Professor. ‘And now if you’ll excuse me ...’

‘I’m glad,’ said Maia, as they left the museum. ‘I’m glad he hasn’t got a son. I don’t know what West-wood is, but it sounds horrid. I suppose it’s a prison, like Wormwood Scrubs or Pentonville?’

And Miss Minton said, ‘Yes.’

They were to meet the Carters at the theatre box office at four o’clock. As they crossed the square with its tall brass lamps and flowering trees, Maia was more and more awed.

‘Imagine Clovis acting there ...’ she said. ‘It’s a really famous place, isn’t it?’

Miss Minton nodded. ‘Caruso sang there,’ she said. ‘And Sarah Bernhardt came to act; she was seventy years old, but she played Napoleon’s young son and she was a sensation!’

‘Goodness!’ Maia was impressed. If a woman of seventy could act Napoleon’s son, then surely Clovis could manage Little Lord Fauntleroy. ‘I’m really looking forward to seeing him again,’ she said. ‘It’s only a week now before they come.’

The twins and their mother were waiting.

‘We’ve got our tickets,’ said Beatrice. ‘We’re going to Little Lord Fauntleroy on Monday afternoon, and on Saturday we’re going to see Twelfth Night. That will be boring because it’s Shakespeare. But Little Lord Fauntleroy will be good.’

‘Yes it is. We saw Clovis rehearsing. He was splendid.’

The twins stared at Maia. ‘Oh, you aren’t going! We got the tickets weeks ago, before we knew you were coming. They’re all sold out, aren’t they, Mummy?’

Mrs Carter nodded absently. She was sending the doorman out for a cab.

‘I promised Clovis I would be there,’ said Maia, fighting off tears. ‘I promised.’

‘He’ll have forgotten,’ said Gwendolyn. ‘Actors don’t remember people. He’ll have forgotten that he ever met you.’

And they followed their mother to the waiting cab.

The twins were wrong about Clovis. He wasn’t clever, but he was faithful and as soon as the Pilgrim Players arrived in Manaus, he asked where he could find a place called Tapherini or House of Rest, and a family called Carter.

No one seemed to know about the House of Rest, but he was told that the Carters lived in a bungalow an hour’s journey from Manaus and could only be reached by boat.

‘You can’t go gallivanting off now,’ said Mrs Goodley. ‘We’ve got the dress rehearsal this afternoon. And when you see the theatre you won’t want to. It’s twice the size of anything you’ve played in before.’

This did nothing to cheer up Clovis, who said he felt sick.

‘Everyone feels sick in this dump,’ said Nancy Goodley.

The company had taken the top floor of the Hotel Paradiso, which was the cheapest hotel in Manaus. It was also the worst. Grey slugs crawled over the wooden floors of the showers, the lavatories were filthy and the smell of bean stew being tortured to death in rancid cooking oil stole through the rooms and corridors all day.

‘It’s no good having the vapours now,’ said Mrs Goodley sharply. ‘Remember, everything depends on you. If Fauntleroy’s a sell-out we can pay off the sharks and get a passage to the next place but if not, God help us all.’

They had left Belem at night and in a hurry without paying the hotel bill. The scenery had only just been saved; the hotel manager had tried to get hold of it to sell, but they had managed to get it loaded onto the boat in the nick of time.

Clovis sighed. He knew his lines, he knew his movements, the part was not difficult, and his voice seemed to be all right. It was all right most of the time, but sometimes ...

If only he could have seen Maia before the first performance. Maia and Miss Minton always made him feel safe.

But Maia was coming. She had promised.

Clovis stamped on a large cockroach making its way across the floor, and decided to be brave.

Chapter Five

‘I know exactly what Cinderella felt like,’ said Maia to Miss Minton.

It was the night before the twins and Mrs Carter were going to Manaus to see the opening of Little Lord Fauntleroy. They had bought dresses at Fleurette’s – white and frilled, with pink curly embroidery so that they looked rather like wedding cakes. The little maid, Tapi’s sister, had been sent back three times to the steamy laundry to iron the flounces to perfection, hair ribbons were chosen and tossed to one side, bracelets slipped on and off.

‘We need some proper jewellery,’ said Beatrice crossly. ‘Maia could lend me her mother’s pearls.’

‘And what about me?’ complained Gwendolyn. ‘I’m not going to sit there while you wear Maia’s pearls and not me.’

They weren’t satisfied with the way their white shoes had been cleaned – they wriggled and complained as the hot curling tongs crimped their ringlets into shape ...

In the morning, as the boat waited, it was even worse.