Free The Girl Who Walked on Air by Emma Carroll Page B

time.
    ‘MARVELLOUS! MARVELLOUS! MARVELLOUS!’ it said. ‘FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY . . .’
    One word stood out bigger than the rest. That word, that name , was as familiar to me as my own. How many times had I read it, cut it out of newspapers, posters, seen it in bright lights inside my head?
    BLONDIN.
    The Great Blondin.
    My Blondin.
    Call him what you want – he was here! Tonight!
    All my bad luck, and now . . . this . A heaven-sent slice of good fortune. I wasn’t going to miss it for the world.
    The venue was easy to find since half of England was heading for it. Just off the market place was a splendid building with pillars outside. It looked like a theatre. The front steps teemed with people, all chattering and clutching their tickets as if they were the crown jewels themselves.
    I faltered; I didn’t have a ticket. And I’d bet in a place as grand as this there’d be someone checking. Even our little circus did that.
    Sure enough, men in flat caps moved among the crowds.
    ‘Get yer tickets ready! No ticket? Then no joy tonight, ladies and gents.’
    And they meant it too. One chap got yanked from the steps before my very eyes.
    ‘Don’t try it again!’ the flat cap hollered, kicking the man’s backside halfway up the street.
    There had to be some other way of getting in. Directly opposite the theatre were food stalls, selling coffee and meat pies and hot potatoes. The smells made my stomach growl. I ducked behind the pie stall. And waited.
    Eventually, the last of the punters went inside. The flat caps followed. I’d have to move fast. At any moment, the performance would be starting, and I wasn’t going to miss a second of it.
    Far as I could tell there was only one way into the theatre: the main doorway, which was now shut. Through the steamed-up glass, shapes moved backwards and forwards. Flat caps, I bet, and ticket girls. I’d never get past them. Not a chance.
    I wracked my brains. There had to be a way in around the back. A cellar, a side window left open. Something! Anything! If only Ned was here. He’d have worked it out with me or stood by as lookout. This time it was down to me alone. And it made my head hurt, for the theatre was connected on both sides by more buildings. There really was no other way in.
    One thing was certain; I couldn’t just stand here, not with Blondin a stone’s throw away across the street.
    A hand came down on my shoulder.
    ‘Take this over there will you, girl?’ said a man’s voice. ‘There’s a penny in it for you if you do.’
    I spun round to see the pie seller handing me two steaming pies wrapped in paper. He nodded towards the theatre.
    I didn’t need telling twice. Swiping the pies from him, I raced across the road and up the steps. A nudge of the elbow and the glass door swung open. I stepped into a brightly lit hallway. Two girls sat counting tickets behind a desk, their faces thick with rouge. The flat caps stood at the foot of a red-carpeted staircase. They all eyed me coldly.
    ‘Pies!’ I said, holding the hot bundle aloft.
    ‘Are they for me?’ said a flat cap.
    ‘’Course they are, dimwit,’ said one of the ticket girls. ‘No one else ordered ’em.’
    I placed the paper-wrapped parcel on the desk in front of her. The smell of gravy wafted out and the girl wrinkled her nose. ‘Ugh, it stinks. Take it somewhere else, Harry.’
    Harry came over to claim his pies. And as he did so his mates started ragging him, saying he had to share them and really he was a cheapskate to have only ordered two. They bickered and jostled in front of the girls. They’d forgotten I was even there.
    This was my chance.
    Tiptoeing past the desk, I took the stairs two at a time. No one came after me. It was almost too easy. At the top of the stairs was a corridor. At its end was a pair of double doors. I could hear the crowd beyond them, a whistling, thrumming sound that made me shiver.
    Suddenly, a man behind me shouted, ‘Oi! You! Come back here!’
    I started