Excerpt from Theatre Of Marvels by Lianne Dillsworth, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

I'd joined Crillick's company nine months earlier, at the new year. Ellen had been one of the first people I'd met backstage. She was the only one to welcome me, to pass the time of day while I got to know my act. Straightaway the others hated me, and didn't trouble to hide it. When I entered a room, they snickered behind their hands. Just a drop or two of colour was enough to make me an outcast in their eyes. But Ellen, coming from Galway as she did, knew just enough of what it was to be different to see that we could be allies. She'd been kind, and all she'd got in return for her troubles was to be demoted. She could ill afford it too, what with all her money being sent back home. I did my best to be nice as I could, let her know I wasn't trying to displace her. We'd always had a laugh together. I didn't want us to feel like rivals.

All this time Ellen had been straining her eyes to look at the African.

"You recognise him?" she said.

"No, why would I?"

"I only asked."

I shouldn't have snapped. It felt like all the Irish people in town knew one another so she probably meant nothing by it. But I didn't know him, had never seen him before in my life. He wasn't "one of mine" like she'd said. I had no one.

But I didn't want me and Ellen to be on the outs anymore. I had enough battles to fight so I squeezed her shoulder to say sorry.

"He's unsettled me is all."

"Then tell the boys to kick him out," Ellen said.

"I couldn't."

I didn't know what it was about the African that threw me off but I didn't want to see his evening spoiled, not on my account. Especially as I knew it must be my act that he'd come to see. Not just him, mind. When I'd started off at Crillick's, I'd been bottom of the bill but now I was the main draw. Over time I'd seen off Aldous the magician and Guillame the mime artist, and now the Great Amazonia was the headline act. I'd even been reviewed in the Illustrated London News—"a savage spectacular," they'd said. "Here is one Amazon that has carried all before her." I looked out at the African in the audience. If I performed well enough to fool him, Amazonia might remind him of his homeland. If he'd ventured into Crillick's on his own, he must've wanted to see her very badly. I felt an urge not to disappoint him. I wanted him to like my performance. To like me.

I didn't know where it came from, this sudden feeling of kinship. There had been other Blacks in the crowd before, of course, but this was the first time I'd felt drawn to one. I was half-caste, white as well as Black. Moreover, I was London born and bred, while most of the other Blacks—and mainly they were men—were from somewhere else. The soldiers at the palace who played the drums at the Changing of the Guard were brought in from Africa for their musical talents. I was nothing like them, their smart uniforms bright against their dark skin. Nor was I like the sailors and former slaves that hung around the docks. Buckled and broken down, they had mostly arrived from America. Unlike them, I'd always been free.

"Here now, what's this?" Ellen said.

We watched as one of the ushers approached the African, leaning down to whisper in his ear. The African nodded as he spoke but the look on his face was grim. The usher put a hand on his shoulder and I tensed, waiting for a shout, or a punch to be thrown, but then the African turned back toward the stage and removed his hat. Underneath, his hair was cut close and the tight curls smoothed with a shiny pomade.

"I thought it was about to get tasty there. He's definitely not one of the regulars," Ellen said. She was right; it was rare that a whole night at Crillick's passed without a fight breaking out in the audience.

"You should tell Barky if you're worried," Ellen said. Or stop your whining, she could have added, but didn't.

"Let him be. You can tell he's not in the market for any trouble."

Excerpted from Theatre Of Marvels by Lianne Dillsworth. Copyright © 2022 by Lianne Dillsworth. Excerpted by permission of Harper. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.