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

Barky was the stage manager. He'd never talked behind my back like I knew Ellen sometimes did and, though he was careful not to show me any favouritism, of all the people at Crillick's I trusted him the most. There was no reason for him to look out for me, but I was glad that he did. Lean and mysterious like a shadow, his greying dark hair cut convict-short, Barky took seriously his job to look after the performers. He moved quiet as a cat. I was never sure how long he had been somewhere before he announced himself. He saw himself as an uncle and liked to call us his family. I suppose we were in a way. All families row and fight and secretly hate one another, don't they? That's what it was like at Crillick's. All those performers with their own high pride and jealousies. Barky always checked up on us before a show so we did not miss our cues.

Now, right on cue himself, he appeared behind us in the wings and tutted to see Ellen and me in dressing gowns and drawers.

"Come on, girls, you should be in costume by now. You know who'll get the rollicking if you're late."

He made his usual noise, something between a cough and a snort. It came out when we annoyed him, which was often. The strange sound had led to his nickname but he didn't seem to mind that that's what we called him. It never occurred to me back then to wonder what his real name was.

"There's a man…" Ellen began but trailed off when I shook my head. It felt wrong to bring the African to Barky's attention. The stranger may have rattled me but he had done nothing wrong, and it was reassuring that he hadn't caught Barky's eye. If there had been anything untoward in the crowd, I knew Barky would have spotted it.

"No more dallying then," Barky said and clapped his hands to shoo us along.

Ellen jumped to it but I couldn't tear my eyes from the African. His head was bent over his programme now. He traced a finger down the page, studying the acts to come. Ballerinas, acrobats, a magician, and then: the Great Amazonia. Barky's arm stole around my shoulder. From another man the gesture would have made me cringe, but all the girls felt safe with Barky. He was the only man among the theatre workers that never made lewd remarks, nor lingered while we girls got changed.

"What's got you spooked, girl?"

I desperately wanted to tell him, but I barely understood it myself. Back then I didn't realise that the impression this African had made on me would be the start of something lasting, that it would change the way I lived my life and how I saw myself.

"Nothing wrong with a spot of nerves," Barky said.

He gave me a searching look, but didn't push it. After a moment, he steered me around and gave me a gentle shove in the direction of the steps that led backstage. Ellen hadn't bothered to wait for me.

II
Making Ready to Perform

The dressing room came with the privilege of being Crillick's headline act. It had a table, chair, and gilt-framed mirror, but for all that it was clear it had started out as a broom cupboard. It didn't bother me that it was still used to store the props. Coming from the slums of St. Giles as I did, this amount of space all to myself could only ever be a luxury. If only you could see me now, Mother.

I'd moved in two weeks before and had insisted that Ellen share it with me. I'd even made a den in one corner for her tan-and-white spaniel, Bouncer, who featured in my act. I knew it wouldn't make up for losing her solo but it had helped to improve things between us. I picked my way past the magician's birdcage, the balls and batons used by the clowns, and a rope swing for the trapeze artist. It smelt of dustcloths and floor polish and the vinegar used to clean the stage.

Wooden boards known as flats and painted for all manner of backdrops were leant up against the walls. Snow-tipped mountains, foam-flecked waves, and, my new favourite, the English countryside with rolling green meadows, complete with daffodils and delicate little rosebuds. That rural greenery was a world away from St. Giles and the cramped buildings that I'd grown up among. Most of my life I'd lived in broken-down hovels with not a pane of glass between them. Rooms where the walls were held together with rags and dirt, and where a body might die and no one notice for days, let alone lay it out and say the prayers. There was a time before that, but I tried not to dwell on it too much.

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.