At last, she reached the end of her aria (that’s what Madam says such tunes is called) and the crowd went crazy. Stamping their feet and applauding like the Queen herself had come on, though her Majesty never got such a boisterous hat-tip as the crowd at the Old Pom gave, I’ll wager. Miss Dante looked very pleased, as well she might, and gave a neat little curtsey and a cheeky little smile before dashing off stage left.

‘What talent! What flair!’ cried Billy Skittles. ‘But will this hand-maiden of Terpsichore make it through to the grand final? Only our judges can decide … ’

I looked once again at the box where Mr O’Kane, Miss Dolly and Mr Mortlock was gazing down, like a jury at some weird Alice in Wonderland trial. Getting to their feet, the judges stood up and began to file out of the Royal Box. Evidently it was the interval.

‘But first, a little treat!’ cried Billy. ‘You loved ’em last year! You’ll love ’em all over again! I give you, last year’s winners: the sensational “Dee-Vertiss-Mont”!’

There was a blast of brass from the pit and a troop of strapping Acrobats began to tumble and roll onto the stage in a blur of pink tights and fleshings. Two trapeze-swings dropped from the flys.

Madam turned to me and whispered in my ear. ‘As arranged then, my dear? I’ll make my way backstage. You stay here and keep an eye on things.’

‘OK.’

Though what exactly I was meant to keep me eye on other than a lot of very athletic lads

in almost the altogether, I don’t know.

There was a drum roll and one of the Acrobats – a lithe boy with tumbling golden curls – jumped on board the first hanging swing, swooping dangerously back and forth across the stage.

He was then immediately joined by another one – a great big fella with curved moustaches like a circus strong man and thighs you’d be hard pushed to get both hands around – swinging in the opposite direction. We all gasped as the two Acrobats flung themselves from the safety of their swings, crossing in mid-air and then deftly landing on the opposite trapeze.

We’d only just recovered from this display when, suddenly, a woman screamed!

I looked up again. Someone had tumbled from the flys!

It was a fella by the look of it – and he landed heavily on a sand-bag, suspended from the end of a rope. I couldn’t make out much of him – just a tweedy jacket and narrow trousers but, at once, the rope he dangled on began to swing dangerously back and forth, like a huge pendulum.