‘Tell ’im we’ve ’ad measles, I’ll hide in the other room.’

Liza ran into the bedroom and pressed her ear to the door to hear a boy’s voice say, ‘Telegram for Miss Wigan.’

A telegram could come from only one place and that was The Dolphin. Liza dashed back into the kitchen and snatched the telegram from the boy and tore it open. It said: ‘COME AT ONCE TO THEATRE YOU WILL BE PLAYING TONIGHT. SMITH.’

Liza sent the eldest boy off to find his mother to tell her what had happened. Then, shutting all the other children in the kitchen, she went into the bedroom to change into her theatre-going clothes.

‘Here’s a turn-up,’ she thought. ‘What can have happened to Margaret? Right as a trivet she was last night.’ She put on the clean underclothes her mother always kept ready for an emergency. ‘Don’t want that la-di-da Ivy turning up her nose,’ she thought.

The fog was lifting slightly so Liza ran all the way to the theatre and burst through the stage door panting for breath.

‘Oh, Mr Todd, what’s wrong with Margaret?’

Instructions had been given that no one was to mention that Margaret was missing, the story put out was that she had a chill. Even if there had been no story put out, Bill Todd was not having any jumped-up understudy forgetting her place.

‘Good morning, Miss Wigan. Mr Gay is waiting for you on the stage. I believe Miss Thursday is confined to the house with a chill.’

Liza was not that easily snubbed. ‘You don’t believe anythin’ of the sort but I’ve got to go now. I’ll be back to hear the truth later.’

Edward Gay, the stage manager, was waiting for Liza. He knew her well because he took her understudy rehearsals.

‘Morning, Liza. This is just a run through for lines and, in your case, aitches. Don’t you dare drop an aitch tonight or Sir John will have me hanged, drawn and quartered.’

Liza grinned at him. ‘Don’t fret, I can talk like a lady when I want and you know it.’ Then she lowered her voice. ‘What’s really the matter with Margaret? And I don’t want to hear she’s got a chill, I’ve heard that one.’

‘That’s what they’ve told me and I’ve no reason to think it isn’t true, anyone could catch a chill this weather.’

Liza temporarily gave in. ‘All right. Are we starting at the beginning?’

‘Straight through, then later this afternoon you’re to run through your scenes with Sir John.’

Liza was right when she said she could talk properly when she had to. It was over-refined English. She was nowhere near as good an actress as Margaret but, once those who listened to her over-careful English were used to her, she had a perky charm.

The rehearsal over, Liza had hoped to find someone who would give her news of Margaret, but she was immediately sent to the wardrobe to have any alterations required made on the clothes.