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hair again and looking at us again from under his eyelashes, so pleased to think of himself as so nearly connected to Royalty.
    But even though we’d seen them sort of on stage we’d always known, like I said, that they weren’t real actors in realtheatres like Ma and Pa worked in back in the olden golden days. And yes, we knew that they did parade about a bit sometimes, as women. But I thought it was just for the fun of it and not doing any harm.
    From the very beginning of meeting them you could see: Freddie loved Ernest, really loved him. I dont mean like couples kissing – I mean real loving – they could kiss all day for all I care, but it wasn’t like that. Freddie always – well – well what he did was always look to see that Ernest was all right. Over time we all saw that Ernest – who was the ‘star’ of their act, no doubt about it – was really spoiled. Once, when Ernest was flouncing off down the stairs and sulking and looking from under his eyelashes at us and calling up the stairs to Freddie, ‘ I need some money NOW! ’ and slamming the front door – that was the time Ma said, ‘I’d like to meet that boy’s mother! I warrant she has a lot to answer for, he’s a blooming little minx, Ernest is.’
    But later he came back and we heard them laughing and then his sweet voice drifting down to us:
Be it ever so humble
There’s no place like home
    and even Ma could hear it, so clear and sweet it was as it came down the stairs, and she shook her head and smiled.
    I suppose… well what do I suppose? I suppose – that Ernest must have been an exciting person to love: he was the star, he had the beautiful voice, he was – I suppose people would say – ‘enticing’ – you just couldn’t help but see he’s really pretty when he’s all dressed up, no wonder people fell for him. In fact when he was dressed as a man, people often thought he was a woman trying to look like a man! Now there’s a true conundrum! Ernest’s too pretty for a man. When they booked a room he would arrive from the barber and the hairdresser – always very polite – ‘Evening, Mrs Stacey, evening, Mattie, evening, Billy,’ and even occasionally: ‘How are you, Mattie?’ but not very often for Ernest was more interested in how’s himself than how we are! When I think about Ernest he reminds me of – I’m thinking now, trying to get exactly the right description. What I am trying to say is that Ernest is very pretty, but he reminds me sometimes of a beautiful cat, one of those ones stretched out in the sunshine – but it might suddenly scratch your eyes.
    I noticed something about Ernest. He didn’t like to be touched, he always drew away if anybody put an arm on him, or an arm about him, in a friendly way. As if other people were – distasteful. I felt sorry for Freddie because it was often Freddie who put out an arm, and then drew it away again, or had it shrugged off. But I saw Ernest move away quickly from others too, not just Freddie. Ernest liked himself best.
    And Freddie. Well – well he’s a young man who’s the same age as my brother, and who’s got a funny warm face whether he’s dressed as a man or a woman – well, to me he’s always Freddie whatever clothes he’s wearing, he’s a kind lovely man.
    I dont think they were – well – look, I’ve already said, I’m not stupid and I know there’s all kinds of love and people who pretend not have got their eyes closed and how do I know if they loved each other like that, I dont know how it all works. It doesn’t matter. You meet all sorts in the theatre, my Ma and Pa knew some very strange people and we’ve had some very strange tenants in Wakefield-street, one man had a pet bumblebee, it was bright-striped, yellow and black, and he bought chocolate for it and talked to it and cried when it died in the bottle he kept it in, poor lonely man. But maybe, in the end, Freddie and Ernest were the strangest. And maybe once they had been –