The Performer

The Performer

That cat is the spawn of the devil, Beatrice! We really must get rid of him! Margaret wrinkled her nose as she eyed the one-eared, ginger cat curling himself round her sisters ankles.

How can you say such things, Maggie? Hes a living creature! Beatrices voice was full of alarm.

Oh, a creature indeed! Thats exactly what he is! Dont you think, Beatrice, that you let that cat run far too wild?

As if to prove Margarets point, the cat suddenly arched his back, hissed, and, moving in a careful sideways advance, launched a campaign of intimidation against the homes unwanted guest.

There! What did I tell you? Margaret jabbed an accusing finger at the cat and made a cautious backward step.

Beatrice let out a gasp and called to her defender, Performer, darling! Leave it! Its all right!

The cat shot Beatrice a look, and in a moment, his rancour faded. He returned to Beatrices feet and, nudging her sore hip with his side, sat down loyally next to her, making it clear he was keeping watch.

Hes a little rascal, that one! huffed Margaret, giving the cat a wide berth. And you let him get away with murder!

Well, someone has to take pity on him, Beatrice sighed.

Three years prior, Performer had walked into Beatrices life. It was a gloomy, difficult time for her. She had barely said goodbye to her husband before her only son passed away, leaving her completely alone, save for her sister and a handful of acquaintancesBeatrice was never one for friends.

She had Margaret. Her sister.

Margaret was the elder by only a small margin, but their parents never let them forget it: Margaret is our eldest, so responsibletrust her with anything and itll be done right and on time! And Beatrice Beatrice is our little angel, the comfort of our soulsa wonder-child! But such a scatterbrain

The girls grew up believing Margaret was clever, pretty, and the star of the family, while Beatrice was beloved but hopelessly absentminded.

Why do Mum and Dad praise you? I dont get it! Margaret would grumble whenever Beatrice brought home good marks. Doing well at school isnt specialits expected! Whats worth praising there?

But, Maggie, Im not as smart as you, you always get top marks and mine are just ordinary.

Exactly! And yet they still sing your praises, Margaret would sulk, while Beatrice would hide her smile so as not to wind her sister up further.

Margaret finished school with sterling results and got into university, almost never coming home.

Hows life, Maggie? Beatrice would steal a moment to catch up on her sisters news.

Its fine. Only, things move so slowlyI wish the days were longer!

Dont have time for studying? Beatrice would ask, concerned.

Its not the studying! I havent time for my own life! How am I supposed to meet a decent chap when Im flying about all hours? Cant build a career without a base!

Oh, Maggie! I hadnt thought of that

Honestly, do you ever think of anything, little one? Margaret would laugh, not noticing how her words stung. These are grown-up problems. Not for babies like you!

Beatrice would quietly slip aside and keep her hurt to herself, but she always celebrated her sisters successes. The star simply had to shine, and Beatrice was content to bask in her light.

By the time Margaret finished university, she was still single. Men kept their distance, wary of her sharp wit and brisk tongue. Her mothers pleas for her to mellow, even a little, were fruitless.

Mum, do you expect me to act like some Brontë heroine, sitting in the corner and pining away? Silly! Thats for Beatrice, not for me.

No one wants you to change completely, sweetheart. Just a little softer. Gentlewomen are more popular, you know.

Oh, Mum, how could you possibly know what young men want today? Times have changed!

Maybe youre right, my dear What do I know

Then, like a bolt from the blue, in walked Beatrices fiancéa girl whose family had always told her that university was pointless and shed do far better to learn a trade. Beatrice brought home Charles.

Everyone, this is Charles

Charles won her parents over at once. Handsome, intelligent, talenteda journalist just starting his career on television, already gaining a certain name for himself.

But what mattered most was that he adored Beatriceordinary, unremarkable Beatrice, as her family and Margaret saw her, who studied at the local college.

Beatrice always loved making and designing clothes. It was both her hobby and, as a dressmaker, her livelihood.

I mean, Bea, why on earth choose dressmaking? grumbled Margaret.

Maggie, Im not as brainy as you. But not everyone can make a skirt or blouse that fits perfectly. I just wish people around me could look their best and find joy in what they wear.

What nonsense! Beatrice, what goes on in your head?

I dont know. But the dress I made for youit came out just right, didnt it?

For whom?

For you! For mefor everyone! Let them see you and say, She looks lovely! Whats wrong with that?

Hm. Some people go to the stars, but my sister oh, Bea!

Beatrice never could understand why her sister couldnt be pleased. Margaret would happily wear her handmade gowns yet never admit their origin.

Its my secret!

Ah, so foreign, then? friends would tease. Got diplomats in the family?

Im not saying! Margaret would reply, but inside she was secretly proud her sister was so well regarded.

But Charless arrival in Beatrices life was a heavy blow for Margaret.

How? How could it be that the less accomplished, less attractive sister found herself a fiancé first? Impossible!

At the wedding, Margaret sat stony-faced while family and friends couldnt help but admire Beatriceso radiant in the dress shed stitched herself, at last the centre of attention.

What a beauty! And hes handsome too! They make a wonderful pairmay they be happy!

For the first time, Margaret learned what jealousy felt likesharp and persistent, gnawing at her insides.

Your sisters got a dashing husband? And you? Nothing.

Parents cant take their eyes off your sister. They dream of grandchildrensomething youll never give them.

Beatrice shines so bright, as if shes stolen your starand now youre left in the shadows.

Margaret couldnt bear to stay to the end of the reception. She slipped away and at home, howled her rage into her pillow, cursing her luck.

But when her mother returned to the old nursery, Margaret put on her usual stoic composure.

Are you all right, love?

Completely! No need to fret!

Margaret married six months lateralmost to the first man she met. Her husband was much older, slightly balding, generous and shrewd. He understood exactly what Margaret expected from their marriage.

Ill give you what you want, but its a bargain. Heres the dealYou give me a child, perhaps two. Pursue your career, Ill support you. Nanny, housekeeperwhatever you need. Ill never stray, and youll never have to worry about your health. In returnall I ask is absolute loyalty, no affairs, and that our home be ordered and peaceful, so I can focus on what matters. Clear?

Margaret didnt hesitate.

Agreed!

Oddly enough, the marriage proved solid and successful. It lacked the gentle warmth of Beatrice and Charleswhere love filled every room and made every guest smilebut it brought a calm and certainty Margaret valued.

She gave her husband a son, then a daughter, just as agreed. The children grew under the eye of a nanny, their days scheduled to a tee, so theyd be educated and, ideally, well-mannered. Margaret had little time to raise them herselfher research, career, and endless social events came first. Even now, no one knew where her dresses came from.

Beatrice went at her own pace, sewing at home through the lean years of the nineties. Her clients, mostly from word of mouth, whispered her address to newcomers.

Shes a true artist, but hardly takes on anyone new. She already has her hands full!

So good?

Unbelievable! See my pink dress? Hers!

No! I thought it was a designer piece!

Oh, designers all started somewhere! So did Beatriceshell make it big if she dares. Youll see!

Among Beatrices clients were new-money wives and MPs. She dressed half the staff at Broadcasting House and the Royal Opera. Never once did she repeat a designshe well understood the scandal if clients turned up to a gala wearing matching gowns.

When things settled, Beatrice opened a small dressmakers shop. In no time, it became the place to network, gossip, or simply slip in without being spotted. The ground floor rooms of an old Edwardian housefound and refurbished for her by Margaretwere made cosy and stylish.

Margaret supplied the necessary equipment, lending her sister the funds and brushing off any worries.

Well settle up. Dont fret about money.

It mattered to Margaret to give her sister a footing. Reflecting on Beatrices life, Margaret often reproached herself for how envious shed been of her sisters happiness. She felt as if her own envy had nearly snuffed out Beatrices light. Looking at her own healthy children, Margaret sometimes wanted to howl againfor Beatrices only child, her longed-for boy, had been born ill.

A sunny child, someone had said once, and Margaret adopted the endearment, calling her nephew Sunny.

You dear boy! My darling! Hello, Sunshine! Ive brought you gifts! Margaret would greet him.

He would return such a bright, trusting smile, she thought the world must be made anew just to grant him happiness.

Maggie, you love my Harry more than your own! Beatrice would watch how her son, who rarely let anyone close, hugged his aunt. Hes missed you

It was only partly true, but Beatrice wanted so much to believe her boy was well.

Margaret knew how hard things were for her sister and handled finding a nanny and helping to open the shop.

Work, Bea! You need it. Charles is away all the time. You hardly see each other. Why sit at home?

I cant, Maggie! Ive got Harry.

Its a big place. Set up a playroom! Hire staff. The nanny is my job. Run the showyoull have Harry with you and a purpose!

Maggie, what would I do without you?

Thats what sisters are for! Oh, dont make me cry! I spent an hour on my hair. Ive got a meeting!

And so they muddled on.

Margaret managed her sister and nephews health care, chased down doctors. Harry was frailhis heart was weak; his organs, a constant worry.

Maggie, I dont understand Beatrice would weep when they were alone. What did I do wrong? Why is my boy suffering so?

Nothing, love! You did nothingsometimes, fate just deals a cruel hand. But buck up! We can still give him calm and happiness, Bea. What more does a person need? Family, warmth, care, lovewe can give him that.

I suppose.

Then lets do it, not mope! Ive found another top neurologistqueues long as ever, but Ive got Harry in. Well see what can be done.

Maggie

Shush! Pour me some tea, love, and make me a sandwich. Ive not had a bite since this morning.

Margarets husband accepted her care for her nephew.

Wish there was more I could do for the lad. If you need anythinglet me know.

Those spare words meant the world to Margaret. She realised, not the wild love of youth, but a steady warmth had grown for her husbandsomething that comes only to those who wait and hope.

Children grew, parents aged, and the sisters old rivalry faded into real closeness.

Who else is there to share your burdens but your sister?

It wasnt only Margaret who helped Beatrice. When Margarets husband ran into trouble at work, Beatrice leaned on Charles to pull some strings and dig into the matter. It was a long, gruelling process; years later, Beatrice finally learned how close her beloved Charles came to losing his life over it. But in the end, the truth came out, and Margaret thanked her sister in her crisp, weighty way:

You dont know what you and Charles did for me. I promisewhile I breathe, you and your family will want for nothing.

She kept her word.

Margaret stood beside her sister when Charles fell ill and faded, slowly departing before his wifes eyes. Beatrice did her best to be strong, but wailed like Margaret had once done herself, head buried in her sisters shoulder.

Why? Why him? So young still!

Margaret stood strong, helping her survive the loss, reminding her every day she still had Harry.

Then Margaret was there when Beatrices Sunher darlingpassed. They clung to each other, dry-eyed before the doctors explaining what happened. When they left the clinic, they walked hand-in-hand the long way home, speechless.

Yellow jumper, and red trainers

Yes

They didnt need words. They were seeing off a child and wanted it all as he would have wished.

Afterwards, Beatrice faded. She went through the motions of work, delegating nearly everything. Over and over, Margaret would find her gazing, motionless, at her sketchpad, unable to draw even a line.

Bea

Ill be all right I just need to rest a while, Maggie. Shed meet her sisters eyes, empty and dull as rain-washed slate.

You cant go on like this! Margarets own voice shook.

It doesnt matter now Beatrice gave a small, tired smile. Nothing matters much anymore.

Everything changed the day the cat arrived at the shop.

No one knew where he came fromragged, filthy, his ear torn. It was a busy street; cats rarely appeared.

He tried to slip inside but was shooed away.

Off with you! Shoo!

So the cat did the only thing that might save him: he sprawled across the top step, paws and head dangling, limp as an old rag. Thats where Beatrice found him, arriving late that day.

Ladies, whats this? she chuckled at the cat, playing his part to perfection.

A cat, Mrs. Beatrice! Came and just lay down, refusing to leave.

But hes alive, isnt he? Beatrice nudged him gently with her shoe.

In response, the cat cracked open one eye, gave a long humanlike sigh, and stuck out his tongue as if to say, What sort of people are you? Im dying herehonest! I barely have a memory left, not even a name. Been starving for a week or more, and all because of *you*. No mercy nor kindness left!

Watching him, Beatrice smiled for the first time in ages.

Oh, what a performer! Ladies, look how he acts! Even Olivier would be jealous. All right, in you cometime for a meal and some affection.

She scooped him up, checked him over, and shook her head.

No, first stops the vet. That ears not right. And the rest

The cat made no complaint, sitting patiently on the passenger seat, only growling once at the vet when the injection stung. He graciously accepted pâté from Beatrice and followed his new mistress out of the clinic with a regal air.

Well, I never had a cat before. How will we get along, Performer?

The cat adopted the pose of a Sphinx, staring serenely out the window as cars whizzed past, and once more Beatrice smiled.

Well manage. Lets see if Margaret approves of you

Margaret, naturally, did not. Not openly, at least. She chased Performer from room to room, all the while noticing the glimmer of life returning to Beatrices eyes. She was needed againthe sort of need that makes one forget oneself in caring for another.

He looks at you so strangely, Bea!

Let him! No ones looked at me like that in a hundred years!

Hows that?

With love!

Hes a rogue! Lying to you!

Let himhe warms my feet in the evenings, and even watches films with mestares at the screen, as if he actually understands!

Its your own faultshouldve called him Smokey or Whiskers! Why Performer?

It suits him, Beatrice laughed, warming Margarets heart.

Her sister was smiling again! For that, Margaret could forgive the cat anything.

But true acceptance came the day she nearly lost Beatrice.

It was a Saturday. No plans to meet, but needing to pass nearby, Margaret decided to pop into the shopperhaps her sister was working late? Since Performers arrival, business had picked up again, dresses and suits as sought after as ever, her clients clamouring for the new styles.

The lights were on; Margaret let herself in with her keys.

Bea! Beatrice, Im here!

A ginger blur shot around her ankles, and Margaret yelped as the cat clawed at her ankle, tearing her tights.

Performer! Have you lost your mind? Whats the matter?

But the cat looked wild. Margaret faltered at the feverish gleam in his eyes.

Dear God, have you gone mad?

She seized a yardstick, ready to drive him away, when he gave a plaintive mewl and ran between her and the door leading to Harrys old nurserya room Beatrice could never bring herself to repurpose.

What is it? Margaret whispered, suddenly afraid. Wheres Bea?

She dashed to the door and gaspedher sister was lying motionless on the floor, clutching a photograph of her son.

Bea!

Ambulance, hospital, nearly a day in intensive care.

Margaret paced the corridors, praying as best she could, not caring about words or ritual.

Please, dont take her. Leave her with melet her live!

She would later hear that Performer, shut in by Beatrices assistants, prowled and yowled so mournfully all through the shop that even those whod scorned him before were moved. Only when Beatrice awoke did he calm, curling up in a corner and refusing all food except water.

Three weeks later, Beatrice was discharged.

Maggie, first thing, straight to the shop!

Bea, why? Ill bring that nuisance to you!

No! I must see him.

Beatrice painstakingly climbed the steps. The girls waiting to welcome her back erupted in laughter as a streak of ginger blazed down the corridor, wound round her legs, hugged her, and began to purr so loud that even Margaret relented.

Oh, Performer!

Beatrice scooped him up, gently stroked his now-healed ear, and confessed, He called me, Maggie. I heard himfirst him, then you. That nightthe hospital. And after.

You mean after?

I cant explain. There were Charless and Harrys voices. But then the cats mew drowned them out. Then I heard youand then well I woke up.

How peculiar Margaret was left speechless.

Performer, though, knew just what to do. He touched Beatrices chin with his paw, gazed at Margaret with approval, and curled up on Beatrices lap, completely at peace.

I think Ive just been accepted, Margaret smiled, though for what, Im not quite sure. But approved, at least.

Performer half-opened one jade-green eye, purred louder, chasing away sorrow, and promising peace. And Beatrice, at last, smiled againlifting Margarets heart.

For, truly, what more does one need? Family close by, and peace in ones soul.

So little. So much.