Frozen Billy by Anne Fine Page A

thought them real mechanicals, dressed in silk.’
    There’s more to getting a great ship out of harbour than simply freeing the lines to the tugs. It was an hour or more before Captain Percival came to the cabin in which the purser had locked us.
    â€˜So,’ he said. ‘One man without a ticket. One weeping mother found scouring the ship for a daughter called Clarrie. And’ – here he raised an eyebrow, for smudged and disordered by wind and rain and Mother’s hugs and kisses, Will and I looked like children who’d been at the dress-up bag and painted their faces with burnt sticks – ‘and two silk dolls.’
    He turned to Mother. ‘What is all this about?’
    But Mother was as confused as he was. All she could do was show him her ticket and tell him our father was in Australia.
    When Uncle Len was asked, he was less help even than that. He lifted his head from his hands only to mutter, ‘Me? I was offered a choice of terrors. To go home to face a mother without her only son whom she had left in my care; or risk travelling with him to the dark side of the world.’
    â€˜Not dark,’ I couldn’t help reproving him. ‘They’re upside down. It’s summer there now – full of light and heat.’
    â€˜None the less,’ snapped Uncle Len, ‘you have tricked all of us aboard a ship with only the clothes we stand up in.’
    Defensively, my mother drew Will and me closer towards her. ‘I’ve everything I need. And more!’
    My brother, too, defended me. ‘And Clarrie thought to bring Mother’s wedding lines and earrings from the hiding place under the sink.’
    Now it was Uncle Len’s turn to raise an eyebrow. But then he shrugged. ‘You’ll have no more need of hiding places, Mary. I made a solemn vow as I was searching the boat for Will: “If I can bring the boy safely back to his mother, I swear I’ll never drink or gamble again.” ’
    He looked so forlorn that Will tried to cheer him. ‘Don’t forget, Uncle, you still have Frozen Billy and Still Lucy.’
    â€˜Billy? Lucy? Are there still more of you hidden on my boat?’ cried Captain Percival.
    â€˜No. They’re just dummies.’
    Seeing the captain’s bewilderment, Uncle Len flicked up the catches of the carrying box and took out Frozen Billy. He slid his hand inside, and then, as if the puppet had just arrived, made introductions.
    â€˜Captain Percival, meet Frozen Billy. Now, Frozen Billy, tip your hat politely to Captain Percival.’
    â€˜I’m honoured to make your acquaintance,’ chirped Frozen Billy as the hand shot up to touch the school cap.
    Captain Percival stared at Uncle Len. ‘You’re a ventriloquist?’
    â€˜The very best!’ I assured him.
    â€˜Top of the Bill at the Alhambra!’ crowed my brother.
    As usual, the showman in Uncle Len came out on top. He made Frozen Billy pipe up, ‘Don’t forget me! Len here might be the ventriloquist, but he is nothing – nothing – without the dummy.’
    â€˜Or the theatre,’ added Uncle Len in his own voice. ‘And the audience. But thanks to Clarrie here, we’re missing those.’
    â€˜Oh, I assure you that you’ll get your audience,’ said Captain Percival. ‘Since you’ll be earning your passage, you’ll get them every night. What you won’t get is any pay for your labours.’
    He turned to Will. ‘What about you?’
    â€˜I’m part of the act,’ Will said promptly.
    â€˜Only till the day you set foot on land,’ Mother warned him. ‘After that, you’ll be back to your schoolbooks, like Clarrie.’
    The captain turned to me. ‘And you?’
    I spread my patchwork skirt wide. ‘I can sew.’
    â€˜And so can all my sailors. And so can I.’
    â€˜And I can cook.’
    â€˜And so can the men in my