Ballet Shoes, Page 2

  ‘I never have cared for red hair,’ Nana said fondly, twisting a strand of Posy’s round her finger. ‘Never could fancy it since I got scratched by a ginger cat as a child. But nicely kept it can be striking.’

  As soon as the children could talk there was trouble about a name for them to call Sylvia by. Nana refused to allow her Christian name to be used.

  ‘It’s not suitable, Miss. They can say “Miss Brown” or if you are willing, “Aunty” or “Cousin Sylvia,” but just “Sylvia” is rude and I’m not having it in my nursery.’

  ‘But Nana,’ Sylvia argued, ‘I do hate “Aunty” and “Cousin,” and it isn’t as if I was one.’

  ‘What are you?’ Pauline asked. ‘If you’re not a cousin nor nuffin’?’

  ‘A guardian, darling.’ Sylvia pulled her on to her knee. ‘What would you like to call me?’

  ‘Garnian.’ Pauline spoke the word with care. ‘Garnian.’

  ‘That’s very nice, Pauline.’ Nana approved. ‘You shall all call Miss Brown Guardian, and very suitable too.’

  Of course she never was called Guardian, as it was too long and severe, but they compromised on Garnie, which satisfied everybody.

  Pauline had a birthday in December, and when she was just going to be six, Nana came to Sylvia one night when the three children were in bed.

  ‘It’s time Pauline had education, and it wouldn’t hurt Petrova either — she’s sharp as a cartload of monkeys; do her good to have something to think about. What with my nurseries, and Posy still no more than a baby, I’ve no time to be setting sums and that. Now, will you teach them, Miss, or shall they go to school?’

  Sylvia looked horrified.

  ‘Me teach them? Goodness! I couldn’t. I was always a perfect fool at arithmetic. We’ll send them to school.’

  So Pauline and Petrova were sent to the junior house of a day school quite near their home. It was called Cromwell House, and they had jade-green coats, tunics, and berets; the tunics and berets had C.H. embroidered on them. Both the children were frightfully proud of themselves.

  ‘You wouldn’t think, Garnie,’ Petrova said when she came to show herself off in her school outfit, ‘that here is a child who won’t be five till August.’

  ‘You only look a baby.’ Pauline put her nose in the air. ‘Now, anybody can see I was six last month.’

  One morning at school produced the fact that the children had no real surname. Sylvia came to fetch them at twelve, and they shot out of the door and hung on an arm each.

  ‘Garnie, what is my real, honest surname?’ Pauline asked. ‘They said it was Brown, but I told them it wasn’t, because Nana always says that you are no relation.‘

  Sylvia took a hand of each of them.

  ‘But, darlings, I entered you both as Brown. What other name can I give you?’

  ‘It’s not our real name,’ Pauline objected.

  Petrova gave a tug at her hand to attract attention.

  ‘Garnie, on my necklace what Gum sent, he called us Fossil.’

  ‘So he did.’ Pauline nodded emphatically.’Fossil is a lovely name and our very own. I’m Pauline Fossil.’ She leant across to Petrova, ‘And you’re Petrova Fossil. Oh —’ She suddenly stood still.

  ‘What is it?’ Sylvia asked.

  Pauline looked at Petrova.

  ‘We don’t want Posy to be a Fossil, do we?‘

  ‘No,’ said Petrova decidedly.

  ‘But why not?’ Sylvia laughed. ‘You can be Fossil if you like, but I think you may as well all have the same name.’

  ‘Well, me and Pauline are at school,’ Petrova explained, ‘and that Posy is only a child.’

  ‘We mightn’t care to share a name with her when she’s older, you see,’ Pauline added.

  ‘I don’t see,’ Sylvia said decidedly. ‘Posy is a darling. However, run up to the nursery and see what she and Nana have to say.’

  She opened the front door.

  Posy was toddling about the nursery, pushing a wooden horse. Pauline and Petrova caught hold of her.

  ‘Posy, do you want to be called Fossil?’

  ‘Ess,’ said Posy, who had no idea what they were talking about.

  ‘Want to call her what?’ asked Nana.

  The children explained. It took her quite a time to grasp the discussion as they both talked at once.

  ‘Fossil’ — she pursed up her lips —’well, it’s not a name I ever heard before, not for children. It’s what the Professor called all those dirty stones he brought home.’

  ‘But he did call us it too.’ Pauline skipped about excitedly.

  ‘So he did.’ Nana went on with her darning. ‘It’s a funny name, but it’s as good as another.’

  Petrova leant up against her knee.

  ‘We were asking Posy if she wanted it too. She said yes; but, then, she’s so silly she says yes to everything.’

  Nana looked up surprised.

  ‘If you’re a Fossil, so’s Posy. I’m not having a whole lot of surnames in my nursery. You’re all three P. Fossil; one lot of marking tapes all through.’

  Posy was to be six in September. Nana came to Sylvia in August.

  ‘Posy’ll be six next month. It’s dull for her stuck in the nursery alone. I thought maybe she should start at Cromwell House next term.’

  Sylvia walked to the window. Nana noticed disapprovingly that she had got very thin lately, and that her hair was turning grey.

  ‘Nana.’ Sylvia swung the blind-cord to and fro. ‘Do you realize the Professor has been gone almost six years?’

  Nana smoothed her apron.

  ‘Must have been; he went just when Posy came.’

  ‘Before he left he arranged with the bank about money for us all. Enough for five years.’

  Nana looked startled.

  ‘And it’s finished?’

  ‘Almost. Of course, I have tried to save, as you never can be sure of the Professor.’

  Nana pursed her lips in a disapproving way, but all she said was,

  ‘No, indeed, Miss.’

  ‘So the thing is,’ Sylvia went on, ‘I can’t send Posy to school. As a matter of fact, I’ve got to take the others away, and even then…’

  Nana never could remember that though she had been Sylvia’s nurse, her child was now a grown-up woman, and the sound of the sort of crack in the voice that people get when they are miserable brought all her nurse instincts to the top.

  ‘There, there, dear,’ she said comfortingly. ‘Don’t you fuss, there’s a way round everything if you look for it.’

  Sylvia gave a miserable smile.

  ‘I hope you are right; but there’s a way round a good many things wanted in this house. First there’s the cost of looking after a house when there isn’t any money. There’s you, and the other servants, and we all eat a lot.’

  Nana thought a moment, then her face lit up.

  ‘How about boarders? Such a lot of empty rooms we have. Why don’t we take some nice people in?’

  ‘Boarders!’ Sylvia looked startled. ‘I don’t think the Professor would like them.’

  ‘What the eye doesn’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve after. When I take Posy out tomorrow I’ll step into Harrods and put an advertisement in the paper.’

  ‘Oh, but Nana, the house will want a lot of alterations before we can take in anybody.’

  ‘Nothing that a bit of shopping and a carpenter can’t do in a week or two. We shan’t get answers all that quick. What I say is, if you’ve got to do a thing, don’t let the grass grow.’

  ‘Then there’s the children’s education. What about that?’

  Nana patted the cushions straight on the sofa.

  ‘I remember Miss Edwards that taught you,’ she said casually, ‘telling me you were very good at your books.’

  ‘Oh, Nana!’ Sylvia was horrified. ‘You don’t think I ought to teach them. I never could do arithmetic’

  ‘There’s other learning without sums.’

  Sylvia shook her head.r />
  ‘Reading, writing, and arithmetic, you can’t do proper lessons without those.’

  ‘It won’t be for long,’ Nana urged. ‘The Professor will be back soon. I reckon you’d know enough to teach them just till he comes.’

  ‘I might Pauline, but never Petrova! She’s terribly good at figures.’

  ‘When I’m in Harrods with Posy in the morning, I’ll get you a book on figures. I’ve seen the kind that had sums set one end, and answers the other. You don’t need to know nothing to write those down.’ She got up. ‘Well I’ll be along to my bed, if you’ll excuse me. We’ve a big day in front of us to-morrow getting set for the boarders and all.’

  The three children found it fun helping to change the rooms round. Nana was busy all day long making chair-covers and curtains, and had not much time for them, so sometimes they went with Sylvia to buy furniture and choose eiderdowns, sometimes they helped in the kitchen, and sometimes, when nobody noticed, they assisted the decorators who were distempering the boarders’ walls. It was, in fact, almost like a holiday, it is so nice doing things you do not usually do.

  One afternoon when they were all three in the kitchen the front-door bell rang. Cook was teaching Pauline to make buns, Clara, the housemaid, was ironing, Posy was making animals out of pastry, and Petrova was sitting on the table in the window reading a book about Citröen cars which had come as an advertisement.

  ‘Drat that bell!’ said Clara. ‘How am I going to get these hung to-morrow in a boarder’s room if that bell keeps ringing?’

  ‘It hasn’t before,’ Pauline pointed out reasonably. We’ve been down here simply hours, and it hasn’t rung once.’

  The bell rang again.

  ‘Ought to be answered.’ Cook spoke firmly, partly because her word was law in the kitchen, and partly because whoever answered it, it would not be her. She looked round, but everybody seemed busy; then her eye fell on Petrova. Reading was not an occupation. It came in her view under the heading of ‘Satan finds…’

  ‘Petrova dear,’ she said, ‘we’re all busy; you run up and see who it is.’ When Petrova had gone she excused herself to Clara. ‘It isn’t what Nana or Miss Brown would hold with, but with us so busy, I must break a rule or two. Most likely it’s only somebody begging.’

  Petrova ran up the stairs, and opened the front door with some difficulty, because the thing you turned was stiff. Outside were a gentleman and lady. They smiled at Petrova, but she forgot all her manners and failed to smile back; instead she stared past them into the road, where stood the very Citröen car whose picture she had been looking at in the kitchen. She turned to the man.

  ‘Is that yours?’

  ‘Yes. I got it last week.’

  ‘Oh!’ Petrova looked longingly at the bonnet; she would have liked a look at the inside. The man, who was very fond of insides of cars himself, sensed her interest.

  ‘Nice cars,’ he said. ‘Come and have a look.’

  Petrova came, and together they examined it, and she asked questions and he explained. At last the lady patted his shoulder.

  ‘John, dear, we didn’t come here to show off the car, but to look at rooms.’

  Petrova raised her face, her eyes were sparkling with pleasure.

  ‘How lovely! When Garnie said we would have to take boarders I never did think of a car coming to live here.’

  The man laughed.

  ‘It’s us that will live here if we take the rooms, not the car, you know. It isn’t house-trained. Look, here is my card; will you take us to your mother and say we want to see the rooms?’

  Petrova spelt out the words on the card..

  ‘John Simpson, Kuala Lumpur, Malaya.’

  ‘Are you Mrs Simpson ?’ she asked the lady.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you come all the way from Malaya too?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A long way,’ Petrova said politely. ‘Long enough away to be in a Geography lesson.’

  Mrs Simpson stooped and put her arms round her.

  ‘Could you take that card to your mother and ask if we could see the rooms?’

  ‘I haven’t got a mother,’ Petrova explained. ‘There’s Garnie, and there’s Nana. Which would you rather have?’

  ‘Is Garnie the one who owns the house?’ Mrs Simpson asked.

  Petrova considered the question.

  ‘I don’t think exactly, I think truly it belongs to Gum; but he’s been away on a boat for years, an’ years, an’ years — ever since he brought Posy. Garnie sort of has the house because he’s away. She’s his great-niece, you see.’

  ‘Well, could we see Garnie?’

  Mrs Simpson moved towards the front door.

  Petrova put on her best manners.

  ‘Course. Please come in.’

  When she had safely handed the Simpsons to Sylvia she went back to the kitchen.

  ‘What was it?’ Clara asked. ‘You’ve been a time. What’ve you been doing?’

  ‘Imagine’ — Petrova’s face was quite pink with pleasure —’it was a Citröen car, and it’s coming here as a boarder.’

  ‘A car!’ Clara laid down her iron. ‘Do you mean to say we’re starting a garage? If so, what are these curtains for?’

  ‘There were two people with it,’ Petrova explained. ‘Mr and Mrs Simpson; they come from Malaya.’

  Pauline turned’to Cook.

  ‘That’s the bit next to India, where India-rubbers come out of trees.’

  ‘And motor tyres,’ Petrova reminded her.

  ‘Never you two mind about Malaya,’ Cook said firmly, ‘quite enough to be able to buy a bit of india-rubber, no need asking where it comes from. Is this Mr and Mrs Simpson taking the rooms, Petrova ?’

  Petrova looked surprised.

  ‘That’s what they’ve come for. They wouldn’t come if they didn’t want them, would they ?’

  ‘Ah!’ Clara put her iron to her face to feel how hot it was. ‘There’s a lot come to look at rooms, but do they take them ?’

  ‘Don’t they never take them ?’ Posy inquired.

  ‘One in a million,’ said Cook. ‘That’s my experience.’

  The Simpsons seemed to be the one in a million; they said they would be on leave for six months, or perhaps longer, and they would move into the Cromwell Road the next Monday. Garnie told Petrova that she considered she had done the letting, and she would take her to the motor show as a reward.

  The next tenant was a Miss Theo Dane. She was an instructress of dancing at ‘The Children’s Academy of Dancing and Stage Training.’ She was little and pretty, and wanted a room on the ground floor so that she would not disturb anybody when she was practising. The children stared at her over the stairs when she moved in.

  ‘I thought she would wear shoes like the ones your mother left you,’ Pauline whispered to Posy.

  Posy thought of the tiny pale pink satin ballet shoes upstairs.

  ‘Not when it’s raining,’ she suggested.

  ‘Look!’ Petrova, who was in the middle, dug an elbow into each of them. ‘What’s that red box?’

  She spoke louder than she knew. Theo Dane looked up and smiled.

  ‘It’s a big gramophone. Perhaps you’ll come down and hear it when I’ve arranged my things. Will you ?’

  Pauline skipped down the stairs.

  ‘Can we come after tea?’

  ‘That’ll be very nice.’

  Petrova followed Pauline.

  ‘All of us, or just Pauline?’

  ‘All of you.’

  They went, and found the gramophone very nice indeed. Theo let Pauline and Petrova wind it and change the records. Posy began to dance as soon as the music started; the other two were a bit shocked.

  ‘You mustn’t mind. She doesn’t mean to show off — it’s because she’s little.’

  ‘It’s not showing off,’ said Theo, who was watching Posy with interest. ‘Why don’t we all dance? It’s the right thing to do to music’

  It did seem to be, for
she put on a record which had the most striking effect on the feet, even on Petrova’s, which were the least dancing feet in the family.

  When Nana came to fetch Posy to bed, she found a most hot, dishevelled party.

  ‘Well, you have been having a time.’ She smoothed Posy’s hair. ‘Thank Miss Dane nicely, Posy, and say good-night.’

  Theo kissed Posy. She looked anxiously at Nana.

  ‘I hope we haven’t made too much noise.’

  ‘There was plenty,’ Nana said. ‘But it hasn’t done no harm. We let the other two rooms while you was at it.’

  The three children threw themselves at her.

  Who, Nana? Did they look nice ?’

  ‘Have they got cars?’

  ‘Have they got a gramophone?’

  ‘One at a time,’ Nana said firmly. ‘They are both doctors — lady doctors.’

  ‘Lady doctors!’ Pauline made a face remembering various bottles of medicine that she had not cared for. ‘I don’t think we want those in the house. Nobody’s ill.’

  ‘These aren’t the sort that come when you’re ill,’ Nana explained. ‘Doctors for learning, they are. They coach.’

  Posy looked interested.

  ‘Like the picture of John Gilpin? “My sister, and my sister’s child.” That one ?’

  Nana shook her head.

  ‘No. Miss Brown says their sort of coaching is teaching. Come on Posy.’

  Pauline and Petrova went in to the drawing-room, where Sylvia always read to them for a bit before they went to bed. They were reading a book called The Secret Garden which had belonged to Sylvia when she was a child. Neither Pauline nor Petrova could sit quiet while they were being read to, however interesting the book, without something to do. Pauline had sewing, and embroidered very well for somebody not yet ten. Petrova was very stupid with her needle, but very neat with her fingers; she was working at a model made in Meccano. It was a difficult model of an aeroplane, meant for much older children to make. Sylvia opened the book.