Ballet Shoes Part 9

Pauline Wants a New Frock THEY had a lovely time at Pevensey. There was very little money to spend, but except for eating, they did not need any. They came down to the beach in their bathing-dresses early in the morning and spent all day there. They found a smooth piece of fine s.h.i.+ngle where n.o.body could see them and did exercises for half an hour in the morning; after tea they worked on the small bit of lawn at the back of the cottage, as there was a fence round it just the right height to make a good practice bar. They had lots of walks to the old castle, and once they went to Eastbourne and had tea on Beachy Head. They got very brown, and all put on weight, and ate more every day. had a lovely time at Pevensey. There was very little money to spend, but except for eating, they did not need any. They came down to the beach in their bathing-dresses early in the morning and spent all day there. They found a smooth piece of fine s.h.i.+ngle where n.o.body could see them and did exercises for half an hour in the morning; after tea they worked on the small bit of lawn at the back of the cottage, as there was a fence round it just the right height to make a good practice bar. They had lots of walks to the old castle, and once they went to Eastbourne and had tea on Beachy Head. They got very brown, and all put on weight, and ate more every day.

The Cromwell Road seemed very long and dull when they got back; but they had not time to think much about it, for term at the Academy began the next day.

That Autumn term was like the last Autumn term; by the end of it those children who were not old enough for a licence felt out of things, for everybody else was rehearsing for Christmas productions. Pauline hated it. She had been so important all last term, and now she was rather in the way. She was in a cla.s.s older than her age, and so was left with n.o.body to work with. It was a continual 'Pauline, dear, sit quietly down and watch.' She loathed it; she. loathed to be made to feel not wanted when she knew she was the best actress in the cla.s.s. So she sulked. It was not her fault that she was not twelve; she would be next year, thank goodness! And in the meantime she would not be nice and helpful, and run round fetching and carrying for other people's rehearsals; she would go on coming to the cla.s.s, but be as much in the way as possible. She thought n.o.body was noticing how she felt, but she was wrong. One day about three weeks before the end of the term she came to the cla.s.s as usual, but was stopped in the doorway by Miss Jay.

'I shan't want you again this term, Pauline, I am too busy working on the Christmas plays. You will go to Madame Moulin instead.'

Pauline usually had two French acting cla.s.ses a week and found them quite enough, for learning a part in French was not as easy to her as learning it in English. Madame Moulin greeted her with a cheerful nod when she saw her.

'Ah, ma pet.i.te ma pet.i.te, next term I will have you play the "Little Match-girl" of Hans Andersen. I translate myself in the holidays; but now, since I have you for five extra hours a week, I shall give it to you; you shall start the translating for me.'

Pauline's mouth dropped open. She stared at Madame Moulin in horror.

'But that isn't acting, that's lessons. I hate doing translations.'

'It's very good for you.' Madame patted her shoulder. 'Miss Jay had thought it would be amusing for you to watch the senior girls prepare for the Christmas plays, the extra rehearsals that she takes so that they may please their producers; but she tells me, "No, Pauline ne s'amuse pas; she knows too much of the art of acting to be interested in the training of these others. We must find her something difficult to do - it is bad for a child to be bored".' She pulled out a chair, and pointed to the sheets of foolscap, and a copy of Hans Andersen's fairy story. 'There you are, ma chere. You will not have time to be bored if you translate all this for a play.'

Pauline had to sit down. Angrily she took up the book, and began to read the story. Madame Moulin settled at the other end of the room and took a pencil and cut lines out of a play that the junior cla.s.s were to be given. Pauline tried to read, but she had a lump in her throat, and though she meant not to cry, tears came into her eyes and the words kept getting blurred; then quite suddenly from trying not to cry a sob came out that was like a hiccup. That started her. She could not stop; it seemed so mean that she should be treated like this. The more she thought how mean it was, the more she cried. Madame said after a bit: 'Why are you crying?'

Pauline brought out a long sentence, but none of it was distinguishable. It sounded like: 'Mean-hateful-French-mean-why?-Not-done-anything-mean-mean-snotsmi it's faultwelve.'

Madame looked out of the window, and thought a moment.

'When I was a young girl I was a pupil of the Academie Francaise. I was a good pupil; I had great promise, just as you have great promise. I grew, as many young girls grow, to think I had more than promise. One day there came to the school a very great actress. She was old, and one of her legs had been cut off, so she used one of wood. It chanced that I had recently had much notice for my playing of "L'Aiglon".'

Pauline was crying less, because she was interested.

'"L'Aiglon"? That's an eagle, isn't it?'

'Yes. A poor young boy, he was the eaglet; you shall read the story, and when you are fifteen or sixteen you could play it. This actress, she was a very old woman and she chose that role to act for the students. Imagine her! Old. A wooden leg. Dressed in the height of fas.h.i.+on. To play a young boy!'

'How silly!' said Pauline.

'That is what I thought.' Madame Moulin nodded. 'How foolis.h.!.+ C'est formidable! That old woman "L'Aiglon"! I am "L'Aiglon"; I am young, but I settled to watch, saying, "Well, we must be kind, but..." Pauline, when she had finished, the tears ran down my cheeks. She was "L'Aiglon". She ceased to be ridiculous, her art was supreme. How we students clapped! How we called "Bis". When we were dismissed, we pa.s.sed her bowing; but when I drew level with her she caught my hand. It was as though she had read in my face how I had thought, for she said, "N'oubliez jamais qu'une actrice continue a apprendre jusqu' a son dernier jour".' Pauline looked a little puzzled, so she translated: 'Never forget that an actress can always learn until her last hour.'

'I want to learn,' Pauline said sulkily. 'It's because I wasn't learning that I didn't like it; and anyway I never said so.'

'Your face said it, and Miss Jay could see. You were angry. Why should you watch these girls? What had they to teach you? You, who had played Tyltyl so well. You were in the mood I was in when I watched "L'Aiglon". Why should I watch? What could an old woman teach me?'

'But you were watching a great actress.'

'It never matters whom you watch, you can always learn. Always, always, always. Now bring your book here. Together we will translate the story. At the end of next term we will give a performance of it, in costume.'

Posy came to her cla.s.s and was told that Madame could not take her as she had to coach a girl for a pantomime; she was to go to a general cla.s.s. This happened three days running; then Posy took the law into her own hands. She paid no attention to the message, and went on upstairs just as though she had not received it. She knocked on Madame's door and went in and curtsied. Madame was giving a lesson, she looked round with a frown.

'What is it, Posy dear?'

'I've come to say goodbye,' said Posy cheerfully. 'I'm not coming any more this term except for fencing.'

'Why?'

'The cla.s.s I'm going to isn't any good to me.'

Madame's eyes grew very small and looked angry; she hated disobedience.

'I have arranged for you to attend it.'

'Yes.' Posy smiled at her happily. 'But you don't know what they do.' She came over to the bar. 'Those frappes are over too quick: no time to get them right. Then there are two exercises you and me don't do, and I won't do them until you've shown me. Not any of it does me good, so I'll work at home just like you've showed me, and I'll come again next term.'

Madame looked for a moment as though she would hit her. Then suddenly she laughed.

'How old are you?'

'Eight.'

Madame kissed her.

'Goodbye. If you don't come to cla.s.ses I rely on your honour to work at home, and all through the holidays. I shall take you for extra cla.s.ses next term.'

The pantomime rehearsals suited Petrova. Some of the children in her cla.s.s were dancing in troupes, and n.o.body had time for those that were not. They were supposed to work at the bar by themselves; but of course they never did, but had a glorious time doing anything they liked.

The next year was an important year. Pauline would be twelve at the beginning of December, and so old enough to have a licence, and they all had whooping-cough.

Whooping-cough is a miserable disease, but if you must have it, the worst place is the Cromwell Road; it is so far from the Parks and any place where you can whoop nicely in private. They spent the first part of having it in bed, but after a bit they got well enough to get up, and then it was most depressing. The weather was ghastly - very cold, with those sort of winds which cut your legs and face, and often it rained and sometimes half snowed, and they whooped too much to go on an underground, or a bus, and they were all cross, and they got tireder and tireder of walking to the Victoria and Albert and back. Then one day Mrs Simpson remembered that an old housemaid they had when she was a girl lived in the country and was poor, and would be glad to have them. Sylvia was worried, because what money she had was getting steadily less, and there was not a word from Gum. But Mrs Simpson said it would not cost much, and that it would be a present to the children from her because the garage was doing well, and she thought it was because, as a family, they had brought them luck.

The cottage was in the middle of a common in Kent. It was a perfect place for whooping-cough, because there never was anybody about, and if there chanced to be a pa.s.ser-by and a whoop came on, there were plenty of gorse-bushes. As a matter of fact, directly they got there they began to whoop less. The weather got better, and they found early primroses, and the catkins and p.u.s.s.y palm showed there would not be much more winter, and at once they felt better. Nana, who was fussy about gloves and looking like ladies even when you were going to look anything but a lady and stand whooping in the road, seemed to change in the country. She was country born herself, and she so liked helping Gladys (the housemaid Mrs Simpson had when she was a girl) with the chickens, and putting up Gladys's husband's dinner, which meant popping a bit of bacon into a pastry turnover, and looking over the potatoes in the barn, that she never bothered the children at all. As long as they were out all day, and ate plenty, she did hot even get angry when they came in late for meals. They went back to London without a whoop in them in time for the Summer term. That Summer term and the beginning of the Autumn were very hard working for Pauline. She would be twelve in December. A child can get a licence to act from her twelfth birthday. Pauline was to try and get her first engagement that Christmas.

'Pauline,' said Miss Jay one day in November. 'I want you here at eleven tomorrow morning. I want you to bring a length of hair ribbon with you and to wear a nice frock. I am taking you to see a manager.'

The news that Pauline was to see a manager the next day caused more confusion than pleasure. Gum's money was getting lower and lower; and since eating is the most important thing, everybody had to do without new clothes. Nana did miracles in the way of patching and darning, but of course patches and darns, though neat, are not smart. The only dresses the children had that could be described as 'nice' in the way in which Miss Jay meant, were their white organdies, and Pauline could not wear white organdie with a blue sash at eleven o'clock on a November morning. For lessons, and to go to the Academy, they had kilted skirts, and jerseys, and on Sundays and better occasions they still had velvet frocks which Sylvia had bought them when times were not so bad; but Pauline's was much too short for her now, and one of the elbows was darned. Nana took it out of the cupboard and held it up to the light.

'Terrible!' She shook her head. 'n.o.body'd engage you for anything, Pauline, looking like a rag-bag in that. I'll just wash your jersey through tonight, and you'll have to wear what you've got on.'

Pauline got very red.

'I can't. Miss Jay will think we haven't any clothes if I wear a jersey and skirt after her saying a frock.'

'Well you haven't any, so there's no harm in her thinking it.' Nana spoke crossly, because she hated the children not to be well dressed.

The three children looked at each other. They knew all about going to auditions for parts, for they had seen it happen. You came to school in best clothes, and stood in the hall where everybody could see you, and people called out 'Good luck! I hope you get it.'

'She can't go in a jersey and skirt, Nana,' Petrova said.

'No.' Posy looked very determined. 'Jerseys and skirts are never worn at auditions.'

'Well' - Nana sounded crosser than ever, but they all knew she was not - 'what do you think I am? A conjurer? Do you think I can make a frock like they bring rabbits out of a hat?'

In the ordinary way they would have laughed at that, but they did not now. Going to an audition in old clothes was far too serious a matter. They could hear the whispers, and see the nudges, 'Those Fossils haven't any clothes.'

Petrova clenched her hands.

'They're not going to be sorry for us - they shan't. Pauline has got to have a frock.'

'If only we had some money.' Pauline went over to the velvet dress. 'Do you suppose I'll have to take my coat off? The front isn't so awful.'

They all examined the frock. It had got that going-different-ways look that velvet gets when it is old. It had been a nice blue once, but it was greyish in parts now; the darn on the elbow showed terribly, and so did the place where the hem had been let down. After a moment they left the frock. There was no need to say anything: it was obvious she could not wear it.

'Do you think Garnie has a little money?' Posy suggested.

Pauline and Petrova answered together.

'We can't tell her, she mustn't know.'

'No,' Nana agreed, thinking of all the extra grey hairs in Sylvia's head, and the hours she spent working out accounts, and knowing how badly, even with the boarders' money, they worked out. 'We mustn't bother Miss Brown.'

'I know!' Petrova exclaimed. 'Our necklaces! They'd sell.'

'Oh!' Posy let out the gasp before she had time to hold it back, because she was very fond of her corals. Then she took a deep breath and said in as pleased a voice as she could, 'Our necklaces! What a good idea!'

'There's our watches,' Pauline said. 'Wouldn't they do instead? I'd rather sell my watch.'

'No.' Petrova looked at her watch. 'We always wear those. Garnie would be sure to ask where they were.'

Pauline looked worried.

'Well, couldn't we just sell my necklace?'

Nana shook her head.

'Turquoises don't fetch much, dear.'

'But pearls do,' Petrova said. 'Perhaps just mine would do.'

'But it's for a frock for me,' Pauline protested.

Petrova sat on the floor to think better.

'It's for us all really. It would be all our shame if you had to go in a jersey and skirt.'

'Tell you what,' Nana suggested. 'Let's take all three necklaces along, and see what is offered. We couldn't get a dress in a hurry for Pauline under four or five guineas. It's no good buying cheap stuff, it's got to last.'

'I tell you what.' Pauline sat down by Petrova. 'Suppose we buy a dress with our necklaces between us, and keep it for nothing but auditions. Let's get one that'll suit all of us.'

'Doesn't matter awfully about it suiting me,' Posy pointed out. 'I can't go to an audition for nearly four years.'

'Unless the Professor's back,' Nana said in a voice which showed what she thought of the Professor, 'it's what you'll wear for more than four years.'

'Very awkward it's going to be,' Petrova observed, 'when all of us are old enough for licences and want to wear it on the same day.'

Pauline looked proud.

'You seem to forget that I'm going to an audition about a part. If I get it I shall earn money. Probably by the time Posy is twelve I shall be keeping you all.'

Posy put on an American tw.a.n.g.

'And how!'

The plan was that Pauline and Nana should go out as soon as the shops were open, taking the three necklaces with them. All their plans were upset, however, by Mr Simpson coming up after breakfast just as they were starting, and saying that since it was a most important occasion he intended to drive Pauline to the Academy. Pauline looked at the others, and none of them knew what to say. Then Posy blurted out: 'But you can't. She's got to...'

Petrova put her hand over her mouth and stopped her saying any more; but of course Mr Simpson could not help seeing something was odd.

He looked at them, then he sat down and asked Nana if he might light his pipe. Nana said he could, and while he was seeing to it they made signs to each other to say he must not be told anything. When his pipe was going nicely he looked round and smiled.

'What's the trouble, Nana?'

'Nothing, sir,' Nana said firmly.

He sighed.

'Oh, dear, I hoped I was a really trusted friend, but I suppose I'm not.' He got up. 'Very well, then, I'll go to the garage if I can't help with a lift, Pauline.'

Pauline and Petrova looked at each other in a worried way. They felt awful, and Petrova made a face at Pauline to say 'Couldn't we tell him?' Then suddenly Nana said: 'If you wouldn't mind stepping outside a minute, sir.'

He went at once, and then she told them that she thought they had better tell him, for gentlemen knew about jewellery, and perhaps he would not only drive them to a shop where they could sell the necklaces, but see the man in the shop did not cheat them. Nana thought everybody cheated women, and had great faith in a man being about. So they called Mr Simpson in and told him the whole story. He listened, then he said he had a better scheme. He got out a piece of paper and a fountain pen. He wrote a lot. Then he spoke like a man at a board meeting.

The children said nothing for a moment because it seemed such an easy plan, but sounded so business-like. Then Petrova asked: 'If we don't earn money quickly to buy them back, will you sell them to get your five pounds?'

Mr Simpson nodded.

'Naturally, but since we are friends I will keep them as long as I can.' He laid the piece of paper on the table and held out his pen. 'You first, Pauline. Sign here.'

CHAPTER X.

The Audition THERE is no doubt a new dress is a help under all circ.u.mstances. This new one was very becoming to Pauline, whose hair had got no darker as she grew older, but had remained a natural platinum. All the children considered velvet the right material for an audition frock, and in Harrods, Nana and Pauline found a black chiffon velvet dress. It was plainly made, with a white collar and white cuffs, and a tight bodice with rows of b.u.t.tons down the back. Pauline wished it was not black, which she thought dull, and like their elocution overalls; but it was the right sort of thing to wear, and had the advantage that there was an enormous hem to let down, and that the black knickers that belonged to her overall would do to wear under it. Mr Simpson waited outside Harrods in the car, and though it was too cold to take her coat off, Pauline unb.u.t.toned it so that he could see what the money he had lent had bought. He said she looked magnificent, and all the way to the Academy he pretended he was driving a debutante to a Court at Buckingham Palace. is no doubt a new dress is a help under all circ.u.mstances. This new one was very becoming to Pauline, whose hair had got no darker as she grew older, but had remained a natural platinum. All the children considered velvet the right material for an audition frock, and in Harrods, Nana and Pauline found a black chiffon velvet dress. It was plainly made, with a white collar and white cuffs, and a tight bodice with rows of b.u.t.tons down the back. Pauline wished it was not black, which she thought dull, and like their elocution overalls; but it was the right sort of thing to wear, and had the advantage that there was an enormous hem to let down, and that the black knickers that belonged to her overall would do to wear under it. Mr Simpson waited outside Harrods in the car, and though it was too cold to take her coat off, Pauline unb.u.t.toned it so that he could see what the money he had lent had bought. He said she looked magnificent, and all the way to the Academy he pretended he was driving a debutante to a Court at Buckingham Palace.

Pauline left her hat in the cloakroom, and she and Nana went and stood in the hall. Nana carried her coat, for the students were always inspected before they went to an audition. There was one other child waiting, who had her mother with her. Her name was Winifred and she was very clever. She was the child who would have played Mytyl if she had not had measles. She had acted really well, she was a brilliant dancer, she had an unusually good singing voice, but she was not pretty. She had a clever, interesting face, and long, but rather colourless, brown hair. She was wearing an ugly brown velvet frock; not a good choice of colour, as it made her look the same all over. When Winifred's mother saw Nana, she gave her Winifred's coat and shoe bag and hair-ribbon, and asked her to be so kind as to look after her, as she could not well spare a morning, as she had her husband ill, and there were five children younger than Winifred at home.

Winifred looked enviously at Pauline.

'What a lovely frock! I can hardly breathe in mine, it's so tight. I bought it last year out of the money I made in Pantomime. I've grown since.'

Pauline flushed. It was not her secret how she had got the money for the dress, so she could not explain; but she did not want Winifred to think she often had things like that.