The Bell Family

  ‘Don’t you think we ought to walk up and down outside?’ Jane suggested. ‘Won’t it look rather rude if we come too soon?’

  Angus was disgusted.

  ‘Walk up and down outside! Here you’ve both been talking and talking, and taking hours to get ready, and there’s me been waiting and waiting, knowing it was getting later and later, and thinking I’d miss my turn at the audition, and now we are here you don’t want to go in.’

  Cathy sympathised with Jane, but however shy she felt she would not be helped by waiting.

  ‘It won’t look rude at all, darling. Besides, think what fun it’ll be having time to look round, and seeing the other children who are being auditioned.’

  Jane looked gloomily down at her very clean, but rather old, blue cotton frock.

  ‘I do wish Miss Bronson had said a party frock was right. I could have worn my new one. I’d have felt much more dance-ish in that.’

  Cathy took Jane’s arm.

  ‘Come along, goose, you look very nice. I’m glad to see you in socks, I do so much prefer them to those revolting St Winifred’s stockings.’

  Jane raised a foot, and looked at her sock.

  ‘You may like them, but I feel it in my bones the right clothes for a person as old as me would be tights and a tunic.’

  Angus was losing patience.

  ‘Clothes, clothes, clothes! Here’s me just the same as usual, except for being cleaner, and here’s you fuss, fuss, fuss about what you wear.’

  Cathy was feeling almost as nervous as Jane, for she had never been inside a dancing school before, so she was glad Angus was being firm with them.

  ‘Quite right. We women do fuss, don’t we? Now, come on, darlings, we’re going in.’

  It is queer the way that occasions that look as though they were going to be exciting turn out not to be, and others which sound as though they were going to be dull end up by being thrilling. Before the audition both Cathy and Jane were keyed up to expect anything, and even Angus, though he was confident the school would take him, was what Mrs Gage called ‘proper above himself.’ But when it came to it, the audition proved a quiet, unfrightening affair. Angus was the only boy attending, so he was seen first.

  Angus’s account of what happened to him was that a lady, having first admired the shoes he had bought with his birthday money, told him to copy the steps she danced. Angus said he had copied the steps, and found them easy. Cathy, who had been in the room, had quite a different impression. She had seen the steps Angus was supposed to copy, and she had seen, what appeared to her, some very funny attempts by Angus to do so. But both she and Angus agreed about what happened afterwards. The Director of the school asked Angus why he wanted to dance, and he explained in great detail what happened to his feet when he first saw a ballet. After that Angus was sent away, and Cathy was left alone with the Director. She was told Angus was too young to be a real pupil, but he might come to classes and, if there proved to be talent, he could become a full member of the school later on.

  Cathy was surprised and grateful at the interest taken in Jane. Miss Bronson had evidently written quite a long letter about her, for the Director seemed to know just how much training she had had, her age, and that there was no money to pay fees. In a way it seemed to Cathy they took more trouble over Jane than they had over Angus. They made her take off her shoes and examined her feet, and they watched very carefully as she performed the steps she was told to do. When she had finished the Director thanked her very nicely, and then sent her to change her shoes while he talked to Cathy. He told Cathy he would, of course, be writing to Miss Bronson about Jane, but that naturally she would like to hear something too. It seemed to him that Jane appeared a talented girl but badly in need of training. If it were possible she should have proper lessons.

  While Cathy, Angus and Jane were at Sadler’s Wells Ginnie was having a bad time at St Winifred’s. She went to school deciding that if her family were mean enough to send her on a day when Jane and Angus had a holiday she would not work. ‘I’ll just sit at my desk,’ she decided, ‘but I won’t listen to a word anybody says.’ Of course that sort of behaviour was soon noticed, and when Ginnie had been told for the third time to pay attention she found Miss Matthews, her form mistress, was not putting up with her any longer.

  ‘You’ve been totally unmanageable the whole morning, and I don’t intend to be bothered with you, so you can stand outside the door where I can’t see you.’

  Ginnie felt even more martyred than she had when she had arrived at school. ‘After all,’ she said to herself, ‘I’m not doing any harm. It’s just that I’m not listening.’ To Miss Matthews she said:

  ‘That suits me perfectly, thank you.’

  That was the last straw. Miss Matthews was a good teacher, and fond of Ginnie as a rule, but rudeness was more than she could stand.

  ‘Does it! Well, I’ve no wish for it to suit you perfectly, so instead of standing outside the door you will report yourself to Miss Newton. Tell her I sent you and why.’

  Miss Newton! Ginnie felt her heart turn over. To stand outside the door was one thing, to be sent to see Miss Newton in her study was quite another. She gave a look at Miss Matthews to see if there was any possibility of her relenting, but Miss Matthews seemed to have forgotten her and had gone back to the class. Trying not to look frightened Ginnie opened the door and shut it gently behind her.

  Miss Newton called out ‘come in’ to Ginnie’s nervous knock. She was sitting at her desk writing. She glanced at Ginnie standing in the doorway.

  ‘Good morning, Ginnie. What is it?’

  Ginnie took a deep breath.

  ‘I was sent by Miss Matthews to report myself.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For being totally unmanageable this morning.’

  Miss Newton laid down her pen.

  ‘Dear me! And have you been?’

  Ginnie tried to speak bravely, but the word came out with a wobble in it.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’ve been meanly treated. Jane and Angus have had a holiday today, and I’ve been made to come to school.’

  Miss Newton could not, for a moment, see what Ginnie meant.

  ‘But they’re at this audition, and that’s work.’

  ‘Not to them it isn’t, I’ve said and I’ve said it isn’t fair, but I’ve been sent to school just the same.’

  Miss Newton leant back in her chair.

  ‘I see. So you decided to be totally unmanageable.’

  ‘No, I didn’t, that’s what Miss Matthews said I was. I just meant to be a deaf adder that stoppeth its ears.’

  Miss Newton pointed to a chair.

  ‘Sit down, Ginnie. Have you ever tried to talk to somebody who won’t listen to you?’

  Ginnie did not see what Miss Newton was getting at. To her it seemed as if she was just having a nice talk. She said with fervour:

  ‘More often than you could believe. Have you?’

  Miss Newton’s voice became grave.

  ‘This is serious, Ginnie. If you’ve experienced such behaviour you know how annoying it is.’

  Ginnie saw this was not a friendly talk. Miss Newton was thinking of her behaviour. All the same she was certain there was justice on her side; she tried to make Miss Newton understand.

  ‘But I did it because I was angry, and I had a right to be angry.’

  Miss Newton thought about that.

  ‘Even if you have a right to be angry, and I don’t agree that you have, it is your parents you should be angry with. After all it was they who ordered you to come to school this morning. If we are going to accept anyone has a right to be angry it is, I think, Miss Matthews and the rest of the staff who have that right, because you have made them suffer because you were angry with your father and mother.’

  Ginnie felt as if she had been caught in a corner, from which there was no escape, when playing hide and seek.

  ‘As a matter of fact, truthfull
y, Miss Newton, I hadn’t thought of that.’

  Miss Newton looked at the clock.

  ‘What would you have done today if you had been given a holiday?’

  ‘Nothing special. Taken Esau, our dog, out for a walk, talked to Mrs Gage, she helps Mummy, and …’

  Miss Newton spoke crisply.

  ‘It’s now eleven-thirty. You came to school at nine, and you’ve wasted two and a half hours of our time. You can go home for the rest of the day.’

  ‘Oh, good, thanks awfully, Miss Newton.’

  Miss Newton stopped Ginnie with a gesture.

  ‘Wait. I haven’t finished yet. But as you have wasted two and a half hours of our time, next Friday Miss Matthews will give you work to take home that will take two and a half hours of your week-end time. I think that’s fair, don’t you?’

  Ginnie was appalled.

  ‘Two and a half hours’ home work. But there’s lots of things I want to do on Saturday.’ Then she saw Miss Newton’s face, which did not look forgiving. ‘I’m sorry about this morning, I’ll be good now. As it happens I don’t want that holiday after all.’

  Miss Newton had a way of brushing things aside she did not want to hear. She brushed Ginnie’s words aside now, just as if they had never been spoken.

  ‘I trust you to go straight home. I shall telephone the vicarage to say you’re on your way.’

  Cathy had decided that she, Jane and Angus would have lunch in a shop, and Alex was away for the day, so Mrs Gage had planned what she called a proper turnout The last person she wanted to see that morning was Ginnie.

  ‘Whatever did you ’ave to act up for, and get sent ’ome? If my Margaret Rose played me up this way I’d ’ave taken a slipper to ’er, straight I would. And what you’re to eat I don’t know, there’s a bit of bacon over from breakfast, what I was goin’ to ’ave, and there’s a bit of ’orse meat cookin’ for Esau. I suppose I could cook you a couple of eggs, but that’s all you’ll get.’

  Ginnie could usually get round Mrs Gage.

  ‘Didn’t Mummy leave any money about? Then I could have an ice while I’m out with Esau.’

  Mrs Gage very nearly smacked Ginnie.

  ‘Ice indeed! I’ll ice you, my girl. Now off you go, and you’re not to put a foot in this ’ouse before one, and as soon as you’ve eaten your dinner, since you are ’ere, you’ll make yourself useful. I’ll ’ave all the bits of silver down and you can clean ’em.’

  The family came home. Cathy tactfully did not go into the details of why Ginnie had been home for the day, she thought she seemed to have had punishment enough cleaning silver for two hours, and if, as Mrs Gage said, there were to be two hours’ home work as well at the weekend, there seemed no need for her or Alex to interfere. Jane and Angus felt as if nothing nice would ever happen again. When Jane came in to tea she looked gloomily at the tea table.

  ‘Isn’t it odd, here’s this most important Wednesday and now it’s turned into an ordinary day.’

  Cathy knew just what Jane meant.

  ‘Feeling flat, darling?’

  ‘So flat it’s as if I were going to be a pie crust, and you were rolling me out on the kitchen table.’

  Angus was frowning.

  ‘I wish I could go there right away, and never go back to the choir school. I didn’t want to go there only for dancing lessons.’

  Alex thought Angus was old enough to be grateful for little mercies. After all, he was very much better off than Jane.

  ‘I don’t think you’ve got much to grumble about, old man. These classes are quite a good idea, they’ll learn then if there’s any chance of their making a dancer of you.’

  Ginnie helped herself to a sandwich.

  ‘You’ll have to go into training, my boy. Dancers don’t stuff themselves with jam sandwiches, do they Daddy?’

  Alex laughed.

  ‘I don’t know much about training for dancers. Your Uncle Alfred used to be in training when he was at Cambridge, he was quite an all-rounder.’

  ‘Really!’ said Ginnie. ‘If you’d asked me I’d have said he was an all-fronter, for that’s where he sticks out.’

  Cathy did not want Ginnie to get into any more trouble that day, and it was obvious she was in a mood when she could very easily be rude to someone, so she said severely, ‘Ginnie,’ and was going to change the subject when Paul, who had hurried home from school to hear the news, came tearing in.

  ‘How did it go, Jane?’

  Jane thought it was nice of Paul to be so interested, knowing, as he did, there was no chance of her going to the school.

  ‘They don’t say much, they’re going to write to Miss Bronson.’

  Angus bounced up and down in his chair.

  ‘I’m going to dancing classes, and then to the school later on.’

  Paul was disappointed. He had hoped for something much more clear-cut. He said rather crossly as he helped himself to a sandwich:

  ‘If they didn’t say much, going to this audition doesn’t seem to have done much good, does it?’

  Cathy thought Paul must be tired.

  ‘Jane knew it wouldn’t, but it’ll be a help when Miss Bronson gets the letter. Now, Paul, we’ll put all the food round you and clear the table. I think that this has been the sort of day that needs a special finishing off. I thought we might play a family game.’

  At once everybody felt better. Jane rushed round the table to help her mother clear.

  ‘You are the most gorgeous mother. A family game would be exactly right, let’s play charades.’

  Angus thumped the table to attract attention.

  ‘No. Let it be hide and seek all over the house.’

  Paul helped himself to bread and jam.

  ‘I can’t play for long because of my home work, but I could manage one game of racing demon.’

  Ginnie put a pile of plates on a tray.

  ‘I suppose nobody cares what Miss Virginia Bell would like, but she thinks it would be a good evening for that blow feather game.’

  Alex looked at his watch.

  ‘If you can wait until I get back from evensong I’ll join in. I think, as you all want something different, you should let your mother choose the game.’

  Cathy looked round at her family, and remembered some cards she had played with as a child, which were still popular with her own family.

  ‘What about Happy Families? It’s ages since we played that. I should like to see the Bulls, the Buns and the Doses again.’

  While the rest of the family were washing up Paul tried to get some more information out of Jane.

  ‘Didn’t they say anything at this audition? I thought they would.’

  Jane put down the teapot she was carrying.

  ‘It’s not so much the way they say it, it’s the way they look. I think they were interested, because of the way they examined my feet. I mean, you wouldn’t bother to do that to somebody who couldn’t dance, would you? When the Director said good-bye he said thank you in an awfully nice way. I think truthfully he was rather sorry about me.’

  Paul had finished his tea. He got up.

  ‘What it boils down to is that you might have a chance, if only we had the money to pay the fees.’

  Jane nodded.

  ‘Quite honestly that is what I think, but I’m not going to despair. Mumsdad said it was silly to do that. He quoted something which finished up: “Hope lost, all lost.” It sounds rather Bloggish, but I like it.’

  Jane carried Paul’s tea things into the kitchen. The only person left in the dining-room with Paul was Esau, still waiting hopefully, for more pieces from his plate. Paul knelt down by him, and played with his ears.

  ‘What would you do, my boy? Mumsdad can quote what he likes about not giving up hope, but if I write that letter to Grandfather I’ve put paid for ever to being a doctor. Fat lot of use hoping would be then.’

  8

  Play Saturday

  EVERY AUGUST ALL the family went to stay with Uncle Jim and Aunt Ann. Alway
s it was a perfect month looked forward to by everybody. Cathy’s old home, which her brother, Uncle Jim, had taken on, was a large rambling house, with heaps of room in it. It was the perfect place to have a holiday in, because Uncle Jim had not got much money, and though Aunt Ann kept everything looking as nice as she could, there was not a great deal in the house that would spoil.

  The house was in Berkshire. It was right in the country where everybody could run wild and do exactly what they liked. Aunt Ann, who was a sensible sort of person, full of good ideas, had long ago started the habit of putting extra beds in Ricky’s and Liza’s rooms for Ginnie and Angus. These two rooms were a little cut off from the rest of the house, and so, however much noise the four made, as Aunt Ann said, ‘They enjoy it and it can’t hurt us.’ This arrangement meant that, for all August, Jane and Paul had the luxury of rooms to themselves. They did not mind having Angus and Ginnie in their rooms the rest of the year, it was part of life as it was, but there was something very holiday-ish about having a room to yourself. As on Zoo Saturday, the families usually split up into twos. Paul often went out with Uncle Jim on his rounds. Ricky and Ginnie would disappear for hours on end, often coming back with rather a bloated look, and stains round their mouths, for when they were not eating the last of the family raspberries they visited somebody else’s canes. The loves of Liza’s life were the family pony Thomas, colonies of guinea pigs, several hutches of rabbits, various cats and some bantam hens. Angus thought Liza the luckiest girl in the world; every minute he spent playing with, feeding, or, in the case of Thomas, riding on, her pets, was unadulterated bliss.

  ‘Of course picnics are simply gorgeous, Mummy,’ he told Cathy; ‘but it does seem a terrible waste to go out when there are guinea pigs, rabbits and a pony at home.’

  Alex was usually so tired by the time his holiday came round that for the first week he just lay about in a deckchair sleeping. After that he enjoyed anything that was going, and, best of all, he liked fishing. He did not want grand fishing, just sitting on a river bank staring at his float, and, better still, watching the life of the river. The only member of the family who enjoyed fishing with him was Jane. They would sit side by side for hours, seldom getting a bite, Alex watching the tiny water boatmen, the moorhens and sometimes a heron, Jane staring into the water, seeing underneath it swirling dancers moving exquisitely in a never-ending ballet.