The Bell Family

  ‘Dear Ginnie! You’ll never know what a relief this is. Still, I should have had faith. I know it’s always darkest before the dawn. But I was in such a quandary. You see, I have to leave this afternoon for a niece’s wedding, and I shan’t be back until Friday, and the concert is the next day, so I had to leave everything planned. Oh, thank you, dear! And please tell dear Miss Newton how very, very grateful I am.’

  When any of her girls wished to see their headmistress they made application through their form mistress. Ginnie was called to Miss Newton’s study just before morning break.

  ‘Good morning, Ginnie. You want to see me?’ Miss Newton pointed to a chair. ‘Sit there, dear.’

  Ginnie pulled the chair a little nearer Miss Newton’s desk.

  ‘Please, Miss Newton, I want the school choir, the folk dancers, and the verse speakers for a concert on Saturday afternoon.’

  Miss Newton tried never to let her face betray what she was thinking, but she was so surprised she looked as if she was.

  ‘You want … My dear Ginnie!’

  Ginnie, full of her idea for a good entry in her book, was not considering how Miss Newton looked.

  ‘I’ve promised the school will do a concert, but although it’s them will do the things, it has to be me who gives it all.’

  Miss Newton was for once almost past words.

  ‘You promised this entertainment?’

  ‘Yes, for Miss Bloggs … she’s a person Daddy says is the cream of his parish workers … it’s for her old people at the Darby and Joan Club.’

  Miss Newton’s voice took on the sharpness and coldness of an icicle.

  ‘Have I got this right? You, a small girl in my lower school, who is neither a verse speaker, a member of the choir, nor a folk dancer, in fact I believe unqualified to perform in any way, has promised, without reference to me, the services of half the school next Saturday?’

  For the first time Ginnie appreciated she had taken a good deal upon herself.

  ‘It sounds awful like that, but I said I’d do it because it would look so glorious in my dedication book. I thought it would make my book the best in the school.’

  ‘And what had you planned your share of this entertainment was to be?’

  The bounce was leaving Ginnie.

  ‘I promised in rather a hurry, while I was waiting for the bus. I thought I’d make a speech at the beginning, and then come on at the end like people do at concerts.’

  Miss Newton had a large engagement book on her desk. She opened it at Saturday.

  ‘Saturday. Senior tennis match. Senior historical group visiting Tower of London. Junior verse speaking classes attending open-air performance of Midsummer Night’s Dream. School choir at musical festival. Dancers attending opening round square dancing contest.’ She shut the book. ‘I think that settles the matter, Ginnie.’

  Ginnie felt as if something cold was sliding down her back.

  ‘But it can’t settle it. Miss Bloggs has gone to her niece’s wedding, and won’t be back until Friday, and then it’ll be too late to tell her I can’t give the concert.’

  Miss Newton sounded a little sorry for Ginnie.

  ‘You’ve heard what the school are doing, so even if your promise had been given with the best intentions I couldn’t have helped you. But I don’t think it was given with the best intentions. I don’t think you were trying to help Miss Bloggs, or give pleasure to the old people. I think you were just thinking how good the entry would look in your book.’

  Ginnie was nearly in tears.

  ‘That man who gave us the pep talk didn’t know how difficult it is to find important Service to do.’

  ‘Between you and me, Ginnie, I think looking for important service is a mistake. If I was judging the best book I’d make the winner the girl who had chosen one piece of sensible service and done it every day.’

  ‘But that’s so dull.’ Tears rolled down Ginnie’s cheeks. ‘Goodness, what am I to do? I must have the concert…. I promised.’

  Ginnie was not looking at Miss Newton, or she would have seen she was looking sympathetic.

  ‘You’ve got a lot of talent in the family. Wouldn’t Jane dance, and Angus sings, doesn’t he?’

  Ginnie sniffed.

  ‘Nobody plays the piano, they can’t sing or dance without that.’

  Miss Newton leant across the table, and laid a hand on Ginnie’s.

  ‘If I found you an accompanist for Saturday, could you arrange a concert?’

  Immediately Ginnie sprang from misery to the topmost peak of happiness. She now saw no difficulty in arranging her concert. In the eye of her mind Jane danced, Angus sang, Esau waltzed, her father recited, even Paul was performing.

  ‘Of course I could.’

  Miss Newton kept her hand firmly on Ginnie’s.

  ‘But you will have to pay for the accompanist in Service.’

  ‘What sort?’

  ‘Any sort that is ordinary and useful, and you do every day. There must be plenty of people in your father’s parish who need somebody to look after the baby, or something of that sort.’

  Ginnie’s spirits dropped a point or two.

  ‘How long would I have to look after babies?’

  ‘How about every day for a week? That will show you how glad people are of humdrum help, and you’ll find it makes quite an impressive entry in your book. Now, run back to your class, dear. Just let me know what time you need the accompanist on Saturday, and she will be there.’

  Ginnie meant to break the news of Saturday’s concert tactfully to her family, but she had no chance. Alex came in to tea, with a letter in his hand.

  ‘Ginnie, this is from Miss Bloggs. She says you have been a very kind girl, and arranged for St Winifred’s to give the entertainment for the old people on Saturday, in the place of the concert party who’ve fallen through. She says she’s sure you will arrange things beautifully, but as she won’t be back until Friday, will I see everything is in order. Is everything in order?’

  Ginnie saw there was nothing for it but the truth.

  ‘Nothing’s in order, except someone to play accompaniments. I did promise the school would do it, but Miss Newton said no, they couldn’t.’ The family groaned ‘Oh, Ginnie!’ She turned on them. ‘And there’s no need to “Oh, Ginnie” me. I’ve said there’ll be a concert, and there’ll be a concert.’

  Cathy looked worried.

  ‘I do hope so. Poor Miss Bloggs.’

  Alex spoke firmly.

  ‘It is not going to be poor Miss Bloggs. Ginnie has promised she will provide an entertainment, so she will provide an entertainment.’

  ‘I’ll ask permission to dance,’ said Jane. ‘We’re not allowed to dance in public, but perhaps as it’s only for the old people I’ll get permission.’

  ‘It needn’t be anything grand,’ said Alex, ‘the old people are easily pleased. I’m no great turn, but I’ll sing “Cockles and Mussels.”’ He turned to Angus. ‘You’ll sing, won’t you, old man?’

  ‘No, I won’t. I abom-nate singing. If I’ve got to do something I’ll dance.’

  Alex was firm.

  ‘You’ll sing. The stage isn’t strong enough for you to dance on. We’ll wait until you’re trained for that.’

  ‘That’s three things,’ said Jane. ‘What else are you going to have, Ginnie?’

  Ginnie was not going to admit she had no idea. She put her chin in the air.

  ‘Wait and see. If Miss Virginia Bell says there’ll be a concert, there’ll be a concert.’

  11

  Ginnie’s Concert

  NOT FOR THE first time, it was Mrs Gage who came to the rescue. On the Thursday before the concert she found Ginnie looking worried, and asked her what the trouble was.

  ‘If I tell you,’ said Ginnie, ‘will you absolutely promise not to tell anybody?’

  Mrs Gage was putting on her hat to go home. She paused and looked in a don’t-come-it way at Ginnie.

  ‘That time you thought you ’ad
the mumps and didn’t, did I tell anybody anythin’? It’s the concert, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, Angus is going to sing, though he doesn’t want to. Daddy’s singing “Cockles and Mussels.” Jane’s being allowed to dance twice, but that’s all there is. I told Daddy there were two more things happening, but there aren’t.’

  ‘You didn’t ought to ’ave done that.’

  ‘It was true. I thought Paul would lecture on cricket, but he won’t.’

  Mrs Gage laughed.

  ‘Good job too. Can’t see the Darby and Joans fancyin’ that, po’r old dears. What was the other turn?’

  ‘I thought Esau would waltz, but he won’t learn, even though I bought him chocolate biscuits for prizes, he won’t even try. So all that’s happening is I’m dressing him up as a baby and pushing him across the stage.’

  Mrs Gage was not a person who held back her thoughts.

  ‘That won’t look much. Like as not they’ll take ’im for a real baby, and see nothin’ in it.’

  ‘I’m afraid you’re right, so I’ve got to think of something else. I said there’d be a concert, so there’s got to be one.’

  Mrs Gage suddenly slapped a hand on the table.

  ‘What am I thinkin’ of? What the old people like is choruses. You know, ’earin’ the old songs what they’ve always known. You give ’em those, they’ll be a riot.’

  ‘But who’s to sing them?’

  ‘Me, of course. On the chara’ on an outin’ I always leads the choruses.’

  Ginnie never looked for in-between troubles. To her, if Mrs Gage could sing choruses, then the accompanist would know all the songs. Her concert was arranged. She hugged Mrs Gage.

  ‘Darlingest angel Mrs Gage. Oh, goodness, you can’t think how nice I feel. Here’s me been worrying and worrying, and all the time I only had to ask you.’

  Mrs Gage made clucking disapproving noises.

  ‘There you go, proper rush and tear as usual. No good me sayin’ I’ll sing, unless the lady piano player what Miss Newton sends knows the songs. You better find out tomorrow.’

  Ginnie frowned and kicked at the kitchen table.

  ‘Quite truthfully, I didn’t want to see her again before Saturday. You see, she’s made me pay for the accompanist. I’ve got to look after somebody’s baby every day for a week, and put it in my Dedication book as Service. I don’t know when she meant me to start, but I haven’t yet, because I’ve been so busy with the concert.’

  ‘You ’aven’t far to look for a baby. The verger’s wife is ’avin’ teeth out Monday. You offer to take ’er baby for a bit after school, and they’ll be ever so grateful. You tell Miss Newton that, and she’ll understand. Well, so long, ducks, I must be off, or Mr Gage won’t ’alf create.’

  Ginnie saw Miss Newton the next day. She quite understood about the verger’s baby, and said waiting until Monday was a good idea. Then Ginnie explained about Mrs Gage.

  ‘She helps Mummy, and she’s simply marvellous. I like her better than anybody who isn’t family.’

  ‘What sort of songs does Mrs Gage want to sing?’

  ‘Tunes like “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do,” and all those.’

  ‘I see, just the old favourites. My pianist knows all those.’

  ‘Angus is singing “Cherry Ripe,” and “Matthew, Mark, Luke and John,” and if he’s encored, and he always is, “I’ll walk beside you” and “There was a lady sweet and kind.” Daddy is singing “Cockles and Mussels,” but no encore because he doesn’t know another song.’

  ‘She can certainly play those. What’s Jane dancing to?’

  ‘First “The Sugar Plum Fairy,” and then the tune she danced to in the school play.’

  ‘What’s she wearing?’

  ‘Just ordinary clothes, I think, she hasn’t anything else.’

  ‘Come and see me before you go home, I’ll have her silver messenger tunic packed. I expect she’d like to borrow it.’

  Ginnie gazed at Miss Newton in amazement.

  ‘Goodness! If you don’t mind my saying so, you’ve been a great surprise to me. I thought you were very mean about the concert, and now you’re helping.’

  Miss Newton laughed.

  ‘You’ll find that people do surprise you when you get to know them.’

  Ginnie turned to go, then she remembered the babies.

  ‘I shan’t like the verger’s baby, for it’s got a very sneering face, but I’ll be extra nice to it, because you’ve been nice about my concert.’

  Saturday was very hot. Cathy had tried to please the family by preparing a cold breakfast. She had made a brawn. Mrs Gage was the first to see it.

  ‘What ever’s that, dear?’

  ‘A brawn. I read in a paper that it was easy to make, and all the family would love it, but it doesn’t seem to have turned out right somehow.’

  Mrs Gage looked at what seemed to be a cross between cold soup and a half-jellied jelly.

  ‘Put’s me in mind of jellied eels. What are the bits of solid? Look chewed to me.’

  Cathy shuddered.

  ‘Don’t, Mrs Gage, dear. I had already taken a dislike to it, but now it makes me feel sick.’

  Mrs Gage peered again at the brawn.

  ‘I couldn’t fancy it meself, but maybe it seems worse in one piece. Perhaps it won’t look so bad slopped out on to different plates.’

  Cathy put the brawn on the breakfast tray.

  ‘Let’s hope so, for it’s all there is, and the family have a busy day in front of them.’

  Angus came down to breakfast very worried. Directly Alex had said grace he turned to him.

  ‘I don’t think one of my caterpillars is well, Daddy. You can’t see much of a caterpillar’s face, but what I can see looks rather white.’

  Alex was consoling.

  ‘I expect it’s the weather. The pavements are red-hot this morning. My word, makes us think of Berkshire, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Only six weeks and two days before we go,’ said Ginnie. ‘It makes it nearer when you scratch the days off on a calendar.’

  Cathy put the brawn in front of Alex.

  ‘Doesn’t it. I scratch the days off in my engagement book. I don’t know why, but I seem to need a holiday more than usual. I think it’s been extra dusty in London.’

  The family had their eyes on the brawn. Jane asked in rather a weak voice:

  ‘What’s that, Mummy?’

  Cathy tried to sound fond of her effort.

  ‘A brawn.’

  ‘I thought brawns stood up,’ said Paul.

  Cathy thought her brawn looked worse in the dining-room than it had in the kitchen.

  ‘So it should. Do try and eat a little of it, darlings. The recipe said it was very nourishing, and the perfect breakfast for a hot morning.’

  Alex, with a spoon, put brawn on everybody’s plate. For a little while nobody spoke. Then Esau put a paw on Angus, asking for breakfast. Angus tried to whisper so quietly that only Esau would hear, but he was not very good at whispering.

  ‘You wouldn’t like it. It’s not at all nice.’

  Jane laid down her spoon.

  ‘Don’t wear your suffering-martyr face, Mummy. We know you meant it to be a nice cold breakfast, but, darling, we can’t eat it, honestly we can’t.’

  Paul tried to say something kind.

  ‘The meat bits aren’t too bad, it’s the jelly that’s so awful.’

  Ginnie pushed away her plate.

  ‘To me it looks as if it was something somebody had eaten, and …’

  Alex spoke sharply.

  ‘Ginnie!’ Then he turned to Cathy. ‘How about letting Esau have this? It’s very hot, none of us needs more than bread and butter.’

  ‘You wouldn’t like it. It’s not at all nice’

  That shocked Angus.

  ‘Daddy, how mean! Poor boy, he doesn’t want pot o-maine poisoning.’

  ‘He’s quite right, Mummy,’ Jane agreed. ‘Esau’s such a polite dog he’d probably e
at it out of good manners, and then be frightfully sick afterwards.’

  Cathy heard Mrs Gage outside, and called her in.

  ‘Would you take this brawn away.’

  Mrs Gage had the post. She laid it all down beside Alex.

  ‘Nasty lookin’ lot.’ She picked up the brawn. ‘I’ll put it in the pig bucket. The bluebottles are somethin’ chronic this mornin’, and I wouldn’t wonder if this finished them.’

  Cathy looked at Alex’s letters.

  ‘Go through them again, Alex, I’m sure there’s one for me from Ann.’

  Alex turned over his letters.

  ‘There isn’t. As Mrs Gage rightly said, they’re a nasty looking lot, mostly typed, and one at least is going to need a long difficult answer. Is it important?’

  ‘About the holidays, of course. Ann and I write almost daily now. I saw a new kind of jam jar top advertised, and I sent the advertisement to her, and suggested I bought some.’

  ‘Jam tops!’ said Jane. ‘I like hearing you talk about them. I can see you and Aunt Ann picking mulberries, and me and Daddy fishing. It’s almost as if we were there.’

  Paul got up.

  ‘I must be off. I wonder if I’ll get a chance to play cricket for the village, like I did last year.’

  ‘Don’t be late,’ said Ginnie. ‘My concert begins at four o’clock, and you’ve absolutely promised you’ll be there.’

  In spite of the heat the old people enjoyed their tea. Jane was changing for her dance, but the rest of the family except Ginnie helped Miss Bloggs hand round. Ginnie had tried to hand round, but she was too anxious to pay attention to what she was doing, so after she had upset a plate of buns, and given an old lady two cups of tea at the same time, Cathy told her to give up.

  ‘You can’t think of two things at once, darling. You go and stand in the door and wait for your accompanist.’

  Ginnie was grateful.

  ‘Thank you awfully, Mummy. Of course I never did a concert before, you can’t think how fussed you feel. There’s Miss Bloggs keeps saying how everybody’s looking forward to it, and she’s sure it’s going to be splendid, but quite truthfully I’m not sure. Miss Newton’s absolutely promised the person who plays the piano will know all Mrs Gage’s charabanc songs, but if she doesn’t it’ll be simply awful, for there’s hardly any concert at all.’