“It’s dull doing things alone. I was never allowed a friend before I met Harriet.”
It was not only the boys who were surprised, but Harriet too, for it did not sound a bit like Lalla talking.
“No friends?” said Alec. “Why?”
Toby did not believe her.
“You must have some, everybody does.”
Edward beat on the table with his fists to attract attention.
“I’ve simply hundreds and hundreds.”
More and more Lalla felt a need to be grand.
“My Aunt Claudia didn’t know any who were suitable.”
“Suitable for what?” asked Toby.
Lalla’s face was red; she knew she was being silly but she could not stop.
“For me; she thinks a skating champion, I mean somebody who’s going to be a skating champion, ought only to have friends who talk about skating.”
Toby began reckoning in his head.
“How many good skaters are there at your rink? I mean of your sort of age?” Lalla thought there might be about ten, fairly good but not as good as she was. Toby wrote the figure ten on a piece of paper. Then he put down the number of towns in England. Then he guessed the number of rinks per town. Then he gave each rink ten promising pupils. “It’s impossible to get a true figure, but if I were you I’d tell your aunt that your chances of becoming a champion skater are much less than one in a thousand.” He could see that Lalla did not know what he was talking about. “I mean if there were a thousand girls in a row, all skating about as well as you do, and about the same age, it’s unlikely any one of them would be a champion skater.”
Lalla lost her temper.
“You’re very rude. I’m going to be a world champion. Everybody knows it. You see, my father was.”
Toby was about to explain that it was not that he was being rude, but that her facts were wrong, and he thought she ought to know, but Alec stopped him.
“Shut up. If Lalla isn’t a champion skater she ought to be, seeing how many people are trying to make her one.”
“And you’ve never seen her skate,” said Harriet. “She skates gorgeously, everybody says so.”
Alec saw that they had upset Lalla; he thought it was pretty silly to think you were going to be a champion something before you were, but he supposed you got like that if you had as many people poodling around you as Lalla had. All the same she was Harriet’s friend and their guest, so he tried to change the subject.
“All he meant was that it seemed pretty miserable to having nothing else to do except skate. I mean you can’t skate at home in the evenings, and we meant what do you do then? Before Harriet was ill she collected things, and she’s always making things, aren’t you, Harriet?”
Lalla felt that none of them liked her as much as they had, and she was sorry. She did not want to leave with the boys despising her, but the truth was that there was not much she could say; outside skating there was nothing she could think of that she did do. She had a garden, and the boys would have been interested in that, but they would despise the way she looked after it. However, a garden was better than nothing. She mentioned it cautiously. As she had supposed Alec and Toby were interested at once. They wanted to know how big it was and what she grew in it. Lalla saw it was no good pretending so she told the truth.
“It’s a piece of a side border, the end bit. I’ve got all the proper things for it, a fork, a trowel, a rake and a water-can and a wheelbarrow. I used to plant seeds and things; once I made my name in flowers, but Nana stopped helping me; she doesn’t like gardening, she hates bending, and she doesn’t like getting earth on her hands, and it’s dull doing a garden alone, so I don’t.”
“Then what happens to it?” asked Toby.
“It’s still mine, but the gardener does it. It really looks like the rest of the garden, but as it’s mine I can pick the flowers in it.”
Alec thought having a bit of garden was the nicest thing that could happen to anybody.
“Do you mean to say you don’t plant anything, ever?”
Lalla was by now completely honest.
“No. You try digging and digging by yourself, it’s awfully dull. Besides, if I did, neither Miss Goldthorpe nor Nana are interested, though they pretend to be, so they don’t really care what flowers come up.” Then suddenly, looking at Alec, Lalla had an idea. “Alec, why shouldn’t you grow things in my garden?”
Slowly, in a way the best ideas behave, Lalla’s idea took possession of them all. It was not decided that Sunday afternoon exactly what Alec would grow in Lalla’s garden, but it was decided that it should be made use of, and that one Sunday when Aunt Claudia was out he and Toby would come round and look at it, and decide what to plant in the spring. Almost at once a fierce argument went on between Toby and Alec. Alec wanted to try forced lettuces, but Toby, putting down figures and adding them up, tried to make him see that lettuces were out of the question, as they had to be grown under glass, and if you grew lettuces under glass you had to grow an enormous number of them to pay for the glass, and Lalla’s garden was only a piece at the end of a border and not a field. He said:
“We’ll have to measure the ground before we can tell how the space can be most economically used.”
As Toby said that, Lalla thought of her garden. What a surprise it was going to be to the gardener when, instead of the grand flowers he grew or the candytuft and the nasturtiums and things that she had grown, he saw tomatoes and cucumbers coming up. He would be so surprised he would be almost certain to talk about it.
“Don’t say anything to Nana yet, though she’ll have to know, of course. It’s better to tell her things slowly, she doesn’t like me to do anything unless Aunt Claudia says I may.”
Alec had got up and was walking up and down the room. In his mind Lalla’s garden was growing larger and larger, with splendid rows of green peas, and broad beans, and even new potatoes. He was brought back from the new potatoes by Harriet pulling his sleeve. She pulled him down and whispered in his ear. When she had finished he was laughing.
“Harriet thinks that Lalla’s garden is a family secret, so we ought to make our pledge over it, and as Lalla’s a part of it she ought to make the pledge too.”
Harriet danced across to Lalla.
“We’ve always done it, it’s to do with our Uncle William. The one that eats the things Daddy would like to sell in the shop.” She linked her little finger through Lalla’s. “You stand on her other side, Alec, and show her what we do.”
Alec linked his little finger through Lalla’s.
“It’s a family thing but we’ve always done it. I speak the pledge, and then you say with the others ‘Guzzle guzzle guzzle, quack quack quack’, and as you say it we lift our hands above our heads, linked together like this.” Lalla felt honoured; she had no idea what a pledge was, but she was glad she was being allowed to make it. Alec spoke in a solemn growly voice. “We Johnsons and Lalla swear on the stomach of our Uncle never to divulge what has taken place today.” They lifted their hands, and all said solemnly:
“Guzzle guzzle guzzle, quack quack quack.”
“That guzzle part,” said Alec, as they broke away and came back to the table, “is the most secret family secret. Dad doesn’t know that we know that our Uncle William was called ‘Guzzle’ at school.”
“When we found out,”Toby explained, “it was the beginning of a secret society, it had to be. That’s when we made up the pledge.”
“When anything important’s going on like your garden,” said Harriet, “we do our pledge.”
Alec patted his front.
“We vow on our Uncle’s stomach, because it’s probably the best filled, and therefore the most important stomach we know.”
Harriet looked proudly at Lalla.
“And nobody ever, except the Johnsons, made that vow before, so it almost makes you one of the family.”
Edward rubbed his cheek against Lalla’s sleeve.
“I shall like you being one of
the family.”
Alec gave him a shove.
“Shut up, sloppy. As a matter of fact you’ve a right to share the vow, Lalla, because your garden’s going to be a very family thing. It’s not only going to pay for Harriet’s skates, but it’s going to be the foundation of the fortunes of the house of Johnson.”
Driving home Nana thought Lalla looked solemn.
“Enjoyed yourself, dearie?”
Lalla wished she could confide in Nana. She would have liked to have told her that the Johnsons, at least the Johnson boys, were not very impressed by her being a champion skater, in fact Toby did not think she would be one, but Nana would be shocked, because that was just the kind of thing that Aunt Claudia did not want anyone to say; and she would have loved to have told her about the garden, but that would have to wait. Nana would not approve of Alec and Toby coming to look at it when Aunt Claudia was out. But she could answer about the afternoon.
“It’s been simply gorgeous. Oh, giggerty-geggerty, it was the nicest Sunday I’ve ever, ever had.”
Chapter Seven
INTER-SILVER
THAT SUNDAY AFTERNOON at the Johnsons’ had a great effect on Lalla’s skating. She had often said things like “Who wants to be a champion anyway?” but she had not meant them; it was like a person saying “Who’s afraid of the big, bad wolf?” when a headmaster or mistress sent for them. But hearing Toby say “One chance in a thousand” did something to her. She did not believe she was not going to be a world champion; nobody who has been told they are going to be a world champion since they were three years old could believe such a statement, but it made her want to hear people like Max Lindblom praise her and say how well she was getting on. And it made her decide to pass her inter-silver so brilliantly that not only Max Lindblom would say nice things but everybody else at the rink, and then Harriet would go home and tell the Johnsons, and they would laugh at Toby and tell him what an idiot he had been.
With the fine training she had behind her, all Lalla needed to make her do the figures well that she had to do for the inter-silver, was to care that she did them well, and to work hard. Quite suddenly she was caring and she was working hard. Max Lindblom, smiling in his shy way, came to Nana.
“Lalla does well. I am very pleased with her. You will tell Mrs King.”
“I will, Mr Lindblom, and I know she’ll be pleased. Very set she is on this skating.”
Max was used to Nana, and knew how she felt about skating and was used to her saying “this skating” in a despising voice; but he knew too she worried if Lalla was not getting on well, and would be glad to tell the aunt that he was pleased.
Nana not only told Aunt Claudia but she told Wilson, who told the cook who told the housemaid and she told Miss Goldthorpe. Miss Goldthorpe, who took Lalla to fencing and dancing, told Alonso Vittori, and Monsieur Cordon, so in the end everybody who had much to do with Lalla knew how well she was doing and smiled at her in a proud way.
A month after Lalla’s tenth birthday the inter-silver test took place. The judging was held on the small private rink and while it was going on skaters who had not been called practised on the big rink. It had been arranged that Harriet should come to the rink that morning, so that Lalla would have someone to talk to while she was waiting. Lalla did not need someone to talk to, for she was not nervous before a test, but Harriet was quaking at the knees. She looked at Lalla flying round in a new white kilt, jersey and bonnet, and because it was a test, white gloves, and she thought how awful it would be if she got her figures wrong, or fell over, or did something to lose marks, so she would not pass. Because the test was happening in the morning, and the mornings were her time, Miss Goldthorpe had brought Harriet to the rink. She thought skating rinks nasty, cold, damp places, and she could not imagine why anyone, unless forced like Lalla to do so, wanted to spend their time going round and round on ice, when they could spend it reading interesting books. She had not met Harriet until that morning, but, as Lalla’s friend, she had been wanting to meet her. The first thing that struck her was that Harriet looked worried. “Why,” she thought, “should a child of that age look worried?”
“Is anything the matter, dear?”
Harriet sat down beside Miss Goldthorpe. She put her hands into her coat pockets to keep them warm.
“I feel peculiar inside for Lalla. I expect you do too, don’t you?”
Miss Goldthorpe had not thought of feeling peculiar for Lalla but she was always interested in new ideas. She thought this one over.
“I don’t think so. Should I?”
“It’s a test. It’d be simply awful if she failed.”
“Why?”
Harriet stared at Miss Goldthorpe. Could it be possible that somebody who had met Aunt Claudia could ask why?
“Well, she expects to pass, Mrs King expects her to pass, and so does Mr Lindblom.”
“How old are you?”
“I was ten just before Lalla was. Lalla gave me a simply lovely skating book, and Nana knitted me this beautiful jersey, and, of course, I’d lots of other presents besides.”
Miss Goldthorpe said she was glad Harriet had had so nice a birthday, and remembered that Lalla had told her about it. Then she explained that the reason that she asked how old she was was to know if she was old enough to have taken any examinations. Harriet explained that until she had been ill she had been at school, and there had been examinations at the end of each term. Miss Goldthorpe said that she quite understood that, but it was not end-of-term examinations she was thinking of, but bigger ones.
“I taught in schools until I taught Lalla, so I was always coaching girls for examinations; of course it was important that they should pass, but I found it didn’t really matter what they knew. Lots of people pass examinations who don’t know very much, and lots of people can’t pass them who do. Once I got used to this idea I never worried about examinations again; I did my best to make my pupils pass, I couldn’t do more. If they didn’t they didn’t. I imagine a test’s very like a school examination, and that Mr Lindblom feels about Lalla much as I felt about my pupils.”
Harriet hugged one of her knees.
“But Mr Lindblom doesn’t feel like that, nor does Mrs King, nor does Lalla. She’s simply got to pass, it’d be the most awful thing that had ever happened if she didn’t.”
Miss Goldthorpe took a small tin out of her pocket.
“Blackcurrant jubes, they’re not at all bad though really they’re medicine. You suck one, and don’t worry. If Lalla knows her figures she will pass. She’s that sort of child. If she doesn’t know them she won’t, and there’s nothing either you or I can do about it. Now tell me about yourself; what lessons have you been doing since you’ve been ill?”
Miss Goldthorpe was the good teacher that she was because she was really interested in the girls she taught. She thought about them and nothing else. Now, sitting on the side of the rink, she was really interested in Harriet, and Harriet, feeling this, told her everything. About being ill, and the convalescent home, and Uncle William and the shop, and the boys, especially Alec’s paper round, and it was quite a surprise when Lalla skimmed across the ice and leant over the barrier and said:
“I’ve been watching you two. Jabber, jabber, jabber. I knew you wouldn’t care about my skating, Goldie, but I thought you’d watch me, Harriet, but you didn’t, and I’ve practised all my test figures, and everyone was watching me except you.”
Harriet started guiltily, but Miss Goldthorpe was quite unmoved.
“Harriet and I have been having a nice talk, dear. While she was watching you she was getting quite nervous for you, and I told her it was unnecessary.”
Lalla nodded.
“So it is, but you can think of me now because I come next.”
“I’ll hold my thumbs,” said Harriet. “I always hold my thumbs when anything’s happening in the family. It’s the best thing you can do to help anybody.”
“All right, hold them,” said Lalla. “But watch me. I don??
?t want you two gabbling while I’m doing my test.”
Harriet and Miss Goldthorpe stood next to Max Lindblom, Harriet tightly holding her thumbs, but Miss Goldthorpe, who did not believe in thumb-holding, had her hands in her pockets, and so did Max Lindblom. Harriet had never seen a test before, and she had the sort of respectful feeling she had when she went into a church. The two judges, thought they looked ordinary, became, as Harriet watched their faces, taller, bigger and more important every minute. They were a man and a woman and they wore almost identical teddy bear coats and fur boots; the woman judge had a scarf tied over her head, and the man was wearing a cap, both carried pencils and cards. Lalla seemed surprisingly at home with them; she searched about on the ice for a clean piece where no previous skaters’ skates had left a mark, and then stood, her hands at her sides, waiting to be told to begin, as calmly, Harriet thought, as if she were waiting to cross the road.
As neither Miss Goldthorpe nor Harriet knew a well-skated figure when they saw one, they could only stare at Lalla and hope for the best. Miss Goldthorpe thought it peculiar to be able to skate, so while she watched Lalla, she did not see the child she taught but a new Lalla, whose talent was as weird as the talent of a chimpanzee who could ride a bicycle. Harriet had been shown by Lalla over and over again what she had to do, and she understood just enough to know which edge she was on, and when she was doing the same figure on a different edge, or backwards instead of forwards. She tried to discover how things were going by glancing at Max Lindblom’s face, but she got nothing from it until Lalla had finished her figures. Then he smiled. When later Lalla’s one and a half minutes of free skating were over Harriet could bear the suspense no longer. She pulled Max Lindblom’s sleeve.