Movie Shoes

  “Oh, John! Here’s some mail for you.”

  Rachel stopped practicing and listened. How perfect if Dad called out, “Where’s Rachel? There’s one for her.” There was silence. Dad must be sorting the letters. Then she heard his voice. “Good. News from home. Three for you, Bee, two for Peaseblossom, and four for me.”

  Bella came to clear the breakfast. She smiled when she saw Rachel. “You enjoyed your breakfast.”

  This was clearly a statement and did not need answering. Rachel came over to the table and helped stack the plates. Bella did not look like the sort of person who would find it a nuisance answering questions.

  “How often do posts come? I mean, posts from-people who live in California?”

  “Miss Cora opens the mailbox herself. Were you expecting a letter?”

  “A letter or a message.”

  Bella stopped, a pile of plates in one hand. “I was remembering. I called Miss Cora to the telephone. There was a lady asking for you.”

  Aunt Cora was in the living room. Rachel peered around the door and looked at her. She was writing at a desk. She looked busy. Almost every day since they had known they were coming to California Peaseblossom had said something about their being as little trouble as possible to Aunt Cora. Interrupting a person who was writing was being a little trouble, but not a great deal of trouble, and of Posy Fossil had left a message, it would be too frightful not to answer at once. Rachel cleared her throat.

  “Aunt Cora?”

  Aunt Cora swung around. Though all the welcoming had not worn off her face, she looked as though she were hoping very much she was not going to be interrupted every time she sat down for five minutes.

  “Yes, honey?”

  “I asked Bella about letters, and she said she thought there had been a telephone message for me.”

  Aunt Cora looked vague. Then she nodded.

  “That’s quite right. A Miss Postle or Mossel called you up. She very kindly offered to see to your dancing lessons while you are here, but the studio was way over the far side of Sunset Boulevard, so I thanked her and said it couldn’t be managed. I explained I was pleased to have you as my guests for the winter, but that did not include my acting as chauffeur all over Los Angeles.” She gave a nod of dismissal and went back to her writing.

  Rachel rushed up to her parents’ room. John was arranging a table as a desk. He was putting out his typewriter paper and reference books, and as he arranged them, he whistled in a contented way through his teeth.

  Bee was unpacking. She put an armload of John’s clothes in Rachel’s arms. “Hang these in that cupboard, darling. Only we mustn’t call them cupboards anymore, must we? They are called closets here.”

  Rachel took the clothes, but she did not move. “Posy Fossil rang me up to ask me to take dancing lessons, and Aunt Cora told her I couldn’t go; she said the studio was too far away.”

  Bee pointed at the closet. “Hang them up, and don’t look so distraught.”

  “But I feel distraught; having a chance to learn dancing from Posy Fossil is just about the most important thing that ever happened to me.”

  As John stood back from his table to see how it looked he said, “I don’t think you need despair yet. I daresay there are streetcars, or we can borrow a bicycle. The great thing is not to rush your aunt for a day or two. After all, we’ve been in the place only about an hour.”

  Rachel hung the clothes in the closet. Nobody could have a nicer father and mother than she had, but sometimes they were disappointing. It didn’t seem possible that anybody could think that seeing Posy Fossil in a day or two would do. It was the sort of thing that ought to be done the very first minute. She said no more, but she looked a lot.

  Aunt Cora had no piano. Tim did not accept this strange fact without verifying it. He went into the kitchen and asked Bella; after all, the piano might just be away being repaired. Bella had a nice kitchen and seemed pleased to see him and if the question of a piano had not been so urgent, he would have liked to stay and have a good look around. Bella was definite. She had looked after Miss Cora for years, and there hadn’t ever been a piano.

  Tim went in search of Aunt Cora. He arrived just after Rachel had left. He did not make Rachel’s polite entrance. He stalked in, looking severe.

  “Why haven’t you a piano, Aunt Cora?”

  Aunt Cora looked up from her letter. Her face lost more of its welcoming look. Another child! Really!

  “Why don’t you go play on the beach? I do hope you children aren’t going to run in and out the whole time. My nerves won’t stand it.”

  Tim did not care what Aunt Cora’s nerves would stand.

  “I have to have a piano. I have to practice every day. I promised Mr. Brown I would. How do you get a piano in America if you haven’t got one? Can you hire one for me?”

  Aunt Cora saw that Tim was determined to go on talking about pianos until he had an answer. She laid down her pen. “You can rent pianos in America, but they cost money. You haven’t money, so you can’t rent one.”

  “I’ll have pocket money, I suppose. I do in London.”

  “I don’t know from whom, unless you earn it,” Aunt Cora said.

  Tim was exasperated. “Children don’t earn pocket money. It comes from their fathers on Saturday mornings.”

  Aunt Cora took up her pen in a very meaningful way. “In America it does not. You’ll earn any you get here.”

  Tim was quite prepared to start earning if that was the way to get a piano. “How do I earn?”

  “Will you stop asking questions? You make me so nervous. I don’t know how children earn. I just know they earn. Now will you please run away? I’m busy.”

  Jane loitered up the beach. It was a nice beach, and the water looked perfect for bathing. She walked slowly along the sand, examining each house. She wondered if children lived in any of them; it would be nice if they did; with Rachel taking dancing lessons from that Posy Fossil and Tim practicing, she would need somebody for a playmate. She thought all the houses very nice and gave marks to each according to her view of its merits. She was just turning back to find out what was keeping Rachel and Tim when she saw something which stopped her in her tracks. She was in front of a nice white wooden house which would have got almost full marks had it not been that at the back of the lawn, fastened to his kennel by a chain, was a black spaniel. The spaniel seemed to be reasonably contented, but Jane was not contented for him. Without remembering any of the things she had been told about how to behave in a foreign country, Jane marched up to the gate.

  The gate was locked. Jane shook it, but the lock was secure and would not come undone. She was just planning to climb over it when the gardener came around from the front of the house. He looked up, nodded, and said something Jane could not catch. She leaned on the gate.

  “Do you know it’s awfully cruel to keep your dog chained to his kennel like that?”

  The gardener did not seem to have heard what she said, but he had caught the word “dog.” He smiled. “Yeah, a fine doghouse.”

  Jane had never heard a kennel called a doghouse before, but she guessed what he meant. “However nice it is, he shouldn’t be chained to it, poor boy.”

  The man scratched his head. Then he came over to the gate. He looked at Jane’s angry face in wonderment. “He’s gotta be chained.”

  “Why?”

  “If he’s loose, they’ll take him.”

  “Who will?” Jane demanded

  “Cops.”

  The gardener seemed to think the conversation was over. He took a look at the sprayer to see if it was working properly and walked away.

  Jane gave the gate another angry shake. She leaned over to the dog.

  “Poor boy! I don’t believe a word he said. I think he made it all up. I shall ask Aunt Cora, and if it’s a lie, I’ll come and set you free myself.”

  When Aunt Cora saw the third interrupter come in, all signs of being a welcoming aunt left her. She looked like what she felt, an aun
t who had got up very early to meet relatives who felt she was being more noble than she could say in taking them in and, once they were in, wanted to see as little as possible of the adults and nothing at all of the children. She especially did not want to see this child, who she had already noticed was the plain one and unlikely, therefore, to be a credit to her.

  “Well?” Aunt Cora said wearily.

  Jane drew up a chair by Aunt Cora’s desk. “Do dogs in America have to be chained up?”

  Well, really! said Aunt Cora’s face. What next? The first child looked as though you had hit her when you said very reasonably you could not drive her daily to Sunset Boulevard for dancing lessons. The boy had demanded a piano. Now here was the ugly one pulling up a chair as if she had come to visit, asking about dog laws. It was too much.

  “Yes they do I’m glad to say. I’ve never liked dogs.”

  Jane eyed Aunt Cora with horror. Never liked dogs! What an aunt!

  “Why do they have to be chained?”

  “Hydrophobia, I guess. Now run along, and take the other two with you. Go play on the beach.”

  The children held a meeting on the beach. They walked until they were out of earshot of the house. They sat down. The sun blazed down, warming them through and through. The sea made a lazy, lapping sound. Some seabirds of a new, interesting sort floated on the water, but for the three of them the day was a ruin.

  “She said she thanked Posy Fossil and said my lessons couldn’t be managed.” Rachel moaned. “Oh, what will I do if Posy never rings up again!”

  Tim threw a stone at an imaginary aunt. “No piano, and not even ashamed.”

  Jane rolled over on her face and kicked at the sand with her toes. “That Dad could have a sister who could say, ‘I’ve never liked dogs’! To think we are going to live with such an aunt for six whole months!”

  “And such a lovely place,” said Rachel. “And Dad’s put out his typewriter as if he really means to write again. If only Aunt Cora weren’t like that.”

  Jane kicked at the sand again. “But she is like that, and she looked at me with a despising look.”

  Tim hugged his knees and rested his chin on them. “In America lots of children don’t have pocket money given to them. They earn it. She said so.”

  “Earn it?” asked Rachel. “How?”

  “I asked Bella. She said doing chores for the neighbors. I’m going to snoop at the neighbors this afternoon so I can see which would be the best to start on.”

  Rachel turned to look at him. “She wouldn’t let you have a piano in her house if you did hire it.”

  “Then I’ll hire a place with a piano in it.”

  “It will take a lot of money,” Rachel warned Tim.

  “I’ll earn it.”

  Rachel felt a new respect for Tim. Here was she, feeling just hopeless, but Tim wasn’t feeling hopeless; he meant to do something.

  “If I can find out how you do it, I could earn, too,” Rachel said. “I could earn money for carfare to go to my dancing lessons-that is, if Posy Fossil ever rings up again.”

  Jane brushed some sand off her nose. “Actually I’d be glad if Tim couldn’t practice and you couldn’t dance. It would make it much nicer in the house for everybody but if it’s to help you to get things that an aunt who’s, so low she doesn’t like dogs won’t let you have, then I earn money to help you. I vote we all start trying. Let’s see which of us can earn first.”

  9

  Posy Fossil

  It was not possible for the children to start earning the next day. On the trip over, Peaseblossom had planned that their days should be spent as nearly as possible in the same way as days in London-lessons, walks, meals, and bedtime. Aunt Cora, in a roundabout way, showed her that this could not be. In her funny whiny voice, she made it clear that Peaseblossom had been invited because house help was difficult and Bella was getting old and not able to do much more than the cooking.

  Peaseblossom did not mind a bit about the housework; but she did mind that while she was doing the housework, there would be no lessons, and she had no intention of allowing Tim and Jane to sit up for evening dinner every night. However, she was tactful and did not say what she was thinking to Aunt Cora but smiled and said that she was sure everything would work out splendidly.

  By the next day she had things arranged. Bee was delighted that Aunt Cora wanted help in the house; it was a way of repaying her kindness. She and Peaseblossom decided that they and the children would get the house cleaned immediately after breakfast. The children could then get in two and a half hours’ lessons. After lunch they could have a good walk and education at the same time, studying flowers, birds, and places of interest. After tea there could be another hour of lessons or homework. Peaseblossom had got up very early and had a talk with Bella about meals. She found her most understanding. As long as she did not have to prepare it, Bella did not mind a bit Peaseblossom’s giving the children an English tea. It was Bella herself who suggested they should eat it in the kitchen. Nor did she mind serving cereal and fruit for the children’s suppers. She did not say so in words, but she managed, by the amused look in her eye to suggest that she and Peaseblossom were conspirators planning strange goings-on behind Aunt Cora’s back. Peaseblossom, as a good guest, thought this wrong but unavoidable under the circumstances.

  It was the children who resented Peaseblossom’s planning. On Saturdays and Sundays and during the holidays they had helped clean the house at home, and they all had their days for helping to lay the table and wash the dishes; otherwise they did as little housework as they could and were glad of any excuse to get out of it. The very last thing they had expected in California was to find themselves doing more housework than they had ever done before. Even Rachel could not hide her thoughts. The first morning she was pushing an electric polisher up and down the hall with so sulky a face that Bee said, “Hurry up, darling, and don’t look so cross. We want to surprise Aunt Cora when she comes down.”

  Rachel turned off the switch on the polisher. “I don’t care if she’s surprised or not. I think it’s very mean of her to expect us to clean her house. She ought to do it herself, not let us do it while she stays in bed.”

  Bee was stem. “Sssh! Don’t let Peaseblossom hear you. That’s a horrid and ungrateful way to talk.” She held up a finger. “Listen, can you hear the typewriter? Dad’s very first morning. Isn’t that worth paying for by a little housework?”

  “Not to me. As far as I can see, we might just as well not be in California. Every minute of the day we’re going to be doing something. I shan’t even be able to get in my proper practice, and what’s the good of it anyway? I expect Aunt Cora’s put Posy Fossil off for good, and if she has, she’s ruined my career.”

  Bee laughed. “Goose! Get on with that polishing. Your career shan’t be ruined, I promise you. Dad and I will find a way.”

  Jane was making beds with Peaseblossom. She looked and felt shockingly black-doggish. Peaseblossom but she did not ask what was wrong. Instead she kept up a cheerful-conversation and did not mind getting no answers. After a bit Jane could not keep her grievances to herself any longer.

  “One would think visitors wouldn’t be the ones to work.” She leaned across the bed and lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper. “I’m beginning to hate Aunt Cora.”

  Peaseblossom used her finishing-a-conversation voice. “I’m ashamed of you. Not another word. Each one of you is as bad as the other. I shall speak to you all before lessons.”

  Tim was in the kitchen cleaning shoes, a job he often did at home and did not dislike except when it interfered with his piano practice. He was appalled at the arrangements for the day. When was he to start earning money to rent a piano? He scowled at Bee’s shoe, which he was cleaning, and slapped some polish onto it.

  Bella shook her head. “It doesn’t do any good, honey, slapping the polish on that way.”

  Tim put down the shoe.

  “I’m angry, Bella. Very angry. Everybody knows I have to
practice every day, but they don’t care a bit. I’ve talked to them all, and they all say, ‘Don’t worry.’ But I do worry.”

  Bella’s wrinkled face was kind but stern.

  “You’ve no right to complain about your family. They’re right to see y’all educated. It’s a fine thing. In Georgia, where I was raised, I didn’t get so much education, but my family goes to college.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to be educated, and I don’t mind cleaning shoes; but I must practice. I couldn’t believe I had an aunt without a piano.”

  “You’ve no call to go speaking that way of Miss Cora.” Bella’s voice softened. “Maybe I can help.”

  Tim jumped up, scattering bottles, polishers, and shoes all over the kitchen. “How, Bella? How?”

  “I’m not tellin’. You finish your work and do good at your lessons and maybe I’ll tell you something.”

  Lessons were on the porch. Before they started, Peaseblossom closed the doors.

  “I don’t want to say any of this again, and I won’t hear one word of argument from any of you. You are selfish little beasts. You know how long it is since your father worked, and that he’s started again this morning, and it’s the first time since the accident that your mother has looked really happy. But what do you three do? Since we arrived yesterday in this lovely place, you’ve done nothing but grumble. Today I am warning you. One more grumble, and you go to bed. Children who behave as you’ve behaved must be ill, so I shall keep you in bed and dose you until I see that you are your old selves again. Now then here are the lesson timetables I have worked out for you.”

  It was no good arguing. Peaseblossom always meant what she said. As the three started working, they exchanged looks which said as clearly as though words had been spoken, ‘the meanness of her.’

  The sun blazed down on the beach; the sea grew bluer and bluer and made an inviting, whispering noise. The children occasionally raised their eyes from their books and when they did, it was hard to go on being angry. California was a very lovely place.