The Whicharts

by Noel Streatfeild

  The following morning he called her back again, some other excuse. He told her she was a good girl, and lightly kissed her.

  Maimie was amazed. He that was such a god, to kiss so unimportant a person as herself. Glowing, and treading on air, she left the theatre. From that morning she gave him a dog-like devotion. She gazed at him all day and dreamt of him all night.

  Tania felt very differently about Dolly. Now that she was over fourteen she was allowed to travel backwards and forwards on the Tube, with only Maimie as escort. On their journeys Maimie learnt that Tania didn’t see Dolly as a god at all, to her he was a holy terror, who expected a girl’s legs to do things they never could.

  “Imagine! he complained of us to Madame, and she said it was difficult, but that anything a producer wanted her children could do! Oh! he is a prize cow, that man. Oh, Maimie! how my legs do ache.”

  Dolly found Maimie eating her lunch on the stage. She and Tania were devouring sandwiches and fruit packed by Cook.

  “Hullo!” he said.

  Maimie smiled coyly, and said nothing. Tania, in her horror at meeting her enemy in her off­ work hours, took too large a bite of sandwich and choked. Maimie beat her roughly and furiously on the back, disgusted at this gross behaviour before her god. Dolly only smiled:

  “Take a drink of something, Kiddy.”

  “I’ll get a glass of water,” Tania wheezed, and fled.

  Dolly sat down beside Maimie. He ran his fingers through her hair.

  “You’ve got pretty hair, Baby.” Maimie only smiled.

  “And a pretty face, and a very pretty little figure”; his hand wandered over her.

  Her experience with the boys who had taken her motoring and to the pictures had left her quite unprepared for Dolly. She thought: “Surely it must have been an accident, he couldn’t have meant to touch me quite like that. Not there!”

  Dolly’s penchant for Maimie was not unnoticed by the rest of the chorus.

  “It’s a damned shame!”

  “She’s only a kid!”

  “Somebody ought to say something!”

  But nobody did, it was nobody’s business.

  One of the girls did warn Maimie.

  “You be careful of Dolly. He’s an awful little rotter Got no end of girls into a mess. Dirty little bastard!”

  Maimie was flattered to think the other girls had noticed Dolly’s interest in her. They were all so much older than she was, what fun if they were jealous. As it happened, as soon as the pantomime was produced,.she saw far less of Dolly, and never saw him alone. He told her he was going to take her to a dance, and she was wild with excitement at the thought. Alone at a dance with Dolly, envied by everyone; even the principals were proud to be seen about with Dolly. As it happened the dance was never arranged. A rush of spring productions kept the extremely successful Dolly furiously busy. Maimie, not realising what had happened, supposed he had lost interest, and was depressed and dissatisfied with herself. With the result that she was unbearably cross and difficult at home. She quarrelled with Tania, which was not difficult. For Tania’s nerves, at the end of a long run of twice­ daily performances, were none too good. She even managed to quarrel with Daisy, which was quite a feat, as Daisy hated quarrelling. Rose was in despair; she wasn’t feeling at all well, and this to her unaccountable bickering among the children, upset her terribly, as she’d no idea how to tackle it. Only Nannie remained unmoved:

  “Well, what’s a bit of temper? I’ll try ’em with a Seidlitz.”

  But in the spring, when the pantomime finished, the air cleared. Dolly had not forgotten Maimie­ “Poor little kid; must get her a bit of fun—teach her a bit of life—show her a thing or two.”

  His first step towards her education was to get her into the chorus of a musical comedy, for which he was producing the dances. The musical comedy was like a new world to Maimie. The chorus girls were so grand, not only in their clothes, but in their outlook on life. They were completely different from the chorus girls in the pantomime. In fact, Maimie discovered that to have been in a pantomime chorus was a thing to be ashamed of, and forgotten as soon as possible. Then the work! They worked as hard as she had done in the juvenile troupes. Came down on the stage every morning and worked like slaves. Chorus girls in a pantomime never did that. They worked fairly hard at rehearsals while the producer’s eye was on them, but after the first night they slacked off. Of course in a pantomime there was all that work, marching up and down the grand staircase at the finale. There was none of that in a musical comedy. But Maimie almost regretted having stopped her dancing lessons. She was out of practice for the really hard and skilled work required of her.

  Rose tried to persuade her to save. She might as well have talked to the wind. She earned three pounds a week, of which she paid twenty-five shillings towards the housekeeping; Violet and Nannie had seen to that. The rest went on clothes. Little rubbishy hats and frocks, in shocking taste, and little fragile crepe-de-Chine underclothes, which, as Nannie said:

  “Fell to pieces in your ’ands.”

  The girl was quite independent. Rose was afraid to criticise anything for fear that she would flaunt off in a temper and live on her own. Her morning rehearsals made school out of the question. Rose did ask if she would like to throw up the job, and go on with her lessons, but all she answered was:

  “Would I hell!”

  As soon as the musical comedy was really running, Dolly got her a place in a cabaret. This meant more work, but it also meant more money. She dressed better, not in better style, but she had more clothes. She got to know a lot of men. She went about everywhere; her face was always in the picture papers; she was quite a success. She enjoyed it all. The rush, the excitement, the popularity. But she still wasn’t seeing much of Dolly.

  That summer he took her education in hand. He took her on the river; he took her motoring in the country. Rose, who had caught sight of him, was terrified. She was afraid to say anything ; Maimie would soon be seventeen, always a difficult age to handle, but doubly so when the girl is independent. She asked Nannie’s advice. Nannie was of the opinion that the situation was beyond earthly powers.

  “We can only trust in God, Miss ’Oward,” she said devoutly.

  She repeated this to Cook, who said that if God was keeping His eye on Maimie, it was her opinionHe wouldn’t have much eye left for the rest of the world.

  Dolly took Maimie to his flat. It had a long, low, black sitting-room, splashed here and there with gold cushions. It was decorated with photographs of Dolly. Maimie thought it beautiful. He pulled off her hat, and ruffled her hair. She looked out of the window at a long stretch of blue-grey London view. She heard a clock strike. Dolly from behind slipped his hands under her armpits. She shivered. He pulled her round to face him.

  “Little innocent Baby.”

  Maimie moved away with a jerk.

  “I think I’d better go home,” she laughed nervously. “It does seem silly, but do you know, I feel frightened, Dolly.”

  He pulled her down beside him on the divan. His hands slowly stroked her. Soothed her. She felt almost sleepy. He put his lips to hers. She turned her body towards him.

  When she put on her hat she couldn’t look at him. She was amazed when she got into the street to find that she didn’t look different. Nobody stared. Nobody seemed to guess.

  It was in bed that night that she first got frightened. Suppose she had a baby! People did. She calculated; two and a half weeks to wait before she would know. Heavens! Two and a half weeks; oh, if only she could tell someone. She slept badly. She got thin. And only one week gone. Another week and a half-how endure it? By the end of the second week, if she slept at all, it was to wake up with a violent jump, her hands wet with perspiration. Nannie, who had watched her with growing anxiety, decided that she must speak to the child. She knocked on her door.

  “Come in,” M
aimie sang out joyously. Her eyes were shining, her cheeks pink with happiness, she had never looked better.

  “I ’aven’t thought you lookin’ well, Maimie dear.”

  “Rubbish! Nannie, I’ve never felt better.”

  Back in her bedroom, Nannie sighed as she picked up her darning.

  Chapter 9

  THE musical comedy finished, but the cabaret still went on. Then Dolly got Maimie into a revue. In this she had a real part. For as well as being in the chorus, she appeared as a maid, and said: “This way, sir.” Up till then all her speaking on the stage had been done with the rest of the chorus. They had said brightly altogether, “Oh, do tell us,” or “Here he is, girls, what fun!” Her solo line impressed her sisters in a way a solo dance would never have done.

  “You can call yourself a real actress,” Daisy said enviously.

  Tania, who was also impressed, merely remarked: “Let us know when you are playing Lady Macbeth.”

  Dolly gave parties in his flat. To one of them Maimie took Tania as a treat. She was so very much accepted among Dolly’s friends, so very much Queen of the flat, that she thought it a great pity some of her family couldn’t be there to see. They’d never suspect anything, they’d only admire the way she was getting on in the world. So she took Tania as an audience.

  It was not a success. Tania, who had just had her fifteenth birthday, looked, and was, a long­ legged schoolgirl. She sat awkwardly on the divan, her knees together, her feet splayed out. Refusing cocktails and cigarettes, she held grimly to her cup of tea and, in spite of everyone, made an exceedingly hearty meal. She scarcely spoke a word, but in the intervals of eating, she stared. She told Rose about it afterwards:

  “Howdy, I was struck dumb. Imagine it! The flat’s all black with gold cushions, rather like that transformation scene we had in ‘Red Riding Hood.’ And as if seeing that little hound of a man in the flesh wasn’t awful enough, his photographs were all over the walls! There was just the loveliest view though, Howdy; far too good for him. Still, I don’t suppose he ever sees it, the room looks as though it usually had the blinds down. He’s not the sort to stand much light. Gracious! the people were queer; frightfully noisy, knowing each other most terribly well, and calling each other ‘darling’ every other word. They all looked frightfully rich, the most expensive clothes, diamond watches and things. I never found out who any of them were, but they must all have been stars, I think, because they talked of people like Gladys Cooper and Evelyn Laye by their Christian names, so they must have known them. They all kept saying the same things over and over again: ‘Oh, my dear! have you heard how that bastard so-and-so treated so-and-so?’ And when every­ body had said no, they told a long story about how—somebody had pinched somebody else’s laugh—and somebody else had their best song cut, because somebody else was jealous—and some­ body else had slammed their dressing-room door in somebody else’s face. Oh! what a dreary afternoon.”

  “And Maimie?” Rose asked nervously. “Did she seem as though she were enjoying herself?”

  Tania hesitated. Privately, she had been disgusted with Maimie. “The poor fish!” she thought. “Fancy being anything as unpleasant as Dolly Kismet’s bit, and get so little out of it. Why! she might have been his servant! ‘Maimie, there’s no more gin,’ and Maimie went and got it, ‘Maimie, I’m cold, do shut the window,’ and Maimie jumping up to do it. Still one couldn’t very well say all that to Howdy, who wouldn’t understand being a bit, even if, as one strongly suspected, she had been Whichart’s mistress.” So she said casually:

  “Oh, Maimie adores that kind of thing. She made herself useful showing everyone Dolly’s newest of newest photographs. I was the world’s frost because, when she showed them to me, I said: ‘Are you getting commission on these?’ Anyway, I wasn’t a howling success, because whatever Maimie thinks of Dolly, I think him a loathly slug, and I expect I show it.” Rose sighed.

  “He sounds terrible. Maimie’s an awful anxiety to me, Tania.”

  Tania longed for the power of showing affection. Rose looked so yellow: So tired. It was ridiculous to worry over Maimie, whose future was as obvious as though it were written on the sky. How could a person like Howdy hope to change it? Couldn’t she see? She laid her hand casually on Rose’s arm. Then, ashamed of such a display, snatched it away as though it had been burned, and said hurriedly:

  “Oh well, everything will be all right, don’t worry.”

  But Rose did worry. Maimie wasn’t her only trouble. Nannie was her confidante:

  “The boarders are all leaving. Mr. Williams has got a job at last, just what he wants; a nice engineering job in the north. I’m very pleased for them, but—Then the second floor are going, they think they’d rather live in the country. Most sensible of them, I told them so; their income will go much further. But that leaves only Miss Grimshaw. Of course there’s Maimie’s twenty-five shillings a week, but her revue won’t last for ever. I feel terribly anxious. I feel as though I shall never find any more boarders, certainly none as nice as these.” Nannie made the clucking, soothing sounds she had made to the babies when they were very small:

  “There, there, my lamb, it will all come right. You go and ’ave a good talk with that there Young Mr. Bray.’ Maybe ’e’ll suggest somethin’.”

  Rose saw ‘Young Mr. Bray.’ She told him all her worries. He listened in silence, then he said:

  “Forgive me, but have you seen a doctor?”

  “Me! No. Why?” She trembled. She had been feeling ill; not very ill, but a little ill, fora long time. Was it so obvious? What did he suspect?

  “I should try Henry Carfax; clever fellow, good at diagnosis. I’ll write down his name and address for you. He’s not so expensive as some of them, but I’d trust his opinion before all the bigwigs gathered together.”

  “Does he specialise in any disease?”

  ‘Young Mr. Bray’ hesitated for the fraction of a second. Then he said cheerfully:

  “Yes, on nerves; tired nerves. I expect he’ll send you away for a couple of months, and leave those troublesome wards of your s to Nannie for a bit.”

  “Oh nerves! Is that what I look like? Well, if that’s all, I needn’t worry. Away for a couple of months indeed! When I’m managing so badly as it is.”

  “Whatever Carfax orders, I want you to come and tell me. There may be ways I could help. Promise?” ‘Young Mr. Bray’ looked serious. Then he went on more lightly, “Now for your real worries—”

  He thought the time had come to sell the house.

  It might go as a small hotel, or boarding house, or perhaps someone would convert it into flats. He suggested putting it in the market at once. Right away Rose could start looking for an inexpensive flat. Cheap to run. No need to take in boarders. Altogether more sensible. All the children old enough to work now. They wouldn’t earn much, but enough to help. Rose must not worry. There was no cause.

  Sitting on her bus going home, Rose tried to picture her house as an hotel, or flats, run entirely as a business concern. She remembered herself and the Brigadier, getting out of a hansom cab— “This is the house, my darling. I hope you’re going to like it.”—The years that followed. Looking back, she seemed to have spent those years waiting—Waiting for him to arrive— Waiting to see what mood he was in when he did arrive—Waiting to know what he’d like her to wear. That November day when he went away; such greyness; such a numb, dreadful feeling when the door slammed. “Poor house,” she thought, “all my life has happened in you, and now I’m going to sell you as an hotel, or flats. What ingratitude!” She had a crumpled bit of paper in her hand; on it was written:

  Mr. H. B. Carfax, and an address in Queen Anne Street. She looked at the paper and shivered: “Oh well. Perhaps I’d have had to leave the house anyway.”

  Two important things happened on the same day. Rose saw the doctor. And Madame saw Rose.

  Mr. Carfax w
as a kind man. He examined Rose. He asked a lot of questions. He said he thought there must be an operation. He wasn’t sure. There were certain tests he would like to make. Rose looked at him:

  “I’m not a coward, Mr. Carfax. Tell me what you suspect.”

  Arriving home, full of courage, but a little white and shaken, she found Madame on the doorstep.

  There was, it seemed, the tour of a musical comedy going out in the autumn. There was a solo dancer wanted. Madame believed she could get it for Daisy. Would Miss Howard consider a tour?

  “Grand experience! grand experience! grand experience! Find her feet! find her feet! find her feet!”

  Rose, thinking to herself that Daisy’s feet were the one part of her she didn’t need to find, considered the question.

  “A tour; it might be a very good idea. Take them away all the autumn, while people were viewing the house. Of course, there was Mr. Carfax with his tests and operations. Still, that could wait till after Christmas, no one else knew about all that. The question was Tania, for Maimie of course was working and couldn’t leave town.”

  Madame thought she could probably get Tania fixed as Daisy’s understudy, she couldn’t promise more, there were some children in the show, but Tania fell between two stool ; too tall for a real child’s part, too small for the chorus.

  After a fortnight’s suspense for Daisy, she was engaged. Rose signed a contract for her. Rehearsals were to begin in a month. They would open in Birmingham. Daisy was so excited, she could hardly eat or sleep. To get away in term­time. To start off as a solo dancer, not just one of a large troupe like the others were. To have her photograph taken in every sort of position, and two large frames made for the photographs, with Daisy Whichart printed on the bottom in large black letters. And a travelling case made for the frames, with “Daisy Whichart,” in gigantic white letters, written all across it. She liked the envy of the other girls at the academy. She liked even better the real interest of the girls at school. At the academy they expected her to get a good job; she’d always been a show pupil, and although they were envious, they were used to solo dancers. But at school, when she told her friends that she wouldn’t be coming back in the autumn because she was going on tour, they thought it quite the most exciting thing they had ever heard. Only twelve, and touring all over England, dancing in a different theatre every week. What a glorious life; so different from their own humdrum existences. Some people had all the luck!