The Whicharts

by Noel Streatfeild

  “Never mind, dearie, things is bound to improve. You’ll be star one day perhaps.”

  “Oh my goodness, I do hope not.”

  “Well, it’s worth working for, dear. Look at the money they makes.”

  Money! Here was a new thought. Stars of course made money. And when they’d made it, they could spend it any way they liked. Have cars, aeroplanes, anything. She went to Rose as soon as she got home. Did Rose think she would ever do really well on the stage? She was very small, couldn’t she specialise in acrobatics? Rose was puzzled. Tania ambitious? She supposed she was feeling her position as Daisy’s understudy.

  “I don’t really think it’s your line, darling. I don’t think you’ve got a stage temperament. I thought later on I’d have you trained for something else.”

  “What else?” Rose was vague.

  “Well, perhaps a secretary, or you might run something, a library or—or perhaps you could work in a shop—very nice people work in shops nowadays.”

  “What would I earn?”

  Rose had the haziest ideas. She thought round about three pounds a week was what most girls earned.

  Three pounds a week! Why, Maimie’d been earning more than that for ages, and she was only chorus.

  “One couldn’t save much on that, could one?” she asked anxiously.

  No. Rose supposed one couldn’t. But one could manage, and it might be interesting work. After all, that was something.

  Something, but not much, thought Tania. How, if one has no talent, and no money, does one do what one wants in life? Of course one might marry, that wasn’t much of a chance, and a rotten prospect anyway. One would presumably only live once. If there was another world it was probably a boring affair devoted to church music. Surely, then, it was up to you to get what you wanted out of this life. But how? All that bunk people talked. “Life is what you make of it.”

  “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars—” All that muck! Daisy would probably make money because she really could dance. She hadn’t worked any harder than she had, but just had the gift. Maimie, too, would probably have what she wanted in life. She hadn’t any special gift, unless making men like you was a gift, but she had the right temperament. She didn’t mind hurting other people to get what she wanted. Things didn’t worry her somehow. She didn’t lie awake fussing, fussing, because she’d hurt Howdy, because Howdy might die, and then it would be too late to explain how very much one had cared really, even if one had never managed to say so. Maimie would hurt Howdy at any time if it suited her book. But she never cared, never worried. Obviously that was the right temperament to have if you wanted to get on. I wish I’d had those sort of parents who had money, or who left me money. That was the kind of luck to strike in life. “Not in our stars.” God! what a lie.

  Towards the end of the tour Rose’s health grew worse. She made an excuse to the children that she must go to town on business, and she handed them over to Miss Dene.

  The rest of the tour was a nightmare. Even Daisy hated it. Living in rooms with Howdy and Tania had been fun. Living in rooms with Miss Dene, Annie, Dot, Gloria, and Babs, was a very different matter. As for Tania, she sank into a state of unalleviated gloom She felt desperately nervous. Why had Howdy suddenly gone to London? She didn’t for one moment believe in the “ business.” Was Maimie ill? and they weren’t being told? Was Nannie leaving? Was there something wrong with Howdy herself? Something awful was going to happen, she felt it with every nerve.

  The continual aggravation of being crushed into small rooms with all the other children didn’t help matters. Their endless chattering and giggling reduced her almost to hysteria. She was insufferable to live with, unbearably bad-tempered. Even Miss Dene, interested though she was in the girl, failed to see any “jolly” side to her during those weeks after Rose left.

  Only with Miss Poll did Tania feel at all herself. She made her feel that even if something awful was going to happen, she’d be able to bear it. Her chatter had the effect on Tania that cold water has on a sprained ankle.

  “What’s worriting you, child? You look frayed to a fiddlestring.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe you’re missin’ Miss ’oward?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Well, I expects you finds it noisy all them other children under your feet all day?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Well, what I ses is, never worry! I ses that to mother whenever things looks bad. An’ I’ve always been right. Father loses ’is job. ‘What we goin’ to do now?’ says mother, fussin’ terrible. ‘Don’t fuss,’ I says—‘it won’t ’elp you if thin’s is bad, an’ like as not somethin’ will turn up, then you’ve ’ad all that fussin’ for nothin’l’ An’ sure enough somethin’ usually does. Mother gets a bit of washin’ or somethin’. Mind you, we been fortunate. As sure as ever father’s out of work, I’m workin’, an’ if my show comes to an end, ’e’s sure to ’ave a job. ‘It’s all wrong to fuss,’ I says to mother; born lucky, that’s what we ’ard”

  The tour finished in the middle of December. It sleeted, off and on, during the last weeks, and there was a biting east wind. Daisy took to long gaiters. Tania put on every warm garment she possessed, ‘but she was permanently perished with the cold. She looked smaller and thinner, even than usual; her always yellow skin, even yellower. The winter was deplorably unbecoming to her. The very last week they were in Glasgow. There had been snow, but it had become piles of grey filth in the gutters. The wind was blustery; it seemed to sweep from the clouds heavy with ice, career madly down the streets adding grit to its burden of cold, in order to fling itself unpleasantly at the miserable pedestrians.

  On the last night there was a telegram at the theatre for Miss Dene. She called Tania.

  “You must go back to the rooms, and pack your own and Daisy’s things. I am to send you both down on to-night’s train. I’ll find out if any of the others are going who could travel with you.”

  “Why have we to go?”

  Miss Dene swallowed the story she had intended to tell of a sudden contract for Daisy. Tania’s eyes were not eyes to lie to. They were terrified, but they expected the truth.

  “It’s Miss Howard, dear, she’s had an operation. She wants to see you.”

  Back in the rooms, hurriedly throwing their things into the boxes, Tania’s most dominant feeling was relief. So it had come. It couldn’t well be worse. Howdy was going to die. After several weeks, during which a formless anxiety had lain under her heart until it caused an actual .physical ache which could be alleviated by pressing her hand on it, the arrival of the bad news was relief. It removed the pain. The new pain hurt in quite a different way; a way that made you feel brave, determined to face things. The sort of unknown terror which had hung over her lately had had quite the opposite effect; it had sapped her courage, made a coward of her.

  They arrived in London early on Sunday morning. Nannie, red-eyed, met them.

  “It’s Miss Howard, dears. She’s been ill for some time, but she only gave in to it a week ago. They operated. They said she’d left it too late, but they thought it was worth a try—”

  Nannie remembered a promise to Rose. She said hurriedly: “Anyway, she’s doin’ fine, but she was worryin’ about you two, so I thought I’d send that telegram and get you home as quick as I could.”

  “When can we see her?” Tania asked.

  “You an’ Maimie is goin’ round to see her as soon as I’ve ’ad you back at the flat an’ given you somethin’ to eat, an’ you’ve ’ad a nice warm.”

  “I shall go too,” said Daisy. “If Howdy’s worrying, she’d better see us both, then she can see how well we are.”

  “It’s Tania an’ Maimie as she asked for special.”

  “That’s because she thought I’d be tired, but I’m not, so I shall go too. I want to see darling Howdy. I shall take he
r some flowers.”

  “Young Mr. Bray” had found a cheap but well-run little nursing-home.

  Rose lay flat on her back. Such an incredibly changed, yellow Rose. The children were shocked into silence by her appearance. In spite of the most gnawing pain, she had refused to have a drug injected that morning, until she had seen the children. She managed a smile.

  “Well, babes. Hullo! Daisy, I wasn’t expecting you. It’s Maimie and Tania. But I’m glad to see you, darling.” She felt feebly under her pillow, and produced two Bibles. “This is going to make you laugh When you two were born—”

  As she told them the story of the books, she turned her eyes first to Maimie and then to Tania.

  Tania licked her lips. They were so dry, it was difficult to speak.

  “Why are we to have them now?”

  Rose turned to her. A look of perfect understanding passed between them. Out loud she said: “I ought to have given them to you before, but I’ve always been so busy, I forgot. But listen, darlings, don’t use these addresses unless things are very bad. After all, your mothers suffered terribly when they gave you up.” A little smile quivered at the corner of her mouth as she looked at Maimie. “They were young. I asked to keep you, persuaded them against their wills not to ruin their chances in life. They may be married now, have other children. Your sudden arrival might be most awkward.So lock the Bibles away, unless things go very wrong.”

  A nurse came in. Rose, who felt that pain was getting the upper hand of her, told the children they must go.

  “We’ll come again to-morrow, Howdy darling,” said Daisy cheerfully, as she kissed her good-bye. “I promise I’ll never use my old Bible unless you advise it. I’m afraid I’m not the kind of daughter a long-lost mother would exactly leap at.” Maimie forced a laugh to get herself out of the room without breaking down.

  Tania just kissed her good-bye. She had nothing to say.

  Chapter 11

  ROSE died that afternoon.

  Tania and Daisy were sleeping after their night in the train. Maimie was lying on the sofa in the sitting-room, trying to alter a hat. The ’phone bell rang. She jumped to her feet.

  “No, my lamb,” said Nannie, taking the receiver from her, “better leave it to me.”

  Tania came in.

  “Wasn’t that the telephone?”

  There was a pause, then Nannie said into the mouthpiece:

  “Thank you, I’ll tell them. Very peaceful. I understand.”

  Tania gripped hold of her. “Nannie! Oh Nannie!” Maimie turned white. “Not Howdy?”

  Unseen, Daisy came in at the door. Nannie nodded assent to Maimie. She tried to find her voice, then said in a whisper:

  “Yes. ’Alf an ’our ago.”

  Daisy, terrified by their faces, shook her. “What is it? What happened half-an-hour ago?” Maimie broke down and cried:

  “It’s Howdy, she’s dead.”

  “Young Mr. Bray” came round to see them that evening. He rang half-a-dozen times before he could get an answer. Then a very swollen-eyed Maimie opened the door. He patted her shoulder. “Let me see, you must be Maimie. I am Mr. Bray.”

  “Oh, how glad I am to see you. Tania won’t speak. Daisy keeps on being sick. And Nannie does nothing but cry.”

  “Young Mr. Bray” took command. As hisA.D.C. he chose Tania, who, though she hadn’t said a word, seemed to have kept her wits. He put her in a taxi, and sent her to his housekeeper for champagne. The champagne revived them all wonderfully. Daisy stopped being sick. Nannie and Maimie stopped crying. Nannie even re­ covered sufficiently to cook some eggs. Not till they had all eaten, and thanks to the food and champagne looked a shade more cheerful, did he venture on the business that had brought him. He had come to arrange about the funeral. Wouldn’t it be much better to let him go to it alone? There was no need for them to go, they’d only upset themselves. The children were shocked. Not go to Howdy’s funeral? Gracious! who should go if they didn’t? They all said so at once. He quickly capitulated. Of course they must go if they felt like that; he had only thought to save them needless pain. Then there was the future to discuss. Not to-night, of course. But he thought the sooner the better. He would come round again to-morrow morning. Finally he persuaded them it was time for bed.

  “I shall sit here till you all reach the pyjama stage, then one of you must come down and let me out.”

  Maimie giggled hysterically.

  “You’ll sit there for ever if you wait for that. Nannie doesn’t wear pyjamas.”

  The next morning Maimie woke up suddenly. Tania was sitting on her bed. She spoke urgently:

  “You know ‘Young Mr. Bray’ is coming back to-day—”

  “Yes,” Maimie yawned, “to discuss the future.”

  “Well, we ought to make up our minds first—”

  “What about?”

  “Well, first there’s our Bibles, what are you going to do about yours?”

  “I can tell you that in one. Burn it.”

  “Gracious! Why? When Howdy kept it for you all these ages.”

  “If Howdy could hear what we’re saying, she’d be damn glad. She had to give me my mother’s name and address; it was only fair, but she knew I’d never use it. Do you know that my mother lived in a manse? That’s Scotch for a vicarage! Now I ask you! Can you see me making the pretty entrance up the moss-grown garden path, clutching my Bible, and greeting a perfectly strange female with: ‘Mother, I’m your little Maimie’? No! That’s cut for the second house.”

  “I shall keep mine always.” Tania hugged her knees to her chin. “I don’t suppose I’ll ever use it—but I like feeling it’s there. Still, it wasn’t the Bibles I really wanted to talk about. It’s us, all three of us. Do you suppose ‘Young Mr. Bray’ will try and separate us?”

  “Why on earth should he? Here’s the flat. There’s room for all of us. In fact, now Howdy’s—”

  “I don’t believe Howdy ever legally adopted us,” Tania interrupted, “there was a sort of hitch over our stage licences because of it. We don’t belong to anyone now. Even if Howdy did properly adopt us in the end, we aren’t the sort of belongings you leave people in wills. Howdy only kept us out of charity; no one else is likely to.”

  “I don’t believe it. Whichart must have left some money to support us.”

  “Well, we shall soon know whether he did or didn’t; the point is, what line are we going to take? I’m going to fetch Daisy.”

  Tania found Daisy even more lethargic than Maimie.

  “I suppose Nannie will look after us. Somebody always looks after children, they aren’t just left.”

  Tania was exasperated.

  “That’s all you know. Children are often left. And anyhow you’re the only child here, Maimie and I are women. But what I want is that whatever happens we all stick together. I don’t believe we’ve any money. We haven’t any family. We haven’t even a real name. But there is us three. It’s heaps better to be three than one. Now I swear that whatever job I get, I’ll give all I earn towards keeping a home for us. And I shall tell ‘Young Mr. Bray’ so this morning. What about you, Maimie?”

  Maimie felt slightly embarrassed. It was very unlikely she’d always want to live at home. Even when Rose was alive, she had often played with the thought of getting away on her own. So much more freedom, no one to bother you with questions. Still, if it was true there wasn’t going to be any money, it would certainly need them all to help if they were to keep a roof over their heads.

  She was the most consistent wage-earner, it would be dirty to back out now.

  “I promise to pay my whack towards the house and everything—”

  “And you, Daisy?” Tania looked at her anxiously, was she too going to be half-hearted?

  “Every bit I earn, of course.” Daisy needed no persuasion. “But you do remember, Tania, that I’m
licensed, and one-third has to go in the bank. But as soon as I’m fourteen, I’ll give every penny.”

  Tania was dissatisfied. Did they care? If ‘Young Mr. Bray’ suggested something else, would they calmly give in? Nannie interrupted the meeting.

  “Breakfast,” she announced. “An’ since none of you is dressed, you’ll ’ave to ’ave it in your dressing-gowns.”

  “Young Mr. Bray” saw Nannie first. He told her that although Rose had left her guardian to the children, there was so little money that he thought they had better not attempt to keep the flat. Daisy could go to an inexpensive boarding-school. Tania and Maimie might live in a hostel—He rambled on, testing her, waiting for what he was sure she would say. He didn’t get very far, when Nannie burst out, just as he had expected:

  “Not keep on the flat! No home indeed! Blessed lambs. Live in a ’ostel indeed! Send Daisy to a boardin’ school! And for why? ’aven’t we got this flat? And all the children workin’ off an’ on. An’ come to the worst there’s me savin’s.”

  “Young Mr. Bray” objected. They hadn’t got the flat. But they had got about two hundred a year from the sale of the house in the CromwellRoad.

  “That will pay the rent and—” He hesitated.

  “Your wages.”

  “My wages is my business. You pay the rent an’ I’ll manage on what’s over, an’ on what they earns. As far as may be things can go on as before. Tania an’ Daisy can go back to school, an’ to Madame’s of an afternoon. An’ when I says I can’t manage, it’s time to talk of breakin’ up their ’ome.” He saw Maimie next. He was amazed to find how lovely she was when her nose wasn’t swollen with crying. He told her just where they stood, and of Nannie’s wish to try to carry on.

  “Well, young lady, you are the eldest, and you are working. Do you approve? Are you prepared to help?”

  “I’ll tell you exactly what I think, and what I’ll do, and then we’ll know where we are.”

  Her directness reminded him ludicrously of her father.

  “I think Nannie’s quite right to keep on the flat if she can. The kids must live somewhere. It’s all right for me, I’m old enough to get a place of my own. But they’re only children, they must have a home. As regards helping, I always gave Howdy twenty-five shillings a week when I was working, and nothing when I wasn’t. Now I shall go on doing the same, only I’ll pay all the time, whether I’m working or not.”