White Boots

by Noel Streatfeild

  “I’m going up to bed.”

  Olivia was cutting a loaf. She put down the knife and came to Harriet.

  “Are you ill, pet?”

  Harriet hated lying to Olivia.

  “I feel sort of funny-ish.”

  “Where?”

  “Just all-overish.”

  Olivia took Harriet’s satchel of books from her.

  “Let me help you up to your room, darling. I dare say it’s nothing. I expect you’re over-tired; I was only saying to Daddy last night what a busy life you led, and how I hoped it wouldn’t be too much for you.”

  Lying in bed, trying to look ill, and feeling mean at being waited on when she was perfectly well, Harriet heard the rest of the family return one by one.

  First Toby and George, talking cheerfully as they came upstairs, then silence, then whispers. Olivia would be telling them about her, and to keep quiet in case she was asleep. Presently Edward came home.

  “Mummy! Mummy! I’ve had a gorgeous tea, and Mrs Pinker said she wished she could adopt me.”

  Toby came out, his whisper was as carrying as Edward’s shout.

  “Shut up. Harriet’s ill. I should think Dad and Mum would be glad if Mrs Pinker would take a conceited little rat like you.”

  It was when Alec came home that everybody forgot to be quiet. He raced up the stairs shouting:

  “Mum! Dad! Everybody! Look at this. Where’s Harriet?”

  They all talked at once.

  “Let me look,Toby, I’m shorter than you, so you can see over me.”

  “All right, Edward, but don’t shove or you’ll tear it.”

  Olivia reading out loud:

  “‘Little Harriet Johnson for whom a great future is predicted’.”

  George’s amazed:

  “That’s never my Harriet?”

  Then Olivia’s:

  “She’s not well, poor pet, but I think this will cheer her up. I’ll see if she’s awake.”

  The photograph! Because of the quarrel with Lalla Harriet had quite forgotten the photograph. But of course Alec would see it. It was on the front of the paper, he would notice it as he folded the papers to put them in the letter-boxes.

  It was dreadfully difficult to pretend to be ill when all the family sat round the bed looking proud and admiring.

  “But what’s all this, darling, about the future?” Olivia asked. “I didn’t know you could skate properly yet.”

  “I can’t, it’s just something to say.”

  Alec re-read the caption.

  “Somebody must have said you had a great future.”

  Toby’s brain was working.

  “How many girls go to your rink, Harriet?”

  “I don’t know, dozens and dozens.”

  “Well, if five dozen girls skate at a rink, and a photographer photographs the eight most promising…”

  “Don’t bother the child with mathematics,” said Olivia. “It’s obvious, though she won’t say so, that somebody does think she’s promising.”

  Alec sat down on the bed.

  “What about those tests Lalla does? Will you have to do those?”

  Harriet felt a huge lump in her throat. What fun this evening would have been if she could have said she was taking her inter-silver at the beginning of next month.

  “I took my preliminary and bronze before Christmas.”

  There was a family howl.

  “Slyboots,” said Alec.

  Edward looked reproving.

  “If it was me who was passing tests, I’d tell everybody.”

  “I bet you would,” said Toby, “but Harriet’s not a bragger like you, thank goodness.”

  “What comes next?” asked George. “I mean, there’s a silver something Lalla passed, isn’t there?”

  “Yes pet,” said Olivia, “what comes next? Tell us everything. We’re so full of pride and curiosity.”

  Everything? Oh, if she only could! Harriet tried to say inter-silver, and that perhaps she would try for it in the autumn. But would she? Would Lalla ever let her try for it? She struggled hard against the wave of misery that flowed over her, but it was no use. Her eyes filled with tears, she rolled over on her pillows and cried dreadfully.

  Olivia, finding that Harriet had no temperature, decided she was just tired and a day or two in bed would put her right, so she rang up Lalla’s house and asked Wilson, who answered the telephone, to let Nana and Miss Goldthorpe know. But when it came to the fourth day, and Harriet just lay in bed and wouldn’t attempt to get up, she became worried.

  “It’s so unlike her,” she said to George, “I’m going to get Dr Phillipson to have a look at her.”

  Harriet had been afraid of that; Dr Phillipson was not a doctor to like people who were well stopping in bed. She made a plan. As soon as Olivia went down to see what Uncle William had sent for the shop which would not sell, and so she would have to cook, Harriet nipped down to the kitchen, boiled a kettle, and filled a hot-water bottle. When Dr Phillipson arrived he did what he usually did, put his thermometer in Harriet’s mouth, and while it was there, talked to Olivia. That was Harriet’s chance. She took the thermometer out of her mouth, and laid it on the hot-water bottle.

  Dr Phillipson seemed to be able to time taking temperatures without looking at a watch. Harriet trembled as she saw he was going to take the thermometer out of her mouth. Would it have gone up enough degrees for him to say she was ill?

  Dr Phillipson looked at the thermometer for longer than usual. Then he looked at Harriet. Then he gave the thermometer a shake. Then he rummaged in his case and handed some instruments to Olivia.

  “I shall examine her. Would you boil these for ten minutes.”

  When the door had shut behind Olivia, Dr Phillipson sat down on the bed. He spoke in a friendly whisper.

  “What’s up?” Harriet tried to look as if she did not know what he meant, but she failed dismally. He took one of her hands. “I thought we were friends. You may as well confide in me, because if you want to stay in bed you’ll need cooperation.”

  “How did you know I wasn’t ill?”

  “I thought you were all right when I looked at you, but when I found your temperature was so high the quicksilver had run up out of sight, I knew you must be malingering, for if the thermometer was speaking the truth you’d be dead.”

  Harriet saw she was caught. It was no good trying to deceive Dr Phillipson, and it was true he was a friend.

  “If I tell you what’s happened you must swear not to tell anybody. It’s something really terrible.”

  The relief of telling everything made Harriet feel happier than she had since the quarrel. When she had finished Dr Phillipson got up and walked to the window thinking hard. After a bit he made up his mind.

  “I think it might be possible to sort things out for Lalla, as well as for yourself; and she needs help badly, poor child.”

  Harriet was surprised that Dr Phillipson was nice about Lalla; she had expected him to say she had behaved like a little beast.

  “It wouldn’t mean her telling Aunt Claudia I’m not to learn with her any more?”

  “No. But it will mean several people will have to know what’s happened.”

  Harriet did not like that.

  “Will I have to tell them? Lalla will think me an awful sneak.”

  The doctor rumpled her hair.

  “Lalla will do most of the telling. Now take that worried look off your face and trust me.”

  Lalla had been as bothered as Harriet had been about meeting after the quarrel. She did not want Goldie or Nana knowing there had been a quarrel. “Not that I mind what they think,” she told herself, “they’re sure to side with Harriet, everybody sides with Harriet just because she’s so mimsy-pimsy and good.” But telling herself that sort of thing didn’t help. A voice in her head, which she could not talk down, told her that she would mind dreadfully if Nana and Goldie knew what she had said to Harriet, because they would both be ashamed of her. It was a relief when Wils
on came up the next morning with Olivia’s message. It was sensible of Harriet to pretend she was ill. Lalla even had to admit to herself it was clever of her. If Harriet said she was ill she wouldn’t be allowed to go in for her inter-silver test, and when it was certain she was not going in, she would be nice to her again.

  In spite of the voice in her head which nagged at her, telling her how badly she had behaved, Lalla got through the next three days pretty well, she thought. She answered inquiries about Harriet in an ordinary voice, and was sure nobody suspected it was anything to do with her that was making Harriet stay in bed. Then on the fourth day she had a shock. Each morning Miss Goldthorpe rang up and asked how Harriet was, and each morning Olivia said in a casual way there was nothing much the matter, she would probably be up the next day, but on the fourth morning Olivia sounded worried.

  “She seems all right, but I can’t get her out of bed, so I’m getting Dr Phillipson to look at her.”

  When Lalla heard this a cold feeling like drips of icy water ran down her back. Dr Phillipson! His medicine had not done much good but she knew he was clever. He wouldn’t be fooled into thinking a person was ill when they were not, and he wouldn’t say Harriet was not to take a test, unless he thought she was ill. What was Harriet going to do now? She couldn’t be such a mean dog as to tell the truth. All the morning the thought of Harriet seeing the doctor made her inside feel wobbly and her hands damp. Not that she was ashamed of what she had said, of course she wasn’t, but she wouldn’t want everybody knowing, they didn’t understand about skating, and so wouldn’t see how sly Harriet had been. At the end of lessons she said in as uninterested a voice as she could manage:

  “While I’m putting on my coat would you telephone Mrs Johnson, Goldie dear, and ask what the doctor said.”

  When Lalla came back to the schoolroom dressed to go out Miss Goldthorpe seemed sad and grave.

  “I’m afraid it’s bad news, dear. Harriet’s dreadfully ill. The doctor told Mrs Johnson he had never known anybody live whose temperature showed so high a reading.”

  Lalla gaped at Miss Goldthorpe. Harriet very ill! Harriet with so high a temperature she might be going to die! It couldn’t be true. Harriet had been perfectly well five days ago. She wasn’t ill now, only pretending because she wanted a reason not to take her inter-silver.

  “What’s the matter with her?”

  “The doctor can’t say. Mrs Johnson asked if she had been working too hard. She says she’s worrying about something. She’s talked a lot about you, and an inter-silver test.”

  Lalla licked her lips which had gone very dry.

  “What did she say about me?”

  “Mrs Johnson didn’t say. Rambling, I expect, poor child.”

  Lalla felt most peculiar. Worrying! Inter-silver! What had she done? She heard bells ringing somewhere and Goldie was behaving in a very odd way, far off one minute, and near the next. Then everything spun round, and she felt herself falling.

  Lalla opened her eyes to find herself lying on her bed; Nana was dabbling eau-de-Cologne on her forehead.

  “There, there! This won’t do. It won’t help Harriet if you get ill.”

  Slowly everything came back to Lalla. Tears oozed in a tired way out of her eyes.

  “She’s terribly ill, Nana. She’s got so high a temperature, she might die.”

  “Nonsense, dear, you weren’t meant to take it so serious. For all she’s so frail-looking, Harriet’s tough. You look more like dying, green as a lettuce you are.”

  Miss Goldthorpe came hurrying in carrying a glass.

  “Here’s a brandy. I’ve rung the doctor, he’ll be along in a minute.”

  Lalla, though she still felt very come and go-ish, sat up.

  “I won’t see the doctor. He’ll say I’ve to stop in today, and I won’t. I must see Harriet.”

  Miss Goldthorpe put an arm round her and held the brandy to her lips.

  “Sip this. You couldn’t see Harriet anyway. Her doctor said you weren’t to see her unless he gave you permission.”

  Lalla choked over the brandy.

  “I must. This is disgusting stuff.”

  Nana took the glass from Miss Goldthorpe.

  “Nonsense, dear. You drink it up. I don’t hold with spirits as a rule, but for fainting brandy’s good.”

  Lalla knew it was no good arguing with Nana about medicine, if she said “swallow” then swallow it was. She finished the brandy and at once felt better.

  “If I see the doctor, will you ring Harriet’s doctor, Goldie, and say I must, absolutely must, see Harriet?”

  “Very well, dear, but it can’t be today. I’m sure you’ve got to stop in bed today.”

  “Of course you have,” Nana agreed. “Fainting indeed! That’s something quite uncalled for and not what I like from a child of mine.”

  Lalla’s doctor was old and rather grumpy, but he was a good doctor; when he saw Lalla he was not at all pleased; he told Nana to undress her and he would thoroughly overhaul her. The overhauling took a long time; it seemed to Lalla that there was no bit of her he was not interested in. At last she got cross.

  “I’ve nothing the matter with my eyes, so there’s no need to pull them about, and my knees are quite well, so there’s no need hitting them to see if my legs bounce.”

  But Lalla might just as well have kept quiet. The doctor did not care what she said but went on calmly with his examination. At the end he packed his case.

  “She’s to stay there, Nurse, until I give her leave to get up. Now, where’s Mrs King, I want to see her?”

  Lalla spoke pleadingly.

  “Don’t be all doctor-ish. What are you going to tell Aunt Claudia?”

  The doctor came back to the bed. He pointed at the boots and skates in the glass case, and to the text.

  “There’s to be no more of that business for quite a time. You’re thoroughly run down, young woman. I’m telling your aunt you’re to go away somewhere bracing.”

  “I can’t just now, my friend Harriet’s ill, and I’ve got a skating test.”

  The doctor made a tush noise.

  “There will be no more skating tests for many months. I can promise you that.”

  Nana went out of the room with the doctor. Lalla lay as still in bed as if she had been carved in wood, waiting to feel all over her the frightful words the doctor had said. When that happened she would do something, dash downstairs, make a scene, tell Aunt Claudia not to listen, that she was going to take her test no matter what anybody said. But although she lay as still as still for a long time, and understood in every inch of her what the doctor had ordered, she didn’t get angry, or dash anywhere; instead she felt as if she had been carrying a weight on her back which was far too heavy for her, and somebody had quietly lifted it off and said, “Don’t bother with that. Sit down and rest.” She had not given in to anybody about the test. The doctor didn’t even know about her trouble with loops. She had fainted. She was run down. She wasn’t to skate, she was to go away for a holiday. In the autumn, after the holiday, she would take the test. There would be nobody whispering, “Lalla isn’t taking her test because she isn’t ready for it.” Nobody saying,“Lalla Moore’s not doing as well as everybody expected, is she?” Nobody could say anything but the truth: “Lalla isn’t taking her test because she’s terribly run down. She fainted, absolutely unconscious.” Almost, as in imagination she heard the dramatic story of her faint passed round the rink, Lalla said, “Giggerty-geggerty” but before the “gig” was in her head she remembered Harriet. Harriet with the highest temperature anybody ever had all because of what she had said to her. Poor, poor Harriet, and they wouldn’t let her see her, wouldn’t let her say she was sorry and that of course she could take the inter-silver if only she’d get well.

  Miss Goldthorpe came in. She drew a chair up to the bed. She sat down looking cosy and like somebody not in a hurry.

  “This is upsetting. No skating for a bit.”

  Lalla brushed the skating as
ide.

  “Goldie, I’ve got to see Harriet, absolutely got to.”

  “Why, dear?”

  Lalla wriggled.

  “I can’t explain why but I’ve got to.”

  “I can’t help you then. I thought perhaps you could send a message by me to Mrs Johnson. She could have passed on whatever it is you want to say to Harriet, if she thinks she’s well enough to hear it, but if it’s a secret it will have to wait until both you and Harriet are better.”

  Lalla bounced in the bed with impatience.

  “I’m not ill. I fainted, which I never did before, but that’s not having the highest temperature anyone ever had without being dead.”

  Miss Goldthorpe looked fondly at Lalla.

  “Don’t you think you could trust me and Harriet’s mother with the message? It can’t be as secret as all that, is it?”

  Lalla saw she would have to admit at least part of the truth.

  “It’s something I said that’s made her ill.”

  “You! What did you say?”

  Lalla was still peculiar after her faint, and deadly worried. Her voice rose in a howl.

  “Oh, Goldie, I’ve been an awful beast, the nastiest beast that ever, ever was. You’ll despise me for ever and ever, you see…”

  Miss Goldthorpe sat on the bed, her arms round Lalla and heard the shocking story. It was difficult to hear it through Lalla’s chokes and sobs. At the end she lent Lalla her handkerchief, and brushed her hair off her face.

  “You’d better tell Mrs Johnson all this, and she can tell Harriet how sorry you are, and I’m afraid you’ll have to tell Nana. You see, the doctor said you were to be kept quiet and Nana won’t let Mrs Johnson in unless she knows how important it is.”

  Lalla gave her nose an enormous blow.

  “All right. I’ll tell Nana too. I’ll tell everybody anybody likes. I’ll even tell Harriet’s brothers if she wants me to, and that would be awful, especially Toby, who’s always been a bit despising.”

  Nana sat by Lalla’s bed knitting and heard the confession. Occasionally she shook her head or made a clicking noise with her tongue against her teeth. At the end she said:

  “It was wrong of you, dear, and you know it, but if Harriet’s well in time she can take that test, and no harm done.”