Dancing Shoes

by Noel Streatfeild

  As her mother said those words Dulcie realized for the first time how much she would hate it. It was bad enough having to share a governess and walks in term time, but at least she did have her own room and usually managed to sit at a different table from the one Rachel and Hilary sat at for meals. But if in the holidays only Hilary came she would have to do everything with her, perhaps even share a bedroom. Besides, it would spoil her grandness. Always before she had been the great Mrs. Wintle’s little Dulcie, visiting the working Wonders and, as she thought, pleasing them by copying her mother and saying something kind to each one. If she could have seen the Wonders prancing around after she had left, imitating what they called “Dulcie-Pulsie doing her stuff,” her cheeks would have burned. But, not knowing what the Wonders thought of her, she could only imagine her condescending tours of theater dressing rooms and her meetings with the Wonders on sea fronts and beaches being spoiled because Hilary was there to share her glory. “Oh Mum, must she come? Can’t we be just us like we usually are?”

  Mrs. Wintle wished too they could be just themselves, but she was not risking Hilary meeting Madame Raine again. “Mum knows just how you feel, but rather special little girls must behave in rather a special way, and that means being kind to other children who are not so clever or lucky as she is.”

  “But why must it be only Hilary? If Rachel comes too they can do things together, and not bother us.”

  This was a new idea to Mrs. Wintle, who had only thought it would be nice to be rid of Rachel for a week or two. “All right, pet-ums,” she said, glad she had not yet written to the doctor. “Rachel shall come too, if that’s what Mum’s girlie would like.”

  That same morning Mrs. Wintle went to the wardrobe. “We’re taking Rachel and Hilary with us when we go on tour, Pursey. I had thought of sending Rachel to a doctor they knew at Folkestone, but Dulcie thinks having both with us will be less trouble than having Hilary only, so that’s that.”

  Pursey strongly disapproved of the decision being left to Dulcie, but this time she had to agree with her, if for a different reason. “I must say I don’t think the little girls should be separated. I never believed in special treatment for one and not the other.”

  Mrs. Wintle thought Pursey was talking nonsense. “It might have done Rachel good to be packed off to Folkestone while Hilary toured with us. She must learn that jealousy doesn’t pay. However, I can’t have poor little Dulcie’s holiday spoilt, so if she wants her cousins she must have them. Now, what about the children’s clothes? They’ll need some new things. Come with me to their bedroom and show me what they have.”

  Throughout the summer term, by letting down and letting out, Pursey had made Rachel’s and Hilary’s last summer frocks do. “They’re a bit short on you,” she had said in her cozy voice to Rachel, “but so beautifully made it’s a shame not to finish them out. Besides, you’re in your dancing things most of the day.”

  Last year’s frocks, however beautifully made, were not Mrs. Wintle’s idea of how nieces of hers should be dressed when they were touring with her. But she had not built up a successful business by being wasteful, so now she studied each frock as Pursey held it up and decided what was to be done with it. At last Pursey held up the marigold frock. “This is in lovely condition, and ever so nice a color, but it won’t let out any more.”

  As Mrs. Wintle took the frock from Pursey she remembered she had seen it before. “Rachel was wearing this the first time I saw her. What a sight she looked!” She turned the dress around, making a face at it.

  Rachel had come to her morning lessons without a handkerchief and had been given permission by Mrs. Storm to run up and fetch one. She had not heard voices in the bedroom, so she ran straight into the room just at the moment her aunt was looking at the frock. Pursey saw Rachel, but Mrs. Wintle did not, so she went on saying what she had been going to say. “Extraordinary taste my sister-in-law had. Imagine this color on a sallow child like Rachel,” she said, tossing the frock in a despising way to Pursey. “Cut it up, Pursey. It will make a pair of shorts for Hilary.”

  Before her aunt could say another word Rachel, two flaming spots of color in her cheeks, and her face screwed up with what looked like bad temper but was really her way of trying not to cry, had snatched the marigold frock from Pursey. Then, as if it could feel it had been insulted, she hugged it to her. “Don’t you dare touch this frock, Aunt Cora! It’s mine. I won’t have it cut up into shorts for Hilary.”

  Pursey made tch-tch-ing sounds. “Now, now Rachel, there’s no need to carry on. Your auntie is only doing what’s best for you…”

  Rachel flung around and faced her. “She’s not, Pursey, she’s not! How dare she say Hilary is to have shorts made out of my frock?”

  Mrs. Wintle gave Pursey a what-did-I-tell-you look. Then she turned to Rachel. “While I am in charge of you it is my decision what clothes you wear. I realize you are jealous of Hilary, but I am not going to allow that to influence me. No matter what fuss you make she is your adopted sister and will be treated in every way as you are treated.” Rachel opened her mouth to explain, but her aunt stopped her. “Not another word. I am disgusted with you.”

  Rachel just held out until the door shut behind Aunt Cora. Then, tears streaming down her cheeks, she flung herself at Pursey. “It was Mummie’s favorite frock. I’m not jealous of Hilary, truly I’m not. But she can’t say in that sneery voice ‘Cut it up.’ Not Mummie’s favorite frock, she can’t.”

  Pursey sat down and pulled Rachel onto her lap. Then, as if she was a baby, she rocked her to and fro. “I know you’re not jealous, my lambkin. Pursey has learned that. But you acted very foolish. Your auntie is taking you and Hilary away with her and was planning new frocks and all. She meant no harm saying the orange dress would cut into shorts. She wasn’t to know you were so fond of it.”

  Rachel tried to speak through her sobs. “But she said Mummie had ex…extraordinary taste. She hadn’t, she’d gorgeous taste.”

  Pursey’s voice became cozier than ever. “Of course she had. Lovely frocks she made you, I never saw prettier. But you know you shouldn’t have spoken to your auntie the way you did. You said to me the first morning you were here: ‘You won’t throw anything away, will you?’ And I said of course I wouldn’t. What an idea!”

  “But this isn’t throwing away.”

  Pursey hugged Rachel to her. “Same thing. You should trust old Pursey. Nothing wasn’t going to be touched or given away, not unless you said so.”

  “But now the marigold dress has got to be shorts for Hilary.”

  Pursey patted Rachel’s arm. “Hilary has to have a pair of shorts that color, but what’s the matter with me buying a piece to match? That marigold frock is going back in your drawer, and there it will stay until you tell Pursey what to do with it.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Life with the Wonders

  In spite of it beginning badly because of the fuss about the marigold frock, Rachel quite enjoyed the summer holiday, and Hilary loved every minute of it. Pursey bought some marigold-colored linen and made Hilary’s shorts.

  “There,” she said, showing them to Rachel, “nobody could swear those weren’t your frock once, and what I say is what you don’t know you can’t grieve about.”

  The first town they visited was Cardiff, where the touring Wonders were dancing in a revue called Look Up and Smile. The first evening they were in Cardiff all the party, except Uncle Tom, who said he would rather go for a walk, went to see the revue. It was the sort where the funny man has a great deal to do in a very noisy way and as well has to smash things and throw messes like whitewash at people. There was a leading lady with very gold hair who sang songs, lots of less important people, and a grown-up chorus. The Wonders had quite a lot to do, so they had been picked from the number one group. But they were either too tall, too fat, or too plain for the best shows. All the same, all twelve of the t
roupe were clever, and the manager of Look Up and Smile came to the free box he had given to Mrs. Wintle and told her so. “They’re just the ticket, Mrs. W. Really smart kiddies, ever so popular wherever we go.”

  The manager might think the troupe smart, but Mrs. Wintle found a lot that was wrong with them. She sat in the front of the box looking grand and writing down on a pad anything she did not like.

  “Poor beasts,” Hilary whispered to Rachel, nodding at the Wonders, “they can see she’s writing things about them.”

  Faults that Mrs. Wintle missed were pointed out by Dulcie. “Barbara muddled that leg over, didn’t she, Mum? Did you see Susan’s feet? I don’t think Mary ought to turn a cartwheel if she can’t do it, do you, Mum? Ooh, Mum, have you put down to tell Rona about her tap? She was right off the beat.”

  Pursey tried to help the Wonders, murmuring in her cozy way each time Dulcie spoke: “I think they’re ever so clever” or “I think they’re doing wonderfully.”

  But Pursey might just as well not have spoken for all the attention paid to her.

  “Don’t be silly, Pursey” was all Mrs. Wintle said. “You keep your eye on the clothes. You know nothing about dancing.”

  Rachel, who by now knew a little about dancing, was impressed by the Wonders, even though she did not admire what they had to do.

  “I can’t see what Dulcie thinks they are doing wrong,” she whispered to Hilary.

  Hilary had greater knowledge. “I can,” she whispered back, “but I think Dulcie is an absolute toad to make Aunt Cora see things she hasn’t noticed.”

  After the show they all went backstage to visit the Wonders. Rachel and Hilary were terribly embarrassed, for Mrs. Wintle behaved as if she thought she and Dulcie were royal.

  “Well done, chickabiddies,” said Mrs. Wintle. “We were proud of you, weren’t we, Dulcie?”

  Dulcie managed by turning her head to include all twelve Wonders in a kindly smile. “I thought you did awfully well.”

  “But,” Mrs. Wintle went on, “there are of course some little slacknesses here and there. So rehearsal tomorrow at ten. Good night, dears.” She turned to the head matron and her assistant. “Have they been good children?”

  The matron and her assistant had become very fond of the Wonders, but even had they not been, they would not have told Mrs. Wintle tales about them. “They have behaved splendidly. Not one of them has missed a day at school, and they’ve all been obedient and helpful in the lodgings and very good on the train journeys, which, as you know, have frequently been both long and tiring.”

  Mrs. Wintle nodded. “Just what I expect to hear about my Wonders. We’re all proud of our W.W., aren’t we, chickabiddies? Good night.”

  Dulcie gave another smile which took in everybody. “Good night. I think I’ll come and watch your rehearsal.”

  “Good night, dears,” said Pursey. “I thought you were ever so good.”

  Mrs. Wintle looked at Rachel and Hilary. “Say good night to the children.”

  Rachel licked her lips. She thought she knew exactly how the Wonders felt and was sure they must be hating her and Hilary.

  “Good night,” she whispered, “and thank you.”

  Hilary too was certain what the Wonders were thinking, but it did not embarrass her. She stepped forward to let Mrs. Wintle and Dulcie pass her, which meant the Wonders could see her face and they could not. “Good night,” she said. Then she winked.

  The Cardiff week passed quickly. Every day after the rehearsal with Mrs. Wintle was over the matrons took the Wonders and their understudy out by bus to places of interest, or along the coast to the beach, and Hilary went with them. Rachel could have gone too, but she felt stiff and awkward with the Wonders. She was delighted when, the second morning, Uncle Tom asked her to go sketching with him.

  Hilary found life with the Wonders as much fun as she had heard it would be. Because it was their profession, whenever there was a flat place on which to work, everybody tried to turn cartwheels and somersaults or to walk on their hands. Hilary was delighted to find that her acrobatics were coming along so well that she was nearly up to the standard of the other girls.

  As well as practicing acrobatics with the Wonders, Hilary found it was grand having thirteen girls to talk to, all of whom liked the sort of things she liked. They all laughed every day until they rolled about, imitating Dulcie: “Here’s Dulcie-Pulsie dancing a hornpipe.” “Watch me, this is Dulcie-Pulsie doing her stuff to the theater manager.”

  Nearly all the troupe were North London girls, coming from back streets and overcrowded homes, so to them the tour was a treat from start to finish. They had such fun it was no wonder that, as each day passed, Hilary was more and more sure that the life of a troupe dancer was the life for her.

  “But you could do better than us,” a girl called Anne, whom Hilary particularly liked, pointed out to her. “You’ve had proper training in ballet. If you work you might get principal parts.”

  “I don’t want principal parts,” Hilary explained. “It wasn’t me that asked to learn ballet, it was a teacher at my school at Folkestone who thought I ought to. Since I’ve been living with Rachel’s Aunt Cora I know I’d much rather do your sort of dancing, and best of all acrobatics.”

  “But you’re working hard at ballet, aren’t you?” Anne asked. “Pursey says that Pat says you’re the best at ballet in the school.”

  Rachel was not around, but all the same Hilary lowered her voice. “It’s Rachel who wants me to do ballet.”

  “Why?”

  Hilary shrugged her shoulders. “She thinks her mother wanted me to, but I don’t think she minded. I think she thought my mother was a dancer so I ought to be one too. Well, I’m going to be one, but not The Royal Ballet School sort, just a Wonder.”

  “I should explain that to Rachel, if I was you,” said Anne.

  Hilary got so close to Anne she could whisper. “Will you swear not to tell anybody if I tell you something?”

  At Mrs. Wintle’s school swearing not to tell something was always done the same way. Anne raised a hand. “I swear on my awkward-Adas.”

  “Well, I have to work at ballet because if I do Rachel gets me pocket money. I think her Uncle Tom gives it to her. But, in a year and a half when I’m twelve and can earn money, I’m never going to do ballet again, never, never, never.”

  After Cardiff the family moved to Blackpool, where they stayed for two weeks, and then to the east coast, where the troupe of Wonders were working in a holiday camp. In each place the routine was the same: the visit to the show, with Mrs. Wintle taking notes, the royal tour of the dressing room, the rehearsal the next morning. Neither the Blackpool Wonders nor the holiday camp Wonders had as much to do as the Look Up and Smile Wonders. But Hilary found them all equally friendly, and as much fun, and they all spent their spare time the same way, mostly working at acrobatics. With all three troupes Hilary was very popular, for she had a way of saying things that made the other girls laugh. Besides, they thought she was gloriously unsnobbish, seeing she was a sort of niece of Mrs. Wintle’s and had been meant to go to The Royal Ballet School.

  The Wonders quite liked Rachel, but they did not see much of her, for almost every day she went off early with Uncle Tom and often did not get back before the Wonders had left for the theater. To begin with Uncle Tom tried to persuade Rachel to sketch, and offered to teach her, but he soon gave up because he found what she really liked was reading. Uncle Tom was fond of reading too and almost every day bought Rachel a book. As well she had one of the boy’s speeches from Henry V and The Princess and the Pea to study, for she was learning them for Mrs. Storm for her special elocution class. Often Uncle Tom would look up from his painting and watch Rachel in a pleased sort of way. “I’m glad you’re such a reader, old lady. Your father and I had read almost every book in the children’s branch of our public library by the tim
e we were in double figures. There’s nothing like getting the reading habit. It will be a great help to you when you are twelve, especially if you tour, for those long railway journeys on Sundays must be an almighty bore.”

  Rachel was reading The Wind in the Willows. She left Ratty and Mole and thought of reading in trains. “When I’m old enough for a license I should think, if I go on tour, the railway journeys would be the best part. The time in the theater will be the worst.”

  Uncle Tom bent down and gave Rachel’s plaits an affectionate pull. “I wouldn’t start worrying yet, a lot of water has got to go under the bridge before you’ll be twelve.” He broke off, his artist’s eye caught by what he saw. “You ought to wear those plaits on the top of your head, old lady, not sticking out at each side.” He pulled Rachel to her feet and crossed her plaits over. “They suit you like that.”

  Rachel remembered her mother saying exactly the same thing. She pulled away from Uncle Tom, looking cross as she always did when something made her unhappy. “I can’t fix them myself, but I used to wear them like that.”

  Uncle Tom knew Rachel by now. He went back to his painting. “I expect Pursey could fix them, I’ll have a word with her. In the meantime, I’m starving, how would my niece feel about laying out the lunch?”

  While they visited the holiday camp Wonders, Aunt Cora, Uncle Tom, and Dulcie lived in a grand hotel, but Rachel, Hilary, and Pursey lived in chalets. Pursey had a big double one all to herself, for she had the Wonders’ apple blossom dresses to do up and needed room to work. Rachel and Hilary had the chalet next to her, so it was quite easy for Pursey to do Rachel’s hair, and a great improvement it was. The Wonders were the first people to notice the change.