‘Would you like to see him dance?’
‘Would I?’ Posy soaped her neck gloomily. ‘I’d rather see him dance than anything else in the world. He is only dancing “Petroushka”. They say his “Petroushka” is the finest there has ever been. But I can’t go without any money.’
Pauline sat on the edge of the bath.
‘I’ve got two pounds. I put what was over of my savings back in the post office after our camp, but Garnie made me take two pounds out of my film money. If you will work properly at your ballet class with Theo, I’ll buy seats, one for you, and one for someone to take you, to see “Petroushka”.’
Posy jumped out of the bath and threw her very soapy arms round Pauline.
‘Pauline, you wouldn’t. I’ll work and work and work, however silly they all are. Could it be the circle, so that I can see the feet?’
‘It could.’ Pauline pushed Posy back into the bath. ‘You’re making me wet. I won’t get the seats yet though, and only if Theo says you’ve been so good you couldn’t be gooder.’
Posy carefully washed her left ear.
‘You can buy them at once quite safely, I’m certain to be an angel with a bribe like that. Oh, Pauline…’ she got out of the bath — ‘this is Theo doing “Pas de chat” with her back to the class and trying not to pretend that she’s wanting to look round to see if anyone’s laughing at me.’
Pauline tried to frown, but she could not. Posy, even with nothing on, and dripping with water, was quite amazingly like Theo. She leant against the door and laughed.
The accounts of Posy’s behaviour were so good that the moment the dates of the Marmaro Ballet were published she bought two seats in the middle of the front row of the dress circle. They were for Wednesday, May the twentieth. Posy was told she could invite any grown-up she liked for the other seat, and she at once chose Sylvia.
Two days after Pauline had bought the ballet seats, she got a large envelope at breakfast. In it were seats for the première of ‘Charles the Exile’, one for herself, and two for friends. The date was Wednesday, May the twentieth. She was very worried what to do, but Sylvia settled the point.
‘I’ll take Posy to her ballet as arranged,’ she said. ‘You take Petrova and Nana to your première. I can go and see the film later on, when we’re settled in a flat. It’s sure to be shown everywhere presently.’
Although they were leaving the house on the twenty-fourth of the next month, Sylvia had not found a flat. It was difficult to find one big enough for five people that was not too expensive. All the cheaper ones were so far away from the Academy that if she took one it would cost such a lot to get them all to and fro each day. Theo was provided for, because she was taking over Madame’s flat near the Academy; she was only going to use a bedroom, but she would see that the rest of it was kept in order. Mr and Mrs Simpson had booked a furnished flat for a month near Selfridge’s, and said they should find a permanent home in the autumn. Cook and Clara planned to take a good holiday before going to new situations. The doctors had found a very charming flat in Bloomsbury; it was not far from the Academy, which they said would make it very convenient for the girls’ lessons.
It was rather a miserable Spring. They all hated the feeling of their home being broken up. None of the boarders wanted to move, and though Sylvia was thankful for the money, she found the trials of flat-hunting most depressing. They were glad when it came to the twentieth, and, as Nana said, ‘An outing would do them all good.’
By dint of buying some extra organdie and letting out, and adding some frills, Nana had succeeded in making the frocks Pauline and Petrova had bought for ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ audition do for Petrova and Posy. Pauline had a new frock. She was fifteen and a half, and though very small for her age, too old for frills and sashes. Had the matter of what she should wear been left to Nana to decide, she would have probably managed to have let out Pauline’s organdie sufficiently for her to wear it, and sent Posy to the ballet in the black chiffon velvet which had now passed down to her, but Pauline had a film agent.
Mr Ben Reubens had been to see the trade show of ‘Charles the Exile’, and had at once got in touch with the Academy, and through them with Sylvia. He had been to see Sylvia, and had taken Pauline on his list. His list of film stars for whom he did business, he told Sylvia, was the greatest in the world. He asked if Pauline was going to the première, and on hearing that she was, he had held up a finger warningly.
‘Young, but not too young. Let her look her age.’
Because of Mr Reubens’ words — and he seemed a man who knew what he was talking about — Sylvia bought a ‘Vogue’, and after consultation with Nana and Pauline, several yards of blue taffeta and blue organdie. The frock that Nana made was a triumph. It was much longer than anything Pauline had worn before, and made her look quite sixteen, she thought, though, as a matter of fact, she still appeared younger thah she was. But she looked perfectly lovely in it, and Nana was bursting with pride.
Mr Simpson drove them to the Cinema. The picture was not shown till nine, and Sylvia and Posy had gone on the underground to the ballet an hour before. There was the most enormous crowd outside the Cinema House, all waiting to see the film stars go in and to get their autographs. Mr Simpson had to put them down quite a long way from the Cinema. Nana put Pauline and Petrova behind her, and pushed her way to the entrance saying ‘If you please’, and ‘Excuse me’. In the foyer were lots more people, all in evening dress, and cameras taking their photographs. Of course nobody was interested in Pauline or Petrova, so they were able to look about, and there was plenty to see. All round the walls Were men dressed as people were dressed in the reign of Charles the Second, and there were ‘stills’ from the film in large frames.
Their seats were in the circle — very nice ones — and they were pleased to find that the programmes were free. They were very grand programmes — large, with bows on them, and a photograph of Charles the Second on the front. Inside was a synopsis of the story, which they read — even Pauline. There were photographs of the leading actors, and a list, in very large print, of all the people who had made the picture. On the next page, in the same sized letters, were the stars of the cast and, in smaller letters, the rest of the actors. Pauline had not a photograph in the programme, and her name was in small letters. Petrova said she thought it was mean: that as Charles the Second’s sister she ought to have her name printed large; but Pauline pointed out that even in the size she was printed, her name was bigger than the author’s, and in sympathizing with the smallness of his print, they forgot to think any more about her.
The film was a great success. Pauline looked lovely, and came across very well on the screen. They were delighted with the evening, because as well as the big film there was a news reel, and a very good Mickey Mouse, which, as Nana said, was giving a lot for nothing.
They hung back after the show to get away from the worst of the crowd, and even then, when they came down the stairs and into the street, there were masses of people standing about. Pauline looked round for a gap for them to get through, and it was then it happened. A voice said: ‘There she is. That’s Pauline Fossil.’ In one second the crowd seem to fall on her, people waved books and bits of paper at her, and shoved pencils into her hand. She gave Nana a scared look, but Nana was equal to the occasion.
‘Lot of silly women, dear,’ she whispered. ‘If they’re foolish enough to want your autograph, you give it them.’
Pauline signed and signed until her hand ached, and then, just as she thought she could not bear it any more, Nana did a most unexpected thing. She caught a policeman by the arm.
‘Constable,’ she said, ‘it’s time we were home, would you get us into a taxi?’
He was a splendid policeman. In one moment he seemed to find a taxi, push Nana and Petrova into it, and lift Pauline over the heads of the crowd and put her in after them. Then he saluted and slammed the door.
They all sat silent for quite a long time, they were so surprise
d, and both the girls rather scared by what had happened. Then Petrova thought of the policeman.
‘What a lovely man that was,’ she said.
‘Nana’ — Pauline leant against her — ‘why was it? They didn’t when we went in.’
‘The film, dear,’ Nana explained. ‘You must have made a hit.’
Pauline looked puzzled.
‘But why? I wasn’t very good. Not nearly as good as I was as “Edward”, and there wasn’t all that fuss then.’
Nana patted her hand.
‘Don’t you think any more about it. Lot of hysterical idiots, that’s what they were. They don’t know good from bad.’
Posy came back from the ballet very silent, and went to bed almost without a word. Pauline woke with a jump soon after she had gone to sleep, and saw her standing by the window.
‘Posy!’ she whispered. ‘What is it?’
‘Manoff.’ Posy’s voice was queer and high-pitched. ‘I’ve got to learn from him, Pauline — I must.’
Pauline yawned.
‘But he teaches in Czechoslovakia.’
Posy, however, was beyond reason; she was almost in tears.
‘I must learn from him.’
Pauline got out of bed, took her by the arm, put her into her bed, and tucked her in.
‘Don’t let’s argue about it,’ she said comfortingly. ‘You won’t make it easier to learn from him by getting up in the middle of the night. I should get to sleep.’
She got back into her own bed, and managed to stay awake until she heard, by Posy’s breathing, she had done what she suggested. Then she turned over, and settled down herself. Her last thought was of sheets of paper and pencils.
‘Silly idiots!’ she murmured.
CHAPTER XIX
Gum Comes Back
IT was at lessons the next morning that they discovered Posy was missing; she had been at breakfast, but no one had seen her since. Doctor Jakes and Doctor Smith went outside, and discussed what was best to be done, and when they came back they told Pauline and Petrova not to say anything to Nana or Sylvia yet, that even if they rang up the police nothing would be done for an hour or two, and by that time Posy might be back. She was almost twelve, and unlikely to get run over.
They began lessons, but they were very unusual ones. Every time there was a noise on the stairs, both doors shot open, and Doctor Jake’s and Pauline’s head came out of one, and Doctor Smith’s and Petrova’s out of the other. ‘Is that you, Posy?’ they all said. It never was. They were glad when it came to beaver time; but although there was a plate of strawberry ice each, none of them had the heart to eat it, and they looked unhappily at the bit left in the box, which was Posy’s share.
In the middle of the morning Clara came up, and told Pauline she was wanted in the drawing-room.
‘Why?’Pauline asked.
Clara looked mysterious.
‘That Mr Reubens is here with Miss Brown, and from what I heard it might be good news.’
Pauline’s going made the doctors decide not to struggle with any more lessons; it was a farce, anyway, for they were none of them thinking of work, but only of Posy.
Petrova sat on the bottom step of the stairs, where she could watch the front door. She could hear voices in the drawing-room: Mr Reubens’ deep one, and Sylvia’s high one, and quite a lot of Pauline’s. She could not hear what they were saying, but just voices. Presently the drawing-room door opened and Pauline came out. She looked rather odd. She came to the stairs and shared Petrova’s step.
‘Posy back?’
‘No.’
‘He’ — Pauline nodded in the direction of Mr Reubens, ‘has been offered a lot of money for me to go to Hollywood.’
‘Goodness!’ said Petrova. ‘Does he want to make you a film star?’
‘Yes.’ Pauline put her elbows on her knees, and rested her chin in her hands. ‘But I don’t want to be.’
‘Why not?’
‘I want to be an actress,’ Pauline explained: ‘an actress on the stage. It’s quite different from pictures.’
‘How much money would they pay you?’
Pauline looked embarrassed.
‘You wouldn’t believe it, but about a hundred pounds a week, perhaps more, because the English studio want me to stay here. Mr Reubens says that the English studio didn’t realize that America would want me, or they’d have had me under contract.’
‘Goodness!’ Petrova gazed at her. ‘A hundred pounds a week!’
‘More, quite likely.’ Pauline hugged her knees. ‘But I don’t want to go; it’s for five years, or it could be, if they take up their options.’
‘Five years!’ Petrova stared at her horrified. ‘Would you go all alone?’
‘No, Garnie would come too.’
Petrova opened her eyes.
‘Then what about us?’
Pauline shrugged her shoulders.
‘I don’t know. Garnie said if I wanted to go, it could be arranged.’
‘Did you say you wouldn’t go?’
‘Yes.’ Pauline frowned. ‘But Mr Reubens said I was to come out and talk it over with both of you.’
‘You can’t talk it over with Posy,’ Petrova said sadly. ‘I do wish she would come back.’
She had hardly said the words when the front door opened and in burst Posy, with her attaché case in her hand.
‘Posy! Where have you been?’the other two asked together.
Posy did not answer that, but joined them at the bottom of the stairs.
‘He’ll take me,’ she said in an ecstatic voice.
‘Who?’ asked Petrova.
Pauline remembered last night.
‘Monsieur Manoff?’
Posy clasped her hands.
‘Yes. Isn’t it just the most wonderful thing that has ever happened? I went out to the theatre, and I was lucky; there was a rehearsal, and the ballet were going in. They none of them spoke English, but just said something funny to the door-keeper, which I suppose was good-morning. I saw he didn’t know any of them by sight, so I walked in too, and just said “Beaver-time”, which might be Czechoslovakian for good-morning. I went down on the stage, and put on my ballet-shoes. Presently the ballet came down. Nobody said anything to me. Then Monsieur Manoff came. There was a most terrific bowing and curtsying; they call him “Maitre”. Of course I curtsied too. Then he saw me. He came over, and asked what I wanted, and I told him that he should see me dance; and he said not then, there was a rehearsal; but I said it would be a mistake not to see me, and I couldn’t wait. So he laughed and called me to the middle of the stage. Then he gave directions. You cannot imagine…’ Posy got up, and gave an imitation of Manoff giving directions at great speed, and herself trying to follow, but always a bit late. ‘At the end he asked who had taught me, and when I told him, he blew a kiss and said, “I understand now”. Then he said, “You will come to me to Szolyva” — that’s where the school is — “and I will make you into a beautiful artiste”. So I said I would get Gamie to make the arrangements, and I came home.’
‘But, Posy,’ Petrova gasped, ‘how do you think Garnie is going to afford to send you there? In any case, you’re a child — you can’t go alone.’
‘No, I thought of that,’ Posy agreed. ‘Nana will have to live there with me, or Garnie.’
‘But what about money?’ Petrova insisted.
Posy’s face grew anxious.
‘She’ll have to get it.’ She clasped the end of the banisters. ‘I must go. I must.’
‘But you can’t.’ Petrova caught hold of her. ‘It’s silly to pretend you can, Posy; Garnie hasn’t any money — you know that. You must get it into your head. You can’t go.’
Pauline got up.
‘Yes, you can, Posy; wait a second.’ She went into the drawing-room. She was out again in a few minutes.
‘That’s settled. Garnie’s signing for me now.’ She looked rather miserably round the hall. ‘Imagine five years!’ She turned to Posy. ‘It will be all rig
ht for you; I shall pay — I’m going to make an awful lot of money: enough to keep you, and Nana, in Czechoslovakia, as well as Garnie and me in Hollywood.’
‘Oh! Pauline darling.’ Posy flung her arms round her neck, then jumped up and pirouetted round the hall.
Petrova tried not to feel selfish, but it was rather tremblingly that she said to Pauline:
‘What about me?’
‘You!’ Pauline considered her. ‘I don’t know. We didn’t talk about you.’
‘No, I suppose not,’ Petrova agreed, and tried not to cry. To prevent herself she changed the subject. ‘That’ll put an end to our vowing — at least, we can’t do it all together.’
Posy stopped in the middle of a pirouette.
‘We couldn’t vow any more, anyhow.’
Pauline nodded.
‘No.’
Petrova looked puzzled.
‘Why not?’
Posy came to her and leant her hands on her knees.
‘Did you ever read of a dancer in a history book?’
‘Or a film star?’ asked Pauline.
‘No, I suppose not,’ Petrova agreed. ‘But…‘
Pauline looked at Posy and nodded.
‘That’s an idea.’
‘What is?’ said Petrova.
‘You.’ Posy turned a cartwheel. ‘You’ll go into history books. That’ll put Fossil there all right; it doesn’t matter about Pauline and me.’
Petrova looked puzzled.
‘How will I?’
‘Flying, of course.’ Posy, who was still very excited after her interview with Manoff, turned another cartwheel.
‘Would that?’ said Petrova.
‘Of course.’ Pauline spoke eageily. ‘Don’t yon see? It’s sort of exploring, like Frobisher, or Drake. Amy Mollison and Jean Batten will be there, but not as important as you. The books will say: “The greatest explorer in the middle of the twentieth century was Petrova Fossil, who found routes by which goods could be carried at greater speed and less cost, and so she revolutionized trade.” Come here, Posy, and stop showing off.’ Posy came to her. ‘This is the vow you and I must make on our birthdays — Petrova can make the old one — “I vow to help in any way I can to put Petrova into history books, because her name is Fossil, and it’s our very own, and nobody can say it’s because of our Grandfathers.” I’ll write it out for you, or you’ll forget it.’
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