Tennis Shoes

by Noel Streatfeild

  ‘Do you mean you buy them?’ said Nicky, surprised, for the clothes did not look worth buying.

  ‘Yes. Now this pair of shoes’—he picked up a disgraceful old pair with holes in the soles—‘I give twopence for ’em. When I have done with them they’ll be worth eightpence anywhere.’

  ‘Will they!’ Nicky looked at the shoes with more respect. After all, eightpence is eightpence. She broke off a piece of her macaroon. ‘Would you like a bit?’

  The man shook his head. ‘Kind of you, miss, I’m sure. But I can’t touch nothing sweet on account of a hole in me tooth.’

  ‘Why don’t you have it stopped?’ Nicky asked, eating the piece of macaroon, feeling glad he had not wanted it.

  ‘Stopped!’ The man sounded shocked. ‘Teeth will fall out when they’re not wanted. I don’t hold with all this messin’ abaht.’ He was going to move on, and then he changed his mind. ‘I suppose, missy, your pa and ma wouldn’t have anything put away they didn’t want, what they’d like to sell?’

  ‘What sort of things?’

  ‘Well, mostly anything. Boots, shoes, gents’ suits, a nice coat, mackintosh, or an umbrella. Wonderful what I can do with an umbrella.’

  Nicky looked at the sky. It would not rain for ages. It was much too hot. Nobody would want an umbrella. Perhaps nobody ever would again. Umbrellas were never used much anyhow, because of the car. At that moment her splendid idea came. In the hall was a stand of umbrellas.

  ‘How many umbrellas would you want for one and a penny?’ she asked.

  ‘One and a penny!’ The man said it in the sad voice of somebody who had never seen so much money. ‘Well, not less than four.’

  ‘Four.’ Nicky thought of those in the hall. There was one of her father’s, her mother’s, and two frightful old ones that might have belonged to anybody. ‘You wait here,’ she said breathlessly.

  It only took a few minutes to get back to the house. She opened the front door carefully. She seemed to have been gone ages, but David was still singing. She could hear him:

  ‘So Binkie’s the same as the First Friend was, And I am the Man in the Cave.’

  She picked up the four umbrellas and went back to the man.

  The man took the four umbrellas and turned them over. His nose screwed up as though they smelt nasty. Then he nodded.

  ‘Seein’ it’s you, one and a penny. Though, mind you, they aren’t worth it.’

  Nicky thought he was the nicest man she had ever known.

  ‘Thank you so much. It’s very kind of you.’

  The four umbrellas were put among the old clothes. Then the man fumbled in his trouser pockets. Nicky was just beginning to be afraid he had not got one and a penny when he found it. Two sixpences and two half-pennies. He laid them on the palm of her hand. Then he untied a red balloon and gave it her as well.

  She was so pleased that she got quite pink. The man did not seem to want to be thanked. He picked up his barrow and pushed it quickly up the street.

  Nicky, knowing how easy it is to spend money when you have it about, went at once to put it in the tennis house. She was just moving the chimney to push it in when she thought of something. The others were a very disbelieving sort. Would they believe her if she just said she had put it in? It was quite certain they would not. She must have a witness. She went to the kitchen.

  Annie was making a cake. She nodded at Nicky.

  ‘You know I wouldn’t wonder if something could be done with David. “Little David, the Singin’ Wonder,” or something like that.’

  ‘I think it’s a horrible noise,’ Nicky objected. ‘Could you leave your cake a minute? I want you to see me put some money in the tennis house.’

  ‘For why?’ said Annie, going on mixing.

  ‘Well, you see, if I just said I’d put it in the others mightn’t believe me.’

  Annie wiped her hands on her apron.

  ‘And no wonder. You’re a proper twister. Come on, then, let’s see you do it.’

  Annie could not deny that the two sixpences were real, for she bit them to see. The two halfpennies looked all right. When the money was safely in, Nicky gave Annie half a sheet of paper and a pencil.

  Annie wrote:

  I saw Nicky put 1s. 1d. in the tennis house.

  ANNIE.

  It was still half an hour before tea, so Nicky tied the balloon on to the end of her bed and then went out into the garden again. She took The Wind in the Willows to read. She lay on her chest under the plane-tree, and ate the cake she had bought with her twopence. It was a pretence cream cake, so The Wind in the Willows got very sticky.

  Pinny, David, and Nicky had their tea in the garden. Nicky did not want much to eat because she was feeling very full. There was a chocolate cake, so Pinny was suspicious.

  ‘Spending your pocket-money on cakes, Nicky?’

  Nicky nodded.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have you any left?’ asked David.

  ‘Of course not. Why don’t you buy your own? You get a penny every week.’

  Pinny shook her head at her. ‘Now, don’t tempt him, Nicky.’

  ‘Nicky wasn’t temptin’ me,’ David explained. ‘I’m buyin’ a cow. I’m goin’ in for milk on my farm.’

  Nicky thought proudly of her money safely in the tennis house.

  ‘You shouldn’t buy cows or anything else,’ she said severely, ‘until you’ve put your sixpence halfpenny in the tennis house.’

  David nodded.

  ‘Six pennies and one halfpenny to be put in before Jim comes.’

  ‘Do you know when that is, dear?’ Pinny asked.

  David was only half listening.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Two weeks and three days.’ Pinny smiled happily. She picked up the tray and carried it back into the house. It was nice to think of dear Jim home. She did hate any of the children being away.

  ‘Two weeks and three days, and that, my good boy,’ said Nicky, ‘means you’ll only get two more pennies before then.’

  ‘Will Jim be here after only two more Saturdays?’

  Nicky wriggled happily. It was nice to see someone else bothered when she had just got out of her difficulties so well herself.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, my goo’ness!’ David looked most upset. ‘I didn’t never know it was now.’

  ‘Well, it is,’ Nicky gibed. ‘You’ll look awful if you haven’t got it, because you promised. Dreadful things happen to children who break promises.’

  David’s eyes opened wide.

  ‘What sort of drefful things?’

  Nicky tried to think of something very frightening.

  ‘Bears and wolves eat them. The bears eat them out of doors, and the wolves come pad-pad-padding up the stairs after they’re in bed.’

  David looked at her doubtfully.

  ‘You’re teasin’,’ he said, but not with much conviction. ‘There aren’t bears and wolves in England.’

  Nicky paused while she thought out an answer.

  ‘Not always there aren’t,’ she agreed at last. ‘They just come when children break promises.’

  At this moment Pinny came out to fetch the rest of the tea-things. David turned to her.

  ‘Are there bears and wolves ever in England, Pinny?’

  Pinny looked at once at Nicky.

  ‘Now, Nicky, what’s this you’ve been saying? Of course not, David. Nicky’s a naughty girl, making things up just to frighten you.’ She turned to Nicky. ‘Now you can help me to carry the things in. Evidently it’s a case of “Satan finding mischief for idle hands.”’

  Nicky picked up a plate.

  ‘It wasn’t my hands—it was my tongue.’

  ‘Never mind which,’ said Pinny severely. ‘Pick up those things and bring them to the pantry.’ She looked at the sky. ‘I think we’re going to have a thunderstorm. I must be quick. If your father is not back soon with the car I shall fetch Susan with a mackintosh and umbrella.’

  Umbrella! Nicky looked in
horror at the sky. It was true it did look like rain. The sun that had seemed as if it would shine for ever was gone. In its place were huge black clouds.

  ‘Do you think it will?’ she faltered.

  ‘Yes, I do. Come on, let’s get everything in. Come along, David. You had better play indoors.’

  In the house David sat on the drawing-room floor and arranged his farm. He sang all the time. Nicky pressed her nose against the window. It was certainly going to thunder, and that would mean rain. If only her father got back in time he would go in the car for Susan. Then nobody would think of those silly umbrellas. About half-past five the storm started. Crash, roar; crash, roar; and in between, sheets of rain. Nicky glared at the gate but there was no sign of the car. Presently the door opened and Pinny came in. She had on gum-boots and a red mackintosh. Over her arm she had Susan’s mackintosh.

  ‘Now be good, dears,’ she said. ‘I shan’t be long. I’m just slipping round for Susan with a brolly and her mackintosh and gum-boots.’

  Nicky flew up to her.

  ‘Don’t go. You might get hit with the thunder.’

  Pinny did up the belt of her mackintosh.

  ‘Don’t be foolish, dear. The thunder has passed off. I had hoped your father would have been back to fetch her. But as he isn’t I shall go. She’s only got that little linen on. If they lend her things they probably won’t cover her properly.’ Pinny went into the hall. Nicky followed her. Since the awful moment had got to come she thought it would be better to get it over.

  It came at once. Pinny went straight to the umbrella-stand. Then she uttered a sort of cry.

  ‘The umbrellas! They’ve been stolen! Annie!’

  Annie dashed out of the kitchen.

  ‘Well, what is it?’

  Pinny, almost speechless, pointed at the umbrella-stand.

  ‘The umbrellas! Stolen!’

  ‘Stolen?’ Annie went and had a look. ‘Well, that’s queer. They were here at the time the telephone rang for the doctor, ’cause I caught the handle of the big one on me apron and said: “Drat the thing!”’

  Pinny ran about like a frightened hen.

  ‘Who has come to the door since then?’

  ‘No one hasn’t been in nor out. The bell hasn’t rung once.’

  ‘Oh dear! Oh dear!’ Pinny sat down. ‘This is most unfortunate.’

  David came out of the drawing-room, holding a sheep in one hand and a goat in the other.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘You haven’t touched the umbrellas, have you, David?’ asked Annie.

  ‘Umbrellas?’ He shook his head.

  ‘Nor you, Nicky?’ Annie fixed a firm eye on her.

  Before Nicky could think what to say, Dr. and Mrs. Heath came in with Susan.

  ‘What a storm!’ the doctor said. ‘We fetched Susan in case she drowned.’ He looked round. ‘Anything the matter?’

  ‘Indeed, yes.’ Pinny held her head. ‘I was just slipping out to fetch Susan. I had her mackintosh and her gum-boots and I went to find an umbrella and then——’ She pointed dramatically at the empty stand.

  ‘Stolen!’ The doctor looked round. ‘Any one been, Annie?’

  ‘No.’ Annie looked grimly at Nicky. ‘Before you send for the police, sir, I’d see if any of the family knows anything.’

  The word ‘police’ was too much for Nicky. She dashed to her father and caught hold of his coat.

  ‘Don’t get the police. I took them. Only I didn’t steal them. I sold them. You see——’

  Nicky told the story of the afternoon. Every one would have found it easier to forgive her if she had sounded sorrier. Instead, she kept saying:

  ‘Well, who wanted the silly old umbrellas anyway?’

  Dr. Heath hated punishments. He would not allow them unless they were a kind of cancelling-out of what had been done. He said sadly:

  ‘Nicky, you’ve got to be punished. On your next birthday and at Christmas, and the birthday after that, and the following Christmas, instead of a present, mummy and I will put an umbrella in the stand here.’

  There was an awful pause. Nicky grew very red and swallowed hard.

  Susan thought it was a terrible punishment. Mrs. Heath felt miserable. Pinny cried. Annie made sympathetic clicking noises with her tongue against her teeth. Nicky looked round. She hated people to be sorry for her.

  ‘Thank you, daddy,’ she said cheekily. ‘An umbrella is just what I was hoping I would get.’

  CHAPTER VI

  THE TENNIS TOURNAMENT

  They were going to grandfather’s for the summer holidays. There had been some talk of the seaside. It was grandfather’s tennis-court that settled the point.

  Susan’s game had improved tremendously. She had worked hard and had definite style. She had put all she had been taught at home into her games at school.

  Jim had been playing cricket all the summer and had no tennis at all. He had done a certain amount of practice against a wall, and he had played a little squash, but of course his game was not up to Susan’s. The summer term for him really meant swimming. What with that and practising for the school sports, he had scarcely thought about his tennis. Dr. Heath hoped that by working hard with him every day he would get him up to a standard to play against Susan, which would be fun for them both as well as good practice.

  There was another reason why Dr. Heath was anxious to get Jim into form. Grandfather had written to say that there was to be a junior tournament, in aid of a charity, at some houses a mile or two from where he lived. There were to be both singles and doubles. He thought Jim, Susan, and Nicky might be entered for the singles, and Jim and Susan could play in the doubles.

  Dr. Heath was not sure about Nicky being allowed to play. She did not work nearly so hard as Susan and she had not Susan’s powers of concentration. On the other hand, for somebody as small as she was, she showed flashes of remarkable brilliance. It was odd how often, without any apparent effort on her part, her strokes came off. He was convinced that only work, and work, and then more work, could make you even passable at any games. Yet Nicky, who did not believe in working at all, could do so well. He thought it would be very bad for her if by luck and weak opponents she won a round or two in a tournament. It was the kind of thing that would make her lie back on her laurels for months.

  Going to grandfather’s meant to Pinny a tremendous lot of preparation. Grandfather had old-fashioned servants. Pinny had an unshakable conviction that they were tremendously interested in the children’s clothes. She pictured them peeping into drawers, taking frocks off coat-hangers, looking at where hems had been let down, sniffing at signs of fade. The result was that any dress that was getting on to its last legs she dipped in dye, and refurbished with buttons. It was the same with the boys’ shirts. If there was any sign of fraying they had new collars and cuffs. The result was that for weeks, what with the sewing-machine, the ironing-board, and basins of Lux and dyes, she hardly left the house.

  ‘Oh, Pinny, dear,’ Mrs. Heath said, ‘you’ll wear yourself out, and really it’s not necessary.’

  Pinny, however, would not be put off.

  ‘A stitch in time, you know,’ she observed, turning the sewing-machine wheel more furiously than ever.

  As a kind of reward to Pinny for all the refurbishing she did she was usually allowed to buy something new all round. For the girls the material for a frock, and for the boys shorts or shirts. She always made a nightmare rush for herself of the last days because she refused to do the buying or making-up until the final moment.

  ‘What’s about will be worn,’ she always said.

  This year she decided on a Vogue pattern of frocks for the girls. Two days before Jim came home, and only five days before they went to grandfather’s, she went shopping to buy the stuff. Mrs. Heath was busy at a committee. Annie was doing the house. So she took David with her, for there was nobody to look after him. They went by train to Victoria, and then by bus to Oxford Street. When they got to Oxford Street they g
ot out and walked.

  Shopping with Pinny was not very nice. She knew exactly what she wanted and she knew exactly which shop had what she wanted, but that did not mean she bought it straight away. Instead, she went to at least four other shops to make sure they did not keep exactly the same thing at three-farthings less for each yard.

  The day was hot and David’s legs were short. Pinny held him tightly by the hand. They pushed their way through crowds in three different shops to the flowered linen department. This was a stuffy business and not very amusing for anybody. It was particularly depressing for somebody of David’s size. Almost everything interesting to buy was above his line of vision. Not that it mattered really, for when he did see interesting things Pinny hurried him on.

  At last, however, they came to the real shop which had the material Pinny wanted. She knew they had it because it was the shop that had sent her the pattern which was in her bag. But even when they got to the flowered linen counter and had sat down, that was not the end. Pinny might have a pattern, and she might know exactly what she wanted, but all the same she liked the shopman to take down at least twenty bales of different stuff in case she could find something she liked better.

  David was so bored that he could not stop yawning. He did not exactly mean to leave Pinny, but he was not interested in flowered linen. Besides, a little further off were things that might be worth seeing. None of it was really the sort of buying that he cared to do. But he saw things he would not have minded having. Things that would have come in useful for his farm or something.

  In looking round, he suddenly found he had walked much further than he thought. He had, in fact, got to the door of the shop. Outside there was a loud noise going on. He went to the entrance to see what it was. There were six men walking slowly up the street. Their heads were close together. They were all singing at once. They did not make at all a nice noise. One man, who did not sing, had a box, and into this a few people put money.

  David had never happened to hear people singing for money before. There was a small barrel-organ with a monkey on it that he had given pennies to himself in his time, but that was different. The barrel-organ made a nice noise, and there was, of course, the monkey. These men made a horrible noise, and yet they got money. He was most impressed and amazed.