Probably nobody but Mr Simpson ever knew just how bored she was. Nana had long stopped attending classes, and instead sat in the refectory and talked to the housekeeper. Neither Pauline nor Posy worked with her, and if they had, would have been far too intent on their own work to notice Petrova’s. Sylvia never asked if they liked their work; they all looked well; and when she saw them, or took them to the Academy, they never discussed dancing with her, as she knew nothing about it. At lessons Doctor Jakes and Doctor Smith never discussed anything but lessons, except over their beavers, when they talked about things they had read in the papers, and about plays.
Petrova had a thin, pale face with high cheekbones, very different from Pauline’s pink-and-white oval and Posy’s round, dimpled look; she was naturally more serious than the others, and so, being bored for eight hours in each week did not show on her, as it would on them. It was Sundays that saved her. After morning church she went straight to the garage, put on her jeans, and though only emergency work was really done on Sundays, the foreman always had something ready for her. Very dirty and happy, she would work until they had to dash home for lunch. Afterwards, occasionally, they came back until tea-time; then they washed and popped across the road to Lyons; but usually they went on expeditions in the car.
Those expeditions were their secret; Petrova never even told the other two about them. The best of them were to civil flying-grounds, where they watched the planes take off and alight, and often went up themselves. Sometimes they saw some motor-car or dirt-track races; but Petrova liked the flying Sundays best. Although, of course, she was years too young to fly, in bed, and at her very few odd moments, she studied for a ground licence, and although she had never touched a joy-stick, she knew that when she did, an aeroplane would obey her, just as certainly as Posy knew that her feet and body would obey her.
Posy lived for nothing but her dancing classes. She was exceedingly stupid at her lessons; she tried to work, but she could only say and understand things with her feet. Doctor Jakes and Doctor Smith seemed to grasp this, although never, in the years they had coached, had they taught anyone quite like her before. In the Autumn term, just before she was nine, Madame saw Sylvia, and it was decided that Posy should come to the Academy for half of each day, during which time she should work at languages for the lessons she was missing. She still taught Posy dancing entirely herself; but she sent her to Madame Moulin for French, and herself taught her Spanish, and Russian — not that Posy ever learnt to speak any of the languages, but she was taught them all.
Each term that Posy had been at the Academy she had measured her feet to see if she could wear the little shoes her mother had given her; but she had tiny feet, and they were always too big; but that Autumn they fitted. She was very proud of them, not because they were really any better than anybody else’s ballet-shoes, but because they had been given her by her mother, and she was the only one with a mother, so it seemed rather grand. She would not wear them for any ordinary lesson; but if Madame said, as she did just now and again, ‘Beautiful, my child! Do it once more because it pleases me,’ then Posy would at once run to the bench in the corner, and open her shoe bag, and put on her mother’s shoes. The result was that she wore them so little that her feet outgrew them while they were still good. For a long time after they pinched her, Posy refused to own to it, because she did not want them thrown, or given, away. Madame came to her rescue, guessing how she would feel. She said she would like the shoes as a souvenir, and she had a little case made for them with a glass front and hung it on the wall.
Posy was a great pet with everybody in the school. Pauline and Petrova told her it was because she was Madame’s pupil, for they did not want her to get proud; but they knew it was not really — it was because everybody liked her. She was a sort of secret about the place; they all knew she must be going to dance very well, or she would not be Madame’s special pupil, but since ‘The Blue Bird’ no one had ever seen her work. All the rest of the students appeared in various performances for charity, but she never did. Sometimes they would say to her in the refectory, ‘Dance, Posy’. But all she would do was to give one of her funny imitations of this teacher or that pupil. It made them roll about laughing, but they never saw what she could really do.
That Christmas Mr French engaged Pauline for ‘Alice’ again. This year she always wore her wrap, and it was as well she did, for Winifred was not the under-study, as she was dancing as a jewel in the pantomime of ‘Aladdin’, and the child who did under-study her hurt her foot. She managed to come to the theatre and get past the doorkeeper, and as she sat all the evening, nobody saw that she could not walk properly; but it would have been very awkward if Pauline had been told to stay off.
When ‘Alice in Wonderland’ finished, Pauline could not get any more work. She worried about this terribly because they were so poor. The last of Gum’s money was almost gone, and when it had quite gone, there would be only the boarders to live on, except what Pauline earned and, by the coming Autumn, Petrova. No one ever exactly said so, but none of them really believed Petrova would earn much. Petrova believed it least of all. Pauline went to Miss Jay about work. She told her, as a secret, how important it was she should get some, and Miss Jay promised to see what she could do; but, as it happened, it was a season with no work for a child. Some of the Academy children went away on tour dancing; but if Pauline went on tour it would not help anybody, and the only acting parts which turned up were for boys, and there were plenty of boy students to take those. Nana and Pauline had a good many anxious talks; Pauline had begun to feel the responsibility of being the eldest, and she, and the other children, had a feeling Sylvia must not be bothered, for what with the house, and the boarders, and making accounts meet, she had enough troubles.
It was rather a miserable summer. They had all grown a lot since the year before, and nothing seemed to fit, and there was no money for any more clothes; then Doctor Jakes had jaundice, and she and Doctor Smith went away for her to convalesce. They paid their rent just the same while they were gone, but they did not want any meals, and there was profit on meals. Then, of course, there were lessons. Sylvia had to take those again, and by now they really seemed to know just as much as she did, and they felt they were wasting time, and she knew they felt it. Pauline was terrified lest, if she got an engagement while the doctors were away, the London County Council would not renew her licence, because she was sure that they would not call Sylvia ‘an approved teacher’, as it said on the rules she had to be. By the time the term came to an end they were thankful, the children even more for Sylvia than for themselves; they hated to see her worried face staring at the work they had done, while she wondered if it was right or not.
On Petrova’s birthday Mr Simpson took a holiday from the garage, and invited everybody in the house to a picnic. The doctors were still away, and so was Theo, and Clara was having her holiday; but the children, Sylvia, Nana, and Cook, were delighted to accept. His car was not big enough to take them all, so he borrowed a second one from the garage, and they drove to a wood outside Westerham in Kent. Mrs Simpson had bought all the lunch, so that Cook had a real holiday too. It was a terrific meal from Fortnum and Mason’s, and after they had eaten, they all felt too fat to do anything for a bit. They lay on the pine needles, and looked at the sun coming through the trees, and felt absolutely contented. Even Sylvia forgot to worry, it was so hot, and the pine-needles smelt so good. Presently Posy got up and took off her frock and sandals, and gave a dance for each of them; she danced Cook making a cake, and Sylvia teaching lessons, and Nana ironing, and Mr Simpson mending a car, and Mrs Simpson going to church, and Pauline as a leading lady, and Petrova watching an aeroplane while she got dressed. She made them all laugh till the tears ran down their cheeks and they begged her to stop because laughing made them hot. Cook said she had not enjoyed anything so much since she saw Charlie in ‘The Gold Rush’, and Nana that it was a pity she was bent on being a dancer, as she could keep them all if she went on ‘t
he halls’; but Mr Simpson, though he could not stop laughing, said she was a cruel little devil, and far too observant for her years.
After Posy’s dances, Pauline signalled to her, and to Petrova, to come behind a tree out of earshot of the grownups, because they had not done their vowing, and it was Petrova’s birthday.
‘I’ve an idea,’ she said. ‘Do you think that we could add to our vows? Something to vow and try and earn money to help Garnie?’
After arguing a bit, they decided it would not do any harm, so Pauline raised her right arm, and said in a suitably churchy voice:
‘We three Fossils vow to try and put our name into history books, because it’s our very own, and nobody can say it’s because of our Grandfathers, and we vow to try and earn money for Garnie until Gum comes home, Amen.’
Petrova and Posy both made faces at her, but they raised their right arms and said ‘We vow’. Then Petrova burst out:
‘Why did you say Amen? If you say it, we’ve got to too, like in church, and then it spoils the “We vow”.’
‘I don’t know why I said it.’ Pauline looked puzzled. ‘It sort of came. We do need money so much, it seemed like a prayer almost.’
Posy turned a pirouette.
‘If it’s a prayer, we ought to be kneeling down.’
Pauline felt a bit embarrassed.
‘I’m sorry; I won’t say it next time.’
‘You can. We don’t mind, do we, Posy?’ Petrova ran off. ‘Come on, let’s play hide-and-seek until tea.’
Tea was a gorgeous affair, with a birthday cake with twelve candles. Petrova was very pleased, as she had not had any proper presents, because neither Pauline nor Posy had any money, and Nana none to spare, and Sylvia had sold all her jewellery, and though she gave her a book, it was only one of her own, and an old book does not make a very good birthday present.
Nothing had come by the post either, which was disappointing, as both the doctors and Theo usually gave them birthday presents. So a pink-and-white birthday cake with her name on it, and candles, was a great comfort. Mrs Simpson told her to cut it, and showed her a mark which was where she was to make the cut. When the slice came out something was shining in it, and there was a golden half-sovereign. None of the children had ever seen a gold ten shillings before, and they thought it the best present any of them had ever had, though, as Pauline said, it would be a dreadful thing spending it; but Mr Simpson said, if she took it to a bank, she would get more than ten shillings for it, so it was worth the sacrifice of parting with it. At the end of tea, Cook handed Petrova her birthday present, which was a box of crackers; they were the really good kind with daylight fireworks in them as well as a cap, and pulling them and lighting the fireworks made a wonderful end to the picnic. The last firework was a little ball which, when a match was put to it, unwound until it was a large twisted snake. It looked so handsome that they made it a stand of two bricks, and put it on the top as a monument to mark where they had spent Petrova’s birthday.
When they got home there were two letters for Petrova and one for Sylvia. In Petrova’s were ten shillings from the two doctors and five shillings from Theo, and in Sylvia’s was a letter from Miss Jay. A management were putting on ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ in September, and Pauline was to go and see them about the part of Pease-blossom, and Petrova was to be seen for the ballet of fairies.
In bed that night, Pauline said:
‘Do you think adding the bit about making money to our vow had anything to do with the letter Garnie got?’
‘I don’t see how it could have,’ Petrova pointed out. ‘It came by the afternoon post, and was written before we vowed.’
Posy sat up and hugged her knees.
‘It might have all the same; you never can tell what’s magic’
CHAPTER XIII
The Clothes Problem Again
AN August audition for two people put a strain on the wardrobe that it certainly could not stand. There was Pauline’s black-velvet frock, but the weather was hot, and it would not look right at all. Nana thought clean cotton frocks would do, but the children doubted it; they admitted they did not know what was worn in August, but they did not think cotton would ever be right.
‘Very well, then,’ Nana said. ‘You must go in your practice-dresses; they’re clean, and done up for next term.’
Pauline looked at Petrova.
‘Practice-dresses never are worn, are they, Petrova?’
‘Not unless we are told to put them on and go as a troupe,’ Petrova agreed, ‘which we never would do in holiday time.’
Nana sounded cross, as she always did when she was worried.
‘Well, what will you wear, then? I can’t make clothes out of the air.’
Petrova put her arms round her neck.
‘Nana, darling, could my birthday money make us organdie frocks like we used to have?’
‘What, those white dresses with the frills?’
Petrova nodded.
Nana looked thoughtful.
‘How much money have you got?’
Petrova fetched her purse and laid out two postal orders — one for five shillings, and the other for ten — and the Simp sons’ gold half-sovereign. She reminded Nana that the gold was worth more than ten shillings.
Nana got a pencil and paper and made calculations.
‘We could get a nice organdie for two and eleven. Four and a half yards those dresses take — that’s nine yards.’ She passed the paper to Petrova. ‘You’re good at figures: how much is nine yards at two and eleven?’
Petrova worked it out in her head; it came to one pound six and threepence. They all looked at the money. Allowing for the extra on the ten shillings, they had enough. Pauline and Petrova heaved sighs of relief; but Nana shook her head.
‘You’re going too fast. What about linings? See straight through you in organdie. You can wear the knickers of your practice dresses, but you must have slips even if it’s only jap.’
Pauline fidgeted with her wrist watch.
‘How much will they cost?’
‘Get something good enough for one and six-three,’ Nana thought, but she’d need two yards for each of them.
‘That’s six and threepence.’ Petrova sighed. ‘And with the organdie money, that’s one pound twelve and sixpence; however good the exchange is the day I change my ten shillings it won’t be worth an extra seven and sixpence.’
Nana, however, having got so far as to work out how much the dresses would cost, said she would lend the extra money; they could pay her back out of their salaries, though she insisted that before Pauline paid her back a penny, she must return her half of Petrova’s birthday money.
The audition was the next day, so there was very little time to make the dresses, even when the money was arranged. Nana went out at once for the stuff, and as soon as she got back, she cut them out, and Mrs Simpson, Sylvia, and Cook formed a sewing club to help her. Cook made the slips, Mrs Simpson whipped the frills, which took hours, and Sylvia made up one dress and Nana the other. They were not absolutely finished until just before they were put on; but when Pauline and Petrova were dressed in them, all the workers, though exhausted, said it had been well worth while; they really did do the house credit. Unfortunately Petrova had started a stye that morning, which did not improve her appearance, but nobody mentioned it.
Mr Simpson drove them, and Nana, to the audition. It was his share of the work, because the money had not run to new hats, and if he had not offered to drive them, somebody would have had to clean and re-trim their summer ones; as it was, they went without any.
Pauline was by now quite used to auditions, and she knew this one would be fun, because lots of the Academy students were there, and they told each other what they were doing with their holidays, and looked enviously at Pauline’s and Petrova’s frocks, which seemed far nicer than anyone else’s. Pauline appeared to be the only child from the Academy about the part of Pease-blossom, though there were two each trying for both Moth
and Cobweb. They were surprised that no one had been sent for Mustard-seed, but they supposed the part was already fixed.
The stage was crowded with people, mostly grown-ups; Petrova was thankful to get behind the other students and remain hidden. She would not even face the thought that presently she would have to go out in front of everybody and dance; even thinking of it made her inside feel as though she had swallowed an ice too quickly. She felt, too, it would be a waste of time, as nobody would engage a child to be a fairy who had a stye on her eye.
The audition started with lots of people singing; they sang dull songs, mostly in German and Italian, and the children were bored. The singing seemed to go on for hours and hours, and then suddenly a voice called from the stalls ‘Pauline Fossil’. Pauline jumped; her mind had been miles away. She had been planning what, if she got this engagement, she would do with her pocket money, always supposing there was any after she had put half in the post-office and paid Sylvia, the Academy commission, Petrova, and Nana. She knew the Fairies’ parts could not be worth much, so she was afraid there would not be anything for her, but it was nice planning how to spend it, if there was.
She got up quickly. Nana straightened her skirts, and she ran down to the footlights. She stood there, while a lot of people talked in low voices; then, as nobody told her what they wanted her to do, she put up her hand to cut out the glare from the footlights, so that she could see who was in front. To her surprise, amongst a row of men, she saw Mr French. He waved.
‘Hullo, my dear.’
‘Shall I say some Shakespeare?’ Pauline asked politely.
He shook his head.