White Boots (22 page)

“A child your age speaking that way to your aunt! You won't have her coming indeed! The nursery is now the schoolroom, but from the sound of it you ought to be in my nursery again. I'd teach you how a little lady ought to behave.”

Aunt Claudia was shocked too, and also hurt.

“Not come! But you know how I love watching you skate. And now that we are nearing the time when you can enter for amateur championships you must get used to me watching you. Just think, Lalla, if you get your inter-gold this time, there is only the gold left, and then our fun starts, but it's our fun, we're going to share your triumphs, aren't we?”

Lalla's inside felt as if it rolled over. Inter-gold this time! Only the gold left! Share our triumphs! If only it was happening. It had got to happen. It had been promised her since she was a
baby, and she had to go on being promised it. Aunt Claudia was not going to watch her, and perhaps go and whisper to Max afterwards. Somehow she would pass her inter-gold, and then Aunt Claudia would never know she nearly had not been able to do loops.

“I don't want you to come until I ask you.”

“But why not, dear?”

“Because I don't.” Lalla remembered how she had made Aunt Claudia let Harriet go on sharing classes. “If you come, I won't skate, I'll go home.”

That settled it. Nana opened the door for Aunt Claudia and saw her downstairs. When she came back her face was red.

“That I should hear a child of mine speak that way. It's not altogether your fault, you've been brought up very foolishly in many ways, and so I've always said, and through it you've become a shocking little madam, but you'll suffer for it, pride comes before a fall, you'll see.”

Lalla swallowed a lump in her throat. If only Nana would understand it was not she was being a madam, but Nana could not, it was no good trying to explain. She turned away to the window, blinking to keep back tears which wanted to run down her cheeks. It made things more awful than ever if Nana was turning against her.

It was not only Nana who seemed to Lalla to be turning against her, it was everybody, and the worst turner-against was
Harriet. Harriet had done her best. It was not easy being friendly with Lalla when she was in a state. If she talked about skating Lalla would probably say something like “What do you know about it anyway?” and if she did not talk about skating she got suspicious. “Why do you try and not talk about my test? I suppose Max has told you not to. You two are always talking to each other, jabber, jabber, jabber. I guessed you were talking about me.” In the few weeks while Lalla thought her medicine was working it had been all right. Harriet had her usual fun with her, they talked all the time when they were not at lessons, and rushed out every day to look at Alec's strawberries, but when the effect of the medicine finished Harriet found the only thing to do was to keep out of Lalla's way as much as possible, and talk to her at little as possible. She did not want to have a row with her, and she knew she would in the end. Nobody could go on giving soft answers that were supposed to turn away wrath, when the wrath went on coming at you just the same.

As it happened, as her inter-silver test day came nearer, Harriet did not feel talkish. During the last six months the little-girl Harriet, without her noticing it, had disappeared and a new Harriet had taken her place. A Harriet who looked much the same outside, but was more of a person inside. Everybody else noticed it. Miss Goldthorpe told Nana it was a pleasure having Harriet about, she was becoming interesting to talk to. Nana said she didn't know about talking, but Harriet was paying more
for dressing, she looked really nice now at the rink, in the new things she had knitted for her, and when she had first had her it hadn't mattered what she had put on her, she had never looked more than three-halfpence worth of nothing. Alonso Vittori, watching Harriet, murmured, “It's a funny little personality but she's got something, that child.” Monsieur Cordon said of Harriet to Miss Goldthorpe,“Un type curieux!”At the rink she stopped being just the little girl Mr Matthews allowed to skate free, or the child Lalla Moore's aunt had taken up, and became Harriet Johnson, one of Max Lindblom's promising pupils. As the day of the test came nearer Harriet was more and more wrapped up in skating, and less and less noticing what people were thinking or saying. She had private plans. If she passed the inter-silver, and she knew it was a big “if”, she would tell the family. They knew about an inter-silver test, for they had heard about it when Lalla went in for it. It would be fun to come home and say, just as if it was nothing, “I passed my inter-silver test today.” How surprised they would be. They would laugh of course. Her mother would say, “Darling!
You
have? I didn't know you could skate properly.”Toby was sure to tell her not to get cocky, that if Lalla's chances were less than one in a thousand, then hers were less than one in fifty thousand. But telling them would be the beginning of her idea. If she passed, she held her thumbs when she thought of it, perhaps this autumn she could try for the silver, and, if she passed that, the next spring the inter-gold, and have a try for the gold six
months later. That would mean if she got on as fast as that, she would have her first try for the gold the autumn she was thirteen, and, allowing for lots of failures, she might have passed everything by the time she was fifteen. Even if she didn't pass them all she would have a lovely career for when she was old enough. She would be a professional skater like that poster of the girl in the ballet skirt skating on one foot, which she had seen just before it was first planned she should go to the rink. Nobody must know what she was planning or they would laugh at her, which was natural, while she was no better than she was now, but she was sure if she worked she would get better, and then she would surprise the boys by earning money much sooner than they could.

Harriet's was a very full day. Every morning she caught the bus in time to reach Lalla's house by a quarter to nine. The moment Wilson let her in she rushed up to Nana to change and was in the schoolroom by nine. After lessons there was ballet, fencing, a walk sometimes, gardening or shopping for Lalla. Then lunch. Then the rink, Max's lessons, and hard practice. Then home and homework, for now she and Lalla were eleven and a half, more lessons had to be squeezed in, so having tea with each other had to come to an end. After lessons there was supper and bed. When, as well, there was thinking and planning a future there was not much room for other people's troubles, and that was how the quarrel with Lalla started.

Rinks draw press photographers. Lalla was so used to being
photographed that she broke off whatever she was doing, posed charmingly, and skated off as casually as if she had only stopped to sneeze. But one day a photographer noticed Harriet.

“Who's the little ginger girl?”

Somebody explained.

“A pupil of Max Lindblom's. Only been skating about eighteen months. He thinks a lot of her.”

The photographer took an action photograph of Harriet practising a back change. It was a lucky photograph, Harriet looked charmingly serious. The photographer's paper published it, over the caption “Little Harriet Johnson, for whom a great future is predicted.” It was an evening paper, and of course somebody saw the photograph. Harriet was having a lesson at the time, so the picture was shown to Lalla. Lalla said how nice it was, and she must buy a copy for Harriet, but inside she was furious. Harriet! Poor little Harriet who wore her clothes, and had her lessons paid for to keep her company, sneaking around and getting her photograph taken! The bit about her future was, of course, only idiotic, Harriet had no future. It was the meanness of it she minded, Harriet had only been photographed to be annoying; she knew that just before a test, if anyone's photograph was published it had to be hers. Now she came to think of it Harriet was being mean all round. She was pretending to be so quiet and mousey, and all the time playing up to people like Alonso Vittori, Monsieur Cordon, and Max, trying to show them how good and hardworking she was. As the angry thoughts flew round in Lalla's head, so she skated faster and faster, until it was as if she was in for a relay race. “Mean! Mean! Mean!” But if Harriet was going to treat her like that she would show her.

When Harriet knowing nothing about the photograph, skated back on to the private rink, Lalla, her face scarlet, dragged her into a corner.

“Look at that!”

Harriet stared at the photograph. Her! Her in a paper! Then she saw what the paper had written.

“Oh, bother! I never knew it was being taken, or I wouldn't have let them.”

“Why not?”

“Because the family might see it, and I don't want to tell them I'm taking tests or anything, I want to surprise them.”

Lalla looked at Harriet, and a stab shot through her. Surprise them! Suppose she did! Suppose she could! Suppose… but she would not think of that. She was frightened at her half-thought, and so worried and miserable she could have cried, but she was too proud to do that in public, and anyway she knew something better, something to make Harriet feel as awful as she was feeling.

“You'd better keep this photograph, for it's most likely the only one they'll ever take of you, for if you pass your inter-silver I'll tell Aunt Claudia I don't want you to work with me any more.”

HARRIET FELT AS an insect must feel who flies round and round a room unable to find a way out. What was she to do? If she told Max she would not enter for her inter-silver he would just flick his fingers, and tell her not to be silly. She could not explain to Miss Goldthorpe or Nana, they would be furious with Lalla, who would think her a mean beast to tell tales, which she would be. In any case it would do no good; neither Nana, Goldie nor anyone else could make Aunt Claudia let her go on sharing things with Lalla if Lalla said she didn't want her. Nor could she tell her family. First of all they wouldn't understand; they had never heard she was going in for her inter-silver, so all they would say would be, “Well, don't enter for the inter-silver if Lalla's cross about it,” not seeing that if you learnt from Max Lindblom you couldn't just say “I'm not entering” without
making him understand why. As well, she couldn't tell her family because of Lalla. They thought Lalla was sometimes a bit grand; she might have been much worse seeing the silly way she had been brought up, but they all liked her, and talked about her as if she was part of the family. It would be horrible to have to tell them what Lalla had threatened and why. It would make the boys turn against her, they probably wouldn't even pick the strawberries they had grown in her garden. Olivia, who not only liked but really loved Lalla, would find it hard to forgive her. The terrible thing was that Harriet had to make up her mind quickly. Having made her threat Lalla wouldn't speak any more. It had been possible, Harriet hoped, to hide from Nana that she and Lalla weren't speaking. They had both practised at different ends of the private rink until it was time to go home. When Nana called they went to the changing room speaking only to Nana. Outside the rink Nana said goodbye to Harriet and Harriet said goodbye to Nana; it had not been noticeable, Harriet thought, that Lalla did not say “See you tomorrow” or “Bet I get my homework finished sooner than you do” or something usual of that sort.

To make up her mind what to do Harriet walked home by the longest way she knew, and just before she reached home she found the answer. She couldn't tell Max she would not try for her inter-silver after he had worked so hard to make it possible, and she couldn't let Lalla tell Aunt Claudia she didn't want her to learn things from her. It would not be true, Lalla would be
miserable doing things all alone again, but being Lalla, having said she would say something, she would say it, even if it hurt her. Harriet got a lump in her throat when she thought of not learning things with Lalla. No more Nana! No more Goldie! Never to see Lalla again! It couldn't be. No more dancing! No more fencing! It was at that thought, although it was not a cold evening, that Harriet shivered. No more skating! She could go to the rink and practise, but she knew she never would. What good would practising be to her when she had dreamed of being good enough to be a professional? How could she practise at the rink where Lalla was? How visit a rink just to practise, after having daily lessons from Max? It was not to be thought of. Lalla must be given in to, and no one but Lalla must know why she was unable to take the test.

When Harriet reached home only Olivia was in. She was in the kitchen.

“Hallo, darling. You're first. Edward's gone to tea with one of his admiring old ladies. Toby's in the shop with Daddy, and Alec, of course, is doing his papers.”

Harriet leant against the kitchen door.

“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 Wilson 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.