White Boots (8 page)

“There,” said the head of the agency, “that ought to be perfect for you. This Mrs King is never going to ask you to take a higher place.”

Miss Goldthorpe had frowned at the letter.

“Poor child! What a dreadful life! I don't think I shall like teaching her. I expect she's a horrid little thing full of self-importance. However, I will go for an interview and find out for myself, there's no harm in an interview.”

All this happened when Lalla was seven. From the first moment that Miss Goldthorpe had seen Lalla she had known she would like to teach her, and from the moment Lalla had seen Miss Goldthorpe she knew she would like to be taught by her. More extraordinary still, for that had not been easy, Nana had approved of Miss Goldthorpe. Nana had said she could feel in her bones no governess would be satisfactory, that she had never been one for liking governesses in her nurseries, it never worked. Miss Goldthorpe had known in a minute that Nana's bones would tell her things like that.

“You mustn't forget I've always taught in school, so I'm not used to teaching in private houses and am likely to make
mistakes; please help me because I'm sure I'm going to like teaching Lalla.”

Nana thought saying “Please help me” showed a nice spirit on the part of Miss Goldthorpe, and, though it took time, she came to like her, and in the end to be very fond of her.

The morning after Uncle David's talk with Aunt Claudia, Miss Goldthorpe was giving Lalla a history lesson when Aunt Claudia came upstairs. Lalla touched Miss Goldthorpe's arm. She spoke in a whisper:

“I'm sorry to interrupt, Goldie. Listen! There's Aunt Claudia. She never comes up in the morning. What can she want?”

Miss Goldthorpe had heard all about Harriet.

“You don't think Mr Lindblom has complained that instead of working you're giving Harriet lessons, do you?”

“You know, Goldie dear, it doesn't matter how often I tell you things you always get them wrong. I've told you and told you Max is an absolute angel, he wouldn't think of spying on me and telling Aunt Claudia.”

Miss Goldthorpe looked anxiously at the door.

“It's a very unusual time for her to come up, and after all Mr Lindblom has himself to think of, he's a young man, and you're his star pupil. He's expecting to get famous when you do.”

Lalla drew a little skating figure on the edge of her exercise book. It was no good explaining skating to Goldie, she just would not understand. It was perfectly true that she was Max Lindblom's star pupil, and that Aunt Claudia had promised that
he should have the entire training of her, so that when she became famous he would be famous for having taught her, but that did not mean he would be so mean as to complain about her to Aunt Claudia.

“He wouldn't say I hadn't worked, and anyway it wouldn't be true because I have, any more than you'd go to Aunt Claudia telling tales. You know you told her the other day I was well up to the standard for a girl of my age, although you knew that my arithmetic gets worse and worse, instead of better and better.”

Miss Goldthorpe looked ashamed.

“I didn't specifically mention arithmetic, dear, and there's plenty of time yet to coach you before you need take your School Certificate, in fact you might take an alternative subject.” Suddenly Miss Goldthorpe remembered they were supposed to be having a history lesson. “Oh dear, what would your aunt say if she came in? Now, Lalla, I was explaining to you how the Wars of the Roses started.”

In Lalla's bedroom Aunt Claudia found Nana. Nana had been tidying one of Lalla's drawers. She heard the door open and, thinking it was the housemaid, did not turn round. It made her jump when she heard Aunt Claudia's voice.

“Good morning, Nurse. Mr King met a friend yesterday with whom he was at school, a man called Johnson. I understand he has a daughter called Harriet, whom Lalla meets skating. What kind of child is she?”

Nana wished she knew exactly what Uncle David had said
to Aunt Claudia about Harriet's father.

“A very nice child, ma'am.”

“Does her nurse bring her?”

Nana knew Aunt Claudia would not approve of children of Harriet's age going to a rink unaccompanied.

“It's her mother I've met, ma'am. A very pleasant lady.”

“Is the child a pupil of Mr Lindblom's?”

Nana swallowed. How awful if she forgot herself and said she was a pupil of Lalla's.

“No, ma'am, she is not having lessons at the moment. She's been ill and it's the exercise she comes for.”

Aunt Claudia readjusted her ideas. She very nearly asked if Harriet was a good skater, but luckily for Nana, whose conscience would not have let her tell a lie, she asked instead if Harriet was fond of skating.

Nana beamed.

“She is indeed. Talks of nothing else. Of course Lalla doesn't get much time for talking, what with her lessons and the time she has to do alone on the private rink and all, but the child talks to me. Naturally, she thinks Lalla wonderful, and not the only one.”

“Do you think this child's enthusiasm and admiration will make Lalla work harder?”

Nana tried to answer honestly, and luckily she was able to do so. In order to squeeze in time to give Harriet a lesson, and take her once or twice round the rink, Lalla was concentrating very
hard indeed on the figures Max Lindblom was teaching her.

“I do, ma'am. You know how it is, a child likes to do well in front of another child, and of course poor little Harriet, all legs as she is after her illness, can't begin to do what Lalla does nor never will.”

Aunt Claudia asked if the illness had been catching, and on hearing that it was not, said that if it could be arranged Nana could bring Harriet back to tea after skating on the following Friday, and she would make a point of being in to meet her. Nana said, “Yes, ma'am,” then opened the door respectfully and came to the top of the stairs and waited until Aunt Claudia had reached the ground floor before she hurried to the schoolroom. She knocked. Both Miss Goldthorpe and Lalla thought it was Aunt Claudia knocking, because Nana seldom came in during lesson time. Both their faces showed how pleased they were it was Nana.

“I know I shouldn't interrupt you, Miss Goldthorpe dear, but it's such good news I thought you wouldn't mind.” Nana turned to Lalla. “Your Aunt says, if it can be arranged, we can ask Harriet back to tea on Friday.”

Lalla jumped up. She flung her arms round Nana.

“Giggerty-geggerty, my most beauteous Nana.” Then she hugged Miss Goldthorpe. “Angel Goldie, Harriet's coming to tea! Harriet's coming to tea! The next thing is I'll go to tea with Harriet and meet her brothers. It'll be just like having a family of my own.”

On Friday Harriet came to skating in her brown velvet frock. It had been a nice frock, but since she had been ill she had outgrown it. When she heard she was going to tea with Lalla she and Olivia had studied the frock to see if the hem would let down, but they had decided against it. Olivia said she was afraid the let-down place would show badly. Harriet agreed and said the velvet of the turned-up bit under the hem would be much pussier looking than the rest of the frock, where the pussiness had got rubbed off by being worn so much. To make it suitable both for skating and for going to tea with Lalla, Olivia made some more or less matching pants to go with it. Because of the new pants and because the brown velvet, even if it was outgrown, was her best winter frock, Harriet felt quite well-dressed when she met Lalla and Nana, but to Nana she did not look well-dressed at all. “The poor little thing,” she thought, “she really looks better in her old skirt and jersey. Velvet must be good to look right.”

Lalla, now that Friday had come, was so pleased she did not notice what Harriet had on; in any case she was not a very clothes-minded child. She had wardrobes full of frocks chosen by Aunt Claudia and put out for her by Nana, but many days, if you had caught her with her eyes shut, she would not have been able to tell you what she was wearing. This was something that Harriet did not know, and she was a little disappointed when they were on the ice that Lalla said nothing about her dress. Instead Lalla warned her about Aunt Claudia.

“You mustn't mind, Harriet, the way she talks. She's my aunt but people can't help what their aunts are like and for goodness' sake don't laugh if she recites Sir Walter Scott. There's a piece of him she's written under the cups Daddy won, and she recites it at me.” Harriet, busy with her feet, could only make an inquiring grunt, but Lalla interpreted it as a question. “It's to make me prouder in case I don't want to be the greatest skater in the world.”

To Harriet Lalla's skating was too wonderful to be real. As well, the fact that she had special coaching with Max Lindblom, and special practice every day on the private rink, made her an important child in the rink world. Harriet was not envious, but since she had been coming to the rink she had thought it must be fun being Lalla Moore.

“How could you be prouder? Anybody would be proud being you.”

Lalla saw Max Lindblom looking at her.

“I've got to go now.” She gave Harriet a push to start her off by herself. “I didn't say I wanted to be prouder, I said that was why Aunt Claudia would recite.”

Max Lindblom took Lalla to the small private rink. He was a tall, fair, rather silent, serious young man. He looked upon the business of training Lalla as a very important matter. Himself, he had thought and dreamt of a skating career ever since he could remember. He found himself puzzled by Lalla, and he did not like to be puzzled by children. He knew all about her father; he
had books about him and pictures of him, and though he could never have told anyone, to him he was a hero and a god. It had been the happiest day of his life when he was given Lalla as a pupil, and as he watched her developing as a skater, he thought he was a very lucky man. Lalla had a natural gift for skating, and was able to give an immense amount of time to it, nor was the time spent at the rink all the training she had. There was ballet for grace and balance, and fencing to make her strong and supple. In his dreams Max Lindblom could see Lalla's name known all over the world, and his name being known too because he had trained her. But sometimes he worried. Why was this little girl with everything – talent, money to spend on it, and first-class training – not getting on as fast as she should? Max hoped he was wrong, but sometimes it seemed to him the reason was that Lalla did not care enough. Then he would laugh at himself; he must be mistaken; the daughter of Cyril Moore must live to skate. He had watched her friendship with Harriet; she had never had a friend on the ice before. He wondered if it was going to be a good thing, for he had to wonder about everything that happened to Lalla. As they walked towards the private rink he asked:

“The little friend is improving?”

Lalla smiled up at Max, glad he had noticed Harriet.

“Yes. I started her going backwards two days ago, she's unsteady still, but that's mostly because she's got legs like a spider because she's been ill.”

Max saw how pleased Lalla looked.

“She is going to have professional lessons?”

Lalla explained to him how poor the Johnsons were, and how Harriet was only skating to get her legs strong, and how her boots were hired by money earned by Alec on a paper round.

“Anyway I don't think Harriet would want lessons, she's awfully keen to skate, but that's to get her legs strong and because it's fun.”

Max thought perhaps it would be a pity if Harriet stopped coming to the rink when her legs were strong. It might have helped if she could have got on so well that she could share Lalla's interest and understand what she was trying to do.

“That is a pity, she is well-built, that little girl, and she has a something…” He broke off, never being good at words and finding it hard to explain the “something” he thought Harriet had was mostly a usefulness to Lalla.

When Harriet came to Lalla's house she thought Lalla's room too lovely to be true. She even admired the glass case with the boots and skates in it, and the silver cups and trophies on the shelf.

“I think it's rather nice having things your father won and his skates. My father never won anything much, except a little cup once for golf, but if he was drowned like yours I think I would like to have the little cup.”

Nana looked more approvingly at Harriet than ever. A child
who could agree so completely with Aunt Claudia must surely be an admirable friend for Lalla.

There was always a good tea at Lalla's, but because Harriet was coming there was a special tea with three sorts of sandwiches, chocolate biscuits and a cake covered with pink icing. At home if there had been such a tea everybody would have said how scrumptious it was, but Lalla seemed to take lovely food, like she took a lovely house and lovely clothes, for granted. She sat down at the table looking at the food with no more interest than if it had been bread and jam.

Harriet had not eaten a great deal since she had been ill, but the tea was so nice that she found herself suddenly hungry. She ate four sandwiches, and a piece of pink cake, and was just going to finish up with a chocolate biscuit when the door opened and Aunt Claudia came in. Nana stood up so Harriet stood up too. She was never expected to stand up at home when visitors arrived, though of course the boys had to, but she did have to stand up for visitors at her school, so she thought perhaps that at Lalla's you behaved as you did in school. It was lucky that she stood up because it pleased Aunt Claudia. She smiled.