3. Independence at Fourteen
‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ was a success. It had been hoped in producing it late in September that it would run until the theatre put on a Christmas production. It did better than that: it ran over Christmas with matinées every day. Pauline and Petrova got two pounds a week each as fairies; for the extra matinées they got an eighth of their two pounds, so that they got five shillings extra for each matinée, which brought their salaries up to three pounds a week. They had been putting one pound into the post office, sending four shillings to the Academy, giving ten shillings to Sylvia for the house, which left six shillings a week for clothes and pocket money, which was not much, with all the clothes they needed, and they very seldom got any pocket money, and never more than a penny or twopence. Their extra matinée money came as a surprise; it was in their pay envelopes, and they were not expecting it. A whole pound more; it seemed immense wealth. Naturally two shillings of it went to the Academy; but that would still leave eighteen.
‘Do you think, Nana,’ Pauline asked, ‘that if we gave Garnie another ten shillings, and you had five for our clothes we could have the extra for spending; that’s six shillings between us, which would be two shillings a week each?’
Nana shook her head.
‘I doubt it, dear, with all that’s needed for you. What do you want two shillings for?’
Pauline fingered her pay envelope. She hesitated to tell Nana her secret ambition, in case she was told it could not be.
‘It’s theatres,’ she explained at last. ‘I never go to any. I want to see the good people act. I’d like to go to a matinée every week, when I’m not working. I could if I saved up all my two shillings.’
‘Theatres!’ Petrova looked disgusted. ‘What a waste of good money! If I had two shillings a week, I’d buy books and books and books.’
‘And what books!’ Pauline remarked bitterly, as both she and Posy disliked Petrova’s idea of a library. ‘All dull things about engines.’
‘Well, there’s no need to quarrel about what you’d do with two shillings,’ Nana put in, ‘for you won’t get it; and if you don’t hurry, you won’t be out of the theatre on time, and that’ll get me into trouble with the stage manager, and him with the London County Council, and you’ll find yourselves without a job, and then nobody will get two shillings.’
The discussion of the extra pound was brought up at breakfast the next morning. Sylvia, in a way, took Pauline’s side; but she insisted that the ten shillings they had planned for the house must go into the post office.
Pauline gave an angry jab at her porridge.
‘But that’s mean, you know you’ve got to have the ten shillings, or we couldn’t take the two shillings; it’s only pretending we could have it if you say that, because you know we wouldn’t take it.’
Sylvia took a piece of toast.
‘There is just one rule that I won’t break, and that is that half what you earn goes into the post office.’
‘It didn’t when I earned two pounds ten shillings,’ Pauline argued. ‘Only one pound went into the post office, and you had fifteen shillings, and ten shillings bought clothes.’
‘That’s true,’ Sylvia agreed. ‘I told Nana that she could have ten shillings for your clothes that once, but I didn’t like it; I was quite ashamed of your savings book, when we took it down to the County Hall.’
Pauline was red with temper.
‘Oh, well, if you’re going to care what they think.’
‘I do,’ Sylvia said quietly. ‘But I care still more that you have a nice lot saved for when you are grown-up. Now don’t let’s argue any more about that pound, or we shall all be sorry you are earning it. Ten shillings of it will go into your savings, two shillings to the Academy, five towards your clothes, and two shillings pocket money for each of you.’
‘Couldn’t you have the five shillings instead of our clothes, Garnie?’ Petrova suggested.
Sylvia sighed.
‘That would be nice; but you want clothes so badly. Nana says that you all need shoes, and Pauline’s got to have a coat. Up till Christmas all she’s had is two pounds fourteen from each of you, and when you grow so fast, that goes a very little way. She told me yesterday “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” would have to run for months to buy all you need.’
Pauline pushed back her porridge bowl.
‘I’m not putting any more in the post office.’
Sylvia, Petrova, and Posy stared at her.
‘A child,’ Posy recited, ‘has-to-put-at-least-one-third-of-its-earnings-in-the-savings-bank, or-as-much-more-as-may-be-directed-by-its-parents-or-guardian. This-is-the-law. I learnt that in French with Madame Moulin, I forget what the French was, but that was what it meant in English.’
Pauline looked braver than she felt.
‘It’s quite right. That is the law; but I’m not a child. I’ve just had my fourteenth birthday. The law lets me work; I don’t need a licence, and I can do what I like with my own money.’
‘Pauline!’ Petrova was shocked. ‘You wouldn’t be so mean as to take it all.’
‘You are a fool.’ Pauline looked scornful. ‘You know I wouldn’t. But I was thinking in bed last night; here we are, never any money, Garnie always worried, and we never have any clothes. If the money that I always have to put in the post office is spent on the house and us, we’ll have enough. All I want is the two shillings a week for ourselves. I know it sounds a lot, but theatres are expensive – even the gallery.’
Petrova looked at Sylvia.
‘It is a good idea, Garnie. She needn’t put any more in the post office, need she?’
‘I think it’s a very good plan,’ Posy agreed. ‘If I have two shillings I shall save it till next summer and go and see the ballet at Covent Garden. I could go often for that.’
Sylvia looked at them all in a worried way.
‘Do get it into your heads that nobody wants to stop you having two shillings to spend. I have always thought it a shame that Pauline had so little for herself when she worked so hard, and now the same applies to you, Petrova. But it must not come out of the half you save. You give me plenty for the house, I can manage.’
‘I shall put nothing more into the post office – at least, not until Gum comes home,’ Pauline said firmly. ‘And what’s more, if we need it, I’ll take out what I’ve saved.’
Petrova and Posy looked at her with a mixture of admiration and shocked amazement. If there was anything that was sacred in the family, it was the savings books. The walk to the post office on Saturday mornings was more sure to happen than church on Sunday. Sometimes Nana, after an anxious evening patching and darning, would sigh as she saw the notes swallowed over the post-office counter; but when Petrova one day described the post office as ‘that nasty office eating my money’ she had been furious.
‘Right’s right, dear, and it’s no good questioning it, and don’t let me hear you at it again.’
Now here was Pauline saying she would put nothing more into her book. That she was fourteen and could do as she liked.
Sylvia got up.
‘I shall talk to Nana; she’s certain to make you see sense, Pauline. The London County Council don’t mean that because they give up watching you that they expect me to as well. I’ve got to take more trouble, if possible.’
Sylvia sent for Nana to come down and talk to her, and as well the two doctors, as they had educated Pauline, and Theo because she taught her dancing. She would have liked to have asked Mrs Simpson’s advice too, but she could not think of any excuse. As soon as they all arrived she told them about the money argument and asked what they thought. To her great surprise they agreed with Pauline; but all for different reasons. Theo, who was just dashing off to the Academy, gave her views first. She said that she thought it was important that Petrova should save all she could, as she saw no future for her in the theatre; but that in Pauline’s case she showed signs that her gifts as an actress were not those of a precocious child, her work was improving, as incidentally were her looks; she thought with any luck she should be so successful as not to need her savings.
Doctor Jakes and Doctor Smith did not believe in too much saving. They both believed that with more money in the house there would be a chance for the girls to develop their tastes; it would certainly be good for Pauline to be able to go to the theatre now and then. Nana said that she had been feeling in her bones lately there was a change coming. Pauline was getting very independent, and that if it took the form of wanting to help more, she thought she should be given a chance.
Sylvia thanked them, and when they had gone she called Pauline, and told her that she was to have her way.
‘Though you know, darling, I’m going to feel dreadful living on you like that.’
Pauline took far more pleasure in her salary now that most of it did not vanish into the post office. It was with dismay that two or three weeks later she heard that the notice was to go up the following Friday. Sure enough when they arrived for the performance on the next Friday there was the notice on the green baize board in the passage. Petrova made a face at it, for although the extra matinées had stopped after three weeks, and they now only had them on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Pauline was still giving them a shilling, but if the play came off shillings were bound to end. Pauline did not seem much depressed about the notice when it was actually up, but rather excited instead. When they went down for their first entrance, Petrova wanted to know if anything nice had happened. She whispered because they were on the side of the stage.
‘Not yet,’ Pauline whispered back. ‘I’ll tell you on the way home.’
The matron frowned at them.
‘Don’t talk in the wings, Pauline and Petrova.’
In the tube that night Pauline dragged at Petrova by the hand and pulled her into one of the seats for two. The one opposite was full, so Nana had to sit some way off, and could not hear what they said. Pauline spoke quickly as she was excited.
‘That man that plays Oberon.’
Petrova nodded.
‘Donald Houghton?’
‘Yes, him. Well, he’s putting on “Richard the Third” as soon as this comes off.’ She looked at Petrova as if expecting signs of intelligence, but Petrova gave none. ‘Don’t you know your “Richard the Third”?’
Pauline sighed at Petrova’s short memory.
‘You know I don’t; you only did it because it was in the test examination you did for your school certificate. What about him doing it?’
‘The Princes in the Tower are in it.’
‘Us?’
Pauline nodded.
‘I don’t see why not. I thought we’d ask him.’
‘How could we?’ Petrova protested. ‘We only see him on the stage, and we aren’t allowed to go into the grown-ups’ dressing-rooms.’
‘I thought we’d write.’
Petrova looked in admiration at Pauline.
‘That’s an idea. When shall we write it?’
Pauline considered their crowded days.
‘Well, we might get Theo to let us off dancing practice if we said it was for something very important; but then Posy would want to know what we were doing; and we mustn’t tell anybody or we shan’t be allowed to send the letter. We shan’t have time at lessons, of course, and then there’s our walk, then it’s half past one. Sometimes there’s a quarter of an hour after lunch before our other walk; if there is, we could do it then. If there isn’t we’ll have to ask the doctors to give us ten minutes out of after-walk lessons, for there’s never a minute between them and tea-supper before we go to the theatre.’
‘How about us both writing one in our baths and comparing them? That would save time,’ Petrova suggested.
The letter which they finally took to the theatre next day was the result of snatched minutes. Theo would not let them off practice, but she gave them five minutes at the end before they began lessons. They got another five minutes after lunch before their walk. Pauline copied the letter out beautifully at evening lessons when she was supposed to be writing an essay. She showed it to Petrova on the tube, and they agreed it could not well be improved upon.
‘DEAR MR HOUGHTON,
‘We hear you are going to act King Richard the Third. Would you have us as the Princes? You will not know our names, but we are Pease-blossom and Mustard-seed. We are not supposed to write letters to people in the theatre so would you be sure to send the answer before the last act as we go then. Nana who comes to the theatre with us won’t mind but the real Matrons would.
‘Yours sincerely,
‘PAULINE FOSSIL.’
‘PETROVA FOSSIL.’
The letter was addressed clearly to Donald Houghton, Esq. At the theatre Pauline went ahead with Nana, and Petrova lagged behind. The moment they were out of sight, Petrova rushed the letter across to the doorkeeper, asking him to be sure and deliver it, but not to say anything about who had given it to him. He bowed very grandly and said, ‘Leave it to me, Miss Fossil.’ At that moment Nana called Petrova, and she had to race up the stairs.
Pauline and Petrova found the evening almost unbearably long. Each time they came back to the dressing-room they looked round for a letter, and there was not one. They came off after their last entrance and almost cried to find there was still nothing. Gloomily they peeled off their tights, and put on their dressing-gowns, and began to remove their make-up. Then suddenly there was a knock on the door. Nana opened it. Both Pauline and Petrova stopped cleaning their faces and listened.
‘Yes,’ they heard Nana say. ‘What is it?’
‘Do Pauline and Petrova Fossil dress here?’ a man’s voice asked.
‘They do.’ Nana sounded very uncompromising; they knew she thought they had done something wrong, and was going to deny it if she could.
‘Well,’ the man went on, ‘Mr Houghton says, would you bring the young ladies to his room for a minute?’
Cobweb and Moth stopped cleaning their faces. They stared at Pauline and Petrova.
‘Well I never,’ said Cobweb.
‘What’s Oberon want with you?’ Moth asked.
‘Button up your dressing-gowns, dears,’ Nana interrupted, ‘and come along. We’ll be able to tell these two what he wants when we’ve found out.’
Oberon was sitting at his dressing-table. He turned round as the dresser showed them in. He held out their letter.
‘You sent this?’
Pauline nodded.
He smiled at her.
‘What makes you think you could play the Prince of Wales?’
Pauline felt very shy.
‘We’ve been taught to speak Shakespeare.’
‘Who by?’
‘A Doctor Jakes. You wouldn’t know her.’
‘She teaches us English,’ Petrova added.
‘All right, then. If she teaches you to speak blank verse, let’s hear you.’ He nodded at Pauline. ‘You begin.’
In a dressing-room with your make-up not properly off is not a good moment to recite a speech of ‘Puck’s’, but, as usual, Pauline only had to begin and she was ‘Puck’. Petrova found the dressing-gown and rather smeared face a great help for the boy in ‘Henry the Fifth’. When they had finished, Oberon shook them both, and Nana, by the hand.
‘The casting doesn’t rest entirely with me,’ he said, ‘but I’ll do what I can; I can’t promise more. Good night.’
Back in the dressing-room Moth and Cobweb were waiting.
‘Well,’ they asked as the door opened, ‘what did he want?’
Pauline and Petrova said nothing, as they were afraid to say they had been for parts, as they knew if they did every child in the theatre would be after them tomorrow. Nana came to the rescue.
‘They’ve been talking in the wings as usual,’ she said severely. ‘And it wasn’t a lie either,’ she added as the door closed on Moth and Cobweb, ‘for I’m yet to hear of the night when you don’t talk in the wings. Come on, Petrova, must get you out of the theatre, or I’ll have the stage manager after me, and you don’t want to have to tell him you’re fourteen, Pauline, or you’ll be kept till the end of the show, and that’ll mean a nice job for someone fetching you home. And when we get on the tube I’d like to hear what all this Prince of Wales business is about.’
