Lessons for both Lalla and Harriet became fun, and Miss Goldthorpe enjoyed them enormously. The two girls were not only almost exactly the same age, but much of a muchness at lessons. Lalla was good at things like grammar and remembering dates and geography, and Harriet loved reading. Both girls were bad at, and detested, sums. But it was fun being bad at the same thing. Lalla found even adding money, which she thought the nastiest kind of sums, could be pleasant if it meant she beat Harriet when she got the total right. She did not share Harriet’s and Miss Goldthorpe’s taste for literature, especially not their fondness for Shakespeare’s plays.
“I wouldn’t have thought it of you, Harriet,” Lalla would say. “You don’t look the mimsy-pimsy sort of person who could like hearing about that silly Viola and that awful Malvolio.”
At eleven the door would open and Nana would come in with glasses of milk for the girls and a cup of tea for Miss Goldthorpe and biscuits for everybody. Sometimes she would bring her own cup as well; and while she drank her tea would give a running commentary on how things were going in the house.
“Your aunt’s out for a fitting for her clothes for that Ascot. Cook has a chip on her shoulder this morning. She meant to go out with her sister this evening to the pictures, but now Wilson’s brought a message from your aunt to say there’ll be two extra for dinner. The sun’s coming out beautifully, and the gardener says you ought to come down and see his crocuses; proper sight they are on the lawn.”
When Nana mentioned the gardener Lalla and Harriet would exchange looks with Miss Goldthorpe. It was time the boys came over and dug up that bed and put in their lettuce seed. According to Alec it should have been planted some time before, and the little plants growing under cloches.
Usually Nana would finish with a bit of news for Harriet. She would say she had been going through Lalla’s drawers and cupboards and had found this thing or that thing which would be useful to her. The things she found were always worn in the house; they never went back to Harriet’s house. Nana had not talked to Miss Goldthorpe about Harriet’s clothes. It was no good talking to Miss Goldthorpe about clothes; she never knew what anyone had on, or cared what she looked like herself, but now and again Nana had confided in her about the Johnsons.
“They haven’t any money, poor things, and Mrs. Johnson so nice and all. I don’t want her knowing, but never being sure when Mrs. King will pop in and out of the schoolroom, and knowing how she expects the children to look, I find the easiest thing is to use Lalla’s clothes for both. As soon as Harriet comes I say ‘Take that off, dear, we don’t want it spoiled,’ and I’ve popped her into something of Lalla’s before you can say Jack Robinson.”
Usually Nana’s news for Harriet would come just as she was picking up the tray.
“After your dinner, Harriet, I’d like to see you in Lalla’s room. I’ve an old frock of hers, more than good enough for lessons. It will fit you nicely if I take it in and let it down.”
At twelve o’clock on Mondays and Thursdays Miss Goldthorpe walked the children around to Alonso Vittori’s studio for Lalla’s dancing class. Alonso Vittori was a leading stage dancer, but he took a few private pupils as well. He had been teaching Lalla for some time. He did not have to give her a strict ballet training, but more a good grounding, so that she learned to hold postures and move her body and hands gracefully. Of course ballet exercises were very good for her legs also. Alonso was fond of Lalla as a person, but not really fond of teaching her dancing, because Lalla thought learning dancing a waste of time. “Not that beastly exercise again, Alonso darling. Why should I have to do it, I’m a skater? On my skates I couldn’t do that, so why should I learn it on a floor?”
To begin with, after Harriet had joined Lalla for lessons, she had watched her being taught to dance with the same open-eyed admiration as when she watched her skating. How extraordinary for legs to do that! How clever of Lalla to have legs that did that!
At the end of the third lesson, at which Lalla had been particularly tiresome about barre exercises, Alonso noticed Harriet’s admiring face. Other people might think Harriet too big in the eyes, and too thin in the legs, but Alonso admired her; he liked her thin look, and thought it a pity that now Lalla had Harriet to work with she should be a devoted admirer instead of an ordinary critical friend. So he went across to her.
“Why don’t you join the class next time?”
Harriet blinked at him in astonishment.
“Me! But I couldn’t.”
Alonso told her not to be silly.
“Take off your hat and coat, put on Lalla’s shoes, and go over there.”
Harriet felt rather shy standing all alone in the middle of the room in ordinary school clothes, trying to do what Alonso told her while Lalla and Miss Goldthorpe looked on, but Alonso did not think too badly of her. Just before he finished with her he called Lalla over.
“Have a look at that. Harriet’s never learned, but she’s holding her hands better than I’ve ever succeeded in making you hold yours.”
It was not absolutely true, but it was near enough true for Alonso to think he might say it, and it certainly had the desired effect on Lalla. She had never been jealous before but she had never had cause to be. She gave Harriet a push, and told her to take off her shoes, and told Alonso he was only saying that to annoy her. Alonso laughed, rumpled Lalla’s hair, and told her that from now on Harriet was to attend his classes, and he expected she would have to work hard to keep up with Lalla.
Lalla had never needed to be told to work hard at fencing. She liked it, and found it fun, but Monsieur Cordon had often thought it would be good for Lalla to have a child of her own size to fence with. He ran his fencing classes with the aid of his sons, and as they had a great many pupils, it was not always convenient for him to fence with Lalla or to spare one of his sons to give Lalla full attention for half an hour. So when he discovered that Harriet was always coming to watch his classes, he decided she should learn to fence too, and he told one of his sons to instruct her.
Monsieur Cordon explained what he was doing to Miss Goldthorpe. “It is nice that Lalla should have her little friend fencing too. Fencing for Lalla is for the good of her figure, and for quick movement. She will never wish to study it seriously. If her friend fences that will be admirable for all.”
Miss Goldthorpe recited Shakespeare to herself through both ballet and fencing classes. Usually the clash of the foils took her mind to the more fiery scenes. On that day she was present in imagination at the duel between Hamlet and Laertes. She was hearing the king say: “Let all the battlements their ordnance fire” when Monsieur Cordon spoke. She liked Monsieur Cordon, as she liked the other odd people who instructed Lalla. To her it was past comprehension why an apparently pleasant Frenchman and his two pleasant sons should waste their time playing about with foils, when dueling had gone out of fashion years ago, but she tried never to let him know that she thought he was frittering away his life. She only caught half of what he said, but it was enough for her to understand that he was suggesting teaching Harriet. She began to wonder if she could be misjudging Lalla’s teachers; they were all showing more sense than she had anticipated. She smiled at Monsieur Cordon and thanked him, and said nothing could be better for Harriet, whose legs needed strengthening because she had been ill.
On Wednesdays and Saturdays, when there were no special classes, Lalla and Miss Goldthorpe were supposed to go for walks or visit places of educational interest. But Wednesday and Saturday mornings when there was nothing to do were few. There were fittings for all Lalla’s clothes that were not knitted by Nana. There were walking shoes to be made, and gloves to be bought. Miss Goldthorpe and Lalla shared a dislike for shopping.
“Goldie darling,” Lalla would say hopefully, “the sun’s shining. When lessons are over, do you think we could go and look at the lock? I think seeing how a lock works is an educational subject, don’t you?”
Miss Goldthorpe usually agreed that anything Lalla wanted to look at was an educational subject, because she thought that for Lalla anything that used her eyes and head instead of her feet was educational. But they seldom did the things they planned to do. Presently there would be a tap on the door and Wilson would be there to say that when Lalla had finished her lessons, she and Miss Goldthorpe and Harriet were to go out with her for a fitting for a skating dress. Or Nana would say apologetically, “I don’t know what was planned, but I’m afraid you’ll have to call in at the shoemakers. They’ve telephoned to say Lalla’s shoes are ready for fitting.”
On Saturdays, to make up for the hours when she should have been doing lessons but had spent at the rink instead, Lalla was supposed to work in the mornings. Miss Goldthorpe interpreted the word “lessons,” as they referred to Saturday mornings, in the widest possible way. She tried to make Saturday mornings adventure mornings, when the learning took place out of doors. Some days it had been trees and flowers, some days old buildings, and some days following a map. Whatever it was, it was a nice thing to do. There was always a good alternative for indoors in case it rained: special things to look at in museums, pictures to see in a gallery, the under-cover animals to visit at the zoo, or going to Madame Tussaud’s.
Lalla’s aunt had always known in a vague way about Saturday mornings, but after Harriet joined Lalla for lessons, Aunt Claudia began to steal those precious hours. They suited her. On Saturday mornings she could have Lalla for much longer than the odd hour on Wednesday mornings. She would drive her to Garrick Street, which was in the theatrical part of London, where Lalla’s skating dresses were made.
Lalla found Saturday morning fittings an awful bore. She would stare out of the window at the London traffic while the designer and Aunt Claudia discussed spangles and tutus and pleated chiffon.
At luncheon Lalla would describe these talks to Nana and Harriet. “Goodness, you can’t think how awful it was. Talk, talk, talk; jabber, jabber, jabber. I can’t think why grown-up people like talking about stuff. The man who makes my frocks showed me some pale blue silky stuff, and asked if I liked it, and I said ‘yes.’ But, do you know, he and Aunt Claudia talked about it for hours and hours after that.”
Miss Goldthorpe went home to lunch on Saturdays, and officially had her Saturday afternoons to herself, though sometimes she stayed on and took Lalla to the rink to save Nana, when Nana had what she called “trouble with her knees.” Miss Goldthorpe looked forward to her Saturdays. Often she would go to see one of Shakespeare’s plays. There was not always a play in the West End, but there were usually performances that could be reached by bus or tram in some outlying part of London. When there was no Shakespeare for her to see she would either go to a concert or stay at home reading.
Miss Goldthorpe cherished her Saturdays just as anyone treasures a Saturday when he works hard all week, but when she saw Lalla’s Saturday mornings being sneaked by Aunt Claudia she was sad, and decided that she must make a sacrifice. She would give her Saturday afternoons to Lalla. After all, she told herself, I’ll have my Sundays left, and that ought to be enough for anyone. So one day when she had taken Lalla and Harriet to the rink because of Nana’s knees, she caught Max Lindblom’s eye and indicated she wanted to speak to him.
“You remember when we planned you should teach Harriet as well as Lalla,” she said, “it was because it was good for her. Now I want you to plan something else which will be good for her.” She lowered her voice, for though there was no one near her, she felt like a conspirator in one of Shakespeare’s plays planning a dark deed. “I want you to arrange to teach Lalla on Saturday mornings instead of Saturday afternoons.”
Max Lindblom was surprised. “But it is nice for Lalla on Saturdays. There are many people there, and after her lesson and her practice are finished, I allow her to dance. Why is it that you wish to change this?”
“Because the shops are shut on Saturday afternoons.” Miss Goldthorpe saw he did not follow what she was talking about. “Lalla used to enjoy her Saturday mornings, but lately she has to go to fittings, poor child, and she finds them very fatiguing. You could easily arrange that, couldn’t you?”
Max’s eyes twinkled. He did not say in words “You and I will plan things together to help Lalla,” but he held out his hand and said they were friends, which meant the same thing.
Aunt Claudia agreed to changing Lalla’s Saturday skating lessons from the afternoons to the morning.
“I don’t quite know why Mr. Lindblom thinks the mornings will be better,” she said to Miss Goldthorpe, “but we must fall in with anything that he wants, mustn’t we?”
Miss Goldthorpe agreed in a polite way that they must, and began thinking about Saturday afternoons. As a rule Miss Goldthorpe was not a person who pushed for the things that she wanted, but Saturday afternoons were different. It seemed to her terrible that Lalla’s life was empty of the sort of things she herself liked best. No music, no plays, not even many books.
Miss Goldthorpe could not imagine a world in which a person did not read. It was not altogether Lalla’s fault, she knew, for it was not easy for her to settle down to a book in the evening when she came back from skating. But Miss Goldthorpe was determined that somehow she would get books into Lalla’s life; it would be terrible if she grew up with no other interest than skating.
The first thing she did about Lalla’s Saturday afternoons was see Olivia. She called on her one day after Nana had taken Lalla and Harriet skating. Olivia was wearing a washing-up smock and asked Miss Goldthorpe to excuse her looking a mess, and to come and sit in the kitchen. Miss Goldthorpe did better than that, she dried the dishes.
“I’m not very domesticated, I’m afraid,” she said, “but I can dry dishes without dropping them.”
Olivia looked round the kitchen with a disgusted face. “It’s been a particularly nasty day. I expect you’ve heard from Harriet all about her Uncle William. Of course it is not a good time of year, but even so he is sending us the weirdest things. We can’t possibly sell them, so we have to eat them. There’s no real market, you know, for frost-bitten turnips, nor for apples that haven’t kept. Last year he tried an unfortunate experiment with eggs; it was supposed to make them keep longer than most, but it hasn’t worked and it’s very depressing. Sometimes I open twenty bad ones before I come to one good. I dare say you can smell them.”
Miss Goldthorpe had been wondering what it was she was smelling, but she didn’t say so, and changed the subject to Lalla.
Olivia was a lovely listener. Even though she was washing dishes she kept turning her face toward Miss Goldthorpe, which showed how interested she was. Because Olivia was so interested, Miss Goldthorpe found herself saying a great deal more than she had meant to say: about how fond she was of Lalla.
“She really is a dear little girl, Mrs. Johnson,” said Miss Goldthorpe, “but it’s hard for her not to become spoiled because of the way she’s brought up. It’s made a wonderful difference to her having Harriet to work with her, but I’m afraid that Harriet is inclined to be an admiring audience rather than an outspoken friend.”
Olivia washed a saucepan before she answered. “Harriet is naturally a bit carried away by Lalla’s glamour at the moment. You see, just now skating is very important to her. Of course she’ll never be a skater, poor pet, but you can imagine that to her, being a good skater like Lalla seems a very important thing—which, of course, if you’re as good as Lalla, it is. I must say I took quite a different view of skating after I had seen Lalla at that skating gala. The child is really lovely to watch. But I don’t think you need worry that Harriet will be nothing but an admiring friend. After all, she’s growing up—she’ll be eleven this autumn—and she’s used to being part of a family who speak their minds.”
“Good, I’m glad of that,” said Miss Goldthorpe. “But that’s not really what I came to see you about. You know the skating’s been changed from Saturday afternoons to Saturday mornings?”
“We’re pleased. We hardly seemed to see Harriet, and now we can have her on Saturday afternoons.”
Miss Goldthorpe leaned against, the sink. “That’s what I’ve come about. I want to make something different of Saturday afternoons for Lalla. Not until after her next skating test, of course, but we ought to make plans. You see, if I don’t do something, Lalla is going to grow up knowing nothing at all outside the skating world, which would be really terrible.”
Olivia had finished washing the dishes. She let the water out of the sink, dried her hands and put an arm through Miss Goldthorpe’s.
“Come into the other room and tell me how I can help. I’ll love to do anything I can, and I’m sure together we shall manage it.”
Everybody in Lalla’s house was gay that spring, because Aunt Claudia was happy. Now and again Cook muttered to Wilson and Helen that Lalla’s diet was all a lot of nonsense, and that for twopence she would send up a nice cake to the schoolroom. Sometimes Nana, especially on days when her knees were bad, complained that Lalla was looking thin (which was not true), but on the whole everybody was pleased and one day slipped into another in a nice way.
It was quite easy for Miss Goldthorpe to persuade Aunt Claudia one Wednesday that it would be a good idea for Alec and Toby to come and give Lalla gardening lessons, and that as the days grew longer they ought to come in the evenings when she came back from skating. Miss Goldthorpe put the request suitably, saying she thought that Lalla would take more interest in botany if she learned it by gardening than if she learned it from a book. Aunt Claudia agreed. Apart from botany she was sure gardening was good for Lalla, because it meant stooping. Aunt Claudia had faith in stooping. She stooped and touched her toes twenty-five times before breakfast every morning to be sure she kept her beautiful waistline.
The two skating galas were as big a success as the first one had been. Lalla got applause; cheers, a bouquet, paragraphs in the papers, and was photographed. Aunt Claudia got envy and nice things said, and a creamy purr and smiling look became part of her.
“We must make big plans for the autumn, Lalla darling. I think little Miss Moore is going to be in great demand, don’t you?” she asked.
But behind the ordinary goings-on of the house and the agreeableness of Aunt Claudia there was a little nag of worry inside Harriet. It was surprising what a difference proper lessons from a teacher like Max Lindblom made in her skating. Nobody watched her or saw how she was getting on. She was still at the very early figures, but unlike Lalla, she adored figures. Once she had grasped the tracing her skates should leave on the ice, she did not mind how long she went on working to get it right. Max Lindblom would watch her almost with tears in his eyes. “Look at little Harriet, how she works,” he would say. “If only I could make Lalla do that!”
Because Harriet worked hard and loved skating, and because her skating lessons were only provided so that she would be able to take an intelligent interest in Lalla’s skating, Max taught Harriet how to do figures that usually he left for a later stage. When he taught her curves he meant only to show her how to do them forward on, the outside and inside edge. But because it might help Lalla, and because she worked so hard, he found himself showing her how to do an outside curve backwards.
Harriet had none of Lalla’s verve and gaiety. She worked slowly and methodically so only sometimes did Max realize she was enjoying herself. But once during a lesson he asked if she were tired. She looked up with shining eyes and said that of course she wasn’t tired, nobody could be tired skating.
The more she knew about skating the more Harriet worried about Lalla. She was always on the private rink when Lalla was supposed to be practicing her brackets. Harriet could not do a bracket, but Max had drawn her pictures of how they ought to look, and he had done them for her on the ice as well, so that she could see them for herself.
It was all very well for Lalla to look proud and grand and say, “Silly old brackets! You watch me, Harriet, this is how I finished at that gala. I’ll show you me taking my bouquet,” and imitate herself skating. Harriet knew that never when she watched Lalla do a bracket were her tracings right. They were nearly right, but were they right enough to pass a silver test, which was a very difficult thing to pass? Also she thought Max Lindblom was worried. Often he asked her if Lalla was practicing. It was difficult for Harriet—she did not want to be a sneak and say no, but she did most dreadfully want Lalla to pass her test. Lalla knew for certain that she was going to pass; she had always had everything that she wanted, and now, after her success at skating galas, she wanted to fly through her silver test with the same ease that she had passed her inter-silver.
Harriet hoped that she was fussing for nothing, and that Lalla would pass, because nobody could imagine her failing at anything. But she did wonder when Lalla was going to work to make sure she passed. It seemed odd that she could pass with only trying the figure once or twice in practice, and spending the rest of the time at her jumps and the other sorts of skating that she liked doing.
Sometimes Harriet wondered what would happen to her if Lalla did not pass. She was being given skating lessons, which must cost a great deal of money, because having someone to skate with was supposed to be good for Lalla. If Lalla failed, would Aunt Claudia come up to the schoolroom and say, “Go home, Harriet Johnson, you haven’t done any good at all. You can’t take lessons with Lalla any more, or go skating, fencing, or dancing with her. Lalla never failed at anything in skating until you came into the house.”
As the day of the examination grew nearer, Harriet nearly had a quarrel with Lalla. It would have been a quite serious quarrel except that it was all Lalla’s idea, and it takes two people to have a proper quarrel. It started when Lalla was doing an Axel. Axels were what she called her grandest sort of skating, and she liked doing them and meant to perform them in every free skating exhibition she gave. She was going to do one in her three minutes’ free skating for her silver test.
Ever since Lalla had skated in public she had liked an audience. She loathed being made to practice on the little rink. She thought it was much more fun in the middle of the big rink, where lots of people could see what she was doing, but since she was made to practice on the small private rink, somebody had to watch her.
Lalla would have liked to have either Nana or Miss Goldthorpe as an audience, but they were disappointing watchers. Nana was always looking at her knitting at the wrong moment, and saying, “Very nice, I’m sure, dear, but don’t slip and hurt yourself.” And Miss Goldthorpe would look and say, “Splendid, dear,” but as Lalla told Harriet, you could see she was not watching, she was thinking of one of those nasty old plays of Shakespeare’s.
As the only audience left was Harriet, Lalla insisted on having her attention. Every few minutes she would call out “Look, Harriet.” “Watch this Harriet.” “I bet you wish you could do this, Harriet.”
It was when Harriet watched Lalla’s fourth Axel that she felt she had to say something. “I thought that was awfully good, but oughtn’t you to be doing those brackets? You haven’t done them yet, and it’s only thirteen days to your test. I counted on the calendar this morning.”
Lalla knew she ought to be working at her brackets, and though she was certain she could work at them for the last few days, and then do them easily on the test day, she still did not like to be reminded about them. It was such fun doing things fast, and so dull doing brackets and studying tracings. Because she knew Harriet was right and would not admit it, she lost her temper.
“I wish you’d leave me alone. Fuss, fuss, fuss. I’ll pass my silver test, but if I didn’t it would be your fault. It’s very bad to keep worrying a person; Goldie told me that. She said before examinations and things you just ought to forget about them, and then you did much better.”
Miss Goldthorpe was not at the rink, but if she had been there she would have been very much surprised indeed to have heard this description of what she had said. Harriet knew Miss Goldthorpe had not said anything to Lalla about not working before her examination, but she did not want to make Lalla crosser, so she said in as nice a way as she could:
“I didn’t mean you wouldn’t pass. I only meant those brackets are awfully difficult; you told me so. And you are supposed to work at them every day, and today you haven’t. I was only reminding you.”
Lalla felt angrier than ever. “Well, don’t remind me any more. I don’t want any reminding from anybody, especially not from you. You don’t know any more about skating than Nana does, and never will.”
Nana, knitting as usual, had been disturbed by Lalla’s raised voice, and had heard the last part of what she had said.
“What’s that, Lalla? Come over here, both of you.”
She waited until they reached the barrier. “What were you saying to Harriet, Lalla?”
Lalla learned on the barrier. “I was telling her to leave me alone. She was fussing at me about my practice.”
“And why shouldn’t she? Isn’t she having lessons with you to see that you work? What were you wanting her to do, Harriet?”
“Brackets,” replied Harriet.
Whenever that word was used Nana saw in her mind’s eye some brackets that had been in her home when she was a little girl. They had been made of wood, covered in a pinkish plush, and on each bracket stood photographs of her relatives. To Nana one skating figure was the same as another, but she had grasped that brackets, though not made of pink plush, were part of Lalla’s silver test, and had to be practiced.
“And Harriet’s quite right. I was thinking myself we weren’t seeing much of those brackets. Now back you go on the rink, and let me see them right away, or I’ll go outside and call Mr. Lindblom and tell him how you’re behaving.”
As they skated back across the ice Lalla, her temper quite gone, squeezed Harriet’s hand.
“I’m going to imitate you doing curves. As I finish them you are to clap and say what lovely brackets they were.”
Lalla was very good at imitating people. Standing ready to start, looking serious, she stopped being Lalla and became Harriet. She looked almost as thin as Harriet. Harriet forgot that she ought to be cross with Lalla because she still had not practiced her brackets, and laughed and laughed. It was a very painful sort of laughing, because it had to be done inside where Nana could not see it. Nana watched Lalla being Harriet-doing-curves for a few moments, and then nodded in a pleased way. “Very nice too, dear,” she said, and went back to her knitting.
As the day of the test grew nearer and nearer Harriet worried more and more. It was not exactly that she thought Lalla would not pass, but even if she only just passed everything nice might come to an end. Aunt Claudia was sure to say that Lalla was doing worse instead of better since she had known Harriet, and stop Harriet’s lessons. That would mean no more fencing, no more dancing and, worst of all, no skating lessons from Max Lindblom. When Harriet thought of that a lump came in her throat. No more lessons from Max Lindblom! It would be the most terrible thing that could happen to anybody.
Soon Harriet stopped reminding Lalla about practicing her figures. For one thing, Lalla was practicing them without being reminded. It was not the sort of practicing Max expected her to do, but she did practice them for a bit, and then dash round the rink in a mad-doggish way, and come back and practice them again for a few minutes. The other reason why Harriet stopped reminding Lalla was because of what Miss Goldthorpe had told her when they were waiting for Lalla to be called for her inter-silver test: that lots of people passed examinations who did not know much, and people who knew a lot sometimes failed. Lalla was the sort of person who passed even if she didn’t know a lot. It was better for her to feel confident.
It was noticed at home that Harriet was worried.
“Hullo, Long-face,” Alec said.
Harriet flushed, for she did not want anybody to notice she was worried. “I haven’t got a long face,” she said.
Toby looked up from a sheet of figures on which he was working. “You haven’t usually, but lately you’ve looked as if it had been raining for weeks and weeks.”
Edward was lying on the floor, making something out of the Meccano set Lalla had given him for Christmas. “This morning a lady said that seeing me was as good as the sun’s coming out,” he announced cheerfully.
Alec made a face at him. “One more word like that and we’ll drown you. You get more loathsome every day.”
Olivia looked at the clock, and said:
“Put that Meccano set away, Edward. I dare say you make strangers think the sun is coming out, but you make me think it’s time you were in bed.”
Edward gazed reproachfully at Harriet. “If you hadn’t looked miserable I wouldn’t have remembered what that lady said, and then I wouldn’t have been sent to bed for another ten minutes, would I, Daddy?”
George was doing accounts. He murmured, “Two rabbits, ninety-two sacks of winter greens—eight of them too decayed to sell—a crow that probably got in by mistake…what was that, Edward?” Then he turned to Olivia. “A crow should cook nicely with a rabbit, shouldn’t it?”
“I shouldn’t dream of cooking the poor crow. You can give it to the cat up the road, if you like….We were saying Harriet looked worried. Are you worried, Harriet?”
George looked at Harriet. “Seems all right to me. Has the doctor seen her lately?”
Harriet was standing near her father. She leaned against his chair. “Not as a doctor, but in the street. He said I was his walking advertisement,” she announced.
George said “Good” and was going back to his accounts, but Toby stopped him.
“All the same, she is looking worried,” he insisted. “I suppose it’s because she thinks Lalla won’t pass that skating test.”
Hearing Toby say her worst thought out loud like that made Harriet feel as though she had had the wind knocked out of her. She glared at him.
“Of course I’m not worried. She’s going to pass just as easily as she passed her inter-silver, probably better.”
Toby shrugged his shoulders. “All right, keep your hair on, but if she’s going to pass I don’t know what you’re getting in such a flap for.”
“I’m not in a flap!” shouted Harriet.
Olivia was helping Edward put away his Meccano set. She smiled at Harriet. “It’s natural you should worry for her, darling. Everybody worries when people are going in for examinations, but I’m sure you needn’t.”
“Of course you needn’t,” said George. “I thought the child was a genius when I saw her. Passes my comprehension how you spin round like that on a pair of skates. Hard enough to do it wearing shoes.”
“Anyway,” said Alec, “you haven’t long to wait. I wouldn’t get into a state if I were you.”
Olivia had finished clearing away the pieces of Edward’s Meccano set. She stood up and gave Harriet a kiss. “I shall be very glad when that test is over, because Miss Goldthorpe is planning some nice Saturday afternoons for you two this summer.”
Harriet was surprised. “Saturday afternoons, but…”
Olivia shook her head. “Don’t ask me—it’s a secret until after the test—but it’s something to look forward to, I promise you that.”
Because all the family seemed so sure that Lalla would pass, and Lalla herself felt she would pass, Harriet did worry less, and came to the rink on the test morning feeling not too scared. Miss Goldthorpe was the perfect person to wait with when you were scared of something. She thought it unimportant if Lalla passed or not, though she did realize that other people thought it important, so she was happy and calm. She knew Harriet would not feel calm, though, so she did not bury herself in one of Shakespeare’s plays, but talked to her about ordinary things. They were using the big rink for the tests that morning, so part of it was roped off, and on the other half Lalla and the other people going in for tests were practicing. Lalla, as usual, was wearing a short white skirt and sweater, a white bonnet, and white gloves because it was a test. She looked calm and unconcerned, but presently she skated over to Miss Goldthorpe and Harriet. She leaned on the barrier.
“You won’t forget about holding your thumbs, will you, Harriet?” she asked.
“Of course not. I was going to anyway.”
Lalla looked at Miss Goldthorpe. “Haven’t you anything you can do to bring people luck, Goldie?”
Miss Goldthorpe was just going to say that she did not believe in luck, but believed in knowing your subject before the examination and then hoping for the best, when she saw that Lalla was fidgeting with one of her gloves. Lalla usually never fidgeted, for she was not nervous. Seeing her nervous surprised Miss Goldthorpe and made her sorry, so she tried to think of something which would help.
“I shall sit on my handkerchief. When I was a child I remember hearing an aunt say that when she was playing whist and was having bad luck she would improve it by sitting on her handkerchief. As soon as it’s your turn, I shall sit on mine.”
“Did your aunt win after that?” asked Lalla anxiously.
Miss Goldthorpe took her handkerchief out of her pocket and said, “Of course. That’s why I remember it. It seemed such a simple thing to do.”
Lalla hesitated, as if she would like to say something else. Instead she nodded as if she were satisfied, and skimmed back across the ice to her practice.
Half an hour later it was Lalla’s turn. There were two judges, as there had been for the inter-silver test. This time they were both women, one plump and one thin. They seemed to know Lalla and greeted her with friendly smiles. Lalla appeared completely at ease, just as she had seemed before she went on for her inter-silver test. She found a piece of ice with no tracings on it and stood calmly waiting to be told to start.
Standing by the barrier, close to where she and Miss Goldthorpe were sitting, Harriet saw Max. His eyes were on Lalla, but he was looking quite at ease, his hands in his pockets. “He doesn’t seem fussed,” thought Harriet, grasping her thumbs, “so I shouldn’t think there’s anything to fuss about.”
At that moment Lalla was told to start her first figure, and Max’s attitude changed. Harriet saw that his face was grave and that he had clenched his hand in the pocket nearest to her. She turned to Miss Goldthorpe.
“You are sitting on your handkerchief, aren’t you, Goldie? It’s now.”
Miss Goldthorpe patted Harriet’s knee. “Of course I am. Don’t worry.”
Harriet knew more about skating by this time than she had known when she had watched the inter-silver test. But the place Lalla had chosen on which to skate was near the center of the rink, and Harriet could not see the tracings. She watched the faces of the two judges as they stooped down and examined the tracings, and tried to gather from their faces and from the way they wrote on their cards how Lalla was doing. But people like judges, she discovered, did not have faces that told you things. Because Harriet had watched Max giving Lalla lessons, and because for the last two or three days the lessons had been a run-through of exactly what Lalla had to do in her test, Harriet knew when the figures were finished. She let out a gulp of breath.
“She’s finished the figures, Goldie. She’ll do her free skating presently. She likes that better.”
But Lalla had not finished her figures. The two judges called her over and told her something. It was clear from Lalla’s way of standing that she was surprised at what she heard; she threw up her head so that her chin was in the air, and clearly was answering proudly. Max moved up so that he was standing next to Harriet.
“It is those brackets. She must do her forward-inside again.”
“If she does them right this time, will she pass?” asked Harriet.
Max had his eyes on Lalla. He spoke as if he were talking to himself. “How can she do well if she will not work?”
It seemed as if everybody round the rink was holding his breath. It felt to Harriet as if Lalla took hours and hours to repeat the two figures. When at last she had finished, Max, who was wearing his skates, went across to hear the results with her. The judges seemed to be taking a long time. Harriet, who remembered exactly how everybody had looked when Lalla had got good marks for her inter-silver test, saw that things were different this time. The judges smiled, but it was a different sort of smile this time, and Lalla did not dash over to Max and hold his hands. Instead, she said something quickly which Harriet could not hear, threw her chin in the air and skated towards Harriet and Miss Goldthorpe. As she reached the barrier she said in a be-sorry-for-me-if-you-dare voice:
“It will surprise you to know that Miss Lalla Moore has failed her test.”
Miss Goldthorpe said, “I’m sorry, dear. But not by much, I hope.”
Lalla looked prouder than ever. “If you want to know, very badly indeed. I needed fifty-four marks to pass, and all I got were forty-one.”