‘Now, please don’t talk, I’m going to read my programme’
GRANDFATHER, GRANDMOTHER, AUNT Rose, Uncle Alfred and Veronica were waiting in the foyer of Covent Garden Theatre. Grandfather was rather a fierce-looking man, with a red face and bristly white hair.
‘What time are you expecting Alex and his family, Alfred?’
Alfred was important-looking. The sort of man you could guess made a lot of money. If you looked at him carefully you could see he could be Alex’s elder brother, for he had the same brown hair and eyes; but there were two great differences. Alex was very thin, and Alfred was growing fat, especially in front. Alex was pale, but Alfred’s face was red. It was extra red as he looked at his watch, for he hated anything he had arranged not to happen exactly on time.
‘Should have been here five minutes ago. If there’s one thing I dislike more than another it is to be kept waiting.’
Grandmother was a plump little woman, with neat grey hair. She looked as if her clothes were made by an upholsterer rather than a dressmaker. She had rather a sharp way of speaking, but it was mostly a way of speaking, for inside she was very kind in a bossy way. Her eyes were full of amusement as she looked at Alfred. He might seem a successful business man, and a knight to other people, but to her he was still her boy Alfred. She had lived all her life in Bradford, and was proud everyone should hear it when she spoke.
‘Don’t fuss, Alfred, lad. You always fussed as a child. That’s one thing I will say for your brother Alex, he was never a fusser.’
Rose was a fair-haired, pretty, most beautifully dressed woman, but she was spoilt by her voice. It was the whiney voice of someone who has had far more nice things in her life than she expected, and has grown whinier each year, as she found there were no new things to wish for.
‘I suppose they were none of them ready when the car came. You know what a muddle they live in.’
Veronica took after her mother only more so. She was prettier than her mother had ever been, and she had a far whinier voice. She had on a blue frock made of organdie. Over it she wore a little ermine cape. She twisted round so that her very full skirt billowed out.
‘I’m never late, am I, Mumsie?’
Grandmother thought Veronica looked a picture, but she also thought, if she had her to herself, she would get her out of her affected ways, or know the reason why. She said briskly:
‘Don’t mess that frock up, Veronica. It’s sweetly pretty.’
Veronica grew more prancy than ever.
‘Mumsie says blue’s my colour.’
Rose looked dotingly at Veronica.
‘You look nice in anything, pet.’ Then she turned to Grandmother. ‘I really wanted her to wear her new long frock, she looks a dream in it, but it was no good suggesting evening clothes, Alex and Cathy haven’t any. The only decent clothes Cathy has are my cast-offs.’
Grandfather tapped Alfred on the shoulder.
‘Don’t forget Paul is to sit next to me. You take the rest of them out for ices in interval, and give me time to have a word alone with him. I don’t believe he’ll stick to this doctor nonsense when he hears what I have to say.’
Veronica put her hand in her Grandfather’s.
‘Don’t you wish I was a boy, Grandfather? Then I could come to Bradford.’
Alfred for a second stopped looking at his watch and looked instead at Veronica. He thought she was perfect.
‘I wouldn’t change my little girlie for a son, Dada’s proud of his pet.’
Grandfather ran a finger through one of Veronica’s curls.
‘’Twouldn’t have done no good if you had been a boy, you’d have gone in with your father at the London end.’
Grandmother’s voice rang out sharply.
‘Got too grand for Bradford, haven’t you, lad, now you’re Sir Alfred, and director of City companies and all?’
‘Look! There they are. There are the cousins.’ Veronica jumped in the air and waved. ‘Oh-oo!’
Grandmother was shocked.
‘Never thought to hear you making a noise like that, Veronica. You sound as if you were at fun fair at Blackpool.’
Rose took Veronica’s hand.
‘Stand quiet, pet. They’ve seen us.’
Alex and the children pushed through the crowd, Cathy hid herself behind them. There were kisses and hand shakes and ‘Happy birthdays’ for Angus. Then Cathy came into view. Rose had her face forward to kiss her, when she saw the flowers her mouth opened in a gasp. Cathy pulled her to her, and while pretending to kiss her whispered fiercely:
‘Don’t say anything about them. I know how they look, I’ll explain later.’
Veronica held both hands over her mouth and giggled.
‘Oo …. Aunt Cathy, you do look funny!’
Jane saw Aunt Rose’s face and heard Veronica’s giggle. She had never looked prettier, her eyes were shining as if there were stars in them, but suddenly the stars went out and she flushed. Grandmother was the only other who had seen and heard what happened. She was not having Jane’s evening spoilt by anything so ridiculous as a few flowers on a dress, however terrible they looked.
‘What a pretty frock, Jane, I don’t know when I saw a prettier. It’s new, isn’t it?’
Back came the stars.
‘Isn’t it gorgeous? Mummy made it. We bought the stuff together.’
Alfred flapped round like an agitated hen.
‘Quiet, everybody. No one enjoys an evening’s fun more than I do, but what I say is there is no pleasure without organisation. Now this is how you sit. First you, Ginnie, then you, Veronica, pet.’
‘Where’s the birthday boy sitting?’ asked Grandmother.
‘T’other side of Veronica. That’s the right place, isn’t it, Angus, next to your little hostess?’
Angus thought being his birthday Uncle Alfred was letting him choose where he would sit. In that case he certainly was not going to sit next to Veronica.
‘Well, Uncle Alfred, if I can choose …’
Cathy felt as a family they were sufficiently out of favour already. It was not their fault traffic had held up the car, and it was not her fault about the roses, still, there was no need for Angus to make things worse.
‘That’ll be lovely, won’t it, Angus? Who’s sitting on Angus’s other side, Alfred?’
‘His Grandmother. Then Jane. Then me. I’ve put myself right in the middle. Then you, Cathy, on my right. Then Rose. Then Alex. Then Grandfather. Then Paul.’
Uncle Alfred did everything in the grandest way. As they reached the end of their row of seats, his voice boomed out telling the programme girl he would have eleven programmes.
‘What I say is, when you’re out to enjoy yourself, let yourself go and enjoy yourself. There’s nothing in the extra sixpences if it adds to the evening’s pleasure.’
Paul caught Jane’s eye. Of course they could not say so, but they thought five shillings and sixpence on programmes a wicked waste, it was so easy to share programmes.
Ginnie pushed her way to her seat with her chin stuck in the air. She had promised before they started to be as nice as she could to Veronica, but that was before she knew she had to sit next to her, with nobody on her other side to talk to.
‘It’s mean,’ she whispered. ‘Mean. Mean. Mean. Nobody could be nice to Veronica who had to sit next to her only all the evening. I’d sooner be dead.’
Veronica, skipping along behind Grannie, called out:
‘Be careful you don’t put your seat down on my frock, Ginnie. There’s so many yards in my skirt really I need two seats.’
Ginnie wished she had thought of putting down her seat on the frock. It would have done her good to hear it tear.
Instead she sat down with her back half-turned to Veronica.
‘There’s hardly any stuff in my frock, thank goodness. It was Jane’s first, and yellow doesn’t suit me. So there’s nothing you can say will make me feel worse in it. Now, please don’t talk, I’m going to read my programme.’
Cathy leant forward and looked anxiously at Ginnie, Veronica and Angus. All seemed well. Ginnie was quietly reading her programme, and Angus was talking to Grandmother. It would have been better if one of them were talking to Veronica, but at least they were not quarrelling.
‘Have you had a lot of presents, Angus?’ Grandmother was asking. ‘Grandfather will give you our present at supper.’
Angus beamed at her.
‘Do you know, I had a morse-code buzzer. I wanted to bring it to the theatre, but Mummy wouldn’t let me.’
Cathy, satisfied that for the moment her family were remembering their party manners, turned to Rose.
‘I want to explain these roses.’
Rose listened to Cathy’s explanation of what had happened, but she could not understand how Cathy felt.
‘But surely you might have thought of us. Imagine if we run into any of my friends. What can I say?’
Cathy could see it was hard on Rose. Nobody likes guests who wear the sort of clothes that make other people laugh.
‘I simply couldn’t insult Ginnie by cutting all the flowers off.’
‘If you felt like that I think you might have covered them with a coat.’
That made Cathy cross.
‘In this temperature? Besides, I’ve only got a very shabby one, not a bit suitable for this lovely theatre.’ Cathy saw Rose had some more to say, so she added firmly: ‘You’ll have to put up with me, Rose, flowers and all. I’m not going to let them spoil the ballet for me, and if you’re wise you’ll forget about them too, and just enjoy yourself.’
Alex had not heard this conversation for he was talking to his father. He had read his programme. They were to see ‘Les Sylphides,’ ‘Symphonic Variations,’ and ‘Les Patineurs.’
‘Now, please don’t talk, I’m going to read my programme’
‘I’m afraid this won’t be much in your line, Father.’
Grandfather dug his elbow in a meaning way into Alex.
‘Th’art right, Alex, lad. But it seems smart thing to go to ballet.’ He pronounced it bal-ett. ‘Rose and Alfred do nowt but go to best places. For me self I like a right good laugh.’
‘So do I, Grandfather,’ said Paul.
Grandfather was pleased.
‘Shouldn’t wonder if you and I had a lot in common, young man.’
Grandmother could not get over how pretty Jane looked. She stroked her flowered skirt.
‘This is pretty, love.’
Jane had been straining to hear, through Uncle Alfred’s booming talk, how her mother was getting on with Aunt Rose. She could not see Cathy’s face because it was turned the other way, but she could see Aunt Rose’s and it looked sneering. But on such an evening she could not worry for long. She turned to Grandmother a face shining with happiness.
‘Imagine, a new frock and the ballet all on one night! I’m so happy I feel I could float. Do you ever feel floatish, Grandmother?’
Before Grandmother could answer everyone in the theatre was clapping the conductor, vho had just taken his place on his rostrum. He tapped the rail in front of him with his baton, and Chopin’s Sylphides’ music seemed to fill the theatre with moonlight. Jane felt pleasure that hurt like pain. She clasped her arms to hold the pleasure to her. She spoke in a whisper.
‘I think the moments before the curtain goes up are too glorious to be really happening.’
In the interval Uncle Alfred, as he had promised, led everybody outside for drinks and ices. Paul was going too, but Grandfather stopped him.
‘I arranged with your Uncle to leave us, as I want a word alone with you, and maybe this is my only chance for we go back north tomorrow. Now, no beating about the bush. I want you in Bradford in my business. I’m right glad you won that scholarship, but schools can’t teach you everything. As soon as you have your general certificate I want you to come to me to learn the wool trade. I’ll start you at bottom, but you’ll soon work up, and one day a fine share of all I have will be yours.’
‘But I want to be a doctor, you know that, Grandfather.’
‘I know you’ve talked about it since you were a little lad, but you’re growing up now, and I reckon it’s time you saw sense. It’ll cost a pile of brass to turn you into a doctor, and if you have it the others will go short.’
Paul hated that.
‘But I shan’t cost money, I mean to do it all on scholarships.’
‘It’ll take time, and who’s keeping you all those years? From what I hear you could take your general certificate next year, and from then on you’d be earning. Think what that would mean to your father’s pocket.’
Paul felt his will weakening. He wanted to be a doctor, he knew he ought to be a doctor. But it was going to take years, and money was very short. Perhaps even if you were sure you would make a good doctor, and certain you were not cut out for the wool business, you ought to do it if it meant helping your family. What Grandfather had said about the others going short had hit a sore place. When money crises arose at home, or Jane’s not being able to learn dancing was talked about, Paul always felt miserable. Everybody else had to do without things and here was he cheerfully going ahead, planning a career which meant he would not be self-supporting for years.
‘Do you mind if I say something which might sound rude?’
‘I was never afraid of words, they don’t break bones.’
‘I don’t want to go into the wool business, you know that. But sometimes, especially now after what you’ve said, I might…. I mean the time might come when I’d think I’d have to.’
‘Well?’
Paul swallowed nervously.
‘This sounds awful. Suppose I ever did think I’d give up the idea of being a doctor, and came to you, would you give Dad an allowance?’ He saw Grandfather’s face turning purple, so he added quickly: ‘Only until I am earning enough to give him one myself.’
Grandfather made angry, spluttering sounds before he spoke.
‘When your father went into the church I said he’d not have any of my money, and he never has. You little whipper-snapper you, trying to get me to go back on my word.’
Paul was so scared of Grandfather’s temper, and that he would raise his voice so the people in the row behind could hear, that he spoke more bravely than he felt.
‘I’m not trying to make you go back on your word. But you must see my side. If I give up being a doctor, and leave school as soon as I have my certificate, to help my family, I must feel I am helping them. If a person gives up what they most want to do to do something they don’t want to do, there must be a reward of some sort. You do see that, Grandfather.’
‘The reward is that you’ll be a rich man some day.’
‘I don’t want to be a rich man, I want to be a doctor, so there would have to be some other reward to make me say I’d do it.’
Grandfather, though Paul could not see it, had the beginning of a twinkle in his eyes.
‘Is that your last word?’
‘Yes.’
Grandfather lay back and put his hands in his pockets.
‘I like a man or a boy who can state his price and stick to it. Very well. I want you and I’m prepared to pay for what I want. The day you decide to throw up this doctoring nonsense and join me I’ll settle a good allowance on you. But, mind you, it’s your allowance and not your father’s; I said he should never have a penny of my brass and he never shall, but I can’t prevent you doing what you like with your own money, can I? Now, I don’t expect you to decide tonight, but you think things over. Then you sit down and write me, privately of course. That letter is your bond, on the day I receive it your allowance will start.’
Paul saw the others were coming back to their seats. A terrible lot seemed to have happened while they ate ices. Grandfather seemed to think everything was more or less settled.
‘You do know I haven’t decided yet, and quite likely I never will.’
Grandfather felt pretty safe.
‘There’s no great hurry. But the sooner I get that letter the sooner that allowance starts.’
Nobody could say Aunt Rose and Uncle Alfred did not give good parties. There was a glorious cold supper waiting, which started with iced soup, then a choice of lobster or chicken, and afterwards strawberries and cream, jellies, ices and meringues. In spite of the splendid food it was not an easy party.
Jane had been so carried away by the ballets that now that they were over she felt squeezed out like a sucked orange.
Cathy felt nervous. Angus was looking odd. He had looked odd in the first interval, but now he looked odder. He would not say a word, in fact he seemed half asleep, she did hope he was not going to disgrace them by being sick. She had asked him three times if he felt all right, and each time he had at first seemed to find it hard to hear what she said, but then had answered, ‘Of course I am.’
Paul had scarcely seen the last two ballets. Questions chased each other round and round in his head. Could he ask his father or mother what they thought? No, of course not, they would only think of him. Could it be right to spend your whole life doing something you didn’t want to do, and might not be good at? How soon would he have to make up his mind? What would his school say if he left as soon as he had his general certificate? These thoughts were still nagging at him during supper.
Alex, though he knew well how it felt not to want to talk, for he often felt like that himself, was afraid Rose and Alfred might think Paul was not enjoying their party.
‘You’re very silent, old man, I suppose you can’t talk and do justice to this magnificent supper at the same time.’
Ginnie was in a bad temper. So much party food cheered her up quite a lot, but a whole evening of Veronica could not be got over by food, however splendid. Inside she was still growling.
‘Your family are a speechless lot, Alex,’ said Uncle Alfred, as the last of the strawberries and jellies disappeared. ‘Maybe there’s something outside will make them talk.’ He went into the next room and, after a pause to light eight candles, came back with a magnificent chocolate birthday cake. He put it in the centre of the table. ‘How’s that, Angus? Never had as fine a cake as that, did you?’
Angus was sitting between Veronica and Aunt Rose, so he could not be nudged by his family. Cathy, from across the table, said urgently:
‘Thank Uncle Alfred and Aunt Rose, Angus. Such a beautiful cake.’
Jane, who was sitting on the other side of Uncle Alfred, caught the urgency in her mother’s voice. She leaned backwards and behind Uncle Alfred’s back gave Angus a poke.
‘Say thank you, Angus.’
Veronica, twittered:
‘On my last birthday there were pink roses and blue ribbons on my cake, weren’t there, Mumsie?’
Rose thought how bright and gay Veronica was, and how dull her cousins.
‘That’s right, you did, pet, and you had a pink frock with blue ribbons to match the cake.’
Ginnie, sitting next to Grandfather, opened her mouth to say something rude, but Cathy, fearing trouble, spoke first.
‘We’ve all eaten so much I’m afraid there won’t be much room for cake.’
Veronica giggled.
‘Terrible if we all burst.’
Ginnie thought that a very Veronica-ish remark.
‘A girl who burst because of a little bit of birthday cake would be a pretty miserable sort of person.’
Grandmother felt the party needed cheering up.
‘You must cut your cake, Angus.’
‘He’s got to blow the candles out before he cuts it,’ said Veronica.
Alex became conscious for the first time that Angus was taking very little interest in his party. He said, in an aren’t-we-having-a-good-time voice:
‘That’s right, old man. All eight in one breath.’
Slowly, and without interest, Angus got to his feet, leant over the cake and gave a blow which would have disgraced a one-year-old.
‘Oh, Angus, you are a silly boy,’ said Veronica, ‘only three. I’m only a girl but I blew out all mine at my last birthday, didn’t I, Dada, and I had nine to blow out.’
Alfred thought Angus was a poor birthday guest.
‘You did, pet. I’m afraid Angus isn’t very interested in his cake.’
Alex came round the table.
‘I’ll help you cut it, Angus.’ He put the knife into Angus’s hands and his own over them. ‘It’s a magnificent cake, Alfred. It’s like cutting through a mountain, isn’t it, Angus?’
Alfred was glad somebody was appreciative.
‘The best that money can buy. Give me the slices as you cut them. I’ll hand round.’
Grandfather felt in his pocket.
‘I’ve got something for you here, Angus.’
Alex gave Angus a push.
‘Go round to Grandfather and see what he’s got for you. I’ll finish cutting the cake.’
Angus came slowly round to Grandfather, who put his arm round him.
‘Your Grandmother and I didn’t know what you wanted, Angus, so I said I know what I’ll do, I’ll give him a pound note and let him choose something for himself.’
The family seldom were given presents in the form of money. They all thought Angus’s luck was very much in. Jane said:
‘Angus! A whole pound! Imagine what you can buy with it!’
The pound note seemed to have woken Angus up. He flung his arms round Grandfather’s neck. ‘Thank you awfully, Grandfather.’ Then he raced round the table and hugged Grandmother. Grandfather was amused at the effect a pound had on his grandson.
‘What are you planning to buy with it, Angus?’
Uncle Alfred, though he was prepared to spend money when there was a reason for it, was a great believer in thrift.
‘Saving it, I hope.’
Rose thought in a family as poor as Angus’s, money should go on necessities.
‘I’m sure Cathy knows something Angus needs.’
Veronica did not like other people being the centre of attention.
‘I’ve got a money box simply full of money I’ve saved, haven’t I, Mumsie?’
Angus was still standing by Grandmother. He looked at Grandfather, his dark eyes shining.
‘I know exactly what I’m going to do with your pound, Grandfather. I’m going to buy a pair of shoes like those men danced in tonight. Then I’m going to Sadler’s Wells School to ask them to make me into a dancer.’
This sounded so unlike Angus that everyone thought he was being funny. Cathy said:
‘Darling! Imagine you a ballet dancer!’
Alex laughed.
‘I think you’ll get along better in the choir school, old man.’
Angus did not seem to know that nobody thought he meant what he had said.
‘I’m going to be a dancer like that one who spun round and round when he pretended he was skating. I’m going to be the best dancer in the world, I abs’lutely know it, and it won’t be any good anybody arguing. It’s my pound, Grandfather gave it me to do what I like with, and that’s what I’m going to do with it, nobody’s going to stop me.’
As Angus was talking Jane realised he was not being funny, he meant every word he was saying, and she felt very sorry for him.
‘But, Angus’s shoes aren’t enough. I’ve had shoes for a long time, you know I have, and you know I’ve always wanted to go to Sadler’s Wells School; if it was only a pound I could have, but it costs pounds and pounds.’
Seeing the ballet seemed to have changed Angus, he was quite unlike himself.
‘I’ll arrange it somehow, Jane. I’m going to be the greatest dancer in the world, so only having a pound won’t stop me.’
Grandfather, winking at everybody to be sure they enjoyed the joke, beckoned Angus to come to him. He laughed so much he could hardly speak.
‘A male dancer, eh? That’s something new in our family. I don’t remember either your father or your Uncle Alfred showing much talent in that direction.’
‘But I’ve got talent …’ Angus broke off and rubbed a finger in a puzzled way up and down Grandfather’s sleeve. ‘I always knew I didn’t want to sing, but I like the noise music makes. Tonight the first moment the ballet music started my feet knew what they wanted to do. You all thought I was sitting still, but I wasn’t. Right inside, where you couldn’t see, my legs were dancing. Now all I’ve got to do is to learn steps.’
Grandfather let out a great roar of laughter.
‘All you’ve got to do is learn steps! You’ll be the death of me, Angus. But I always did enjoy a good laugh, and you’ve given me one, so I tell you what’—he winked again at the family—‘you go to this dancing school and tell them just what you’ve told me, and if they’ll take you I’ll pay for your lessons.’
Suddenly the joke stopped being a joke. If Grandfather was willing to pay for someone to learn dancing would he consider Jane? It was almost too much to hope, but it was worth a try. Giving Alex a look to say ‘Leave it to me,’ Cathy said:
‘We’ve all been a bit carried away by the ballet. It’s wonderful of you to suggest paying for Angus to have lessons, but in a day or two I dare say he won’t want them. Jane …’
Angus was furious.
‘I will, Mummy, I abs’lutely know I will.’
‘Perhaps, darling, but I think you are old enough to see that if anyone goes to Sadler’s Wells School it must be Jane.’ Cathy turned to Grandfather. ‘If you really mean you would pay, would you let Jane go for an audition? She’s worked terribly hard, and she has talent, honestly she has.’
Jane could not speak; somewhere inside her she had always believed a miracle would happen, and here it was, but Ginnie was full of words.
‘She dances gorgeously, Grandfather. I simply detest dancing, but Jane’s marvellous, everybody says she is.’
Alex never had asked his father for help, but this time the offer had been made.
‘She is good. It would be money well spent.’
Grandfather had stopped laughing and was turning purple. He was sorry he had said he would pay for Angus, but he had not supposed he would be taken seriously.
‘You’re wasting words, all of you. I’ll spend my brass the way I’ve a fancy. I won’t go back on my promise, if Angus can make that dancing school take him, and you say he can go, Alex, I’ll pay, but that’s my offer and there’s no more to it.’
Grandmother could not understand why usually reasonable people like Alex and Cathy were being so foolish.
‘Father’d never pay for dancing lessons for Jane, you know that, Alex. Letting little Angus have a lesson or two won’t hurt anyone, but Jane is a different matter. You don’t want to fill a girl’s head with silly ideas. If she takes extra classes they should be in a kitchen, where she’ll learn to make a good man happy some day.’
Uncle Alfred thought his mother so right he almost clapped.
‘You never spoke a truer word.’
Veronica was puzzled.
‘But you never let me go in the kitchen, Dada.’
Uncle Alfred was bursting with pride in Veronica. He thought it was a shame how plain, shabby and dull her poor cousins appeared beside her. That he was bursting with pride showed in his voice.
‘Things are different for you, Veronica, pet. When you marry there’ll be no need for you to do your own cooking, Dada will see to that.’
‘All the same, you must know how things should be done,’ Rose said. ‘When you leave school Dada will send you to a finishing school, and you’ll learn some cooking there.’
Since Grandmother had said Grandfather would not pay for Jane to learn dancing Ginnie had been seething with rage. This talk about Veronica and finishing schools was the end. She said, as if her words were a cork bursting out of a bottle:
‘That’ll be a waste of time, Veronica. Even if you learn to cook you’ll never make a good man happy, or a bad one either.’ There were horrified hushes and ‘Be quiet, Ginnie,’ and ‘Shut up’ from Cathy, Alex and Paul, and a faint ‘Don’t, Ginnie,’ from Jane, but nothing stopped Ginnie. ‘I don’t care. I’m going to say what I want to say. I’m glad Angus is going to learn dancing, if he wants to, though goodness knows why he wants to, but I don’t see why everybody’s siding against poor Jane….’
Only by the most terrific will-power was Jane holding back tears. There was to be no miracle. When, for a moment, you had believed one to be about to happen, that was bad enough, but for years to have longed and worked for a miracle and then to see it performed for another member of the family, that was too much. But Ginnie mustn’t be cross, it would do no good. She said in a strangled voice, which forced its way through the lump in her throat:
‘Don’t, Ginnie. Please don’t.’
‘It’s no good saying “Don’t, Ginnie,” and it’s no good frowning, Mummy, or saying “Hush,” Daddy. It was very kind of Uncle Alfred and Aunt Rose to take us to the ballet, but that doesn’t mean they can tell Veronica things are different for her than they are for Jane, just because they’re rich and we’re poor.’
Everybody, except Jane who dare not speak again, and Angus, who was dreaming he was dancing in a ballet, tried to stop Ginnie. Uncle Alfred with pompous ‘Well really!’ Grandmother with a shocked ‘Be quiet, Ginnie, love.’ Grandfather with a roared ‘Shut your trap, Ginnie.’ Alex with a sharp ‘Ginnie!’ Cathy with ‘Ginnie, be quiet.’ Paul with ‘Oh, I say, do shut up.’ Veronica with an excited ‘Ooh, isn’t Ginnie naughty!’ But none of them had any effect. Ginnie meant to go on until she had said everything she wanted to say.
‘Everybody in our family knows Jane’s wanted to go to a dancing school for years and years and years, and when the chance comes you all get grand and despising and say she must go and work in a kitchen….’
Glances exchanged between Alfred and Rose got Paul, Jane and Alex to their feet. Cathy said:
‘I’m sure the car must be here, Alfred.’
Uncle Alfred nodded, and opened the door.
‘It’ll be outside. Can’t you keep your child in order, Alex? Pity the evening should be spoilt for everyone by such unpleasantness.’
Alex had hold of a still muttering Ginnie, and was pushing her in front of him into the hall.
‘It’s not meant as unpleasantness. It’s just strong family feeling.’
Alfred was not having that.
‘Call it what you like, but it’s downright rudeness.’
‘Bad upbringing,’ said Rose.
Veronica skipped into the hall to enjoy the last of the fuss.
‘I’m never rude, am I, Mumsie?’
Grandmother was sorry for Cathy.
‘You should take a slipper to her, dear. I’d have taken a slipper to Alfred and Alex if they’d behaved this way when they were Ginnie’s age.’
Uncle Alfred thought everybody was passing off the affair too lightly.
‘It’s the ingratitude, Ginnie, that’s what I can’t get over.’
Cathy knew Ginnie; in her present state it was no good talking to her. She was thoroughly roused over what she considered a just cause. The great thing was to get her safely into the car, where she could calm down. It was urgent too, to get Jane into the car, she wouldn’t hold out much longer. She turned to Uncle Alfred.
‘Ginnie’s been very naughty, but you can trust Alex and me to deal with her.’
Ginnie thought all this apologising and scolding was humiliating, it was Uncle Alfred and Aunt Rose who were wrong.
‘Don’t bother with them, Mummy. Let them talk and sneer and sneer like they do, we don’t care, do we? As a matter of fact it’s done me so much good telling them what we think of them I shan’t care how you and Daddy deal with me.’ Then she pulled away from Alex’s restraining hands and dashed across the hall to Veronica, who was swinging on the end of the banister. ‘As for you, Veronica, I think you’re a spoilt stuck-up mimsy-pimsy minx. I’ve always thought so, and now I’m very glad I’ve told you.’
In a second Grandfather had picked Ginnie up in his arms and she was outside the front door and in the car.
‘You’re a bad girl, Ginnie, and I hope your father takes a slipper to you.’ Then he chuckled. ‘But you’re a chip of the old block and I like your spirit. Your father couldn’t say boo to a goose.’
Alex, Cathy and Paul tried to make their good-byes sound as if it was the end of any ordinary party, but they were not successful, and everybody except Angus, who had not known anything was wrong, and Ginnie, who was still bubbling with things she wanted to say, was thankful when the car started.
‘Ough,’ said Paul, ‘that was a sticky evening! Whatever got into you, Ginnie?’
Alex’s voice had never sounded sterner.
‘I’m very angry indeed….’
Cathy had her arms round Jane, she could feel her shaking with the sobs she could no longer hold back. Luckily Angus was in front with the chauffeur.
‘Shut the windows between us and the front of the car, Paul. Leave scolding Ginnie until we get home, Alex. Jane, Jane, darling …’
Jane gasped through strangling sobs.
‘I’m sorry, everybody, but I must cry. I did hold back crying while I was there, didn’t I, Mummy? They didn’t see I was going to cry, did they? Oh, I hope Veronica didn’t see. I don’t want to be mean or jealous. If Angus wants to learn to dance I’m glad he’s going to. But to be paid for! They’ll take him…. I feel it in my bones they’ll take him. Him to go to Sadler’s Wells and not me! I can’t bear it. I simply can’t bear it.’
