‘If anyone tries to speak to you, don’t open your mouth’
EVERY TIME CATHY remembered Angus’s birthday party she shuddered, and try as she would she could not help remembering it, for the effects of it went on and on.
First there was Ginnie. Alex and Cathy hated punishments, so there were as few as possible, and what there were had to be suitable for the crime committed; but what punishment was suitable for being rude to relations? In the end Alex decided Ginnie would not have been rude if she had not been overtired. Of course the cure for that was bed, so for a whole week Ginnie had to go to bed the moment she came home from school. Ginnie was grand about her punishment.
‘As a matter of fact Miss Virginia Bell is quite glad to go to bed, she gets bored hearing people talk, talk, talk, all the time.’
Of course it was not true, and everybody knew it was not true, and all the family felt miserable for Ginnie, and as well they missed her. Angus missed her for an odd reason.
‘It’s so dull having no one to quarrel with.’
But Ginnie’s punishment was a passing trouble. Angus learning dancing instead of Jane hung like a cloud over the vicarage, and Angus made Jane’s unhappiness worse. He never realised how terrible she was feeling, and rushed round to everybody showing his letter from Grandfather, saying he had meant what he had said, and if Sadler’s Wells would take him he would pay. His head was so full of the idea of learning to dance that he did not notice that his family and Mrs Gage were not at all keen to hear the letter read out loud. Alex and Cathy had a long discussion in the study with the door shut.
‘If only,’ said Cathy, ‘we could find a way to pay for Jane to go too. It’ll be heart-breaking if Angus learns and she doesn’t.’
But they could not think of a way to pay, though they considered everything, from selling their furniture to parting with a life insurance. What in the end they decided to do was to go and see Miss Newton, the head of St Winifred’s, and ask her advice.
Miss Newton was a very head-mistressy looking headmistress, with neat hair, severely cut coats and skirts, and rather perched spectacles. She had a cool, brusque, don’t-be-foolish-dear manner, but underneath she was a most understanding person. She was glad to see Alex and Cathy, because she had noticed something was wrong with Jane, and when she heard what it was she was really upset.
‘Poor child! No wonder she looks so wretched. It really is a cruel business. Everybody knows she has talent, and to see lessons wasted on her brother, who probably will have lost interest in dancing in six months!’ She sat silent for a bit, thinking. Then she said: ‘Let us write to Sadler’s Wells for you. Miss Bronson knows somebody there. I don’t suppose for a moment it’s the regular time for auditions, but perhaps, as a kindness, they would not only see Angus to put you all out of your misery, but see Jane too. I’ll explain you can’t afford the fees, but that we all want to know how much promise she shows.’
It was no wonder Miss Newton had noticed something was wrong with Jane, for she was feeling as low-spirited as if she was getting well after influenza. She could not remember a time when she had not longed for proper dancing lessons, but neither could she remember a time when she had not known her father was too poor to pay for them. It had been easy not to mind too much, because good dancing lessons were like a television set, or a car, terribly wanted but things they all knew they could not have. But now good dancing lessons had come off the list of things nobody could have, and at once not having them became an injury that never stopped aching. Supposing Sadler’s Wells School took Angus, how was she to endure seeing him go there while she went to dancing lessons at St Winifred’s? To make Jane’s life more difficult Angus spent every waking moment doing what he called dancing, and of course it was not remotely like dancing. Clumsy efforts to imitate the dancers he had seen, great leaps in the air, arms waving, feet anywhere, usually finishing in a crash with him on the floor, and chairs overturned. Cathy said it was nonsense Miss Bronson bothering Sadler’s Wells to audition him, they would only laugh, but Jane thought she was wrong.
‘If he was a girl it would be different, but I wouldn’t wonder if they let him have lessons for a bit, just to see if they can do anything with him. There is always a shortage of men dancers.’
As if Jane being sunk in gloom, and Ginnie being punished were not enough for one family to endure, Paul seemed to Cathy and Alex to be behaving peculiarly. Usually he came home from school full of talk about the day’s doings, but that week he came home looking, as Cathy complained to Alex, bowed with worries, which of course he was. It was all right as long as he was doing something, either work or games, but the moment he had nothing to do it was as if a door in his brain opened and in popped a question mark. Should he give up the idea of being a doctor? Should he write to Grandfather? Each day he went to bed deciding to write in the morning, and each morning he woke up deciding to think a little longer before he wrote.
Cathy was always glad to see her relations, but she had never looked forward to seeing them as much as she looked forward to seeing them that Saturday. Mrs Gage, who of course knew all about the Jane trouble, was almost as glad as Cathy when Saturday arrived. It was a lovely morning, and she came in beaming.
‘’ere’s Saturday at last. And very nice too. Do you good, dear, to ’ave a dekko at your Dad and Mum. ’eard from that dancin’ school yet?’
Cathy was cooking kippers for breakfast. She gave one of them a gloomy prod.
‘No. We might hear from Miss Bronson this morning.’
Mrs Gage tied on her scrubbing apron.
‘I was talkin’ to Mr Gage about it last night. Won’t ’alf be cruel, I said, if our Angus goes to that school, while our Jane keeps on at St Winifred’s, and do you know what ’e said?’
Cathy did not know, and did not really care, for what Mr Gage thought would not help.
‘What?’
‘’e said if ’e was the vicar ’e’d preach about it in church, and ’ave a collection took.’
Cathy nearly upset the pan of kippers.
‘Mrs Gage! What an idea!’
‘Well, why not? Ask for thin’s for anybody but ’is own family the vicar will. Foreign missions, churches eaten by beetles, and I don’t know what all. If I ’ad the gift what the vicar ’as, I’d lean right out of the pulpit and I’d say: “This mornin’ I’m goin’ to preach a sermon about me daughter and ’er dancin’.”’
Cathy laughed a real proper laugh for the first time since Angus’s birthday party.
‘Get along with you! Go and sound the gong, the kippers are ready.’
The gong was under the stairs. Mrs Gage picked it up and was just going to beat it when a hand came through the banisters, and Ginnie’s voice whispered:
‘Mrs Gage! Mrs Gage! Look!’
Mrs Gage looked. She almost dropped the gong. The face looking over the banisters was swelled out on one side like a football.
‘Oh, my goodness! No need to measure this mornin’.’
Ginnie was nearly crying.
‘I thought I’d had quarantine, I ought to have by now.’
Mrs Gage was making plans.
‘Anyone seen you?’
‘No. Not even Jane. She got up early to do extra dancing practice, in case they’ll see her at Sadler’s Wells.’
‘Well, back to bed quick, and lie on the side what’s swole.’
‘If I don’t come down to breakfast Mummy’ll come up and see me.’
Mrs Gage gestured to Ginnie to hurry.
‘I’ll tell ’er I’ve seen you. I’ll say you’ve one of your bilious turns, which is all it may be. I’ll say I’ve give you some salts to sleep it off. Soon as I can I’ll be up. ’op it now.’
Cathy accepted Mrs Gage’s statement about Ginnie quite calmly. She did sometimes have bilious turns, and usually was quite all right after a dose of salts. In any case there was something else to think of that morning. The post brought a letter from Miss Bronson. As it happened there was an audition on the following Wednesday. The school had written to say that Cathy could bring both Jane and Angus to it.
As soon as breakfast was safely started Mrs Gage crept up the stairs and into Ginnie’s room. Ginnie raised a very hot-looking swollen face, and tears rolled down her cheeks.
‘I never knew mumps would hurt so awfully. I suppose I’ve got them as a judgment like you said.’
Mrs Gage sat on the bed and made clicking, worried noises.
‘Funny it comin’ on now. This is a nice caper, this is. Whatever will your poor Mum say? No good worritting ’er before we need. Just as soon as she goes out shoppin’ you an’ me’ll slip round to the doctor’s.’
Ginnie choked back a sob.
‘I don’t feel like slipping anywhere. You wouldn’t believe how it hurts, it’s like a bear biting and biting.’
Mrs Gage got up.
‘I better go down before I’m missed. I’ll catch Jane, she’ll ’ave to see to the front door and that. Directly I tip you off you get your clothes on. We’ll ’ave to find a big scarf to cover that face. We don’t want the ’ole parish askin’ what’s wrong.’
Jane found the news she was to go to Sadler’s Wells School for an audition made her feel a tiny bit less low-spirited. It would not be any good, but she would have been inside and seen what the school was like, and that was something, and if by any glorious chance they said she showed promise, it would be a great deal. Feeling more like dancing than she had for days she went into the hall after breakfast to get in some extra practice before she helped Mrs Gage with the beds.
Mrs Gage, scrubbing the hall, kept track of all the family. She heard Alex shut himself in his study to finish his sermon, Paul take his books to his bedroom, and Cathy, Angus and Esau start out with a list and a shopping-bag. Then she came to Jane. She spoke in a whisper.
‘Keep on with your dancin’, dear, but you’ll ’ave to answer the bells an’ that. I got to slip out for a minute. It’s Ginnie.’ Her whisper became dramatic. ‘Her face is swelled up somethin’ chronic.’
Jane stopped dancing.
‘It can’t be! We’ll all be in quarantine! No audition on Wednesay! No Zoo!’
Mrs Gage looked anxiously at the study door.
‘No need to create, dear. It may not be the mumps, but I’m takin’ ’er to the doctor in case. Now, if your Mum comes ’ome before we’re back, whatever you do keep ’er downstairs. No good ’er gettin’ upset before she needs, poor dear.’
‘Of course it’s mumps. Nothing else makes you swell. does it?’
Mrs Gage tried to sound hopeful.
‘Could be other thin’s I s’pose. But from what you and me know it looks peculiar like. Still, never say die.’
Ginnie, muffled in a big scarf, was hurried by Mrs Gage out of the back door.
‘Now, look, dear. Whatever ’appens, keep your face covered, you don’t want to get a cold in it. Nor you don’t want to speak to nobody, in case you’re infectious like. So if anyone tries to speak to you, don’t open your mouth.’
Although many people knew Ginnie they were mostly busy and did not notice that only Mrs Gage answered when they called out ‘Good morning.’ Then suddenly there was the sound of a bicycle braking, and Miss Bloggs stood in front of them.
‘Good morning, Mrs Gage. Good morning, Ginnie, dear, is your father in?’
Mrs Gage gave Ginnie a nudge to move on.
‘The vicar’s in ’is study.’
Miss Bloggs was a chatty person.
‘Looking forward to the Zoo this afternoon, Ginnie?’ Mrs Gage gave Ginnie another push.
‘Lookin’ forward to ridin’ on an elephant she is.’
Miss Bloggs peered curiously at Ginnie and her scarf.
‘You’re very silent, dear, is anything wrong?’
Mrs Gage tried to sound pleasant.
‘’er and me are out on a bit of a secret like. So we’d take it kindly if you didn’t tell the vicar you’d met us.’
Miss Bloggs was charmed.
‘A secret! What fun, I love secrets. You can trust me, Ginnie, I never saw a sign of you this morning.’
Miss Bloggs was in the study with Alex when Cathy, Angus and Esau came back with the shopping. Cathy, knowing Mrs Gage would want the vegetables for lunch, gave her a call. Paul heard her and came down the stairs.
‘I don’t believe Mrs Gage is in, Mum. Jane’s been answering the front door.’
Cathy could not have been more surprised. In all the years they had known Mrs Gage she had never been out until her work was finished, unless it was to do the shopping or something like that.
‘Out! How very odd.’ Alex held his study door open for Miss Bloggs. Cathy turned to him. ‘Have you sent Mrs Gage out for something?’
Alex was just going to answer when Jane came flying down the stairs.
‘Oh, Mummy, I was doing the beds, I didn’t hear you come in.’
Cathy was even more puzzled. The beds should have been finished by Jane and Mrs Gage long ago.
‘Is Mrs Gage out?’
Jane hesitated.
‘Just—well, just for a moment.’
‘If anyone tries to speak to you, don’t open your mouth’
Cathy supposed Mrs Gage was out on some private business which Jane knew about, but did not want to discuss before Miss Bloggs, so she changed the subject.
‘How’s Ginnie?’ Then, thinking that perhaps this family talk sounded rude, she turned to Miss Bloggs. ‘Ginnie wasn’t well this morning, she’s in bed. We hope she’s going to be all right in time to go to the Zoo this afternoon.’
Jane tried hard to think of something truthful to say.
‘She’s asleep. I mean, she might be, mightn’t she?’
Miss Bloggs was so worried her eyes wobbled. She looked first at Jane, then at Alex, then at Cathy, then at Paul. Oh, dear, she thought, how very distressing! Jane is not telling the truth. I do dislike being a tell-tale, but this time I must be. Feeling fussed made her voice come out in a squeak.
‘Oh, Vicar! Silence is golden, but there are times when one must speak, I mean——’
She was interrupted by Angus. He had been trying to spin on one leg and had not apparently listened to what was said, but Miss Bloggs’s remark attracted his attention.
‘I wouldn’t have thought silence was gold, it looks more purple to me.’
Alex put a hand on Angus’s shoulder to keep him quiet.
‘Shut up, old man. What must you speak about, Miss Bloggs?’
Paul thought everybody was behaving very oddly.
‘What’s up?’
Jane, behind her family’s back, made a I’ll-tell-you-afterwards face at Paul. Cathy began to have the sinking feeling inside that mothers get when they suspect someone in their family is going to get into trouble.
‘What is it, Miss Bloggs?’
Miss Bloggs felt terrible. She had promised not to tell Alex she had seen Ginnie, and here she was telling the whole family.
‘I’m betraying a confidence, a thing I never do. But, you see, Ginnie’s not in bed. I met her out with Mrs Gage. It was rather odd. The child had a scarf round her head, and never spoke a word. Mrs Gage said they were out on secret business. She asked me not to tell you, Vicar, that I’d met them but …’
Cathy felt irritated. What stupid nonsense was this? There was no reason why Ginnie should not get up and go out if she felt better. But why this secrecy? Why with Mrs Gage? Why the scarf?
‘What’s all this nonsense, Jane?’
Jane saw it was no use hiding the truth any longer. Sooner or later everybody would have to know. Mrs Gage thought she was helping by keeping the mumps a secret, but it was not helping really.
‘You’d have to have known in the end. Mrs Gage didn’t want to worry you till she was sure it was.’
Cathy could have shaken Jane.
‘Was what?’
Jane thought the answer so terrible her voice trembled.
‘Mumps!’
There was a shocked silence. Then Cathy said:
‘Why should Mrs Gage think Ginnie has mumps?’
Jane shook her head.
‘I can’t explain that. Ginnie will tell you.’
‘Do you think she’s got mumps?’ Alex asked.
Jane nodded.
‘I’m awfully afraid she might have.’
Jane saying that made her family see how awful mumps would be.
‘No Zoo!’ said Cathy. ‘I must telephone my family.’
Angus kicked angrily at the stairs.
‘I won’t have quarantine. I abs’lutely won’t. I’m going to my audition.’
Paul looked at his father.
‘Sickening luck if I’m in quarantine just when I was getting a chance to bowl.’
It was Esau who heard Ginnie and Mrs Gage sneaking in at the back door. He skidded down the hall, barking excitedly. Mrs Gage gave Ginnie a friendly push.
‘That’s done it. They’ll all ’ave to know where we been.’
As Ginnie and Mrs Gage came into the hall the whole family surged towards them. Cathy looked questioningly at Mrs Gage.
‘Is it?’
The others did not need to ask, one look at Ginnie’s face was enough. A sort of wail of ‘Oh, Ginnie!’ went up. Angus added:
‘It’s mean of you, Ginnie. You always have things the wrong time.’
This was just the sort of thing Ginnie was hoping one of them would say. She raised her chin as high as her swelled face would let her.
‘What does Miss Virginia Bell have at the wrong time, Angus?’
‘Mumps,’ roared her family.
Ginnie, with a struggle, managed to look amazed.
‘Mumps! Why should I have mumps? If you want to know, I’ve been to the dentist and had a tooth out. I was very brave, Daddy, so you owe me a shilling.’
Cathy had so believed in the mumps she found it hard to accept good news.
‘Is it true, Mrs Gage? Was it only a tooth?’
Mrs Gage was not letting Ginnie down.
‘But of course, Mrs Bell, dear. What else? Why should young Ginnie ’ave the mumps? It was the bad tooth what the dentist said you knew about. Poor child, she was in such a state I couldn’t wait for you to come in, I took ’er right away.’
Alone with Ginnie Jane learned that the doctor had laughed when he saw her face, and sent her to the dentist, but no one else ever found out why she had thought Ginnie had mumps.
Alex said to Cathy:
‘I think there’s a mystery somewhere.’
Cathy laughed.
‘I’m certain there is. But you pay Ginnie her shilling, and ask no questions. This is one of those sleeping dogs that wise fathers and mothers let lie.’