The Whicharts Page 11

  It was a grand afternoon. Herbert, meeting Nannie delivering her charges,. insisted that she should stay to tea too. Money had been so scarce lately in the flat that the food had been what is known as “good plain.” The sight of so many exquisite cakes was as water to the parched.

  Tania, eyeing a confection of marron, said to Herbert:

  “Shall we act natural, and make hogs of our­selves? Or shall we behave like little ladies?”

  “Let’s all be hogs,” he said.

  It was the gayest meal. Herbert felt quite conscience-stricken when he remembered that the object of the invitation was to spy on Maimie’s family, and here he was being taken to their bosom, feeling one of them, pressing Nannie to take yet one more chocolate eclair, assuring Daisy that there were times when feeling sick was worth while.

  Driving Maimie back to his flat, he felt ashamed of himself. Almost as though he had stolen her out of the schoolroom. He hated to feel mean like that, so he gave her a cheque.

  Chapter 12

  DAISY had the chance of a job. A revue was coming on, there was to be a very elaborate all­ English ballet. A principal dancer was wanted. Madame, full of ambition for her favourite, suggested Daisy. There would be an audition. Nannie, with yards of tarleton, refurbished a ballet dress, patched the toes of Daisy’s best ballet shoes, and washed and darned the family’s only pair of silk tights. Then a blow fell. Tania brought a message. Madame said she had written to ask if Daisy might dance at the audition, and her name had met with approval from no less a person than Leon Low. Leon Low was presenting the revue. He had seen Daisy dance in the pantomime. He remembered her. He had thought her brilliant, but he was afraid she was too young for what he wanted. He suggested that Madame should bring her round to his office, so that he could study her. He didn’t want a child, the ballet wasn’t written for a kid. Madame had explained all this to Tania, who was to explain it to Nannie, who would please dress Daisy for the appointment, in such clothes that she looked a good two years older than her age.

  They had just got new clothes. Neat fawn coats, with straw hats to match. In the house there were two pounds. Nannie and Tania discussed the situation. Even if Daisy wore Tania’s coat it was no good pretending it aged her two years. It was a schoolgirl’s coat and looked it. Obviously what was wanted was something smart, a little cloche hat, and not just a loose coat, but something with a shape. Maimie must help, something of hers must be altered. Maimie, when she got in, agreed at once. She laid armloads of frocks and coats and hats on the bed. But Maimie was her mother’s daughter, she was exceptionally tall. Daisy was a shrimp, she didn’t look as though she was thirteen. She was still wearing socks, they were so convenient for a dancer. In Maimie’s clothes she looked, as Tania said:

  “A tiny slice of lamb, trying to look like a whole leg of mutton.”

  Even with the addition of Tania’s best stockings she still looked a baby.

  “Something simple but doggy is what she needs,” moaned Tania—“but simple dogginess costs money.”

  Maimie was really distressed, she eyed her clothes regretfully. Bad luck if the kid lost the job just for lack of the right clothes. Certainly in her own things she looked hopeless, no style or any­ thing, just a schoolgirl. She told Herbert of their troubles. He was touched, and delighted to find that Maimie was really worried; he hadn’t known she had so kind a heart. Besides, if the kid really did well, got away with a good job, there’d be no need for Maimie to live at home. He gave Maimie twenty-five pounds.

  “Take it to the child, tell her any lies you like, but get her fitted out.”

  Maimie went home triumphant. At breakfast the next morning she produced the money.

  “There, Nannie, that’s for Daisy’s clothes.”

  They all eyed the money incredulously. Two ten-pound notes, one five-pound note. Astonishing wealth. And Maimie throwing it on the table as if it were threepence!

  “Where did you get all that?” Nannie asked suspiciously.

  Maimie had her lie ready. “Racing—I backed a horse.”

  “Racing!” Nannie was visibly relieved. “I don’t ’old with ’orse racin’, still I won’t say as it won’t come in very ’andy. An’ very generous of you to spare it, I must say.”

  Daisy raced round the table and flung her arms round Maimie’s neck.

  “Oh, Maimie darling, thank you. It’s adorable of you. I really may get that job now. Oh, I do hope I do. Then the first thing I’ll do is to pay you back.”

  Tania said nothing, but only Maimie noticed. Daisy and Nannie were too excited, discussing the spending of so enormous a sum.

  After breakfast Tania got Maimie alone. “Maimie, we can’t take that money.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because it isn’t fair.”

  “What isn’t fair? I tell you I won it on a horse.”

  “Why tell lies to me? You know I know it wasn’t a horse. Herbert gave it you. Or one of the other men you know.”

  “If Herbert did, what’s it got to do with you?”

  “It isn’t fair. Can’t you see we’ve no right to take money you get that way?”

  Maimie was furious. To have her kindness and generosity thrown back in her teeth like that. It was insufferable.

  “You bloody little fool. You talk as if I earned half-crowns outside Euston Station.”

  “You don’t understand what I mean.” Tania struggled desperately for words. “What I mean is, Nannie or Daisy or me, we wouldn’t get money your way, we haven’t the courage, and we’d be shocked if you asked us to. And the other two would be shocked if they knew about you. Then why should we turn round and let you get money for us in a way we wouldn’t get it for ourselves, even if we could? It’s not exactly that I think it’s wrong what you do. One must have money, I know that. But I should hate it so, having to let them maul me about. Daisy would hate it, Nannie would hate it. Even if you don’t hate it we can’t let you be mauled about for the lot of us. Oh, Maimie, I know I explain badly, but do try and understand.”

  “Of course, you’re a scream. You make me feel like the bad woman on the films the way you talk. I haven’t got a paid job with Herbert, or with anyone else. I don’t earn money. It’s just that I’m nice to them, and they like to be nice to me.”

  “I know all that, but I put things so badly. But it doesn’t alter the point, we can’t take that twenty­ five pounds.”

  “Well like that! I thought I gave it to Daisy.”

  “Daisy can’t take it.”

  “My God! you are the cat’s whiskers. We can’t take it! Daisy can’t take it! Very well then, how do you propose I get it back? Do you want rile to go to them with tears in my eyes, saying: Nannie dear, I didn’t come by that money purely? Hand it back. It might sully little Daisy’s virginity.”

  “Don’t be furious with me—you must take it back somehow. It won’t be difficult. Nannie didn’t really believe in that horse—but she was glad you told her a lie she could seem to believe.”

  Maimie jumped up and put on her outdoor things.

  “Well, I shall just go in and take the money. It’s lying on the mantelpiece. And you can explain to Daisy that she can’t have the clothes, and there­ fore won’t get the job, because you were not only narrow-minded, but bloody interfering!”

  She flounced into the sitting-room, snatched up the twenty-five pounds, and before Nannie or Daisy had time to protest, she was down the stairs and had slammed the front door.

  “Well!” gasped Nannie. “Of all the mean things. To give the money one minute and take it away the next.”

  Tania came in.

  “It isn’t Maimie’s fault. I made her. She owed that money to somebody. I told her she ought to pay them first.” She told the lie badly. Nannie looked at her nervously.

  Daisy burst out crying:

  “I do think you are mean, Ta
nia. It was me the money was for. Why should you interfere? You was just jealous. And Nannie and me had just planned that you should have something out of it.”

  “There, there, my lamb. It is hard.” Nannie looked at Tania. “But maybe Tania’s right.”

  “I’m most frightfully sorry, Daisy. But I had–well, anyway, you shall have some clothes some-how. I promise.”

  She sat on her bed. Easy enough to promise, but where? Nannie came in.

  “I’m not asking no questions, dear; there’s some things as is best left unasked. But about those clothes. What we goin’ to do?”

  “I know.” Tania jumped up. “Where are those things of Howdy’s?”

  Rose had left such jewellery as she possessed in Nannie’s keeping, saying: “Divide it amongst the children when they are old enough not to lose it. And keep something for yourself.”

  Nannie considered it a sacred trust. She was most unwilling to touch the things, but Tania persuaded. Finally she fetched the shabby little morocco case. A gold watch. A gold chain. Three rings. Five brooches. Three curb chain bracelets. And some charms.

  “There, that’s the lot. An’ you can’t ’ave it till you’re grown-up. For so I promised Miss ’oward.”

  “I don’t want to have it,” Tania protested. “I only want to borrow.”

  “Borrow? What d’you mean?”

  “Pawn.”

  Nannie was really shocked. Pawn! Ladies and gentlemen didn’t pawn. That was a thing only the roughest of the rough would do.

  “I’ve never seen a pawn ticket, an’ I ’opes I never shall.”

  “Well, you shan’t now,” said Tania, picking up the case. “And I’ll have all these things back long before we’re grown-up.”

  She put on her hat and coat. Slipped the case under her arm. And went out.

  A pawnshop had three gold balls outside it. Tania knew where there was one. It looked from the outside like a grand jeweller’s, but there were the three gold balls. She peered in. There were people buying things at the counter. She was ashamed to go in until they had left. Her heart was beating terribly fast. She couldn’t breathe properly. Her knees would shake. She hated hanging about outside like that. She felt all the passers-by must guess what she was going to do.

  “This,” she thought, “is how murderers feel when they buy the knife to do the deed.”

  The people came out of the shop. They were talking and laughing.

  “It was hardly worth while having the diamonds reset, I wear it so seldom. But I do hate broken things about.”

  Tania glared after them, envious of their ease. They’d no need to feel ashamed. She threw up her head. Well, now for it.

  “I want,” she said to the very suave gentleman behind the counter, “to pawn something.”

  The gentleman; still suave but somehow more familiar, directed her by a gracious swaying movement, half bow, half point, to go into the inner room. In the inner room she found an easier man to deal with. He treated her like an old friend.

  “How are we to-day?”

  She handed him the morocco case. “I want to pawn these.”

  He smiled at her.

  “Not very old, are you?”

  Terrified, she wondered if there was an age at which one might pawn things—like not being allowed to go on the stage—or go into a public­ house. Perhaps one couldn’t pawn if one was a child.

  “I’m twenty-one, I know I don’t look it.” But the man seemed to have lost interest in her age. He was turning over Rose’s jewels. “How much do you want for these?” Tania was flabbergasted.

  “Gracious! I don’t know. I thought you’d say what I could have. What I want,” she said confidentially, “is enough for a frock, a coat, a hat, and if possible some shoes. I should say I couldn’t do with much less than fifteen pounds.”

  He laughed, but in the end, after various weighings and scratchings at the things, he gave her fifteen pounds. He didn’t want to keep the box or the charms. But she refused to take them.

  “I’ve reasons for preferring it should all be kept together.”

  “Hope you get some pretty clothes,” he called after her.

  “Oh,” she came back and explained. “They are not for me, they are for my sister. Forgive me,” she added, “I’m sure you’re always careful, but you will be extra careful of that box?”

  He looked after her and laughed. “Comic little piece,” he thought.

  Tania, gripping the fifteen pounds carefully, reached the flat. She hurried into her bedroom, and locked the door. Daisy was at school, Maimie out doing the shopping. She would be undisturbed. Now where should she hide her pawn-ticket? Her dressing-gown caught her eye. She seized hold of her scissors, and ripped open the hem, popped the pawn-ticket inside it, and carefully sewed it up again. Then she breathed a sigh of relief, no one could find her shameful secret.

  It was a very dapper and grown-up Daisy who arrived with Madame at Leon Low’s office. Rather longer skirts, a small smart hat, and a well-fitting coat, had aged her wonderfully. She didn’t say much, but she met with approval.

  “Smart little thing, looks much older than I expected,” Leon Low said to Madame. “Bring her to the audition, and we’ll see what George says about her.”

  George was the great George K. Gene. He was an American, famed for his production of ballets not only in his own country, but all over Europe. Leon Low considered the success of his new revue assured as soon as he got the great man inside the theatre. He was to arrange and produce two ballets. At the audition he sat in the stalls. He was a silent little man, occasionally he muttered, “Oh gee!” Mostly he just sighed.

  Daisy was fortunate. If there were one thing that George K. Gene did like in his dancers, it was youth. You could not be too young for him. At twenty-five you were definitely too old. He engaged Daisy.

  There was a little money over from the fifteen pounds. They spent it on a grand tea to celebrate the event.

  When Daisy’s rehearsals started, Tania found it a struggle not to be jealous, or rather not to show how jealous she was. There was she, week after week, creeping round from one dreary music-hall to another. And there was Daisy, with a short ride in the Tube to Piccadilly, pleasant easy rehearsals, exciting fittings for lovely frocks, lots of exquisite photographs taken of her by admiring photographers, and her picture, and little things written about her in almost every paper you picked up. She was so terribly lucky, and she never realised her luck, she’d just been born with a gift, and there it was. She had stepped straight from the academy to a leading part on tour, and a larger salary than her sisters ever earned. She had never been part of a troupe. Never had to be one of Pansy’s Peaches. Maimie got into the chorus of the revue. It was no common chorus. The twenty girls that composed it were supposed to be the loveliest and most gifted in the world. Every girl had been chosen with the utmost care. A very high standard of dancing and some sort of voice were required, apart from an exquisite face, perfect legs, and an exceptional figure. Maimie hardly dared to hope. She wasn’t worried about her face, or legs, or figure; obviously they were well above the standard, but was she clever enough? Luckily for her, Madame’s training had been thorough. Maimie had been lazy, and she had giv’n up training far too soon, but somehow technique had been drilled into her. And once it was there she couldn’t forget it. So she was engaged.

  The revue went with a bang. Daisy achieved a mild fame. That is to say, full-page portraits of her appeared in papers such as the Sketch and the Tatter. All the most intelligent critics gave her good notices, they thought she had a future. Her management kept her age a secret. Thirteen was too young. They let it be understood she was fifteen, a much more attractive age. She had endless letters from her audience. Tania answered them for’ he, as with her school-work she had very little time. Nannie would bring the letters home from the theatre, and each morning after breakfast Tan
ia sat down and replied to them. As a rule they only required a signed postcard popped in an envelope. But sometimes when they asked direct questions, she amused herself answering them. Daisy never saw either the original letters she received, nor the answers. So Tania had a free hand. “Was her hair naturally red?”

  “Yes,” Tania wrote. “All my family have had red hair, in my old family home we are known as The Red Whicharts.” Another correspondent asked why she had gone on the stage. Tania amused herself with a reply in which Daisy said that the stage had never been her choice of a career. “My old father is a Roman Catholic Priest, so old and infirm now that he cannot work. I wished to enter a convent, but I could not only think of myself, so I threw my wishes aside, took to the stage, and became the dancer you see me to-day.”

  Not long after the revue started, Pansy Daw’s suburban tour came to an end. Madame told Tania she was to finish with the Peaches. They were going for a long tour of the northern music-halls. Tania was already too tall, and in any case pantomime was coming on, she ought to be getting something better. Tania was delighted. If Madame thought she was too big for a Peach, that settled it. The mere thought of finishing with the Peaches sent her spirits soaring. There was no money anxiety at the present. Maimie’s twenty-five shillings coming in regularly, and Daisy earning a good salary, out of which Nannie was saving enough to redeem Rose’s jewellery in the spring, and she herself bound to get some sort of pantomime job. Meanwhile she would have a glorious holiday. Tania set out for the theatre with the lightest heart she had had for weeks. She looked so cheerful that Phoebe, Pansy’s very confidential maid and dresser, said:

  “Come into a bit, dearie? You looks ’appy to-night, generally you looks like a funeral—” Tania started, she’d been dreaming.

  “I’m going to have a holiday, Phoebe.”