The Whicharts Read online

  “Aren’t you comin’ up north with us?”

  “No, I’m stopping here. I shall go into a pantomime.”

  “Well, maybe it will suit you better. You’ve always been on the tall side for us—and a job all dancin’ will suit you better, not exactly a singer, are you, dear? Mind you, you’ve got a nice voice, but you ’aven’t got the pep some’ow. Pep counts for more than singin’ in our business. Look at Miss Daw, her voice ain’t nothin’ amazin’—and now look at her.”

  Tania looked. So that was what they thought of her voice, no pep. It was true, pep was what Pansy possessed. She sighed. Oh well, another dream gone west.

  On finishing with the Peaches, she thankfully spent her evenings at home with a book. Daisy pressed her to come to the theatre with her, but Tania said she hated theatres and saw no reason to enter one when she hadn’t got to. She would never have gone had not Daisy found out that Miss Poll was the wardrobe-mistress.

  Miss Poll was unchanged. Although in such a position of importance—

  “Ask me how I got it, dear—I’ll tell you I don’t know. As I always says—must ’ave been born lucky. It all came of me comin’ along to oblige. An’ Miss ’erbert, ’er as was in the wardrobe, fell down an’ broke ’er leg. So they says to me, ‘Carry on till she comes back,’ an’ that’s where I says I’m born lucky, because Miss ’erbert she dies po’r thin’—weak ’eart she ’ad—course I was sorry an’ all that—still luck’s luck.”

  “Wish I had luck,” sighed Tania.

  “Luck don’t come by jus’ sittin’ at home waitin’ for it. It wouldn’t ’ave come to me if I ’adn’t ’ave been in the wardrobe to oblige, would it?” They were having a mid-evening cup of tea. Miss Poll drew Tania’s cup towards her. She sucked her teeth, then nodded wisely, “Luck’s comin’. I see a long journey by sea an’ land. An’ ee those tea-leaves there—that’ll be an important meetin’—maybe with the boy you’re gain’ to marry. Oh my! an your gain’ to ’ave some money, I never did see so much money in a cup. I see a gold ring and letters, and a present of money from a dark man.” She laid down the cup, and gazed at Tania as if she were seeing her for the first time. “Luck indeed! Me talkin’ to you of luck—why, your cup’s cram full of it—all you’ve got to do is to ’elp yourself to it.”

  “It’s easy to talk, but how—?”

  “’eaven ’elps those ’oo ’elps themselves, remember,” replied Miss Poll sententiously.

  Sitting in the Tube on the way home, Tania thought of her tea-cup—of course it was all rot—but it was true that luck didn’t come by sitting about waiting for it. Her luck would come when she learned to drive-to fly-she knew it. Yes, it was time she got herself out of this rut. To­morrow she’d find out about a driving-school, find out how you got a mechanic’s certificate. She threw up her head, her eyes shone. Climbing the stairs to the flat, she might have been climbing Olympus. The telephone bell rang.

  “Is that you, Tania? It’s Muriel speaking. I’ve been trying to get on to you all the evening. Madame says come round early to-morrow. You are to go to an audition.”

  Chapter 13

  THE most remarkable thing happened. Daisy’s relations found Daisy. Daisy of all people, who was supposed to have no relations, not even one written on the fly-leaf of a Bible.

  They turned up after a matinée. Tania and Nannie were having tea with Daisy in her dressing­ room. The door-keeper brought up a card. “Mrs. James Higgs,” and underneath in pencil, “And Mr. James Higgs.”

  “Mrs. James Higgs? Now who on earth?” said Daisy:

  “Better see ’em, dearie. May have seen you from the front and goin’ to make you an offer.” Nannie was always hopeful for her darling.

  Tania took the card.

  “I shouldn’t think it’s that. Look at the address, ‘The Pines,’ and in Surbiton.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Higgs were shown in. Their accent was refined and careful. They looked prosperous. Mrs. Higgs had an expensive fur coat. Mr. Higgs a large diamond pin in his tie. They were awkward and embarrassed. They sat side by side on the very edge of the sofa, Mr. Higgs nervously spinning his hat round on one finger, He stared at Daisy.

  “To think as we should have found you here.”

  “It’s often we pictured this meeting,” Mrs. Higgs added, “but never like this.”

  Daisy, completely mystified, simply sat with her mouth open and gaped. But Tania jumped to her feet.

  “I know, you are Daisy’s illegitimate grand­parents from Balham.”

  “No longer Balham—, but Surbiton, dear.” Mrs. Higgs was flustered. What a way to put it! “Illegitimate grandparents!”

  “But you are right, I’m little Daisy’s grandmother.”

  Mr. Higgs stirred himself.

  “And I’m the young lady’s granddad, and proud to own it.”

  It seemed that Mr. Higgs had bitterly regretted that he had let the baby leave his house. He had no sooner heard the taxi drive away than he had begun to regret. The house had been cruelly empty without their Daise’. A baby would have cheered things up. They could have moved with her to another part of London. No one need have known what had happened.

  “Why didn’t you put on detectives to look for her?” asked Tania, interested.

  Well, Mr. Higgs had his pride. Detectives were a nosey lot. Their Daise’ was dead. Didn’t want folks prying round to know why she’d died.

  But they’d always kept their eyes open. Always hoped.

  “Then last Sunday,” Mrs. Higgs broke in, “there was a picture in the Sunday Pictorial. ‘Why!’ I said, ‘if that isn’t the image of our poor Daise’.’ Well, we kept looking, and the more we looked the more like we thought it was.”

  “Then I said,” Mr. Higgs added, “‘Mrs. H., if you think it’s like our Daise’, you shall go and see for yourself. For otherwise it will be fidget, fidget, all the time.’” He turned to Nannie. “You women are all alike.”

  Nannie, too excited to speak, merely nodded vaguely. Mrs. Higgs took up the story:

  “So we came this afternoon, dear, and as soon as you tripped on to the stage with those red curls and blue eyes, I burst into tears. ‘Why!’ I said, ‘it might be our Daise’ come alive again.’”

  Mr. Higgs drew out an enormous pocket-handkerchief, and blew his nose loudly. Nannie thought there were things that she and the Higgs’ had better discuss alone. They might not be what they said. They seemed respectable enough, but then you never knew. Dreadful stories of kid­napping she had heard.

  “Tania dear, you an’ Daisy go outside for a bit.”

  In the next quarter of an hour the grandparents established their authenticity beyond argument. The baby clothes Daisy had worn. Her weight when she was born. Mrs. Higgs remembered every detail. Nannie in return told them of Daisy’s babyhood. Of her sisters. Of her talent for dancing which had led to them all being trained for the stage of the death of Rose. Of herself as godmother and guardian.

  “If I may say so,” said Mr. Higgs when she had finished, “you done very well by her, very well.”

  The next day Daisy and Nannie lunched at Surbiton. The Higgs’ car and chauffeur called for them. They went impressed but nervous. Daisy returned home enchanted. She couldn’t stop telling Tania of the glories of her grandparents’ home. Even Maimie stayed to listen.

  “Imagine! They’ve got the loveliest house with the neatest garden. All the flowers in rows—a different colour in each row—and such a pretty drawing-room—everything pink—and heaps of pink bows—and there was a parrot called Cocky, and a lovely little white fluffy dog called Flossie and it wore a pink bow to match the drawing­ room. And there were heaps and heaps of pictures all in bright gold frames. And on the landing halfway up the stairs there were lots of ferns—with green bows on them to match the carpet. And the spare bedroom was all blue—and when I go to stay that’s where I’m to sleep—a
nd the bed has blue bows on it—”

  “Gracious!” Tania interrupted. “How many yards of ribbon do they use?”

  But Daisy was far too excited to notice interruptions.

  “Some people came to tea—and grandfather said: ‘This is my little granddaughter.’ Imagine it! It felt like being in a play to hear somebody say that about me.”

  In their bedroom Maimie said to Tania:

  “Her relations sound awful, poor kid. If that’s the sort I had, I’m glad I burnt my Bible.”

  “Yes, they were fairly awful—but I should think it was fun having relations, even Higgs. Somehow I don’t believe my grandmother would be like Mrs. Higgs.”

  “Why don’t you find out? You’ve got your Mother’s address.”

  “It wouldn’t be fair. You remember what Howdy said—?”

  Nannie was delighted with the Higgs’, and she was thankful. She wrote and told the good news to “Young Mr. Bray.” He was thankful too. He came and saw Nannie, and they had a long talk together. He knew that Daisy was doing very well on the stage, but didn’t Nannie think it would be wonderful if Mr. and Mrs. Higgs adopted her? Nannie sighed; it would be wonderful, and what was more, it was quite likely that the offer would be made, but there were Maimie and Tania to consider. Daisy was the largest wage­ earner, there was the home to keep together. No, adoption was out of the question.

  “But what I says is they’re there to fall back upon. It’s grand to think them ’iggs’ is there if Daisy should need ’em.”

  The Higgs’ for their part were delighted with Daisy. She was all a granddaughter should be, simple, affectionate, grateful, admiring. Nannie too, such a respectable background—“Our little granddaughter and her old nurse.” The only flies in their ointment were Maimie and Tania. Nobody in Surbiton had known the older Daisy, they just accepted the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Higgs had possessed a married daughter who had died when the little Daisy was born. But Maimie and Tania complicated things. The sight of the three girls together would ask for explanations. Daisy and Nannie lunched at Surbiton every Sunday, and were often there during the week as well; the Higgs’ couldn’t help feeling they ought to ask the others. They did at last, only to find there was no need to search for further excuses, for Tania only accepted once, and Maimie never came at all.

  “I couldn’t live up to the bows, darling,” she explained to Daisy. “I’d be afraid of mucking up your chances.”

  On Tania’s one visit she was horribly bored and rather frightened. Daisy sank into the position of “Little Granddaughter” so naturally. The Higgs were so obviously delighted with her. Would the day come when they wanted to keep her altogether? Would Daisy cease to be one of the family? Tania had planned a glorious career for her. Grand world tours, vast fortunes, and finally—for that was what Daisy would really like—a wedding, perhaps to a duke or an earl. Was it all to end in Surbiton?

  The Higgs’ gently tried to discourage Daisy from talking of her sisters in front of people. While she was in their house, they would have liked her to use another surname. Whichart! Such a queer name. Sort of name that made people wonder if they’d ever heard it before. With Daisy’s history it was so much better that people shouldn’t have anything to wonder about. Daisy had explained how they came by it, which made the name seem worse, almost blasphemous. But Daisy, so gentle and amenable in other ways, utterly refused to use any other name, and was quite unquenchable on the subject of her sisters. She admired them enormously, she couldn’t believe that her grandparents and their friends weren’t interested in such obviously interesting people—in fact many of the people she met at Surbiton were tremendously interested, they liked hearing how Maimie’s friend Mr. Rosen had given them all tea at Rumpelmayer’s—and how Tania had been one of Pansy’s Peaches; in fact they seemed extraordinarily interested in even the smallest detail of their lives.

  The Higgs’ were distressed, but they couldn’t do anything, they could only hope that people weren’t talking. They discussed the possibility of asking Daisy to live with them. Of separating her from her unfortunate background. No good while her revue lasted, it was better she should live nearer her work. Theatre hours upset a house so. Besides, there was her school. It all wanted a lot of thinking out. They’d like to do well by her. Like her to have a chance of meeting really nice people. There were lots of nice boys growing up in the neighbourhood. Nice for Daisy to have a chance to meet nice boys. When boys and girls grew up together you never knew. They were sorry she was on the stage. They hadn’t liked it for her mother. They thought it was a dangerous profession. And they had been right. Look what it had led to!

  Maimie watched Daisy sinking further and further into the arms of Surbiton with growing satisfaction. Herbert was getting so difficult, insisting on taking a flat. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to, he wasn’t the only pebble on the beach. Herbert was so silly and jealous. So difficult to manage. Living in his flat wouldn’t be all honey. He’d hate to see the other boys about the place. Still Herbert was the boy for the money. Didn’t mind what he gave you, either, if he could be sure he was the only man you knew. So silly! How could any man be the only man she knew? But if Daisy went to live in Surbiton, well—it would be worth while wangling things a bit with Herbert. Lovely to get away. If Daisy went to live in Surbiton, that would leave only Tania. Tania! There was the trouble. She didn’t like to let the kid down. She was so set on keeping the home together, and worked so damn hard for it. Pity she wasn’t the sort to like men. Then they could have lived near each other, that would have been grand. She was a little fool to be so stubborn about not using the address in her Bible. No harm in just looking her mother up, just prospecting round a bit to see how the land lay. If she thought she was in the way, if there were a husband and kids and things, she need never use it, she could just come straight back. Still, it was worth having look round. But Tania was so difficult about things. Still, if Daisy went to live in Surbiton—and—Well surely Tania would see she must do something—couldn’t always stay tacked on.

  Chapter 14

  TANIA was the only member of the family working in pantomime that Christmas. For the other two, Christmas was only marked by a few extra matinées. This made her dislike her labours even more than usual. The Suburban theatre at which she appeared took the best part of an hour to reach, her performances began earlier than in the West-End; this meant that she started drearily off to work, leaving her sisters seated over the fire, conscious that they needn’t stir themselves for another hour at least. She was ballet and chorus this year. She was glad she had stopped being a juvenile, as she went backwards and forwards alone; otherwise it seemed to make very little difference. She was a glorified member of the chorus, as the chief feature of the pantomime, which was ‘Aladdin,’ was the jewel .ballet in the cave scene, with Madame’s pupils as various precious stones. Tania was the Ruby. She only appeared for a few moments on her toes, dressed in a tunic of crimson spangles, but the position of solo dancer gave her various privileges. She could never make up her mind whether the slight extra comfort thus earned was worth the discomfort of being made conspicuous.

  It was her fifth pantomime, and she was determined it should be her last. The utter futility of the whole business—What was she getting out of it? Not a damn thing. A small salary for a very few weeks at Christmas—most unlikely to earn anything the rest of the year—and yet unless she did something drastic, she would be back at the academy as soon as the pantomime finished, working and training hard—for what? For a chorus job on tour perhaps; if not, for next year’s pantomime, and all the time to be bored, bored, bored. Mentally she felt like a sponge. There was just one bright spot. Nannie was handing back to her quite a lot of her salary as pocket money. It was intended for stockings and gloves; actually it was not spent at all, Tania hoarded it. She kept her savings in an old soap-box, and in bed at night she would take them out, and gloat over her money as though she were a miser. It rep
resented to her freedom; freedom from the boring and cloying life she led at present, because in that soap-box she had the means slowly collecting that would enable her one day to earn money in the way for which she was fitted. She never doubted for one moment that once she had the necessary training she would find the work. She knew with her whole being that she was a born mechanic. In what way she would have a chance to prove this she didn’t know, but her prayers always finished: “And oh God, if possible, let me fly.”

  Towards the end of the run of the pantomime, when her savings amounted to nearly three pounds, she sought expert advice. The stage carpenter had a motor-bicycle, he was always tinkering with it, he knew its inside almost better than its out.

  “George,” asked Tania, “suppose you wanted to learn everything about car engines, where would you go to learn?”

  “I wouldn’t want to,” said George, meditatively scratching his head, “I knows all I needs to know.” “Yes, I know you do, but suppose you had a taxi, and wanted to be able to repair it?”

  “I wouldn’t want no taxi, I ’as a fixed job ’ere, taxis is most uncertain.”

  “Yes, but if it wasn’t for you, George, if you knew someone who wanted to learn, where would you advise them to go?”

  George gave his head a deeper and more exploratory scratch:

  “Well I don’t know, I fancy I’d send ’im to a good garridge, nothin’ like a good garridge, learn everythin’ there—”

  A good garage! Now where did one find a place like that? Tania wondered if she knew anybody who would help her. There was Herbert, he always had cars, he must keep them somewhere, but there were objections to asking Herbert’s advice. First of all she hardly ever saw him, and never alone, and secondly, if she did succeed in catching him by himself he’d be certain to tell Maimie all about it, and Maimie would tell Nannie and Daisy, and there would be a general fuss. Time enough for a fuss when she had arranged with a garage. No, Herbert would be no good. Then suddenly she thought of the Higgs’ chauffeur. She didn’t exactly know him, not as a friend; he was just the Higgs’ chauffeur, Bristowe, but she had a sort of nodding acquaintance with him, for when he called for Daisy on Sunday mornings, she could never resist wandering out casually to have a look at the car. Of course she had never touched it, she had tried to look as though her looking at it at all was an accident, but in spite of this elaborate pretence, she and Bristowe had decidedly reached the stage of a nod.