Christmas With the Chrystals Other Stories Page 9

  I was never given to humility but I was near to feeling it that night and at last I could bear it no longer. Dragging my unwilling sisters with me I settled us down on the stairs where many of the rich relations of our host had parked themselves to eat some supper. I then began a loud cross-talk with my sisters (much to their embarrassment).

  ‘If,’ I said, ‘we’d known it was going to be this sort of party we would have worn our blue silks trimmed with sequins or our scarlet taffetas.’

  ‘Or our whites,’ my eldest sister put in, struggling to get me back on to the path of truth.

  By then I knew even our whites were unworthy of this party. My imagination ran riot.

  ‘I’d rather have worn our gold. Everybody says how lovely we look in them.’

  On I went, imagining a wardrobe fit for a princess. I did not stop until the rich relations had moved away back to the dance floor. Of course they hadn’t believed us, why should they care what three shabby little girls in pink might have worn? But the fairy tale I had made up had done me good. I danced with my head high for the rest of the evening.

  1895 Born Mary Noel Streatfeild, 24 December, in Sussex

  1902 Goes to school at Hastings and St Leonard’s Ladies’ College

  1911 The Streatfeild family move to Eastbourne, and Noel goes to Laleham School

  1913 Noel leaves school and enrols at the Eastbourne School of Domestic Economy

  1915 Noel works as a volunteer in the kitchen of a hospital for wounded soldiers near Eastbourne Vicarage during the First World War and in 1916 moves to London to work in a munitions factory

  1919 At the end of the war, Noel wins a place at the Academy of Dramatic Art (now called RADA) in London

  1926 Begins a correspondence course for writing, and has a short story published in a magazine

  1931 Her first novel, The Whicharts, is published by J. M. Dent, and she is asked to write a children’s story about the theatre

  1936 Ballet Shoes, illustrated by her sister Ruth Gervis, is published by J. M. Dent, and it becomes an immediate bestseller

  1936 Ballet Shoes is runner up for the first ever Carnegie Medal, awarded annually to a writer of an outstanding book for children

  1937 Tennis Shoes is published. Noel travels with Bertram Mills Circus to research Circus Shoes

  1938 The Circus is Coming is published, also as Circus Shoes

  1939 Noel wins the Carnegie Medal for Circus Shoes

  1940–45 Joins the Women’s Voluntary Services during the Second World War and continues to write

  1944 Curtain Up is published, also as Theatre Shoes

  1946 Party Frock is published, also as Party Shoes

  1948 Ballet Shoes is listed by the Library Association as one of a number of ‘books which should always be in print’

  1949 The Painted Garden is published, abridged and published in the US as Movie Shoes

  1951 White Boots is published, also as Skating Shoes

  1954 The Bell Family is published, also as Family Shoes

  1957 Wintle’s Wonders is published, also as Dancing Shoes

  1963 A Vicarage Family, the first of her autobiographical works, is published

  1962 Apple Bough is published, also as Travelling Shoes

  1975 Ballet Shoes is adapted into a television series

  1983 Noel Streatfeild is awarded an OBE

  1986 Noel dies 11 September, aged 90

  1991 Ballet Shoes wins the Library of Congress Children’s Books of the Year award

  2007 Ballet Shoes is adapted into a film starring Emma Watson, Yasmin Paige and Lucy Boynton as the sisters

  Interesting Facts

  Noel aspired to become an actress and spent ten years of her adult life training and travelling with various theatre companies.

  Throughout her lifetime Noel wrote over eighty books and three autobiographical novels.

  Noel claimed to have a ‘blotting paper memory’ to which she attributed her success in writing. She could recall with detail pets, holidays and Christmases from her childhood years.

  Guess Who?

  from Christmas with the Chrystals

  A She had wonderful pearls round her neck and a magnificent emerald ring on her finger, and emeralds in her ears.

  B ‘He makes sandwiches of anything that’s in the ice box; when there isn’t much he makes do with bread.’

  C … a tired young woman, with a face prematurely lined from standing too long hours in the store where she worked …

  D On her head she wore a small black hat trimmed with a shiny buckle.

  E She was small, thin, mouse-coloured all over, and nervous as a bird scared, though it is hungry, to pick up a crumb.

  ANSWERS:

  A) Mrs Cornelius

  B) Gardiner

  C) Lalla

  D) Mrs Chrystal

  E) Miss Smith

  Words Glorious Words!

  Lots of words have several different meanings – here are a few you’ll find in this Puffin book. Use a dictionary or look them up online to find other definitions.

  Insolence rude and disrespectful behaviour

  Festooned to decorate something (such as a room) with chains, garlands or other decorations

  Enraptured receiving intense pleasure or joy

  Baize a coarse woollen material that is typically green and used to make aprons

  Exquisite extremely beautiful and delicate

  Commissionaire a uniformed door attendant at a hotel, theatre or other building

  The Guggenheim Museum in New York City designed by Frank Lloyd Wright is completed.

  The Barbie fashion doll is first released by the company Mattel.

  Russia launches the spacecraft Luna 2, which crashes into the moon, becoming the first man-made object to reach the moon’s surface.

  The Disney film Sleeping Beauty is first released.

  Quiz

  Thinking caps on – Let’s see how much you can remember from Christmas with the Chrystals! Answers are on the next page. (No peeking!)

  1 Where is Caldecote Castle?

  a) Surrey

  b) Hertfordshire

  c) Kent

  d) Dorset

  2 What are the names of the three Cornelius children?

  a) Paul, Julia and Romy

  b) Patrick, Jessica and Reenie

  c) Philip, Judy and Ruthie

  d) Peter, Jane and Rinke

  3 How much money does Mrs Cornelius offer to pay Rosa and Ted?

  a) £50

  b) £75

  c) £100

  d) £150

  4 What is Rosa’s ‘Mrs Beeton’?

  a) A cat

  b) A cookery book

  c) A gardening manual

  d) An old friend

  5 What do the children sing around the Christmas tree?

  a) ‘Good King Wenceslas’

  b) ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing’

  c) ‘God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen’

  d) ‘I Saw Three Ships’

  ANSWERS:

  1) c

  2) d

  3) c

  4) b

  5) a

  Make And Do

  Make your own Christmas angel window decoration!

  Be creative and try out different colours and patterns to make a variety of angels.

  YOU WILL NEED

  ❋ Coloured card

  ❋ Thread or wool

  ❋ Gold tissue paper

  ❋ Gold pen

  ❋ Tracing paper

  ❋ Gold pipe-cleaner

  ❋ Felt-tip pens

  ❋ Glue stick

  1 Cut out a large heart-shape from your tracing paper to form the angel’s wings and decorate with a gold pen.

  2 Now cut out a large triangle from the gold tissue paper. Glue this on top of the tracing-paper wings to form the body of the angel.

  3 Cut a circle out of the coloured card and glue it to the top point of the triangle, to make the head.

  4 Now cut s
ome strands of wool for the angel’s hair and glue them on to the head.

  5 Fold the gold pipe-cleaner in half and make a loop in the centre. Twist the two loose ends of the pipe cleaner together and stick this to the back of the angel’s head to form a halo.

  6 Finish your angel off by drawing on a face and adding any decorations you wish on to the body.

  7 Finally, stick your completed angel on to a window and watch her sparkle!

  Did You Know?

  All of the gifts listed in the ‘Twelve Days of Christmas’ song would equal 364 gifts in total.

  Christmas trees are also known as Yule trees.

  During the eighteenth century Christmas trees were traditionally decorated with candles, fruits and nuts.

  Reindeer can run up to fifty miles per hour!

  The all-time bestselling Christmas song is ‘White Christmas’ sung by Bing Crosby. It has sold more than fifty million copies around the world.

  The world’s biggest snowman was 34.4 metres tall and built in America.

  Christmas pudding was first made as a form of thick soup with raisins and wine in it.

  The Queen’s Christmas Day speech was first televised in 1957.

  Puffin Writing Tips

  Watch the news and stay tuned to the latest happenings in the world – you never know what might inspire your next idea.

  Read every draft out loud because it’s the only way you’ll find trouble spots – if you keep tripping up, think about how you could rewrite those parts.

  Two heads are better than one! Find a writing buddy to test your ideas on.

  If you have enjoyed Christmas with the Chrystals and would like to

  Turn the page for an extract from Christmas with the Savages, written by Mary Clive, in which prim little Evelyn spends the Christmas holidays with the rumbustious, outrageous Savage children.

  Mary Clive

  CHRISTMAS WITH THE SAVAGES

  11. The Grotto

  The next day Lionel was still angry with me. He refused to answer my well-meant remarks and became very affable to his own family. He even spoke to Betty, a thing I had never seen him do before.

  The whole Savage family (except the baby) had become suddenly possessed with the idea that they must write a magazine. I expect actually it was Lionel who started the idea – he generally did start their ideas – but they all became keen on it and said ‘magazine’ over and over again as though it were some sort of password. Betty didn’t know what a magazine was, but that didn’t stop her from talking about it.

  After breakfast the Savages all lay down on their fronts in a corner of the nursery and began to write. Betty could not write but she drew picture puzzles. The Glens, who did not like writing, went down to the still room to talk to Mrs Peabody.

  I sauntered over to the group of Savages and stood beside them. None of them raised their heads.

  ‘Shall I write something for your magazine?’ I asked.

  ‘No,’ said Lionel, scribbling away hard. ‘This is going to be a very unusual magazine and all the stories admitted to it are going to be good.’

  ‘But I’d write a good story.’

  ‘You couldn’t.’

  I returned sadly to the hearthrug where Tommy Howliboo was beating on an old tin with a stick.

  ‘Why are you doing that, Tommy?’

  ‘To keep away dwagons. Too many dwagons here.’

  ‘Were you frightened of the dragons last night?’

  ‘Course not. Me were only joking.’

  He was a dear little boy when he was not frightened and I played with him for a bit, but I could not forget those older, bigger, more important children at the other end of the nursery, and I soon left him and went back to hover round the Savages. They still did not look up, but they made no objection to my reading the loose sheets of paper that were lying about on the floor; in fact Harry pushed a poem towards me with his foot. It was very short and went (I leave the spelling to your imagination):

  Oh listen all ye Savages,

  About to choose a bride.

  Don’t choose a one with asthma

  And don’t choose a one that’s died.

  Rosamund was writing a story called ‘Nora’s Adventure’. It was about a girl who was sent to school to improve her, and she got into the train at a small station in the north of Scotland. ‘She sat sadly without looking up for a few minutes but as the whistle sounded something flashing in at the window attracted her attention. It was a splendid golden eagle. He caught Nora in his beak as the train began to move. Now although Nora was tall she was thin and light and so the eagle carried her quite easily. There was a strong wind blowing so neither the stationmaster nor the porter in the little Highland station heard her cries …’

  ‘I’m sure the porter would have noticed,’ I said, wishing to find fault.

  ‘He might have on an ordinary day,’ said Rosamund, ‘but I’ve specially told you that a strong wind was blowing.’

  ‘And also, if you said that Nora was small for her age it would be better.’

  But Rosamund could not bring herself to make her heroine small for her age.

  ‘No, it wouldn’t. I’ve said she was thin and light and that’s quite enough.’

  I shrugged my shoulders, which was a gesture I was very fond of. I thought it grown-up but the Savages called it affected.

  Lionel wrote so quickly that he had already covered many pages. His story was about school life and was called ‘What happened to boys who committed murder and other bad things don’t take their example’. In the preface he explained that ‘the habits of the school are much like those of the school I am at’, and as I had never been to school myself I read with interest to see what it was really like. Lionel’s writing was terribly difficult, but as far as I could make out, school was a very tough place indeed. For instance, in the chapter called ‘Trinity Sunday’ they were all in the school chapel when there was a smashing of glass and a spear came flying through the window. ‘It hit Ritard. With a cry he rose and walked out of the pew and fell dead in the aisle. The captain of the school carried him out and the service went on as if nothing had happened …’

  Lionel, I knew, was not happy at school and really I was not at all surprised.

  Writing stories looked so easy that I got some paper by tearing the flyleaves out of several books. To find a pencil with a point was harder, but fortunately I had had a diary in my stocking, so I took the pencil out of that and was soon scribbling away as fast as the others.

  My story was about some children who had a shell grotto in their garden, and they dug up the floor of it and found some buried treasure underneath. So then they were immensely rich, much richer than any of the grown-ups, and they never had to do a thing they didn’t like ever again. The buried treasure had been put there by smugglers, and that part I copycatted from a story about smugglers that was in a Chatterbox Annual which I had got for Christmas. Chatterbox had been kept in my bedroom and no one had read it except myself, so I knew that the others would not be able to catch me out.

  But the others wouldn’t even look at my story.

  ‘We really don’t want it, Evelyn,’ said Rosamund, as kindly as she could, after whispering to Lionel, who said, not at all kindly:

  ‘Take the bally thing away.’

  I was disappointed and hurt. To make things worse, when the time came for me to go out for our morning walk I was slow getting ready and when I arrived downstairs I found that everyone was paired off and no one seemed to want me as a third, so that I felt more left out of it than ever.

  I walked along the muddy road beside Marguerite who, as usual, was totally silent, and I brooded over my wrongs and over the beautiful buried treasure in the grotto which I had taken the trouble to invent but in which no one would take any interest.

  I brooded all through rest and all through dinner, and after dinner when we were turned out into the garden, I said:

  ‘Don’t count me in the eena-meena. I’m not going to pl
ay. I’m going to see if I can’t find this buried treasure.’

  ‘What buried treasure?’ asked Rosamund, falling into the trap.

  ‘The buried treasure your grandmother was talking about,’ I said.

  ‘When was she talking about buried treasure?’ asked Rosamund.

  ‘I think I did hear her say something about buried treasure,’ said Harry, unexpectedly coming to my help. Harry was so given to romancing himself that he really didn’t know the difference between what really happened and what was just make-up. ‘I wasn’t supposed to be listening, but I do remember her saying, “Sure as eggs is eggs there’s a blinking great packet.”’

  ‘I’m sure Grandmama never said anything of the sort,’ said Rosamund. ‘You’ve been reading something.’

  ‘Didn’t she?’ said Harry. ‘Oh, well, I remember now, what she said was, “The lucky beggar who finds it will get a tidy-sized ’oard.”’

  ‘Well, where did she say it was?’ asked everybody.

  ‘It was,’ said Harry slowly, looking up at the sky. ‘Let me see …’ His eyes wandered round searching for a likely place.

  ‘I thought she said it was buried in the grotto,’ I suggested softly.

  ‘Yes,’ said Harry. ‘Grandmama, when she buried her buried treasure, did bury it in the grotto.’

  ‘But that’s ridiculous,’ said Peggy, who was much the most sensible of the lot – in fact I might say the only sensible one of the lot, ‘Grandmama wouldn’t bury treasure. She can’t dig for one thing.’

  ‘Harry’s got it a little wrong,’ I said, ‘the buried treasure has been in the grotto for ages and ages, only no one dares to dig it up because of the roof not being safe, and people only going into it occasionally.’

  ‘But who put it there?’ asked Peggy.