Part 9 (1/2)

Pauline Wants a New Frock THEY had a lovely time at Pevensey. There was very little money to spend, but except for eating, they did not need any. They came down to the beach in their bathing-dresses early in the morning and spent all day there. They found a smooth piece of fine s.h.i.+ngle where n.o.body could see them and did exercises for half an hour in the morning; after tea they worked on the small bit of lawn at the back of the cottage, as there was a fence round it just the right height to make a good practice bar. They had lots of walks to the old castle, and once they went to Eastbourne and had tea on Beachy Head. They got very brown, and all put on weight, and ate more every day. had a lovely time at Pevensey. There was very little money to spend, but except for eating, they did not need any. They came down to the beach in their bathing-dresses early in the morning and spent all day there. They found a smooth piece of fine s.h.i.+ngle where n.o.body could see them and did exercises for half an hour in the morning; after tea they worked on the small bit of lawn at the back of the cottage, as there was a fence round it just the right height to make a good practice bar. They had lots of walks to the old castle, and once they went to Eastbourne and had tea on Beachy Head. They got very brown, and all put on weight, and ate more every day.

The Cromwell Road seemed very long and dull when they got back; but they had not time to think much about it, for term at the Academy began the next day.

That Autumn term was like the last Autumn term; by the end of it those children who were not old enough for a licence felt out of things, for everybody else was rehearsing for Christmas productions. Pauline hated it. She had been so important all last term, and now she was rather in the way. She was in a cla.s.s older than her age, and so was left with n.o.body to work with. It was a continual 'Pauline, dear, sit quietly down and watch.' She loathed it; she. loathed to be made to feel not wanted when she knew she was the best actress in the cla.s.s. So she sulked. It was not her fault that she was not twelve; she would be next year, thank goodness! And in the meantime she would not be nice and helpful, and run round fetching and carrying for other people's rehearsals; she would go on coming to the cla.s.s, but be as much in the way as possible. She thought n.o.body was noticing how she felt, but she was wrong. One day about three weeks before the end of the term she came to the cla.s.s as usual, but was stopped in the doorway by Miss Jay.

'I shan't want you again this term, Pauline, I am too busy working on the Christmas plays. You will go to Madame Moulin instead.'

Pauline usually had two French acting cla.s.ses a week and found them quite enough, for learning a part in French was not as easy to her as learning it in English. Madame Moulin greeted her with a cheerful nod when she saw her.

'Ah, ma pet.i.te ma pet.i.te, next term I will have you play the ”Little Match-girl” of Hans Andersen. I translate myself in the holidays; but now, since I have you for five extra hours a week, I shall give it to you; you shall start the translating for me.'

Pauline's mouth dropped open. She stared at Madame Moulin in horror.

'But that isn't acting, that's lessons. I hate doing translations.'

'It's very good for you.' Madame patted her shoulder. 'Miss Jay had thought it would be amusing for you to watch the senior girls prepare for the Christmas plays, the extra rehearsals that she takes so that they may please their producers; but she tells me, ”No, Pauline ne s'amuse pas; she knows too much of the art of acting to be interested in the training of these others. We must find her something difficult to do - it is bad for a child to be bored”.' She pulled out a chair, and pointed to the sheets of foolscap, and a copy of Hans Andersen's fairy story. 'There you are, ma chere. You will not have time to be bored if you translate all this for a play.'

Pauline had to sit down. Angrily she took up the book, and began to read the story. Madame Moulin settled at the other end of the room and took a pencil and cut lines out of a play that the junior cla.s.s were to be given. Pauline tried to read, but she had a lump in her throat, and though she meant not to cry, tears came into her eyes and the words kept getting blurred; then quite suddenly from trying not to cry a sob came out that was like a hiccup. That started her. She could not stop; it seemed so mean that she should be treated like this. The more she thought how mean it was, the more she cried. Madame said after a bit: 'Why are you crying?'

Pauline brought out a long sentence, but none of it was distinguishable. It sounded like: 'Mean-hateful-French-mean-why?-Not-done-anything-mean-mean-snotsmi it's faultwelve.'

Madame looked out of the window, and thought a moment.

'When I was a young girl I was a pupil of the Academie Francaise. I was a good pupil; I had great promise, just as you have great promise. I grew, as many young girls grow, to think I had more than promise. One day there came to the school a very great actress. She was old, and one of her legs had been cut off, so she used one of wood. It chanced that I had recently had much notice for my playing of ”L'Aiglon”.'

Pauline was crying less, because she was interested.

'”L'Aiglon”? That's an eagle, isn't it?'

'Yes. A poor young boy, he was the eaglet; you shall read the story, and when you are fifteen or sixteen you could play it. This actress, she was a very old woman and she chose that role to act for the students. Imagine her! Old. A wooden leg. Dressed in the height of fas.h.i.+on. To play a young boy!'

'How silly!' said Pauline.

'That is what I thought.' Madame Moulin nodded. 'How foolis.h.!.+ C'est formidable! That old woman ”L'Aiglon”! I am ”L'Aiglon”; I am young, but I settled to watch, saying, ”Well, we must be kind, but...” Pauline, when she had finished, the tears ran down my cheeks. She was ”L'Aiglon”. She ceased to be ridiculous, her art was supreme. How we students clapped! How we called ”Bis”. When we were dismissed, we pa.s.sed her bowing; but when I drew level with her she caught my hand. It was as though she had read in my face how I had thought, for she said, ”N'oubliez jamais qu'une actrice continue a apprendre jusqu' a son dernier jour”.' Pauline looked a little puzzled, so she translated: 'Never forget that an actress can always learn until her last hour.'

'I want to learn,' Pauline said sulkily. 'It's because I wasn't learning that I didn't like it; and anyway I never said so.'

'Your face said it, and Miss Jay could see. You were angry. Why should you watch these girls? What had they to teach you? You, who had played Tyltyl so well. You were in the mood I was in when I watched ”L'Aiglon”. Why should I watch? What could an old woman teach me?'

'But you were watching a great actress.'

'It never matters whom you watch, you can always learn. Always, always, always. Now bring your book here. Together we will translate the story. At the end of next term we will give a performance of it, in costume.'

Posy came to her cla.s.s and was told that Madame could not take her as she had to coach a girl for a pantomime; she was to go to a general cla.s.s. This happened three days running; then Posy took the law into her own hands. She paid no attention to the message, and went on upstairs just as though she had not received it. She knocked on Madame's door and went in and curtsied. Madame was giving a lesson, she looked round with a frown.

'What is it, Posy dear?'

'I've come to say goodbye,' said Posy cheerfully. 'I'm not coming any more this term except for fencing.'

'Why?'

'The cla.s.s I'm going to isn't any good to me.'

Madame's eyes grew very small and looked angry; she hated disobedience.

'I have arranged for you to attend it.'

'Yes.' Posy smiled at her happily. 'But you don't know what they do.' She came over to the bar. 'Those frappes are over too quick: no time to get them right. Then there are two exercises you and me don't do, and I won't do them until you've shown me. Not any of it does me good, so I'll work at home just like you've showed me, and I'll come again next term.'

Madame looked for a moment as though she would hit her. Then suddenly she laughed.

'How old are you?'

'Eight.'

Madame kissed her.

'Goodbye. If you don't come to cla.s.ses I rely on your honour to work at home, and all through the holidays. I shall take you for extra cla.s.ses next term.'

The pantomime rehearsals suited Petrova. Some of the children in her cla.s.s were dancing in troupes, and n.o.body had time for those that were not. They were supposed to work at the bar by themselves; but of course they never did, but had a glorious time doing anything they liked.

The next year was an important year. Pauline would be twelve at the beginning of December, and so old enough to have a licence, and they all had whooping-cough.

Whooping-cough is a miserable disease, but if you must have it, the worst place is the Cromwell Road; it is so far from the Parks and any place where you can whoop nicely in private. They spent the first part of having it in bed, but after a bit they got well enough to get up, and then it was most depressing. The weather was ghastly - very cold, with those sort of winds which cut your legs and face, and often it rained and sometimes half snowed, and they whooped too much to go on an underground, or a bus, and they were all cross, and they got tireder and tireder of walking to the Victoria and Albert and back. Then one day Mrs Simpson remembered that an old housemaid they had when she was a girl lived in the country and was poor, and would be glad to have them. Sylvia was worried, because what money she had was getting steadily less, and there was not a word from Gum. But Mrs Simpson said it would not cost much, and that it would be a present to the children from her because the garage was doing well, and she thought it was because, as a family, they had brought them luck.

The cottage was in the middle of a common in Kent. It was a perfect place for whooping-cough, because there never was anybody about, and if there chanced to be a pa.s.ser-by and a whoop came on, there were plenty of gorse-bushes. As a matter of fact, directly they got there they began to whoop less. The weather got better, and they found early primroses, and the catkins and p.u.s.s.y palm showed there would not be much more winter, and at once they felt better. Nana, who was fussy about gloves and looking like ladies even when you were going to look anything but a lady and stand whooping in the road, seemed to change in the country. She was country born herself, and she so liked helping Gladys (the housemaid Mrs Simpson had when she was a girl) with the chickens, and putting up Gladys's husband's dinner, which meant popping a bit of bacon into a pastry turnover, and looking over the potatoes in the barn, that she never bothered the children at all. As long as they were out all day, and ate plenty, she did hot even get angry when they came in late for meals. They went back to London without a whoop in them in time for the Summer term. That Summer term and the beginning of the Autumn were very hard working for Pauline. She would be twelve in December. A child can get a licence to act from her twelfth birthday. Pauline was to try and get her first engagement that Christmas.

'Pauline,' said Miss Jay one day in November. 'I want you here at eleven tomorrow morning. I want you to bring a length of hair ribbon with you and to wear a nice frock. I am taking you to see a manager.'

The news that Pauline was to see a manager the next day caused more confusion than pleasure. Gum's money was getting lower and lower; and since eating is the most important thing, everybody had to do without new clothes. Nana did miracles in the way of patching and darning, but of course patches and darns, though neat, are not smart. The only dresses the children had that could be described as 'nice' in the way in which Miss Jay meant, were their white organdies, and Pauline could not wear white organdie with a blue sash at eleven o'clock on a November morning. For lessons, and to go to the Academy, they had kilted skirts, and jerseys, and on Sundays and better occasions they still had velvet frocks which Sylvia had bought them when times were not so bad; but Pauline's was much too short for her now, and one of the elbows was darned. Nana took it out of the cupboard and held it up to the light.

'Terrible!' She shook her head. 'n.o.body'd engage you for anything, Pauline, looking like a rag-bag in that. I'll just wash your jersey through tonight, and you'll have to wear what you've got on.'

Pauline got very red.

'I can't. Miss Jay will think we haven't any clothes if I wear a jersey and skirt after her saying a frock.'

'Well you haven't any, so there's no harm in her thinking it.' Nana spoke crossly, because she hated the children not to be well dressed.

The three children looked at each other. They knew all about going to auditions for parts, for they had seen it happen. You came to school in best clothes, and stood in the hall where everybody could see you, and people called out 'Good luck! I hope you get it.'

'She can't go in a jersey and skirt, Nana,' Petrova said.

'No.' Posy looked very determined. 'Jerseys and skirts are never worn at auditions.'

'Well' - Nana sounded crosser than ever, but they all knew she was not - 'what do you think I am? A conjurer? Do you think I can make a frock like they bring rabbits out of a hat?'