Читать книгу White Boots - Noel Streatfeild - Страница 11

OLIVIA WENT TO the rink with Harriet, for the more Harriet thought about the girl on the poster, standing on one skate with the other foot high over her head, the more sure she was that she would be shy to go alone to a place where people could do things like that. Dr Phillipson was very kind, but he was a busy, rushing, tearing sort of man, who would be almost certain merely to introduce her to the manager by just saying, “This is Harriet,” and then dash off again. This was exactly what happened. Dr Phillipson called for Harriet and her mother just after lunch, took them to the rink, hurried them inside into a small office in which was a tired, busy-looking man, said, “This is Harriet, and her mother. Mrs Johnson, Harriet, this is Mr Matthews, the manager of the rink. I’ve got a patient to see,” and he was gone.

Olivia took no time to make friends with Mr Matthews. She heard all about something called his duodenal ulcer, which was why he knew Dr Phillipson, and all about how Dr Phillipson had taken out his wife’s appendix, and of how Dr Phillipson had looked after his twin boys, who were grown up now and married, and only when there were no more illnesses left in the Matthews’ family to talk about did Olivia mention skating.

“Dr Phillipson tells me you’re going to be very kind and let Harriet come here to skate. He wants her to have exercise for her leg muscles.”

Mr Matthews looked at Harriet’s legs in a worried sort of way.

“Thin, aren’t they? Ever skated before?” Harriet explained she had not. “Soon pick it up, I’ll show you where you go for your skates and boots. Cost two shillings a session they will.” He turned to Olivia. “I’ll have a word with my man who hires them out, ask him to find a pair that fit her; he’ll keep them for her, it’ll make all the difference.”

The way to the skate-hiring place was through the rink. Harriet had never seen a rink before. She gazed with her eyes open very wide at what seemed to her to be an enormous room with ice instead of floor. In the middle of the ice, people, many of whom did not look any older than she was, were doing what seemed to her terribly difficult things with their legs. On the outside of the rink, however, there were a comforting lot of people who seemed to know as little about skating as she did, for they were holding on to the barrier round the side of the rink as if it was their only hope of keeping alive, while their legs did the most curious things in a way which evidently surprised their owners. In spite of holding on to the barrier quite a lot of these skaters fell down and seemed to find it terribly difficult to get up again. Harriet slipped her hand into her mother’s and pulled her down so that she could speak to her quietly without Mr Matthews hearing.

“It doesn’t seem to matter not being able to skate here, does it, Mummy?”

Olivia knew just how Harriet was feeling.

“Of course not, pet. Perhaps some day you’ll be as grand a skater as those children in the middle.”

Mr Matthews overheard what Olivia said.

“I don’t know so much about that, takes time and money to become a fine skater. See that little girl there.”

Harriet followed the direction in which Mr Matthews was pointing. She saw a girl of about her own age. She was a very grand-looking little girl wearing a white jersey, a short white pleated skirt, white tights, white boots, and a sort of small white bonnet fitted tightly to her head. She was a dark child with lots of loose curly hair and big dark eyes.

“The little girl in white?”

“That’s right, little Lalla Moore, promising child, been brought here for a lesson almost every day since she was three.”

Olivia looked pityingly at Lalla.

“Poor little creature! I can’t imagine she wanted to come here when she was three.”

Mr Matthews obviously thought that coming to his rink at the age of three brought credit on the rink, for his voice sounded proud.

“Pushed here in a pram, she was, by her nanny.”

“I wonder,” said Olivia, “what could have made her parents think she wanted to skate when she was three.”

Mr Matthews started walking again towards the skate-hiring place.

“It’s not her parents, they were both killed skating, been brought up by an aunt. Her father was Cyril Moore.”

Mr Matthews said “Cyril Moore” in so important a voice that it was obvious he thought Olivia ought to know who he was talking about. Olivia had never heard of anybody called Cyril Moore but she said in a surprised, pleased tone:

“Cyril Moore! Fancy!”

At the skate-hiring place Mr Matthews introduced Olivia and Harriet to the man in charge.

“This is Sam. Sam, I want you to look after this little girl; her name is Harriet Johnson, she’s a friend of Dr Phillipson’s, and, as you can see from the look of her, she has been ill. Find boots that fit her and keep them for her, she’ll be coming every day.”

Sam was a cheerful, red-faced man. As soon as Mr Matthews had gone he pulled forward a chair.

“Sit down, duckie, and let’s have a dekko at those feet.” He ran a hand up and down Harriet’s calves and made disapproving, clicking sounds. “My, my! Putty, not muscles, these are.”

Harriet did not want Sam to think she had been born with flabby legs.

“They weren’t always like this, it’s because they’ve been in bed so long with nothing to do. It seems to have made them feel cotton-woolish, but Dr Phillipson thinks if I skate they’ll get all right again. I feel rather despondent about them myself, they’ve been cotton-woolish a long time.”

Sam took one of Harriet’s hands, closed it into a fist and banged it against his right leg.

“What about that? That’s my spare, that is, the Japs had the other in Burma. Do you think it worries me? Not a bit of it. You’d be surprised what I can do with me old spare. I reckon I get around more with one whole leg and one spare than most do with two whole legs. Don’t you lose ’eart in yours; time we’ve had you on the rink a week or two you’ll have forgotten they ever felt like cotton-wool, proper little skater’s legs they’ll be.”

“Like Lalla Moore’s?”

Sam looked surprised.

“Know her?”

“No, but Mr Matthews showed her to us, he said she’d been skating since she was three. He said she used to come in a perambulator.”

Sam turned as if to go into the shop, then he stopped.

“So she did too, had proper little boots made for her and all. I often wonder what her Dad would say if he could come back and see what they were doing to his kid. Cyril Moore he was, one of the best figure skaters, and one of the nicest men I ever set eyes on. Well, mustn’t stop gossiping here, you want to get on the ice.”

“Mummy, isn’t he nice?” Harriet whispered. “I should think he’s a knowing man about legs, wouldn’t you? He ought to know about them, having had to get used to having one instead of two.”

The boots, with skates attached, that Sam found were new. He explained that new boots were stiffer and therefore would be a better support to Harriet’s thin ankles. Sam seemed so proud of having found her a pair of boots that were new and a fairly good fit that Harriet tried to pretend she thought they were lovely boots. Actually she thought they were awful. Lalla Moore’s beautiful white boots had made Harriet hope she was going to wear white boots too, but the ones Sam put on her were a nasty shade of brown, with a band of green paint round the edge of the soles. Sam was not deceived by her trying to look pleased.

“’ired boots is all right, but nobody can’t say they’re oil paintings. If you want them stylish white ones you’ll have to buy your own. We buy for hard wear, you’d be surprised the time we make our boots last. Besides, nobody can’t make off with these.”

Olivia looked puzzled.

“Does anyone want to?”

“You’d be surprised, but they don’t get away with it. If Harriet here was to walk out with these someone would spot the green paint and be after her quicker than you could say winkle.”

Olivia laughed.

“I can’t see Harriet walking out in these. I’m going to have a job to get her to the rink.”

Sam finished lacing Harriet’s boots. He gave the right boot an affectionate pat.

“Too right you will. I wasn’t speaking personal, I was just explaining why the boots look the way they do.” He got up. “Good luck, duckie, enjoy yourself.”

If Olivia had not been there to hold her up Harriet would never have reached the rink. Her feet rolled over first to the right, and then to the left. First she clung to Olivia, and then lurched over and clung to a wall. When she came to some stairs that led to the rink it seemed to her as if she must be killed trying to get down them. The skates had behaved badly on the flat floor, but walking downstairs they behaved as if they had gone mad. She reached the bottom by gripping the stair rail with both hands while Olivia held her round her waist, lifting her so that her skates hardly touched the stairs. Olivia was breathless but triumphant when they got to the edge of the rink.

“Off you go now. I’ll sit here and get my breath back.”

Harriet gazed in horror at the ice. The creepers and crawlers who were beginners like herself clung so desperately to the barrier that she could not see much room to get in between them. Another thing was that even if she could find a space it was almost certain that one of the creepers and crawlers in front or behind her would choose that moment to fall over and knock her down at the same time. As a final terror, between the grand skaters in the middle of the rink and the creepers and crawlers round the edge, there were the roughest people. They seemed to go round and round like express trains, their chins stuck forward, their hands behind their backs, with apparently no other object than to see how fast they could go, and they did not seem to mind who they knocked over as they went. Gripping both sides of an opening in the barrier Harriet put one foot towards the ice and hurriedly took it back. This happened five times. Olivia was sympathetic but firm.

“I’m sorry, darling, I’d be scared stiff myself, but it’s no good wasting all the afternoon holding on to the barrier and never getting on to the ice. Be brave and take the plunge.”

Harriet looked as desperate as she felt.

“Would you think I’d feel braver if I shut my eyes?”

“No, darling, I think that would be fatal, someone would be bound to knock you down.”

It was at that moment that Olivia felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned round. Behind her sat an elderly lady looking rather like a cottage loaf. She wore a grey coat and skirt which bulged over her chest to make the top half of the loaf, and over her tail and front to make the bottom half. On her head she wore a neat black straw hat; she was knitting what looked as if it would be a jersey, in white wool.

“If you’ll wait a moment, ma’am, I’ll signal to my little girl, she’ll take her on to the ice for you.”

“Isn’t that kind! Which is your little girl?”

The lady stood up. Standing up she was even more like a cottage loaf than she had been when she was sitting down. She waved her knitting.

“She’s not really mine, I’m her nurse.”

From the centre of the ring the waving was answered. Harriet nudged her mother.

“Lalla Moore.”

Lalla cared nothing for people who went round pretending they were express trains, or for creepers and crawlers; she came flying across the rink as if she were running across an empty field.

“What is it, Nana?”

“This little girl, dear.” Nana turned to Harriet. “You won’t have been on the ice before, will you, dear?”

Harriet was gazing at Lalla.

“No, and I don’t really want to now. The doctor says I’ve got to, it’s to stop my legs being cotton-wool.”

Nana looked at Harriet’s legs wearing an I-thought-as-much expression.

“Take her carefully, Lalla, don’t let her fall.”

Lalla took hold of Harriet’s hands. She moved backwards. Suddenly Harriet found she was on the ice.

“You’ll have to try and straighten your legs a little, because then I can tow you.”

Harriet’s knees and ankles hadn’t been very good at standing straight on an ordinary floor since she had been ill, but in skates and boots it was terribly difficult. But Lalla had been skating for so long she could not see anything difficult about standing up on skates, and, because she did not find anything difficult about it, Harriet began to believe it could not be as difficult as it looked. Presently, Lalla, skating backwards, had towed her into the centre of the rink.

“There, now I’ll show you how to start. Put your feet apart.” With great difficulty Harriet got her feet into the sort of position that Lalla wanted. “Now lift them up. First your right foot. Put it down on the ice. Now your left foot. Now put it down.”

Nana, having asked Olivia’s permission to do so, had moved into the seat next to her. First of all they discussed Harriet’s illness and her leg muscles. Then Olivia said:

“Mr Matthews pointed out your child to us. I hear she’s been skating since she was a baby; you used to push her here in a perambulator, didn’t you?”

Nana laid her knitting in her lap. She could hear from Olivia’s tone she thought it odd teaching a baby to skate.

“So I did too, and I didn’t like it. I never have held with fancy upbringing for my children, and I never will.”

“But her father was a great skater, wasn’t he?”

“He was Cyril Moore. But maybe your father was a great preacher, ma’am, but that isn’t to say you want to spend all your life preaching.”

Olivia laughed.

“My father has a citrus estate in South Africa, and I’ve certainly never wanted to spend all my life growing oranges and lemons.”

“Nor would her father have wanted skating as a baby for Lalla. Bless him, he was a lovely gentleman and so was her mother a lovely lady.”

“What happened to them?”

“Well, he was the kind of gentleman that must always be doing something dangerous. He only had to see a board up saying ‘Don’t skate, danger’ and he was on the ice in a minute. That’s how he went, and poor Mrs Moore with him. Seems he was on a pond; they say there was a warning out the ice wouldn’t bear, but anyway they both popped through it, and were never seen alive again.”

“Oh, dear, what a sad story, and who is bringing little Lalla up?”

Nana’s voice took on a reserved tone.

“Her Aunt Claudia, her father’s only sister.”

“And she was the one who decided to make a skater of her?”

“It’s a memorial, so she says. Lalla wasn’t two years old the winter her parents popped through that thin ice. I’ll never forget it, Aunt Claudia moved into the house, and the very first thing she did was to have a glass case made for the skates and boots her father was drowned in. She put it up over my blessed lamb’s cot.‘With all respect ma’am,’ I said,‘I don’t think it’s wholesome, we don’t want her growing up to brood on what’s happened.’ And do you know what she said? ‘He’s to live again in Lalla, Nana, he was a wonderful skater, but Lalla is to be the greatest skater in the world.’”

Olivia, enthralled with the story, had forgotten about Harriet. She turned now to look at the two children.

“I don’t know whether she’s going to be the greatest skater in the world, but she certainly seems to be a wonderful teacher. Look at my Harriet.”

Nana was silent a moment watching the two children.

“We’ll call them back in a minute. Harriet shouldn’t be at it too long, not the first time. They say Lalla’s coming on wonderfully, she’s got her bronze medal, you know, and she isn’t quite ten.”

Olivia had no idea what a bronze medal was for but she could hear from Nana’s tone it was something important.

“Isn’t that splendid!”

“It’s a funny life for a child, and not what I expect in my nurseries. She has to do so much time on the ice every day, so she can’t go to school or anything like that; governesses and tutors she has as well, of course, as being coached here every day by Mr Lindblom.”

“It must cost a terrible lot of money.”

“Well, what with what her parents left her, and her Aunt Claudia marrying a rich man, there’s enough.”

“She has got a step-uncle, has she?”

Nana was knitting again; she smiled at the wool in a pleased way.

“Yes, indeed. Her Uncle David. Mr David King he is, and as nice a gentleman as you could wish to find, I couldn’t ask for better.”

Olivia was glad to hear that Lalla had a nice step-uncle because somehow, from the tone of Nana’s voice, she was not certain she would like her Aunt Claudia. However, it was not fair to make up her mind about somebody she had never met, and anyway probably Lalla enjoyed the skating.

“I expect the skating’s fun for her, even if she has to miss school and have governesses and tutors because of it.”

“She enjoys it well enough, bless her, I’m not saying she doesn’t, but it’s not what I would choose in a manner of speaking.” Nana got up. “I’m going to signal the children to come off the ice, for, if you don’t mind my mentioning it, your little Harriet has done more than enough for the time being; she better sit down beside me and have a glucose sweet the same as I give my Lalla.”

The moment she sat down Harriet found her legs were much more cotton-woolish than they had been before. They felt so tired she did not know where to put them, and kept wriggling about. Nana noticed this.

“You’ll get used to it, dearie, everybody’s legs get tired at first.”

Olivia looked anxiously at Harriet.

“Perhaps that had better be all for today, darling.”

Harriet was shocked at the suggestion.

“Mummy! Two whole shillings’ worth of hired boots and skates used up in quarter of an hour! We couldn’t, we simply couldn’t.”

“It can’t be helped if you’re tired, darling. It’s better to waste part of the two shillings than to wear the poor legs out altogether.” Olivia turned to Nana. “I’m sure you agree with me.”

Nana had a cosy way of speaking, as if while she was about nothing could ever go very wrong.

“That’s right, ma’am. More haste less speed, so I’ve always said in my nurseries.” She smiled at Harriet. “You sit down and have another glucose sweet and presently Lalla will take you on the ice for another five minutes. That’ll be enough for the first day.”

Lalla looked pleadingly at Nana.

“Could I, oh, could I stay and talk to Harriet, Nana?”

Nana looked up from her knitting.

“It’ll mean making the time up afterwards. You know Mr Lindblom said you was to work at your eight-foot one.”

Lalla laughed.

“One foot eight, Nana.” She turned to Harriet. “Nana never gets the name of the figures right.”

Nana was quite unmoved by this criticism.

“Nor any reason why I should, never having taken up ice skating nor having had the wish.”

“Harriet would never have taken up ice skating, nor had the wish either,” said Olivia, “if it hadn’t been for her legs. I believe two of my sons came here once, but that’s as near as the Johnsons have ever got to skating.”

Lalla was staring at Olivia with round eyes.

“Two of your sons! Has Harriet got brothers?” Harriet explained about Alec, Toby and Edward. Lalla sighed with envy. “Lucky, lucky you. Three brothers! Imagine, Nana! I’d rather have three brothers than anything else in the world.”

Nana turned her knitting round and started another row.

“No good wishing. If you were to have three brothers, you’d have to do without a lot of things you take for granted now.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I wouldn’t mind anything. You know, Harriet, it’s simply awful being only one, there’s nobody to play with.”

Olivia felt sorry for Lalla.

“Perhaps, Nana, you would bring her to the house sometime to play with Harriet and the boys; it isn’t a big house, and there are a lot of us in it, but we’d love to have her and you, too, of course.”

“Bigness isn’t everything,” said Nana. “Some day, if the time could be made, it would be a great treat.”

Harriet looked with respect at Lalla. Even when she had gone to school she had always had time to do things. She could not imagine a life when you had to make time to go out to tea. Lalla saw Harriet’s expression.

“It’s awful how little time I get. I do lessons in the morning, then there is a special class for dancing or fencing, then, directly after lunch, we come here and, with my lesson and the things I have to practise, I’m always here two hours and sometimes three. By the time I get home and have had tea it’s almost bedtime.”

Olivia thought this a very sad description of someone’s day who was not yet ten.

“There must be time for a game or something before bedtime, isn’t there? Don’t you play games with your aunt?”

Lalla looked surprised at the question.

“Oh no, she doesn’t play my sort of games. She goes out and plays bridge and things like that. When I see her we talk about skating, nothing else.”

“She’s very interested in how Lalla’s getting on,” Nana explained, “but Lalla and I have a nice time before she goes to bed, don’t we, dear? Sometimes we listen to the wireless, and sometimes, when Uncle David and Aunt Claudia are out, we go downstairs and look at that television.”

Olivia tried to think of something to say, but she couldn’t. It seemed to her a miserable description of Lalla’s evenings. Nana was a darling, but how much more fun it would be for Lalla if she could have somebody of her own age to play with. She was saved answering by Lalla.

“Are your legs better enough now to come on the rink, Harriet?”

Harriet stretched out first one leg and then the other to see how cotton-woolish they were. They were still a bit feeble, but she was not going to disgrace herself in front of Lalla by saying so. She tottered up on to her skates. Lalla held out her hands. “I’ll take you to the middle of the rink but this time you’ll have to lift up your feet by yourself, I’m not going to hold you. Don’t mind if you fall down, it doesn’t hurt much.”

Olivia watched Harriet’s unsteady progress to the middle of the rink.

“How lucky for her that she met Lalla. It would have taken her weeks to have got a few inches round the edge by herself. She’s terrified, poor child, but she won’t dare show it in front of Lalla.”

Nana went on knitting busily; her voice showed that she was not quite sure she ought to say what she was saying.

“When I get the chance I’ll have a word with Mrs King about Harriet, or maybe with Mr King, he’s the one for seeing things reasonably. It would be a wonderful thing for Lalla if you would allow Harriet to come back to tea sometimes after the skating. It would be such a treat for her to have someone to play with.”

“Harriet would love it, but I am afraid it is out of the question for some time yet. I’m afraid coming here and walking home will be about all she can manage. The extra walk to and from your house would be too much for her at present.”

“There wouldn’t be any walking. We’d send her home in the car. Mrs King drives her own nearly always, and Mr King his own, so the chauffeur’s got nothing to do except drive Lalla about in the little car.”

Olivia laughed.

“How very grand! I’m afraid I’ll never be able to ask you to our house. Three cars and a chauffeur! I’m certain Mrs King would have a fit if she saw how we lived.”

“Lot of foolishness. Harriet’s a nice little girl, and just the friend for Lalla. You leave it to me. Mrs King has her days, and I’ll pick a good one before I speak of Harriet to her or Mr King.”

Walking home Olivia asked Harriet how she had enjoyed skating. She noticed with happiness that Harriet was looking less like a daddy-long-legs than she had since her illness started.

“It was gorgeous, Mummy, but of course it was made gorgeous by Lalla. I do like her. I hope her Aunt Claudia will let me go to tea. Lalla’s afraid she won’t, and she’s certain she won’t let her come to tea with us.”

“You never know. Nana says she has her days, and she’s going to try telling her about you on one of her good days.”

Harriet said nothing for a moment. She was thinking about Lalla, Nana, and Aunt Claudia, and mixed up with thinking of them was thinking about telling her father, Alec, Toby and Edward about them. Suddenly she stood still.

“Mummy, mustn’t it be simply awful to be Lalla? Imagine going home every day with no one to talk to, except Nana, who knows what’s happened because she was there all the time. Wouldn’t you think to be only one like Lalla was the most awful thing that could happen to anybody?”

Olivia thought of the three cars and the chauffeur, and Lalla’s lovely clothes, and of the funny food they had to eat at home, and the shop that never paid. Then she thought of George and the boys, and the fun of hearing about Alec’s first day on the paper round, and how everybody would want to know about Harriet’s afternoon at the rink. Perhaps it was nicer to laugh till you were almost sick over the queer shop-leavings you had to eat, than to have the grandest dinner in the world served in lonely state to two people in a nursery. She squeezed Harriet’s hand.

“Awful. Poor Lalla, we must make a vow, Harriet. Aunt Claudia or no Aunt Claudia let’s make friends with Lalla.”