Movie Shoes (9 page)

It was such a silly question it made Jane laugh.

“‘Course. Everybody can. When my dog, Chewing-gum, got poisoned, the vet said a white of an egg would have been good for him If we had a white of egg; only of course, we didn’t have. But in America there are lots of eggs. Do you suppose a white of egg could spared?”

“Sure. Did Chewing-gum die?”

Jane was appalled at the suggestion, and her face
showed it. “Of course not. If he had I think I’d have died too.”

The man Bryan came up the steps and heard this. “Who’s dying?”

Jane swung around. “How is he
?
”

“I’ve given him something to fix him.” He handed her the handkerchief and belt. “Thank you for fetching him home.
You fond of candy?”

The older man beckoned to Bryan. “Not so fast. Come and sit awhile.” He looked at Jane. “What about a drink? I’m sure my friend here -“ he looked at Mr. Bryan-“will get you a Coca-Cola.”

Jane was delighted. If she stayed and drank a Coca-Cola, it
should be easy to ask about walks for Hyde Park Perhaps the old man had a dog, too, that needed a professional dog-walker. She thanked them, and sat down on the top step.

Mr. Bryan said, “Sure,” and went to fetch the Coca-Cola, but he, too, had taken to staring. Jane wondered if perhaps staring at strangers was polite in America.

The Coca-Cola was lovely Jane took a big drink and then,
fortified, looked up at Mr. Bryan. “Who takes Hyde Park for walks?”

The old man said to Mr. Bryan, “You see what I’m thinking?”

Mr. Bryan nodded. “He doesn’t get many, except maybe on Sunday. How long have you been out here?”

“If you mean in California, one day; if you mean America, five days. Dogs ought to walk every day.”

“Sure. Where you living?”

Jane thought they were the most curious people she had ever met. Such a lot of questions. However, they were nice, and perhaps it was a good thing they should know about her as Mr. Bryan mightn’t trust Hyde Park with a stranger. She told them about John’s accident and Aunt Cora’s invitation, and that the invitation was for food and keep and did not include dancing lessons and piano lessons or being a chauffeur all over Los Angeles.

“So of course, we’ll have to earn our pocket money, which Aunt Cora says children do in America.”

Both men said, “Sure,” to that. The older man, who was staring more and more, asked what the family consisted of.

Jane told him. She gave good descriptions of Rachel and Tim, though she bragged a bit, for she said Rachel was actually engaged to dance in the film.

Oddly enough, neither man seemed impressed by that. Mr. Bryan said, “And you? What do you sparkle at?”

Jane longed to be able to say something, but there was nothing to say. While she had been talking, she had looked cheerful, but at that question her face became its most black-doggish. “If you want to know, absolutely nothing. And nobody need be despising because lots of people aren’t good at anything special.”

The two men exchanged more looks. Mr. Bryan said apparently to nobody, “Extraordinary.” Then he pulled on one of Jane’s braids. “How would you like to have a chance to show what you can do?”

Jane beamed. “That’s what I wanted you to say. I’m wanting to be a professional dog walker. I’d like to start with Hyde Park.” The two men burst out laughing. Jane thought that was rude. She got up. “There’s nothing to laugh about. As a matter of fact, it’s about time somebody thought of poor Hyde Park.”

Mr. Bryan stopped laughing. “I’m sorry. Sure you can take Hyde Park walking. How much would you charge?”

Jane was hazy about American money. “Would one cent a day be too much?”

Mr. Bryan got up. He looked questioningly at the other man. “Too little, I think. Do you think I should visit her father to fix it?”

Jane thought that very grand. “That would be a good idea, though you’d better see Mom. Dad doesn’t like being disturbed if he’s writing; both Mom and Peaseblossom understand American money.” She lowered her voice and poke earnestly. “But do be careful to ask Bella for Mrs. Winter; otherwise you ‘ll see Aunt Cora, and that wouldn’t be a good idea at all.”

Mr. Bryan was writing in a notebook. “Ask for Mrs. Winter; say I’ve called about Miss Jane Winter. And your aunt’s Mrs. Edward Beeson. I know the house.” He closed the book. “By the way, we haven’t introduced ourselves and l think we should. May I introduce Mr. Benjamin Bettelheimer.” The old man got up and bowed. “And my name is Bryan J. Browne.”

Jane felt she ought to do or say something, but she was not sure what. She gave a bow like the one Mr. Bettelheimer had given her and behaved like somebody leaving a party.

“Good-bye. Thank you very much for asking me.”

Mr. “Bryan J. Browne came with her to the bottom of the steps. “Good-bye now, Jane Winter. I’ll be seeing you. “

Jane ran back along the sands and found Peaseblossom and Bee still asleep. She looked at them in amazement. “How queer to go to sleep in the daytime!” However, it was lucky for Tim. Given any luck, he would get back from his drugstore before they woke up. This was what happened, for as Jane came m from the porch, Tim came in at the front door.

He spoke in a whisper.

“Is there a row?”

“No. Peaseblossom and Mom have been asleep on the sand all afternoon, and I expect Dad’s still working.”

“Where’s Aunt Cora?”

Jane shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t know. She said at lunch she was going to rest up. I expect that means bed again; she seems a very bed person. Did you find a piano?”

Jane thought she heard someone moving. She caught Tim by the arm. “Let’s go to your room. We shan’t disturb Dad if we whisper.”

They sat on Tim’s bed, but Tim was so full of bounce because his afternoon had been successful that he found sitting still for long difficult.

“I found the drugstore quite easily. It’s back the way we came when we drove from the station. It’s not a bit like that drugstore in New York. It’s got all sorts of slot machines and it’s a place where you eat. Tables and all that.”’

“Where was the piano?”

“In the middle on a sort of little platform thing. I came in, and a man asked me what I wanted, and I said I wanted to see the boss, because I didn’t know his name. The man shouted, ‘There’s a gentleman to see you, Tony,’ and Tony was the boss.”

“Was he nice?”

Tim was not going to have his story interrupted. “He’s brown and curly with a funny voice which isn’t American. His name’s Antonio something, but he said everybody called him just Tony. I explained about the piano, and at first he said no.” Tim got off the bed and gave an imitation of Tony saying no. “‘I say no.’” He ran his hands through his hair. “‘I say no. I have the customers.’” Then I said I’d come when the customers weren’t there. Then Mr. Antonio’s wife came from somewhere. She’s fat, and her hair’s black and very untidy, but she’s nice; her name’s Anna. She asked what I wanted, and when she heard, she laughed and said that the first thing was to hear me play. So I walked to the piano. It was very old, and it wanted tuning; otherwise it was all right. They were the sort of people I thought would like a noise on a piano, so I played Rachmaninoff’s prelude.”

“Did they like it?”

Tim was so pleased with himself that he fell back on the bed and turned a somersault. “It was marvelous. Mrs. Antonio cried, and even Mr. Antonio sort of sniffed, and they made sounds at each other in Italian and did this.” Tim screwed up his face and threw up his eyes and hands. “So then I made an arrangement. I’ll go and practice for one hour in the morning after breakfast, and then I’ll go back and play for the customers after lunch.” Jane made a startled sound. Tim stopped her. “That isn’t all. Mr. Antonio will have the piano tuned, and he says the customers will give money, and half will be for me and half for him.” Tim turned another ecstatic somersault.

Jane caught his legs as they came over and turned him the right way up.

“But, Tim, they won’t let you. There’s Peaseblossom’s timetable, and I bet Aunt Cora won’t like the idea of your playing in a drugstore.”

Tim flicked his fingers to show scorn. “They’ll just have to like it. I’ll call it all practice, which it is. I shan’t say anything about playing to the customers. Dad and Mom wouldn’t mind, but they might give in if Aunt Cora thought it trashy, no-account.”

Jane was just starting to tell Tim about her afternoon when Rachel rushed in. “Bella thought you were here. Where’s everybody? Oh, I’ve had such a gorgeous, gorgeous day!”

The door leading into John and Bee’s room opened. John came in laughing and looking exactly as he used to look before the accident. “What’s going on in here?”

They fell on him, each telling his and her own story. John sat on the bed. He pulled Jane between his knees, and Tim sat on one side of him and Rachel the other.

“Now, one at a time. And keep your voices down, because your aunt’s resting. Let’s hear Rachel first.”

Rachel was incoherent with excitement. She had lunched with Posy Fossil, who had a lovely house with a blue marble swimming pool in the garden. Her old nurse, Nana, had been heavenly and had altered a lovely pale pink tutu of Posy’s for her and packed it and Rachel’s shoes and tights in a box. There had been a gorgeous lunch, and then Posy had to go to a rehearsal, so Nana had taken her in a taxi to Madame Donna’s studio.

“You can’t imagine how I felt. Other girls were coming in, and they looked so grown-up and smart. Nana took me into a dressing room and dressed me and brushed and combed my hair. Then I went to Madame Donna.” Rachel shivered at the memory. “She asked me questions, and then I had to dance in front of all of them. Imagine!” Rachel got up. “She gave directions very fast, much faster than I’m used to, and then she showed me steps I had to follow. Like this.” Rachel began to demonstrate.

John stopped her. “Not here. You’ll disturb your aunt.”

“Although I was always a bit behind, Madame Donna seemed fairly pleased, for she said that what I knew I’d been taught thoroughly. Then she took me into her office, and told me about fifty girls were wanted for a film called
Pirouette
and that they were nearly all to be her pupils. That the man who was arranging the dances would see ordinary work going on and would choose the fifty himself. That it was all wrong only pretending to be a pupil when I wasn’t, but she was permitting it to please Posy Fossil. And then she took down your name and address, Dad, because if I’m engaged, you’ll have to see Madame Donna. And I warn you that’ll be frightening for you.”

John did riot seem to care. “We can cross that bridge when we come to it. Did the man like you?”

“I don’t know, but the other girls thought he did. He picked a lot of us out to do things alone. He asked me to do a few steps to show him how I moved, and I just did m’audition. The woman at the piano even knew the music. Oh, Dad, won’t it be too gorgeous if I’m in a film! Imagine the glory!”

John looked at Tim. “And what were you telling Jane you’d fixed? I heard the word ‘piano’ fairly often.”

Tim told his story about the concerts for the customers. John was pleased. “Good. I like you children to cope with things for yourselves.” He put his arm around Jane. “What are we going to do about you while all this is going on?”

Jane wriggled free from his arm. Her face was pink with triumph. It was so seldom she could say that anything was happening to her.

“As a matter of fact, a man is coming to call. I told him not to interrupt you, but to see Mom. His name’s Mr. Bryan J. Browne, and he wants to engage me as a professional dog walker for his dog, Hyde Park. Oh, Dad, a lovely dog! A black spaniel. As a matter of fact, I’ve plans for being dog walker to lots of dogs, perhaps fifty.”

John rumpled her hair affectionately. “What an enterprising family I’ve got. I shall tell Bella to fetch me at once when Mr. Bryan J: Browne calls. If my daughter is going to become a professional dog walker to fifty dogs, I think I ought to see the business begins on a proper financial basis.”

The Caller

Peaseblossom’s plans for a good organized day were changed. It was obvious that if Rachel were perhaps to dance in a film, she must practice. So that was good-bye to her helping with the housework. Instead, as soon as breakfast was cleared, she changed her shoes and got in an hour’s exercises on the porch.

And every day after breakfast and lunch Tim ran off to the drugstore.

The person who got no advantage from the new timetable was Jane. Six days went by, and Mr. Bryan J. Browne had not called, so she was still a houseworker. It had been bad enough doing housework when they all did it, but to be the only one was too much. The meanness of it ate into her, and she looked black-doggish even when she was eating a banana split.

Aunt Cora, though her voice whined as much as ever and she spent most of the day resting up, began to take a better view of the Winters. Her house looked like a new pin, for both Bee and Peaseblossom were good at housework. Bella was in wonderful spirits; she had not been what Aunt Cora called mean since the Winters had arrived. She smiled when she served meals, and she sang when she cooked. Then the children were turning out well, Aunt Cora felt, or at least, two of them were-Rachel and Tim. A niece in the movies would be a social asset. Aunt Cora watched the mail and listened for telephone rings almost as anxiously as Rachel herself did.

Posy Fossil was a person who expected everything to happen at once. Each day she telephoned to know if Rachel had been picked to dance in
Pirouette.
She sounded as if she were dancing with anxiety at the end of telephone,

“Goodness, I do wish they’d hurry! This is such an awkward place to live in unless you have a car; there are no streetcars that go anywhere anybody wants to go. I can’t make plans for your lessons until I know if you can afford transportation. I’m certain you’ve been chosen, and Madame Donna’s certain, too. She says they had their eye on you.”

Rachel tried not to be too hopeful, but it was difficult with Posy so sure.

Then one morning Bella was clearing breakfast when the telephone rang. Rachel was upstairs putting on her ballet shoes. Bella stood at the bottom of the stairs and shouted “The telephone, Miss Rachel; it’s that Miss Fossil.”

Rachel ran down the stairs. She could imagine Posy at the other end dancing up and down, her red curls bouncing. She knew the quick way she would say, “Have you heard yet?” and the explosive “Oh!” when she said she had not. Oh, dear, if only, if only she could say, “Yes”! But this morning Posy’s voice was different.

“I say, it’s sickening, but I’m afraid that film’s off; at least Madame Donna thinks so. The man did like you, but the fifty he’s chosen are older, and they’re nearly all dark.” Rachel felt as if the sun had gone in. The hall was suddenly cold. It was awful to have hoped so much. Posy evidently could sense how Rachel felt. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix it up about your lessons somehow; it’s just getting you there. I hate to go on raising your hopes, but there is still a chance that something else may work out; it’s only a slim chance, but the man who engaged the fifty girls did take your name and address. It appears there are two or three days’ work for a child dancer. Madame Donna thought he might be thinking of you for that.”

Rachel tried to be thrilled at that little straw of hope, but she could tell that Posy did not believe in it really. She had an awful lump in her throat, and though she swallowed most of it, there was enough left to get in the way, and her voice came out in miserable-sounding squeaks. “Thank you so much for telephoning.”

Even over the telephone Rachel could hear Posy’s feet dancing a sort of frustrated foot exercise.

“Don’t sound like that. I tell you what, spend a Sunday with us soon. I’ll have made plans by then and my sister Pauline, who’s been making personal appearances, will be home. We’ll swim in the swimming pool. I’ll fetch you.”

It was a lovely invitation, but Rachel was too downcast to be pleased about it. Too downcast to be thrilled at meeting Posy’s sister, who was a film star. Too downcast to be pleased about the swimming pool. So downcast that she could hardly say “thank you.” She put down the receiver and swallowed and blinked. It was silly to cry, but if only the film could have happened!

While Rachel had been on the telephone, the front doorbell had rung, and Bella had shown somebody into the living room. Breathing heavily, because she hated stairs, she had fetched John.

“There’s a gentleman who’s calling. I’ve put him in the living room.”

John had been in the middle of a sentence and would ordinarily have hated to be interrupted; but he remembered his promise to Jane.

“Quite right, Bella, thank you. I expect it’s the gentleman with the spaniel who’s going to start Jane on that dog walking career.

As Rachel turned from the telephone fighting her tears, John was standing in the living-room door. His visitor’ voice came down the passage.

“I’ve come to see if your daughter may come up to the studio for a film test.”

Rachel’s lump disappeared. Her tears dried. The man had not forgotten her. He had chosen her for that child dancer. She could not wait for John to call her. She flew own the passage.

“Dad, I heard! Here I am!”

John put his arm around her. “Here’s the ballerina. This is Rachel.”

The man looked at Rachel very kindly. His nice gray eyes were sorry.

“But it’s not Rachel I’ve come about. Maybe the maid didn’t tell you my name. I’m Bryan J. Browne. I’ve called about Jane.”