The Bell Family

by Noel Streatfeild

  ‘There is a film in the camera, and I think in the summer holidays films for it can come out of the money box, because we all like family photographs.’ She saw Angus was going to argue. ‘Now run along, darling, and have your bath.’

  Much barking from Esau announced Paul was home.

  ‘The only miserable thing about the day is Esau being left at home,’ Jane said. ‘I’ll hate seeing his sad little face when we leave.’

  ‘If we say “church,”’ Ginnie suggested, ‘he’ll think we’ll soon be back.’

  Jane looked scornful.

  ‘Why should he think we were going to church, in an expensive hire car? He’s not a fool.’

  Cathy looked at her watch and then at Jane and Ginnie.

  ‘You better go up, Ginnie. I shouldn’t think Mrs Gage will take long scrubbing Angus.’

  Paul came in. Cathy gave him his egg, which she was keeping hot.

  ‘I’m going to clear all round you, Paul, and start the washing-up. Mrs Gage is bathing the family.’

  Jane stopped in the doorway.

  ‘And you, my poor boy, have to have fourth used water. We have to share because it won’t get hot. I should think your bath will be pure mud.’

  Paul and Alex, left alone, sat in companionable silence. They heard through the open door Mrs Gage at work on Ginnie in the bathroom. They heard a discussion carried on in a shout between Jane upstairs, and Cathy in the kitchen, as to the whereabouts of the eau-de-cologne bath salts, and another louder conversation between Angus and Cathy about a shirt. Presently Paul said:

  ‘What a fuss, Dad!’

  ‘Your mother wants her family to cut a dash. Anything said about your missing your cricket practice?’

  Paul cut himself another piece of bread.

  ‘Nothing much. Just he hoped that it was the only Thursday I’d miss, as they’d got their eye on me. He didn’t say anything about my chances of course, but he did say they were on the look out for bowlers.’

  ‘Too early yet to tell your Uncle Alfred I suppose.’ Paul thought talking of something that might never happen a bragging sort of thing to do. He made a protesting noise. Alex nodded. ‘Quite right. Pity, though. He’d be interested. He was quite a bowler at school.’

  Cathy, holding a steaming kettle, stood in the doorway. Her face was wearing the sort of despairing face mothers’ faces wear when the men of her family do idiotic things.

  ‘Look at you two! Talking about cricket as if you had all day before you. Do you know it’s well after half-past five?’

  Paul hurriedly swallowed the rest of his tea. Alex, looking rather hang-dog, got up.

  ‘Sorry, darling. What’s the kettle for?’

  Cathy tried not to sound irritated.

  ‘For you to shave. I thought you knew the water’d gone wrong. The children are sharing the only bath.’

  Upstairs there was the gay rushing about of a family getting ready for a party. Angus, already dressed in a clean shirt and his best shorts, was hopping up and down the passage, tapping his morse-code buzzer. Alex caught hold of him to have a look at him. Mrs Gage had done a remarkable job. His hair, which usually stood on end, was beautifully parted and smoothed flat with water. His face, neck and ears shone as if they had been polished. His tie was neatly tied and pinned into place.

  ‘My word,’ said Alex, ‘I didn’t know you could look so clean.’

  Cathy called to Paul.

  ‘See Angus doesn’t touch the caterpillars. He’s beautifully tidy and he’s to stop like that.’

  Jane, in her dressing-gown, danced out of the bathroom.

  ‘Smell me, Mummy. Did you ever know anyone smell so gorgeous? I’m coming in to show you as soon as I’ve got my frock on.’

  Mrs Gage, grinning, came out of the bathroom.

  ‘Look a bit of all right, don’t they? You seen young Ginnie?’

  Ginnie came out of her bedroom.

  ‘I’m so clean I couldn’t be cleaner.’

  Ginnie was always last, but now, except for her frock, she seemed dressed. Cathy was surprised.

  ‘How quick you’ve been.’

  ‘I hurried. Could I come and watch you dress, Mummy?’

  Cathy, knowing no reason for Ginnie’s request, thought she meant to be funny.

  ‘Very interesting I’m sure, to watch me put on my old black.’

  ‘Please, Mummy.’

  Cathy could not imagine why Ginnie was interested.

  ‘Goose. Of course you can’t. We haven’t much time, and Daddy has to shave. Thank goodness I did make time to have my hair set.’

  Ginnie frowned at the shut bedroom door. It had been such work putting on the flowers, if only she could be there to see her mother’s face when she saw them.

  In the bedroom Cathy was getting on with her dressing and Alex was shaving. Suddenly Cathy gasped.

  ‘Oh, Alex! Look!’

  Alex looked. He saw Cathy at the wardrobe, holding what seemed to him to be a fancy dress.

  ‘What on earth’s that?’

  Cathy spoke in a stunned voice.

  ‘My old black. Violets round the neck. Very, very tired roses round the waist, marguerites on the cuffs.’

  Alex, his face all over soap, came across the room and examined the dress.

  ‘Who sewed them on?’

  ‘Must have been Ginnie. Angus can’t sew, and Jane would never be so silly. Oh, Alex, I do hate hurting Ginnie’s feelings, but they must come off. I’ll look like the Goddess of Spring.’

  Alex was not thinking of the dress, but of Ginnie.

  ‘Would it have taken her long to sew them on?’

  ‘Ages I should think, and she must have done it in the night, for the dress was all right when I pressed it yesterday afternoon. Oh, dear, it’s meant to please me. What shall I say to her?’

  Alex did not see the dress as a problem.

  ‘Wear it. It was a labour of love.’

  Cathy gazed at him in horror.

  ‘Wear it! It’ll ruin the evening. Can you see the expression on your mother’s and Rose’s face if I walk into Covent Garden covered in flowers? Can’t you imagine the way everyone who looked at me would laugh?’

  Alex thought clothes unimportant and hurt feelings, especially hurt feelings of a child, very important.

  ‘Does it matter whether people smile or not?’

  ‘Not to you perhaps, but it does to me.’

  ‘Well, wear a coat over it.’

  Cathy got cross.

  ‘Oh, get on with your shaving. The temperature has been seventy all day, and, as you very well know, I haven’t got a coat fit to go to Covent Garden in. Besides which it wouldn’t help. Ginnie would be very hurt if I covered this flower garden with an old winter coat.’

  Jane banged on the door.

  ‘Can I come in, Mummy? My frock is scrumdatious.’

  Cathy opened the door, shut it behind Jane, and watched her horrified expression as she saw the black dress.

  ‘Isn’t it ghastly! Ginnie must have done it as a surprise for me.’

  Jane saw even more clearly than Cathy had done Aunt Rose’s and Grandmother’s faces. She could hear the giggles and see the nudges.

  ‘You can’t wear it. You simply can’t.’

  Alex had finished shaving, he joined the group round the frock.

  ‘I’m afraid she must. You see, it was a labour of love.’

  Jane did not care whether the flowers were a labour of love or not, she only knew her mother must not wear them.

  ‘I can’t help what they are, Daddy. Mummy simply couldn’t go to Covent Garden wearing them. It looks like a very, very bad fancy dress.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Cathy sat on her bed. ‘Oh, Jane, can’t you think of some way I could take them off without hurting Ginnie’s feelings?’

  Jane fingered the weary-looking flowers.

  ‘If they weren’t three sorts they wouldn’t be quite so awful.’

  Cathy jumped up.

  ‘Clever girl! I believe
she’s got it, Alex. I shall tell Ginnie I can only wear one sort of flower. That vicar’s wives never wear three kinds at once.’

  Jane did not see that one kind would help much.

  ‘But which will you wear? Those dreadfully flabby violets at the neck? Those dirty marguerites at the wrists or those ghastly roses?’

  Cathy smiled bravely over Jane’s head at Alex.

  ‘Ginnie shall choose. I’m not going to hurt her feelings more than I must.’

  Alex had been a little shaken by Jane’s horror when she saw the dress.

  ‘That does seem a solution. I do hope she understands, bless her.’

  ‘She will,’ said Cathy, ‘she’s a very sensible child. Oh, dear, I do pray she chooses the marguerites, my gloves will cover most of them. Call her, Jane.’

  Ginnie had been waiting for that call. She bounded into the bedroom as if off a springboard.

  ‘Did you want me, Mummy?’ Then, seeing the frock in Cathy’s hands. ‘Are you pleased? They took simply ages to sew on. I had to do it standing up because I went to sleep sitting down.’

  Cathy kissed Ginnie.

  ‘So pleased I could hug you to bits. But I’m afraid I can’t wear it quite like this. I’m afraid three sorts of flowers at once wouldn’t look suitable, and you know what Uncle Alfred is about things being suitable. Vicars’ wives don’t wear three sorts of flowers at the same time.’

  ‘You can’t wear it. You simply can’t’

  Ginnie could not believe her flowers were to be taken off the dress.

  ‘But, Mummy, they took simply hours to sew on.’

  ‘I’m sure they did, darling, but you wouldn’t want me to go to a party unsuitably dressed, would you?’

  Ginnie felt a great lump swell up in her throat. After all, wasn’t her mother pleased? Wasn’t it a lovely surprise? Her voice sounded as if there was a lump in her throat.

  ‘I don’t think you’d be unsuitably dressed. To me you’d look like a queen.’

  Alex took a hand.

  ‘Uncle Alfred doesn’t expect Mummy to look like a queen, he expects her to look like a vicar’s wife.’

  Cathy saw Ginnie was near tears.

  ‘Look, darling, you must accept that vicars’ wives only wear one sort of flower. The question is, which? You must choose.’

  Ginnie gazed first at the violets, then at the roses, then at the marguerites. They had all taken so long to sew on. They all looked so perfect. It was dreadful to think of any of them being cut off again.

  ‘If it can be only one sort, then I know which it must be. The roses. I think they are the crimsonest roses there ever were in the world. You can see them for miles and miles.’

  5

  The Party

  GRANDFATHER, GRANDMOTHER, AUNT Rose, Uncle Alfred and Veronica were waiting in the foyer of Covent Garden Theatre. Grandfather was rather a fierce-looking man, with a red face and bristly white hair.

  ‘What time are you expecting Alex and his family, Alfred?’

  Alfred was important-looking. The sort of man you could guess made a lot of money. If you looked at him carefully you could see he could be Alex’s elder brother, for he had the same brown hair and eyes; but there were two great differences. Alex was very thin, and Alfred was growing fat, especially in front. Alex was pale, but Alfred’s face was red. It was extra red as he looked at his watch, for he hated anything he had arranged not to happen exactly on time.

  ‘Should have been here five minutes ago. If there’s one thing I dislike more than another it is to be kept waiting.’

  Grandmother was a plump little woman, with neat grey hair. She looked as if her clothes were made by an upholsterer rather than a dressmaker. She had rather a sharp way of speaking, but it was mostly a way of speaking, for inside she was very kind in a bossy way. Her eyes were full of amusement as she looked at Alfred. He might seem a successful business man, and a knight to other people, but to her he was still her boy Alfred. She had lived all her life in Bradford, and was proud everyone should hear it when she spoke.

  ‘Don’t fuss, Alfred, lad. You always fussed as a child. That’s one thing I will say for your brother Alex, he was never a fusser.’

  Rose was a fair-haired, pretty, most beautifully dressed woman, but she was spoilt by her voice. It was the whiney voice of someone who has had far more nice things in her life than she expected, and has grown whinier each year, as she found there were no new things to wish for.

  ‘I suppose they were none of them ready when the car came. You know what a muddle they live in.’

  Veronica took after her mother only more so. She was prettier than her mother had ever been, and she had a far whinier voice. She had on a blue frock made of organdie. Over it she wore a little ermine cape. She twisted round so that her very full skirt billowed out.

  ‘I’m never late, am I, Mumsie?’

  Grandmother thought Veronica looked a picture, but she also thought, if she had her to herself, she would get her out of her affected ways, or know the reason why. She said briskly:

  ‘Don’t mess that frock up, Veronica. It’s sweetly pretty.’

  Veronica grew more prancy than ever.

  ‘Mumsie says blue’s my colour.’

  Rose looked dotingly at Veronica.

  ‘You look nice in anything, pet.’ Then she turned to Grandmother. ‘I really wanted her to wear her new long frock, she looks a dream in it, but it was no good suggesting evening clothes, Alex and Cathy haven’t any. The only decent clothes Cathy has are my cast-offs.’

  Grandfather tapped Alfred on the shoulder.

  ‘Don’t forget Paul is to sit next to me. You take the rest of them out for ices in interval, and give me time to have a word alone with him. I don’t believe he’ll stick to this doctor nonsense when he hears what I have to say.’

  Veronica put her hand in her Grandfather’s.

  ‘Don’t you wish I was a boy, Grandfather? Then I could come to Bradford.’

  Alfred for a second stopped looking at his watch and looked instead at Veronica. He thought she was perfect.

  ‘I wouldn’t change my little girlie for a son, Dada’s proud of his pet.’

  Grandfather ran a finger through one of Veronica’s curls.

  ‘’Twouldn’t have done no good if you had been a boy, you’d have gone in with your father at the London end.’

  Grandmother’s voice rang out sharply.

  ‘Got too grand for Bradford, haven’t you, lad, now you’re Sir Alfred, and director of City companies and all?’

  ‘Look! There they are. There are the cousins.’ Veronica jumped in the air and waved. ‘Oh-oo!’

  Grandmother was shocked.

  ‘Never thought to hear you making a noise like that, Veronica. You sound as if you were at fun fair at Blackpool.’

  Rose took Veronica’s hand.

  ‘Stand quiet, pet. They’ve seen us.’

  Alex and the children pushed through the crowd, Cathy hid herself behind them. There were kisses and hand shakes and ‘Happy birthdays’ for Angus. Then Cathy came into view. Rose had her face forward to kiss her, when she saw the flowers her mouth opened in a gasp. Cathy pulled her to her, and while pretending to kiss her whispered fiercely:

  ‘Don’t say anything about them. I know how they look, I’ll explain later.’

  Veronica held both hands over her mouth and giggled.

  ‘Oo …. Aunt Cathy, you do look funny!’

  Jane saw Aunt Rose’s face and heard Veronica’s giggle. She had never looked prettier, her eyes were shining as if there were stars in them, but suddenly the stars went out and she flushed. Grandmother was the only other who had seen and heard what happened. She was not having Jane’s evening spoilt by anything so ridiculous as a few flowers on a dress, however terrible they looked.

  ‘What a pretty frock, Jane, I don’t know when I saw a prettier. It’s new, isn’t it?’

  Back came the stars.

  ‘Isn’t it gorgeous? Mummy made it. We bought the stuff t
ogether.’

  Alfred flapped round like an agitated hen.

  ‘Quiet, everybody. No one enjoys an evening’s fun more than I do, but what I say is there is no pleasure without organisation. Now this is how you sit. First you, Ginnie, then you, Veronica, pet.’

  ‘Where’s the birthday boy sitting?’ asked Grandmother.

  ‘T’other side of Veronica. That’s the right place, isn’t it, Angus, next to your little hostess?’

  Angus thought being his birthday Uncle Alfred was letting him choose where he would sit. In that case he certainly was not going to sit next to Veronica.

  ‘Well, Uncle Alfred, if I can choose …’

  Cathy felt as a family they were sufficiently out of favour already. It was not their fault traffic had held up the car, and it was not her fault about the roses, still, there was no need for Angus to make things worse.

  ‘That’ll be lovely, won’t it, Angus? Who’s sitting on Angus’s other side, Alfred?’

  ‘His Grandmother. Then Jane. Then me. I’ve put myself right in the middle. Then you, Cathy, on my right. Then Rose. Then Alex. Then Grandfather. Then Paul.’

  Uncle Alfred did everything in the grandest way. As they reached the end of their row of seats, his voice boomed out telling the programme girl he would have eleven programmes.

  ‘What I say is, when you’re out to enjoy yourself, let yourself go and enjoy yourself. There’s nothing in the extra sixpences if it adds to the evening’s pleasure.’

  Paul caught Jane’s eye. Of course they could not say so, but they thought five shillings and sixpence on programmes a wicked waste, it was so easy to share programmes.

  Ginnie pushed her way to her seat with her chin stuck in the air. She had promised before they started to be as nice as she could to Veronica, but that was before she knew she had to sit next to her, with nobody on her other side to talk to.

  ‘It’s mean,’ she whispered. ‘Mean. Mean. Mean. Nobody could be nice to Veronica who had to sit next to her only all the evening. I’d sooner be dead.’

  Veronica, skipping along behind Grannie, called out:

  ‘Be careful you don’t put your seat down on my frock, Ginnie. There’s so many yards in my skirt really I need two seats.’

  Ginnie wished she had thought of putting down her seat on the frock. It would have done her good to hear it tear.