Movie Shoes

by Noel Streatfeild

  The moment the front door shut behind Dr. Smith and Chewing-gum, everybody began to run. The night suitcases had to come down and join the rest of the luggage m the hall. Jane was handed a wet dishcloth and told to give all the stick-on luggage labels a final dab in the hope they would stick for lots of the W’s for Winter and the labels saying “Stateroom Baggage” were curling at the corners. Tim was given the job of counting the luggage and seeing that the tie-on labels were all securely knotted. Rachel had to search the bedrooms to be sure everything was packed and that nobody had packed the coats and hats he or she was traveling in. John went to the neighbors officially to say good-bye but really to remind them once more that this was the day they were going away, and would they please keep an eye on the house to see it was not burgled? Bee and Peaseblossom rushed around the house doing all those last things that they had forgotten to do or forgotten to ask Mrs. Bones to do for them. Then the clock struck, and John shouted, “Hurry up, everybody, or the cars will be here.” They all rushed and put on their hats and coats, and only just in time, for as they came down again, the two cars Peaseblossom had hired stopped at the door.

  They had a wonderful send-off. Every house in Saxon Crescent had somebody out to wave good-bye to them. There were extra people as well. The postman had loitered so that he could cheer. The newspaper boy had hurried through his round so that he could come back and see them off. Mrs. Bones, her hat on one side, came tearing up the street to have what she called a last peep at them. Even the policeman who was sometimes on the comer was there that morning, and he called out, “Good luck.”

  It hardly seemed possible that they really were safely on the boat train. They were in a long railway carriage with tables in it. Peaseblossom and the children were at one table and John and Bee at another, which they shared with a Scot couple who were going out to America to see their married daughter. It was so funny to look around the railway carriage and think that they would be seeing all the people in it for the next six days. And to realize that they were not the only people starting on a great adventure. The journey passed wonderfully quickly. Just as it was beginning to be a bore, Peaseblossom ordered coffee for them all and, as a surprise, brought out of her case a most wonderful supply of chocolate cookies on which she had used what was left of the ration points. Now that they had really started and, with all their luggage, were safely on the train, they found the appetites they had lost at breakfast had come back. Even Jane, who had not spoken at all but glared out of the window, ate three chocolate cookies and seemed to enjoy them.

  Southampton Docks was rather boring. There was a lot of standing in lines and answering questions, but just as it seemed as if the Mauretania must sail without them, John said, “We’re through. Come on, everybody.” They found themselves moving toward a sign marked Cabin Class Only, then up a gangway, and there they were on board the Mauretania.

  6

  The Mauretania

  Days on land are like beads threaded on a string, big beads, little beads, gay beads for Christmas and birthdays, but on a ship cannot go on the same string. They somehow and feel as if they need a special thread all to themselves. That is how the Mauretania felt to the Winters. As their feet touched the deck, it was as if a door slammed; behind it were Saxon Crescent, Mrs. Bones, Dr. Smith, everybody and everything that was life at home. Even Chewing-gum was behind that door. Six days ahead was another door, which would open on America; but that was tight shut, they did not even think about what was on the other side of it. Peaseblossom and the children had a cabin on one deck, and John and Bee had one on another. The Mauretania seemed so big that Rachel felt a bit scared at seeing Bee leaving them. On a journey to the other side of the world it seemed safer not to be separated. A steward who had picked up most of their hand luggage saw her expression and understood at once.

  “Don’t you worry, you won’t lose ‘em, but by tomorrow they’ll be lucky if they can find you when they want you. Never traveled with a child yet who didn’t know the ship almost as well as I do before we were a day out. “

  It was quite a walk to get to the cabin. Down two decks, along a passage, then down a tiny passage and there it was. It was the neatest place the children had ever seen. There were four bunks, two on each side, two cupboards and shelves, two chests of drawers, a porthole with little curtains and a washbasin with hot and cold water. Of course the first important thing to decide was who should sleep where. Naturally all the children wanted the top bunks. After all, you can sleep on the floor anytime, but it is something special to have a bed you have to climb to get into. Peaseblossom had to think quickly.

  Chewing-gum, but she did not want to say so, as, obviously for the present, the less said about him, the better. She decided to make a martyr of Rachel.

  “I think we’ll fix it by age. Rachel and I will have the lower bunks. We don’t mind, Rachel, dear, do we? It’s all going to be such splendid fun.”

  Rachel did mind and was just going to say so when there was a knock on the door and in came a steward in a white coat. He was carrying a long box and some telegrams. He was a cheerful man with a sunburned face and very blue eyes.

  “I’m your bedroom steward. Name of Williams. Which of you is Miss Bean?” When Peaseblossom had taken the box he looked at the telegrams. “Miss Rachel Winter. Miss Jane Winter. Tim Winter.” He raised his eyebrows in a funny way. “Would that be you three?”

  No one had thought that people would send parcels and telegrams. After all, they luck to go away, so if any parcels and telegrams were being sent, you would have thought they would have gone to people left behind. All the same, it was lovely to have them. Rachel’s was from Madame Fidolia: GOOD LUCK DEAR FROM US ALL WE SHALL MISS YOU STOP POSY HAS CABLED SHE WILL TAKE CARE OF YOU MADAME. Tim’s was from Mr. Brown: HAVE A GOOD TIME BUT DON’T FORGET TO PRACTICE MICHAEL BROWN. Jane’s was from Dr. Smith: CHEWING-GUM HAS BEEN WITH ME FOR AN HOUR AND HAS NOT YET LOOKED UP FROM HIS BONE ENJOY YOURSELF LOVE SMITH.

  Rachel read her telegram out loud.

  “Imagine Madame sending me a telegram! It’s awfully grand thing to have happened. Just fancy Posy Fossil having cabled about me, and her a star!”

  Jane had climbed into the bunk over Rachel’s to read her telegram. It was so nice to think of Chewing-gum happily eating a bone that she spoke in quite her old way.

  “I’m glad I’m not a dancer and have to feel humble as a worm whenever that Madame noticed me. Now listen to my telegram. This is a sensible telegram.”

  They were so glad to hear Jane being herself again and to think that Chewing-gum had settled down that they said nothing about her rude way of talking but agreed it was glorious telegram. In fact, Peaseblossom went on saying things about it so long that Tim, who had climbed up into his bunk, had to interrupt her.

  “Everybody would think I hadn’t had a telegram. Would you listen, please?”

  They listened then, and Peaseblossom admired it very much.

  “Splendid. Practice, that’s the way. Mustn’t let the side down.” She was undoing her box while she spoke and took out some carnations. She read the card and looked pleased. “They’re from a school friend, and listen to what she says. ‘Hope you have learned to sing “California, Here I Come.”” They had never heard of a song called that, but somehow the line made them feel terribly gay and excited. Tim sang it to the tune of “Good King Wenceslas.” “California, here I come, Cali-Cali-fornia. California, here I come. Cali-california.” In a minute they all, even Peaseblossom, were joining in. Tim knelt on his bunk and conducted. Among them they made such a noise that they did not hear a knock on the door and were surprised to find the stewardess in the middle of the cabin; she was laughing.

  “I came in to tell you I was your stewardess. My name is Miss Mann.”

  They all said, “How do you do.” Miss Mann was fat and cozy-looking, just the sort of person you would choose as your stewardess. Peaseblossom was particularly glad to find such a friendly-looking stewardess because she knew th
ere would be lots of things she would want to know.

  “I’m afraid we were making rather a noise,” Peaseblossom said.

  “I gather you’re going to California. My, I wish it were me.” She came over to Peaseblossom. “Have you booked your sittings for meals? You’ll want first sitting for the children, and if I were you, I’d get some unpacking done; it’s a good thing to get things shipshape before you start.”

  Peaseblossom explained that John would be seeing to the table bookings, but she thought unpacking was a good idea. She looked around at the baggage. “I think I’ll do better on my own in this small space. You children run along and have a look around, and on the way go to your mom and dad’s cabin and show them your telegrams.”

  John and Bee’s cabin was much smaller than the children’s and it had no porthole; but it was nice. Bee was alone in it, unpacking. She was thrilled by the telegrams and sat down on the lower bunk and showed the children all the telegrams that she and John had received. Almost everybody they knew seemed to have sent one, and there were five 1lots of flowers as well.

  Rachel said, “Aren’t we grand suddenly! It’s almost as if we’d become royalty.”

  Tim, who had climbed up to the upper berth to see if it was as good as his own, shouted, “One, two, three, altogether,” and started, “California, here I come. Cali- Cali-fornia.” Rachel and Jane joined in at the top of their voices.

  Bee put her hands over her ears. “Stop, darlings, we shall disturb everybody. Come down off there, Tim. Don’t you want to see us sail? We shall be off in no time now. You’d better run up on the deck, where you’ll get a good view.”

  The last person went ashore. The last gangway was pulled in, the last rope unhitched. There was a little gate between the Mauretania and the dock. People on the dockside waved and cheered. Hundreds of sea gulls wheeled and cried. The gap widened. It was too big to jump across. It was too big to swim across. They were off.

  The wind got up a bit in the night. It made the Mauretania roll. The roll was quite gentle and made the family sleep as if somebody were rocking their bunks for them. In the children’s cabin they did not know it was morning until Miss Mann came in with orange juice and tea. She drew back the little curtains which were across the porthole and started on Tim.

  “Wakey, wakey. Rise and shine. Show a leg.”

  Tim blinked and sat up and, seeing who it was, felt pleased. “Good morning. What did you say?”

  “What they say in the navy. Wakey, wakey. Rise and shine. Show a leg.”

  Jane leaned out of her bunk to take her orange juice. “Why do they say it?”

  Peaseblossom had not moved, nor had Rachel, so Miss Mann put a cup of tea on the table beside. Peaseblossom and orange juice beside Rachel. She shook a finger at Jane.

  “I can see you’re the ‘why’ sort. Never ask me why anything in the morning. I’ve all my passengers to call and get to their baths. Now, when the steward knocks to say your baths are ready, you’re to run, or you’ll have everybody late for breakfast.”

  The word “breakfast” made Jane and Tim hungry. The food on the Mauretania was too gorgeous to be believed. There was so much to chose from, and you could eat as much as you liked; not just three courses as in a restaurant. Then too there was all the bread anybody could eat, and not just ordinary bread, but white bread. Most surprising of all, there was unlimited butter. They had not believed the table steward at first when he had told them this, but they found it to be true because as soon as they had finished one dishful, they had started on another. Unfortunately, in spite of there being so much of everything, John, Peaseblossom, and even Bee were very strict about what could be eaten. With party food of every sort on the menu, for both lunch and supper, the children were allowed only cold meat or boiled fish and fruit afterward. John said, “You’ve Dr. Smith to thank. He say we let ourselves go at first, we’ll all be ill for weeks afterward, and it s not worth it.”’

  Tim, sipping his orange juice, looked across at Jane. He sighed with ecstasy. “Orange juice! A whole tumbler of orange juice coming in as if it were just ordinary. “

  Jane nodded. “And for breakfast, I wouldn’t wonder, bacon and real egg. That’s the sort of food that’s ordinary on this ship.”

  “Even two slices of bacon and two whole eggs.” Tim leaned out of his bunk and looked down at Peaseblossom. She had not moved. He lowered his voice. “If we could only get to the dining room first and eat them before anybody could stop us.”

  Peaseblossom half sat up. She stretched out a hand for her tea, then took it back again. She spoke in a much less brisk voice than usual. “Good morning, dears. What are you talking about?”

  Jane hung out of her berth so that she could see Peaseblossom. “Food. Bacon and eggs, actually.”

  The words “bacon and eggs” had an odd effect on Peaseblossom. She gave a queer moan and turned over on her back and shut her eyes.

  Jane made a face at Tim. Tim, curious to see what was going on underneath him, hung almost upside down. “Are you ill, Peaseblossom?”

  Peaseblossom spoke in a whisper. “Not ill. Just a little tired. Please leave me alone. “

  Rachel was awake and drinking her orange juice. She thought at first it was delicious. Then she was not sure. She put down the glass. Then she, too, rolled on her back and shut her eyes. Tim looked at Rachel in amazement. “You can’t be tired, too. We’ve been asleep for hours and hours.”

  Jane climbed out of bed. She looked pityingly at Peaseblossom and Rachel. “They’re not tired. They’re seasick.”

  It was unfair, Rachel thought, that only she and Peaseblossom should feel the sea. Such heavenly things were happening on deck. There was a band. There were film shows. There was a game called bingo, and the lounge steward said there would be a horse-racing game, and when it happened, Jane and Tim would each have a turn at shaking the dice.

  On the second day out the wind dropped, and just before eleven o’clock a very pale Rachel came up on deck. Bee walked on one side of her, and John on the other, but she did not need any help. Jane and Tim had a deck chair with a leg rest all ready for her. She got onto it and shut her eyes, while Tim and Jane solicitously tucked a rug around her. Presently Rachel opened her eyes. There were people all around sitting on chairs, laughing and talking. The sky was blue; the sun was shining. A solitary sea gull was flying above the ship. Rachel took a quick glance at the sea. It was dark green and navy blue, with gay white horses bobbing as far as the horizon. She took a deep breath, and good, clear sea air filled her lungs, a lovely change after a stuffy cabin with a closed porthole.

  A steward came down the line of chairs with a tray on which were cups. He stopped by Rachel. “Chicken soup? Crackers?”

  “Chicken soup, please, and four crackers.”

  Poor Peaseblossom never really enjoyed the journey. She got up in the afternoon of that same day and each day afterward, but her getting up was a dreary creep to a chair, where she lay with her eyes shut.

  Jane, who had got not only her spirits back but extra spirits to make up for having been miserable for so long said in a whisper loud enough for poor Peaseblossom to hear, “It’s all going to be such splendid fun.”

  Peaseblossom was too depressed to say anything at hearing her words quoted against her, but she opened her eyes and gave Jane a look which said, “You wait until I’m on dry land.”

  Two nights before they landed there was a concert, and both Rachel and Tim performed at it. After she got over feeling seasick, Rachel had practiced. She tried to find a corner where nobody would notice her; but anything makes news on a ship, so the fact that Rachel was a ballet student quickly got around, and when the concert was discussed, it was taken for granted that Rachel would dance. Bee groaned when she heard the news.

  “Oh, darling, and I don’t know where Peaseblossom packed your audition dress, and she can’t look for it; she’ll fall over if she tries to unpack. I wonder if it’s in a box in the hold or in the baggage room. You couldn’t da
nce in an ordinary frock could you?”’

  Bee and John were lying in chairs side by side. Rachel sat down on the footrest of Bee’s between the two of them. She lowered her voice so the people near would not hear.

  “The only thing I can dance is m’audition.”

  Every pupil of Madame Fidolia’s, when approaching her twelfth birthday, prepared material for auditions: something to recite, something to sing, and something to dance. These were called audition pieces, but the pupils always called them m’auditions, short for “My audition pieces.” Once she was twelve, no pupil of Madame Fidolia’s, even if she went to the other end of the world, as Rachel was doing, would be without the music for her m’audition song and dance any more that she would forget the words of her recitation. John was lying in the next chair, apparently asleep, but when Rachel used the word “m’audition,” he opened one eye.

  “You don’t mean to tell me we’ve got to suffer ‘Cherry Ripe’ in mid-Atlantic.”

  John had been so gloomy and silent since the accident that Rachel had not known he knew how hard she had practiced “Cherry Ripe,” for he had never before mentioned it.

  “Did you hear me practicing it?”

  John opened the other eye, and both were twinkling. “Could anyone miss it? As for Viola’s speech from Twelfth Night, I can say it for you. I know just where to breathe. I heard Peaseblossom reminding you. ‘Breathe there, dear.’” He got up. “I’m going to take a walk to get an appetite for lunch.”

  Rachel looked after John in amazement. “Dad sounds quite different.”

  Bee, too, was gazing at John’s back. “Of course, it’s to early yet to say he’s better; still, it does seem as if there is a chance this holiday will work. When we see him thumping at that typewriter, that’s when we’ll know he’s well.” She lay back in her chair. “But talking about Dad Isn’t getting us anywhere. What about this frock?”