Movie Shoes

by Noel Streatfeild

  The family was home by the time Jane and Aunt Cora got back from the studio. Aunt Cora had enjoyed her day enormously that she had forgotten for the moment Jane’s badness. She was, for her, quite animated and talked so much it was difficult for the rest to get in their stories of Yosemite and Death Valley. In the end everybody was talking at once until Bee put her hands over her ears.

  “Be quiet a minute, please. Jane and Tim must go to bed.”

  Tim was sitting at his piano. “But I wanted Rachel and Jane what a bear’s growl sounds like.

  Bee knew Tim had not heard a bear growl, but she did not give him away “Not tonight’ darling. It’s, your bedtime, and you want a particularly long night if you’re to be ready for your party tomorrow.”

  Jane gave Tim a pitying smile. “You’d better make the best of the first part of the party, my boy, for you’ll hate it after six o’clock. Do you know what Aunt Cora’s done. She’s invited Mrs. Tuesday and Maurice.”

  25

  Tim’s Birthday

  Tim’s party was a success. What Aunt Cora had called “darling children” turned out, to Tim’s surprise, to be nice children. There was a very good treasure hunt, and various games with prizes, and a magnificent tea with a great pink-and-white cake with Tim’s name on the top and nine pink candles.

  At six o’clock the mothers and fathers of the children, .as well as lots of other grown-up people, arrived. To begin with, that part of the party was all right. Posy came; that pleased Rachel. Then suddenly Mrs. Tuesday and Maurice arrived, and the Winters were forgotten.

  Tim and Rachel stood in a comer, watching Maurice being introduced to people by Aunt Cora. Rachel was filled with unwilling admiration. She said, “Of course, he’s an awful show-off, but I must say he does it well.”

  Tim sighed. “I do wish Aunt Cora weren’t here. I’d do one of my best jokes on him.”

  Rachel glanced at him anxiously.” You do remember you absolutely promised.”

  “I know I did, but it’s not breaking my promise to wish Aunt Cora weren’t here. It isn’t often I agree with Jane about anything, but I do about him.”

  Bee, with Jane, had been driven back from the studio in Maurice’s car. She came up to them and kissed Tim. “Had a good party, darling?”

  “It was, but it isn’t improved since that Maurice came.” Bee looked around anxiously to make sure that Mrs. Tuesday wasn’t about. “Don’t you start that, Tim. We’ve enough trouble with Jane. He’s all right, really.”

  Tim looked reproachfully after Bee. “It’s sad what things even the best mother can say.”

  Jane joined them. She had a very Jane-ish expression. “I hope you’re enjoying having him here. Isn’t he awful? I had to drive home in his car, sitting by him. Luckily Mrs. Tuesday kept on talking, talking, talking, so I didn’t have to say anything. It was a good thing, for if I had, I would only have said, ‘What a pity you couldn’t hold Ella, Maurice.’”

  A group of people were gathered around Mrs. Tuesday. Sentences flowed across to the children.

  “Such a wonderful actor ... My, you must be proud ... He’s so cute...”

  When Mrs. Tuesday spoke about her son, her voice was awed and reverent. “He is rather special, though, of course, a terrible responsibility. I don’t look upon him as my son but as a child who belongs to the world and has been trusted to me to bring up.”

  The Winters turned away their heads and made faces to show what they thought. Tim made a sound like somebody who was going to be sick.

  John, whose face had expressed nothing but politeness while Mrs. Tuesday was talking, took advantage of everybody’s looking at Maurice to move away. He came over to the children.

  “What are you bunched together here for? Hop it and get some plates, and hand them around, and you’d better go and wash, Tm; your fingers are sticky, and I expect any minute now your aunt will want you to play. “

  Jane put a hand in John’s and tugged at his arm to make him lean down to her: “Isn’t he even worse than I told you?”

  John laughed. “I’ll grant you he’s unlucky in his mother. The poor kid hasn’t a chance.”

  When everybody seemed to have gone, Aunt Cora asked if the family would tidy the living room a bit as she hated to see it all mussed up. And if Tim would excuse her from his birthday supper, she would go right up to bed.

  As soon as Aunt Cora was safely upstairs, Rachel burst out: “Stop tidying. Posy hasn’t gone; she’s in the kitchen talking to Bella. She danced Mrs. Tuesday for me in the hall, and I said she must dance her for you.”

  Only Rachel had seen Posy’s dancing imitations. Posy danced Mrs. Tuesday so that nobody could miss whom she was imitating. They all laughed so much they ached. Tim and Jane had to lie on the floor, and the others had to stuff things in their mouths so Aunt Cora wouldn’t hear. Once Posy had started her dancing imitations, it was difficult to stop her. She danced Maurice. She danced Bella. Finally she danced Aunt Cora. That was the best of all. John whooped and hiccupped with laughter, and the tears streamed down his cheeks. Bee had to hold her hands as well as her handkerchief over her mouth to hold back the sound of her laughing from Aunt Cora, and the children rolled on the floor. Only Peaseblossom did not enjoy it. She thought it very bad taste and said, disapprovingly, “Very clever, I know, but we mustn’t forget how good Aunt Cora’s been to us; that s not our way, is it?”

  Rachel could see from the look in Posy s eye that m another minute she would dance Peaseblossom, but luckily the door opened and Bella’s beaming face looked in.

  “Your supper’s on the table, and seeing Miss Cora don’t feel so good, I fixed her place for you, Miss Posy.”

  After Tim’s birthday it was frightening how fast the time passed. One minute their leaving seemed weeks away, and the next, boxes were being packed, and on John’s writing table were piles of labels with “Mauretania” on them or “W” or “Cabin Class.”

  The photographs taken at the studio arrived. They all were good, but there was one of Rachel that rather startled the family. Rachel had worn one of the prettier of Posy’s frocks and had brushed her hair loose and tied a ribbon around it, but otherwise she was just her usual self. The photograph was really what is called a speaking likeness, only somehow Rachel looked not just pretty but downright lovely.

  “Goodness!” Tim said. “You look like a movie star.” Peaseblossom made disapproving, clicking noises. “Tch! Tch! Very nice just for once, but I prefer you with two sensible braids.”

  Jane thought Rachel looked marvelous. She had seen lots of stills of herself, and she never looked like that. But she was not jealous. After all, there was the still of her holding Ella, which she would not have exchanged to look like Rachel, or anyone else. All the same, her tongue could not twist itself around nice words. The best she could say was “It reminds me of pictures of Maurice.”

  Bee was delighted with the photograph. In her mind she had already framed it and put it on a table in the drawing room in Saxon Crescent.

  “They say we can have some more,” she said. “We must get some for friends at home, and the grannies must each have one.”

  John said, “And Mrs. Bones. And you should send one to Madame Fidolia, Rachel. She’ll like it for her office.”

  26

  Good-bye to the Studio

  It was a pity, but Jane drove to her last day at the studio in a bad temper. First of all, her plans had been upset. Her idea had been to drive to the lot just before school finished, say good-bye to everybody, and then have lunch at the same table in the commissary with David. After lunch David was to take her to say good-bye to his creatures, and then all the family and Aunt Cora were coming to see the film. Bee and Miss Barnabas upset these arrangements. Miss Barnabas had told Bee not to take Jane away from her school one day before she need. That with all the good-byes Bee would have to say and last things to do, it would maybe help to have one of the children out of the house. It had been a help, and it had suited from another point of view. Aunt Co
ra liked going to the studio and liked lunching in the commissary, so on the last days, after shooting had stopped, Aunt Cora fetched Jane from school, and they lunched on the lot before they drove home. It meant that Aunt Cora as well as Jane was out of the house.

  John drove Jane to school that last morning and saw she was angry. “What’s the trouble?”

  Jane was shocked that she could have a father so blind to what was fair that he had to ask a question like that.

  “Would you like to be pushed off to lessons on a day when Tim’s been allowed to spend the morning saying good-bye to the Antonios and Rachel’s gone with Aunt Cora to buy food for the farewell party?”

  “I see your point, but let’s be fair. Nobody knew you didn’t want to go. We thought you ‘d like a chance to say good-bye to them all, especially David.”

  “Of course I want to. But I meant just to come in when lessons were over. And another thing: When a person is giving good-bye presents, that person should choose who is to have them.”

  John did not pretend that he did not know what Jane was talking about. Bee had come to him several weeks before about Jane’s presents. “We can leave the studio people,” she had said, “to Jane, but we must see that she gives something really nice to Miss Barnabas and Miss Steiman; they’ve been terribly kind, and I’m sure Jane hasn’t always been easy.” John had agreed with Bee, and a beautifully bound book of poetry and a dozen lovely handkerchiefs had been bought.

  Now he said, “So that person should if that person could be trusted to say thank you properly to people who have been good to her. “

  Jane stuck her chin in the air. “I’ve written in the book and I’ll say polite things to Miss Steiman.” She lowered her voice. “But inside I’ll be thinking, ‘I hope she gets an awful cold and needs these handkerchiefs soon.”

  “You’re a little horror. I can’t imagine how I came to have such a daughter. For goodness ‘ sake, don’t spoil our last day, and do try to leave a good impression behind. We don’t want everybody in the Bee Bee ‘studios in the future saying, ‘As cross-looking as that English child Jane Winter.’ “

  Jane was carrying Miss Steiman’s parcel as if it smelled. She had learned what she was to say by heart, but the way she said it was not a credit to Miss Steiman’s training in inflections, for there were no inflections at all and no pauses either.

  “I’ve come to say good-bye and to thank you for taking so much trouble with me and to give you these to remember me by.” Then, in quite a different voice because what she was thinking got the better of her: “Mom chose them and paid for them. I didn’t.”

  Miss Steiman needed very little to make her feel good. Jane being polite, Jane bringing her a present were quite enough to make her sure that her belief that all children were sweet really was right. She kissed her.

  “Now isn’t that kind. Oh, Jane, what perfectly beautiful handkerchiefs! Every time I use one I’ll surely think of you.”

  Jane gave Miss. Barnabas her book before school. She had written, under Bee’s instruction, “To Miss Barnabas to say thank you. Jane Winter.” Miss Barnabas said thank you and kissed Jane, but she broke off lessons a few minutes early to say a proper thank-you and good-bye. She made a little speech. She showed the school her book and said she was going to treasure it.

  After Miss Barnabas had finished speaking, all the pupils came to say good-bye. Jane for once was embarrassed; they were all so nice that Jane by herself thought of the right way to say “thank you.” She asked them to put their names and addresses on a piece of paper, and she promised to send each of them postcards of London when she got home. Even as she made the offer, she could see that she was not going to like carrying it out. She saw herself at the table in the dining room at Saxon Crescent writing postcard after postcard until her hand ached.

  Jane said a proper good-bye to Mrs. Norstrum and Shirley. She had brought Shirley a new plastic bubble-blowing kit because she had used up so much of Shirley’s. Shirley had for Jane a lovely book full of pictures of Los Angeles. The two girls had seen each other every day while The Secret Garden was being made, and they had said all the things they had to say and knew each other well. Saying an official good-bye seemed silly. So they just smiled at each other. Mrs. Norstrum was the one who said things. She gave Jane a parcel for Bee. She said she had always thought English people were stiff, and knowing Bee had shown her that lots of them were just as unaffected as Americans. She did not say she was sorry to say good-bye to Jane, because she was a straight forward person who did not say things just for pretense, but she did say they would always remember Jane, as was true.

  Jane had not meant to say a special good-bye to Maurice, but she had to because Aunt Cora was talking to Mrs. Tuesday when Jane, her arms full of presents, came out of the schoolroom. It was a short good-bye. Jane said, “Do you want a postcard sent you from London?”

  “No,” Maurice answered.

  Jane nodded. “I thought you wouldn’t. Good-bye.”

  Jane was glad when lunch was over and she and David with Mr. Doe and Aunt Cora far behind, were on their way to the place where the creatures lived.

  David opened the gate into his little zoo. “I brought them all over to say good-bye.”

  “Ella, too?” Jane asked.

  “Sure, I’ve brought Ella.”

  It was like making the scenes with David in the picture, only better, because there were no cameras or lights to scare the creatures.

  What seemed a pause in time was broken by Aunt Cora. Her whining voice rang through the zoo.

  “Jane, Jane, you really must hurry. They’re showing the picture in just a quarter of an hour.”

  At Aunt Cora’s voice, all the creatures disappeared back into their cages and pens. Jane’s eyes blazed.

  “She’s frightened them. She frightened them away. I could kill her.”

  David had not moved. “They’ll come back.”

  “Because of your piping, you mean? Oh, David, before I go, will you tell me something? Is my pipe playing good enough for me to be a tamer yet? Is it?”

  As usual, David took a long time answering.

  “Taming wild creatures isn’t just piping; it’s how you feel. They know that.”

  “But they like me. Ella sat in my arms when she wouldn’t look at Maurice, and Bob likes me, and Mickey and all of them.”

  David nodded. “They like you.”

  “So I can start taming creatures myself when I get home, can’t I? Especially Chewing-gum? I want to start with him doing tricks. “

  “I don’t know about tricks, but I wouldn’t trouble a grown dog; he’d think it kind of mean.”

  “But I’ve been learning my pipes specially for him. Don’t you think I could train him? Don’t you?’

  “Maybe. Don’t rush at it. Start with a little bird. I figure little birds like piping.”

  Aunt Cora’s voice whined again. “Jane, Jane, will you come? You can’t keep everybody waiting.”

  Jane got up. “I’m sending you a book on bird watching from England. Dad says you’ll like that. Good-bye.”

  David felt in his pocket. He brought out a small parcel. His words seemed more difficult and pushed out than usual.

  “Good-bye. It’s fine having known you.”

  Jane stumped ahead of Aunt Cora. She felt miserable, and she was not going to let Aunt Cora know it. She hated saying good-bye to David and his creatures. She wished he had been more certain about her being a trainer. It was a comedown to follow David’s suggestion and start with one small bird. All the same, inside, she knew he was right, and she knew that was what she would try to do. Bee and Peaseblossom did not know it, but she had hidden her pipes and meant to practice all the way to England. She stopped being miserable. She could see herself sitting on the wall of Saxon Crescent playing her pipes, and as she piped, a bird would come. Then another bird. Then another. Then the whole crescent would be full of birds and people would say. . .

  “Jane,” said Aunt Cora, “co
me and walk with me. It’s downright rude, rushing ahead that way. What’s that you’re holding?”

  Jane looked at her hand. David’s present. It had no ribbon or grand paper, just a bit of newspaper and a rubber band around it. She took off the rubber band and the paper. Aunt Cora peered at what Jane was holding.

  “What’s that?”

  “A chipmunk. I wouldn’t be surprised if David carved it himself. It’s a no-good, stuck-up chipmunk. I shall keep it always.”

  Although the children had known from the first time they went to a theater that they must not say one word at a public entertainment, both Rachel and Tim let out faint squeaks when they first saw Jane on the screen.

  Of course, the film affected them all differently. Tim clapped when the wicked doctor left Misselthwaite Manor forever. John was interested in the way the story was told. Peaseblossom, Bee, and Aunt Cora cried off and on all the time. Rachel, forgetting all about Jane, was caring for nothing but Colin. Although she knew the book, she kept saying in her head, “Let him walk. Let him walk. Make his father come back quickly before that awful man kills him.” To Jane it was the garden. Though she knew it was a painted garden, though she had said the lines over and over until she yawned, she sat entranced, watching the garden come alive. She forgot Dickon was David; he was only Dickon to her, the boy who could bring a garden to life, could teach Mary how to make creatures obey him.

  When it was over and the lights went on in the grandly fitted private cinema of Bee Bee Films Incorporated, Jane’s-Mr. Browne said, “Well? What do you think of her?”

  Bee mopped her eyes. “That poor Mrs. Craven, only meeting her boy when she was a ghost.”

  Peaseblossom blew her nose. “Very affecting. What a wonderful improvement nature made in the characters of those two children.”

  Tim knelt on his seat. “I’m glad that awful doctor got sent away. I hope he starved.”