Ballet Shoes for Anna (16 page)

O
N THE
T
UESDAY
Gussie woke up feeling very happy and above himself. It would be such fun to get up in the middle of the night. It made him want to laugh out loud when he thought of The Uncle’s face in the morning. It also made him feel proud that two gang leaders were coming to see how one boy had carried a gnome all the way to school.

Mabel was trying to make the half-term pleasant.

“Your uncle will be very busy all day,” she told the children. “As you know, he’s treasurer to various charities and today he has to divide a lot of money up which people get at Christmas.” Mabel puffed after so long a speech. “So I thought you’d like to have your lunch out and then go to a film. I will give you a pound but your uncle must not know.”

Francesco and Gussie liked the idea of lunch out. In Fyton there was a Chinese restaurant called The Lotus Bud and they
had wanted to eat there ever since they came to live in The Crescent.

“For I bet they never have cabbage,” Gussie had said.

Surprisingly it was Anna who was not keen to try The Lotus Bud.

“I wish to practise my dancing,” she explained.

Gussie looked at her in disgust.

“You are getting to be a very tiresome girl,” he told her. “You can’t practise dancing all through the day, you must eat somewhere.”

“Suppose Gussie and I go out this morning and feed Bessie and the hens then come back to fetch you to this Lotus Bud,” Francesco suggested.

Anna did not look as if she liked the idea, but she said grudgingly:

“Very well. But not too early. The Aunt must finish my room before I can practise.”

Francesco and Gussie went to the farm soon after breakfast. Bessie seemed delighted to see them for she was evidently missing her family. The boys tried to think the hens were pleased to see them too but they knew really that they were not.

“I think perhaps hens do not need friends,” Francesco said, “which is a pity.”

Doing the farm took quite a long time for Bessie had to have a warmed-up mixture to eat, and there were the eggs to collect and of course the hens to be fed. All the time they were working while Gussie was jabbering away about anything which came into his head, Francesco was uneasy. He
could not think why but he felt unhappy about Anna. Why had she decided she must practise that morning? She was hiding something, he was sure of it.

“Come on, Gussie,” he said. “Let’s lock up and then we can fetch Anna.”

Gussie was surprised.

“She won’t be ready yet. I do not think The Aunt has even finished her room. Let’s stay here and turn on the telly.”

“We cannot do that,” Francesco said firmly. “We don’t know how and they would not like it, and anyway I do not think there are pictures in the morning.”

Gussie scowled.

“Always nowadays you are saying ‘No! No! No!’ all the time. You never used to do this.”

Francesco was sorry.

“I am the eldest and someone must say it. You know Wally’s dad would not wish us to touch his telly.”

Gussie did know, but he did not want to hear about it.

“Then let’s go down in town, there’s sure to be some boys from the school about.”

Francesco shook his head.

“You do as you wish, but me I am going to fetch Anna. I do not mind waiting until she is ready. I will bring her to The Lotus Bud at half past twelve.”

Gussie did not mind a morning on his own. If he met some of his friends they might have fun.

“OK,” he said. “And you can go now if you wish. I will lock up.”

The key to the Walls’ house lived under a grating near the pigsty. All three children knew where it lived but Francesco was officially in charge of it.

“You promise you will put the key in the right place?”

Gussie was insulted.

“Of course I will. Nobody but you is so sure I will not do things I should.”

Francesco was ashamed.

“I know and I am sorry but somehow in Britain I feel there is only me, at least until S’William comes back. That makes me say ‘no’ when I do not mean it.”

Francesco, without meaning to, ran almost all the way back to Dunroamin. He could hear The Aunt in the kitchen and knew The Uncle would be counting money behind the shut lounge door. He ran quietly up the stairs, meaning to go to Anna’s room, but instead he stood on the top of the stairs staring into his and Gussie’s room. The door was open and so was the door of the wardrobe in which they kept S’William’s address, his letter and their money. Anna, dressed to go out, was kneeling in front of the wardrobe taking from under the lining paper S’William’s letter and their money, and putting both into a paper carrier bag which was lying beside her.

Francesco moved into the doorway.

“Anna! What are you doing?”

It was almost as if Anna had expected interference and was prepared for it. She stood up holding the carrier bag in her arms.

“I go to London to see Madame Scarletti. She must see
me dance. If she cannot see what Jardek saw then I will dance that fairy to buy a dog for someone who is blind. If she can see then she will teach me. This is sure.”

“How were you going?”

“I go to the railway where I buy one ticket, it is called day return half price. Priscilla, who lives next door, told me this.”

Francesco could see it was no good arguing.

“Then I will go too. I have here the pound The Aunt gave. But I have told Gussie to meet us at The Lotus Bud at twelve-thirty and he has no money.”

Anna seemed pleased to have Francesco’s company.

“Gussie will find money when he needs it. That is how Gussie is.”

As it happened Gussie only looked in at The Lotus Bud to tell the other two he would not be staying for lunch. He had been invited to friends and there would be television afterwards. Not finding Francesco and Anna in the restaurant he rejoined his friends and thought no more about them.

Even if you knew London well, 45 Bemberton Street, Chelsea, was not easy to find. It was a little street tucked in amongst other streets, so close to the Thames you could hear the tugs hooting. Francesco and Anna never would have found it on their own. Fortunately for them, Christopher had often dropped bits of information about Britain into his conversation and one was: “Nothing to touch an English bobby if you want help.” And then he would sing “If you want to know the time ask a policeman.” So at the station
when they arrived they had found a policeman and showed him S’William’s letter and had been told to get to Sloane Square on the Underground, and then to take a bus to Chelsea Town Hall.

“When you get there,” the policeman had said, “ask again.”

So at the Town Hall they had asked again. They chose an old man selling newspapers.

“Funny you should ask me,” he said, “ ’cause I don’t suppose many about here knows where it is.” Then out of a pocket he took a piece of paper and a pencil and drew them a little map. “Stick to that an’ you can’t miss it. Foreign, aren’t you?”

“Not now,” Francesco explained.“Now we are British but it is not long we have lived here.”

“You’ll be all right in Bemberton Street,” the paper man promised. “Proper United Nations up that way.” Then he went back to selling his papers.

Bemberton Street was very shabby-looking. Paint was peeling off the wall, windows were cracked and so were the two steps leading to the front door of number 45. But to Anna the house was a fairy palace for in it lived Madame Scarletti. Francesco rang the bell, which was not answered, so he rang again. This time after a pause a grown-up girl wearing a black tunic and ballet shoes opened the door.

“We wish,” Francesco said politely, “to see Madame Scarletti.”

The girl looked amused.

“Many people wish to see Madame. They come from all over the world. But Madame sees no one without an appointment.”

Francesco was appalled. He had agreed to the journey because Anna could not go alone, but it had not occurred to him that having got here Madame Scarletti would refuse to see them.

“Would you perhaps beg for us a few minutes, you see we come a long way and we will not have the money to do this twice. At least not till S’William gets home. Look!” He fumbled in his pocket and took out the envelope containing Sir William’s letter. “You see, we are told to come here.” He handed the girl the envelope and when she had opened the letter he pointed to the portion addressed to Anna.

The girl read what Sir William had written. Then she looked at the envelope, then turned it over and read “Sir William Hoogle” on the back.

“Docksay,” she said. “Would you be the children Sir William Hoogle rescued after an earthquake?”

“We are two of them,” Francesco agreed. “There is another called Gussie but he is not here.”

The girl came to a decision. “Wait here. I will show Madame this letter.”

It seemed to Francesco a long wait but Anna was not worried, she had reached Madame Scarletti’s doorstep, it never crossed her mind she might get no further.

Anna was right to have faith. Presently the girl came back.

“Come along,” she said. “Madame will see you.”

Madame Scarletti was indeed very old but, as so often with dancers, she had kept her figure. She was small and looked as if she were made of frail porcelain. She had immense gleaming black eyes and her white hair was piled in intricate plaits on the top of her head. She was wearing a long taffeta dress and round her shoulders was a vivid scarlet shawl. On her feet were ballet shoes.

Madame Scarletti was sitting on a high-backed chair. Beside her was a long cane with an ivory top. Francesco and Anna approached her, then Francesco bowed and Anna, instead of her usual bob, made a lovely obeisance right down to the floor.

Madame Scarletti’s voice was surprisingly strong for anyone so old. She looked only at Anna.

“Your father was Christopher Docksay.”

Anna felt she ought to curtsey again but she didn’t. “Yes, Madame.”

“And he married Olga Popouska.”

Anna looked at Francesco. “Was Olga called Popouska?” she asked him.

Francesco did not know. “I do not think we knew. She was just Olga and our father was Christopher, and our grandfather and grandmother were Jardek and Babka and our horse Togo.”

“But I know,” said Madame Scarletti. “Many, many years ago in Warsaw there was a great teacher of dancing. His name was Ivan Popouski. I did not know what happened to him until I read in a newspaper about the Turkish earthquake.”
She turned to the girl in the black tunic. “This is Maria, my keeper and guardian, without whom I could not live. Did I not say to you, Maria, that the grandfather who was killed in the earthquake must be Ivan Popouski?”

“That’s right,” Maria agreed. “That’s why I wanted you to see these two.” She looked at Francesco and Anna. “Which is the dancer for I suppose one of you is?”

Madame made an impatient tch-tch-ing sound. She looked scornfully at Maria.

“Where are your eyes, girl? Do you not recognize the face of a dancer when you see one? I knew this little girl could dance the moment she entered the studio.” Then she turned to Anna. “You have shoes with you?”

“And my tunic,” Anna agreed.

Madame waved a hand gracefully towards the door. “Take the child where she can change.”

Then she looked at Francesco. “Come and sit down.” She pointed to a footstool. “I can see you have suffered. Tell me about it. Every small thing, it is much better not to shut things away inside, keep them outside where you can see them.”

So Francesco told her. He started on the day of the earthquake. The terrible heat. The odd-looking yellowish sky.

“It was so hot that nobody is talking, and only because Olga said we must could we eat any breakfast – yoghourt and a slice of bread with black olives.”

Then Francesco explained about the picture. How Christopher had said he would have taken it to the picture framer in the caravan but it would spoil Togo’s holiday.

“You see, he was old and it would be a long way right across Turkey to the picture exhibition. Christopher could not take his picture to be framed because he must work. It was only three miles over the hill so we went. It was, I think, the only day when Jardek said it was too hot for Anna’s dancing lesson.”

Francesco paused there, seeing against the little house as they had last seen it, with Christopher, Olga, Jardek and Babka drinking tea.

After a moment Madame Scarletti gave him a friendly pat.

“Go on. Every small thing. Lay it all out.”

So Francesco went on. He described the terrible heat climbing over the hill so they were wet all over. How the picture framer was asleep on his bed so they had to leave the picture for him to see when he woke up. How they had bought figs, a leaf of mulberries and lemonade. How they had carried the food and drink halfway up the hill to picnic in the shade of some cacti. How it was then he noticed there were no birds. No birds at all. How Anna had told them the birds had left two days before, she had seen hundreds of them fly away.

There was another small pause while Francesco tried to remember. During this Anna, changed into her tunic, came back into the room with Maria. Francesco did not see them so Madame Scarletti put a finger to her lips and they quietly sat down.