Read Online Theatre Shoes by Noel Streatfeild - Free Book Online

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    In a long room a lot of small girls and boys were doing dancing exercises. A tall, ugly girl with a clever, interesting face was teaching them. She had on a practice dress, a very short black tunic, worn over black tights. The tights finished at the ankle, and she had on white socks and black ballet shoes. As the door opened this girl and all the children stopped work and bowed or curtseyed, saying “Madame.” Madame beckoned to the girl.
    â€œThis is Winifred, children, who teaches dancing. We’re very short of teachers now, but we’re allowed Winifred because she teaches you lessons as well. Winifred came to me as a pupil when she was younger than you, Holly.” She turned to Winifred. “These are the Warren children.” She smiled at Mark. “Their name is really Forbes, and Mark, at any rate, wants to be called Forbes. This is Sorrel, this is Holly, and this is Mark. You might try them out and see what they know, but I imagine, with their tradition, acting is more in their line.” She turned to the rest of the class. “Sit, children.” The children, without a word, ran to the side of the room and sat cross-legged on the floor.
    There was a piano at the far end of the room on which a fat woman in a red blouse had been playing. Winifred went over to her.
    â€œYou might play that Baby Polka, Mrs. Blondin.” She came back to the middle of the room. The piano struck up a gay little polka and she began to dance. It was only one, two, three, hop, but she did it so well that it seemed quite important kind of dancing. As she danced she held out her hand. “Come on, children, you do it too.”
    Sorrel felt the most awful fool. She could not forget the eyes of all the children sitting cross-legged on the floor watching her. What must they think she looked like! Prancing about in her shorts. She was so conscious of the eyes that she danced worse than she need have done, and twice she fell over her feet.
    Mark put on his proudest face and folded his hands behind his back while he danced. He did not pick up his feet very much, but slithered from one step to the other, and Sorrel, watching him out of the corner of her eye, could see that he was not minding dancing because he was not a boy dancing in a room full of children, but a bear skating in the Antarctic.
    Holly had learnt the Baby Polka at school and she liked dancing, so she held out imaginary skirts and pranced round the room, only stopping in front of Madame for a moment to say, “I’ve changed now and I’m in white satin with blue bows.”
    Winifred suddenly called out “Stop.” She came over to the children and one by one lifted first their right legs and then their left legs. Then she went to Madame and curtseyed.
    â€œElementary.”
    Madame nodded.
    â€œBut watch Holly, Winifred, you never know. I thought there might be something.”
    Winifred gave Madame a respectful but affectionate smile.
    â€œAnother Posy?”
    Madame shook her head.
    â€œOne can’t expect to find two Posys in a lifetime, but I shall always go on looking. Come along, children.”
    She stood in the door and Winifred and all the children curtseyed and said “Madame.” The fat woman at the piano just sat and stared. “I suppose she either doesn’t quite belong,” Sorrel thought, “or else she’s too bad a shape for curtseying. Lucky her!”
    Madame took the children into her own sitting-room. It was a charming room, but so full of photographs hung on the walls that the quite lovely blue-grey of the walls scarcely showed. Madame sat in an armchair. Hannah sat on a small upright chair behind the door, looking respectful. It was quite a little chair and she bulged over both sides.
    â€œNow,” said Madame, as if she were in for a treat, “let us see if there is any of the Warren talent, or Margaret Shaw’s charm, or your own mother’s genius about you