Ballet Shoes for Anna by Noel Streatfeild Page A

was almost screaming.
    “You know we can’t have your hair cut,” said Francesco, “this twenty-five is for Anna’s shoes.”
    “Then what will The Uncle say?” Gussie demanded.
    “This I do not know,” Francesco admitted. “But we will tell all to Wally and he will find an answer.”

W ALLY WAS ALREADY sitting on the seat when the children arrived. This time he had not brought his bicycle. He was so pleased to see them he bounced off the seat and rushed to meet them.
    “There you are! You gotta come to me mum’s stall. I told ’er how Anna had lost her dancing shoes in the earthquake and she’s ever so interested. She says she read about you in the paper, you know, your dad and mum and that being killed. She says you come and talk to ’er an’ she’s sure thin’s can be sorted out so’s you’ve enough for Anna’s shoes. What’s an earthquake like?”
    Francesco did not want Gussie to be sick or Anna to cry so he said:
    “I’ll tell you some day but just now we want a way to cut Gussie’s hair without spending money.”
    “You see,” Anna explained, “The Uncle has given twenty-five pence for it to be cut, but we need the money for my dancing shoes.”
    Gussie caught hold of Wally’s sleeve.
    “I don’t want it cut. It’s all right the way it is. Anyway, I do not like The Uncle so I won’t do things to please him.”
    Wally was not sure how his mother would react to this hair business. She might think taking twenty-five pence, meant for hair cutting, to buy shoes was cheating. So all he said was:
    “We’ll ask Mum, she’ll know what’s best.”
    Wally’s mum was waiting for them behind her stall. Her name was Mrs Wall. The children took to her right away. She had red hair like Wally and, though she was not old, she had a fat cosy look. They had not seen anybody fat and cosy since Babka and, now they saw fat and cosiness again, they knew how badly they had missed her.
    “This is them,” said Wally in a proud voice, rather as if he was introducing three TV stars.
    Wally’s mum saw the pale faces and the shadows under the eyes and she felt so sorry for the children that it hurt. She pulled Anna to her and gave her a hug.
    “So it’s you who wants to learn dancin’.”
    That hug was too much for Anna. It was just the way Babka had hugged. Ever since Sir William had looked after them all three children had tried not to think of things which reminded them of the little house that went away. And most of the time they had succeeded, pushing other things on topof what they were trying to forget. Now, with one hug, Wally’s mum had brought everything back. It was like a dam breaking. All the pushed-away hopeless misery came tumbling out. First Anna was crying, then Gussie and finally Francesco.
    Wally’s mum was a great believer in having a good cry.
    “That’s right,” she said in her warm cosy voice. “No good bottlin’ thin’s up.” Then, over the heads of the three children for by now she had them all in her arms, she called out to Wally:
    “Get the stall packed, dear, then we’ll go ’ome and I’ll make a nice cuppa tea. Nothing like a cuppa when you’re feeling low.”
    The children cried for quite a long time for they had a lot of held-in crying to get out of them. But when they had reached the occasional hiccupping-sob stage Wally’s mum said:
    “Now, blow your noses and we’ll get movin’. Wally’s packed the pram.”
    It had not struck the children to wonder how Wally’s mum transported her goods to her stall. They had often watched stalls put up, and knew that at the end of the day someone would come and help carry away the baskets and boxes. Or perhaps a boy would arrive with a donkey. But a perambulator was something new.
    “How is it you have the perambulator?” Gussie asked in the sniffy voice of someone who has been crying.
    Wally’s mum laughed.
    “You’d never think it but it’s Wally’s old pram. His dad said he’d sell it when Wally got past it,