Ballet Shoes for Anna by Noel Streatfeild Page B

but I had a feeling it would come in useful and it has.”
    “You see, me dad was a lorry driver,” Wally explained, “and he was in a smash. Well, he can’t do much now so that’s why me mum has the stall, and the perambulator’s grand for getting the stuff along.”
    “Wally comes to push the perambulator ’ome after school, he never misses,” Wally’s mum said proudly.
    The boys helped Wally push the perambulator and as they walked the children told Wally’s mum about their troubles.
    “The Uncle is a terrible man,” Gussie explained. “He says to dance is a sin.”
    Wally’s mum, though sorry for the children, still held to her views on what was right.
    “Well, the one who pays the piper calls the tune,” she said, “and you can’t go against that.”
    “You do not see that I must dance?”Anna asked, appalled.
    Wally’s mum put an arm around Anna and gave her a squeeze.
    “I never said that. Of course you must dance if you ’ave the gift. But this uncle – well, he has taken you in and he’s feedin’ you and that, so it’s his right to say if he don’t hold with dancing.”
    Then they told her about the ice cream ten pences and the twenty-five pence for the hair cutting.
    “We do not know how much the shoes will cost,” Anna explained, “but forty-five pence must help.”
    Wally’s mum thought about that.
    “The tens you were given for the ice cream, that’s all right, but I don’t know about that twenty-five that was given for hair cuttin’ and nothin’ else.”
    “But I won’t have it cut,” said Gussie. “I like it the way it is, everybody liked it, there is only The Uncle who wants it short.”
    Wally’s mum looked at Gussie with a twinkle in her eye.
    “I see I’ll ’ave to say to you what I says to Wally – ‘want will ’ave to be your master’.”
    “But, Mum,” said Wally, “couldn’t Dad …”
    His mum silenced him with a gesture.
    “We’ll see what we’ll see. Now come in, dears, and I’ll put on the kettle.”
    They had stopped outside a small house sitting by itself in a field. In the field there were a lot of hens and one cock and a sty from which came the grunting of a pig.
    “You have a farm,” said Francesco. “We had many friends who had farms.”
    Wally’s mum laughed.
    “It’s ’ardly a farm but Wally’s dad always fancied pigkeepin’ and when ’e got compensation for his accident we spent it on this place. ’E can’t do much from ’is wheelchair but Wally ’elps and the pig is company for ’is dad when we’re out.”
    “Come on,” Wally told the children. “We keeps the pram back of the pigsty. We’ll tell Dad we’re ’ome.”
    Wally’s dad was in his wheelchair. He seemed to have lostboth legs in his motor accident but he was a very cheerful man.
    “Meet our Bess,” he said, pointing to the very fat pig in the sty. “Makes a lovely pet Bessie does.”
    Wally did the honours.
    “This is Francesco and this is Gussie and this is Anna, they were in an earthquake.”
    Wally’s dad had also read his newspaper. He gave the children a quick look, then he changed the subject.
    “Is your mum making a cuppa then? Looks like we could all do with it.”
    Over tea and a splendid cake Wally’s dad was told about Anna’s dancing and the twenty-five pence for Gussie to have his hair cut. That made him look at Gussie.
    “Well, you could do with a cut.”
    “But I don’t want it done,” Gussie protested, “and we need the money for Anna’s shoes. She can’t practise properly in socks.”
    Mr Wall looked at his wife.
    “You get out the basin and me scissors.”
    Wally’s mum got up.
    “Lovely hair cutter he is. Just amateur like. But there’s quite a few come to him.”
    Wally’s dad beamed at Gussie.
    “Then you gives me the twenty-five for the ’aircut and I gives it back to you and everybody’s ’appy.”
    “Except me,” Gussie growled.
    “Even you, I shouldn’t wonder,” said Wally’s dad. “It’s amarvel