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Short Stories from Wing's Authors.
Such A Conscientious Ballet Mistress by Keith Slater
The big day had finally arrived. Angela Sue, six and a half years old and looking more like an angel than the angels themselves, as the priest always said, was upstairs getting ready for her first lesson in the new ballet school. "Miss Hapgood's school is expensive, but it's by far the best one in town," Miranda, Angela Sue's mother, had explained to Griffith Walter, Angela Sue's father. “Mrs. Cholmondely-Jones assured me that we couldn't find a better ballet teacher anywhere. Says she's very conscientious.” "Good," her husband replied. "We're never spared any expense for Angela Sue and I don't intend to start now. We always need to make sure that she gets the best. Does Mrs. Cholmondely-Jones have children in the school?” "Oh, yes! Both her daughters are in very advanced classes and her son is almost ready to graduate. Likely to be a star at the National, Mrs. Cholmondely-Jones says.” "Excellent! Sounds promising. We can always...ah, here she is now!" Father and mother looked on in fond admiration as their beautiful daughter descended the staircase graciously. Blonde ringlets shimmered and bobbed about the heart-shaped face with its glowing pink cheeks. "The new dress looks wonderful doesn't it?" asked Miranda. "I'm so glad I insisted on going to Miss Fairchild. She's the best dressmaker in town.” "Oh, Mummy!" said Angela Sue, stopping at the top of the second flight down. "You could have made one for me. Darlene's mother made hers and it looks just as good. I wish you'd done it." "Nonsense, darling! Miss Fairchild is a professional. You don't want a home-made dress when you're attending Miss Hapgood's Dance Academy." "Darlene's in the same school." "Yes, dear, but her parents aren't as...lucky about...things as we are. Miss Hapgood is going to regard you as her star pupil, you know. She said so when we took you along to register for the classes. Now come on down and don't pout so. You'll spoil your new hairdo." "What time's she supposed to be there?" asked Griffith Walter. "It's three o'clock now." "Not till half past and it's only a five minutes'drive away. That's the advantage of living in this neighbourhood. All the places where it's best to have children's interests developed are so close." The grandfather clock struck three melodious notes as if to emphasise the superior nature of the neighbourhood. Miranda turned to her daughter. "Now stop sulking, Angela Sue. You have the most beautiful dress anyone could ever want and you needn't...Oh! Careful! Griffith Walter, catch her!" But the warning was too late. Angela Sue had tripped over the belt that trailed just a fraction too long below the dress and had snagged the heel of one of her new ballet shoes. Miranda and Griffith Walter rushed to where their daughter lay on the polished hardwood floor at the bottom of the stairs. "That woman shouldn't be allowed to make dresses," Miranda exclaimed. "She's no idea of what makes a dress dangerous. I think we should take her to court and ask for damages. Angela Sue might suffer from an emotional trauma for years after a fall like that.”” "We'd better get a doctor," said Griffith Walter. "She doesn't seem to be coming round." "I'll call for Dr. Poynton," Miranda decided. "Get one of the maids to do it," her husband replied. "No, I'll do it myself. He's the best paediatrician in the area and won't come out for just anybody. If we ask the maid to call, he'll insist on Angela Sue going to the hospital in an ambulance and you know how she hates driving in cars that are less comfortable than our Rolls.” So Dr. Poynton duly arrived and shook his head gravely as he examined Angela Sue. "I think we'd better have some X-rays done," he said slowly. "Would you like me to send for an ambulance or would you prefer me to drive her in my own car?" "Are you in the Cadillac today," asked Miranda. "Yes. I always use that one for house calls. It gives my visit a more professional feeling to patients than the SUV.” "Yes, of course. Then we'd be delighted if you would do that. Griffith Walter, you follow behind. I'll go in Dr. Poynton's car to comfort Angela Sue. She won't be as scared then when she wakes up. If she's in a car without me there it would probably upset her too much.” "Excellent idea," said Dr. Poynton, and the elegant procession moved off towards the hospital. They were there within ten minutes and Angela Sue was given the best facilities that could be found. There were a few moments of embarrassment and inconvenience when the hospital Administrator had to ask another patient to move to a shared public ward, to the annoyance of her aunt and uncle, visiting at the time. Once Miranda had approved of the accommodation, Dr. Poynton suggested that an X-ray should be taken at once, "Why don't you wait in the anteroom?" he asked. "We have to give the staff enough room to do their work properly, you know.” They had scarcely sat down when the telephone in the anteroom rang. A nurse came in to answer it and turned to Miranda in surprise. "It's for you, Mrs. de Clair.” "For me? But nobody knows we're here.” "It's a Miss Hapgood.” "Ah, the ballet mistress. She must have called home and asked why Angela Sue hadn't got there, and heard where we were from one of the maids. How conscientious and caring! I told you she was the best ballet teacher around this area.” Mirada took the telephone and spoke softly into it for a few moments, then hung up with a puzzled frown. "She says she didn't ring the house because she already knew Angela Sue was here.” "How?" asked Griffith Walter. "I don't know.” "What did she want?” "She asked whether Angela Sue was coming or not, because she'd held everything up for her.” "That was good of her. She must really have been impressed when we were there. What did you tell her?" "That there had been a slight problem and we were at the hospital trying to get things sorted out.” "A slight problem?” "Well, I won't be giving out any details. We don't want people to think there's anything the matter with our stairs, or with Angela Sue's sense of balance. She'll not be given the roles she deserves if people think she's likely to fall over easily, will she?” "No," said Griffith Walter hesitantly. "No, I suppose not. Perhaps you're right.” Dr. Poynton emerged from the Emergency suite at that point to interrupt their discussion. "I'm a bit concerned about Angela Sue," he said. There's no sign of anything radically wrong – a few bruises to the side of the head, that's all – but she's a bit listless. Probably just the effects of the shock but, if you're agreeable, I'd like to keep her in overnight, just for observation.” "Is she still unconscious?" Miranda asked anxiously. "No, she's come round all right. But she's still a bit vague and I want to make sure there's no concussion. You can go in to see here for ten minutes if you want. But don't stay too long and tire her out, will you?” Mirada and Griffith Walter spent a quarter of an hour with their daughter before leaving, but they both saw that Angela Sue, though not too ill, wasn't quite herself. "Making a bit too much fuss," Griffith Walter said as they turned to leave the private wing. "Bit of an old woman, that doctor, if you ask me.” "No, darling. He just wants to make absolutely certain that no complications are likely to occur. It's good to know that he recognises the importance of his patients.” The same nurse came running after them before they had gone very far. "Sorry, Mr. and Mrs, de Clair. It's the phone again.” Miranda was back in a couple of minutes. "Miss Hapgood again, asking when Miranda would be there. I said that we weren't sure, but thanked her for her concern and told her we'd let her know as soon as there was any news.” It was six the next morning when the phone call came from the hospital. "Dr. Poynton isn't at all happy about things," Mirada told her husband. He says that Angela Sue has been...well, bilious is what he meant but what he actually said was that she'd been...vomiting.” Miranda's tone implied that she now didn't have quite the same respect for Dr. Poynton as she'd had the previous night. It sounded as if he might be one of those common practitioners one heard about, the ones who used down-to-earth, vulgar language. "Should we go down there?" asked Griffith Walter. "I suppose so. I'd invited Mrs. Cholmondely-Jones for coffee, but I suppose I could call her to postpone. "Not at this time of the morning!” "No, you’re quite right. We'll have breakfast first and then call her before we go to the hospital. Ring for the maid, would you?” Her husband, on his way to the servants' call button, was just passing the telephone when it rang. He picked it up and muttered into it for a few seconds, then hung up and turned to his wife. "That was Miss Hapgood again. Wanted to know if Angela Sue would be coming today.” "Really? She must have made space for her in the Tuesday class. That's good news.” "Is it?” "Of course it is, darling. It's the second grade. She'll have been talking with people about Angela Sue and realised that she's a far better dancer than most children her age.” “Well, I told her something noncommittal. Said I’d have to check with you about Angela Sue’s timetable for the day and you'd call her back eventually.” "Excellent. I'll call her later, once we've talked to Dr. Poynton.” Dr. Poynton wasn't on duty when they reached the hospital, but his assistant seemed to be competent enough. "A touch of concussion can often do this sort of thing. We've given her something to settle her stomach so she can get some rest. She's exhausted with being awake all night.” "Shall we stay in the anteroom until Dr. Poynton arrives?" asked Miranda. "By all means," said the young doctor. Miranda didn't see any point in finding out his name, since his was obviously a very junior appointment. The telephone rang almost as soon as they had sat down and a nurse, not the same one, took the call and handed it to Miranda with a casual comment about private calls not usually being approved since they tied up the switchboard. She clearly hadn't been told whom she was addressing. It was Miss Hapgood again, and Miranda was a little short with her this time. "Really!" she said after hanging up. "Why can't the woman stop bothering us?” "You were quite pleased when she called yesterday. Said how conscientious she was. Maybe she heard the approval in your voice and thought she'd keep in with you. Do you think we should tell her the truth? Then you could make her realise she's bothering you by being a bit inconsiderate.” "No, of course we shouldn't! I'll snub her next time. That should stop her. I think she suspects there’s something wrong and is trying to poke her nose in. Probably a gossip-monger under that polite exterior.” During the next couple of days, Angela Sue’s condition gradually worsened and she began to lapse into a coma-like state more often, drifting in and out of unconsciousness despite all the best efforts of Dr. Poynton. Throughout the entire time, Miss Hapgood constantly continued to call every few hours, in spite of Miranda’s’ attempts to snub her. "Tell the woman Angela Sue’s not coming to her damned class this week,” Griffith Walter snorted in exasperation. “Otherwise she’ll never stop calling. She’s got the idea that we’re people it would be advantageous to know and she’s doing her best to stay in our good books.” But Miranda wouldn’t give in and continued to deal with Miss Hapgood in an ever more icy tone of voice. By this time, she and Griffith Walter were staying overnight in the Administrator’s suite at the hospital, but Miss Hapgood had somehow found out and was still telephoning. It was on the following Monday that Angela Sue’s condition became much more serious. There was nothing anyone could do, and her parents spent an agonising three hours watching the life slowly ebb from her. When she died, they were inconsolable and the ringing of the telephone was the last straw. Miranda grabbed the instrument to pour out her anger, but the caller had hung up just as she’d lifted the receiver. "Check where it came from," Griffith Walter suggested, but the number was unlisted. "I know where it came from,” Miranda declared angrily. “It’s from that damned woman. I’m going there to confront her.” “Hold on! What if it wasn’t her?” “It doesn’t matter. She’s been bugging me for the whole week, ever since Angela Sue fell and I’m off to the ballet school to give her a piece of my mind.” Griffith Walter stayed at the hospital to deal with the paperwork and was still engrossed in the task when she returned half an hour later. “How did it go?” he asked. Miranda looked at him with an ashen face. “Miss Hapgood...died...a week ago. Just as the clock was striking three!”
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