Just William: The Show, Part One Of Two

Here's the first part of another story from Richmal Crompton about the irrepressible William. Find out how he and his gang manage to extract money from their friends and what happens when Aunt Emily outstays her welcome at the Brown household.

Find all the William stories together on the playlist Just William Bedtime Stories.

Music by William King.

Transcript

Hello there,

It's Mandy here.

Thanks ever so much for joining me tonight.

We're going to be listening to part one of a two-part story about William by Richemule Crompton.

And this story is called The Show.

But before we get started,

I want to remind you that And this story is called The Show.

But before I begin,

Please feel free to go ahead and make yourself really comfortable.

That's great.

Then I'll begin.

The Show.

Part One.

The outlaws sat around the old barn,

Plunged in deep thought.

Henry,

The oldest member,

Aged twelve and a quarter,

Had said in a moment of inspiration,

Let's think of something else to do,

Something quite fresh from what we've ever done before.

And the outlaws were thinking.

They had engaged in mortal combat with one another.

They had cooked strange ingredients over a smoking and reluctant flame,

With a fine disregard of culinary conventions.

They had tracked each other over the countryside.

They had even turned their attention to kidnapping without any striking success.

And all these occupations had pulled.

In all its activities,

The Society of Outlaws,

Comprising four members,

Aimed at a simple,

Unostentatious mode of procedure.

In their shrinking from the glare of publicity,

They showed an example of unaffected modesty that many other public societies might profitably emulate.

The parents of the members were unaware of the very existence of the Society.

The ill-timed and tactless interference of parents had nipped in the bud many a cherished plan,

And by bitter experience the outlaws had learnt that secrecy was their only protection.

Owing to the rules and restrictions of an unsympathetic world that orders school hours from nine till four,

Their meetings were confined to half-holidays and occasionally Sunday afternoons.

William,

The ever-ingenious,

Made the first suggestion.

Let's shoot things with bows and arrows,

Same as real outlaws used to,

He said.

What things?

And what bows and arrows?

Said Henry and Ginger simultaneously.

Oh,

Anything.

Birds and cats and hens and things.

And buy bows and arrows.

You can buy them in shops.

We can make them,

Said Douglas hopefully.

Not like you can get them in shops.

They'd shoot crooked or something if we made them.

They've got to be just so to shoot straight.

I saw some in Brooks's window too,

Just right,

Just the same as real outlaws had.

How much?

Said the outlaws breathlessly.

Five shillings.

Targets for learning on before we begin shooting real things and all.

Five shillings,

Breathed Douglas.

He might as well have said five pounds.

We've not got five shillings.

Henry's not having any money since he broke their join room window.

And Ginger only has threepence a week and has to give collection.

And we've not paid for the guinea pig yet.

The one that got into Ginger's sister's hat.

And she was so mad and.

Oh,

Never mind all that,

Said William scornfully.

We'll just get five shillings.

How?

Well,

Uncertainly.

Grownups can always get money when they want it.

How again?

William disliked being tied down to details.

Oh,

Bazaars and things,

He said impatiently.

Bazaars,

Exploded Henry.

Who'd come to a bazaar if we had one?

Who would?

Just tell me that if you're so clever.

Who'd come to it?

Besides,

You've got to sell things at a bazaar,

Haven't you?

What did we sell?

We've got nothing to sell,

Have we?

What's the good of having a bazaar with nothing to sell and no one to buy it?

Just tell me that.

Henry always enjoyed scoring off William.

Well,

Shows and things,

Said William desperately.

There was a moment's silence,

Then Ginger repeated thoughtfully.

Shows.

And Douglas,

Whose eldest brother was home from college for his vacation.

Murmured self-consciously,

By Jove.

We could do a show,

Said Ginger.

Get animals and things and charge money for looking at them.

Who'd pay it,

Said Henry,

The doubter.

Anyone would.

You'd pay to see animals,

Wouldn't you?

Real animals.

People do at the zoo,

Don't they?

Well,

We'll get some animals.

That's easy enough,

Isn't it?

A neighbouring church clock struck four and the meeting was adjourned.

Well,

We'll have a show and get money and buy bows and arrows and shoot things,

Summed up William.

And we'll arrange a show next week.

William returned home slowly and thoughtfully.

He sat on his bed,

His hands in his pockets,

His brow drawn into a frown,

His thoughts wandering in a dreamland of wonderful shows and rare exotic beasts.

Suddenly from the next room came a thin sound that gathered volume till it seemed to fill the house like the roaring of a lion.

Then it died gradually away and was followed by silence.

But only for a second.

It began again.

A small whisper that grew louder and louder became a raucous bellow,

Then faded slowly away to rise again after another moment's silence.

In the next room,

William's mother's Aunt Emily was taking her afternoon nap.

Aunt Emily had come down a month ago for a week's visit and had not yet referred to the date of her departure.

William's father was growing anxious.

She was a stout,

Healthy lady who spent all her time recovering from a slight illness she had had two years ago.

Her life held two occupations,

And only two.

These were eating and sleeping.

For William,

She possessed a subtle but irresistible fascination.

Her stature,

Her appetite,

Her gloom added to the fact that she utterly ignored him,

Attracted him strongly.

The tea bell rang and the sound of the snoring ceased abruptly.

This entertainment over,

William descended to the dining room,

Where his father was addressing his mother with some heat.

Is she going to stay here forever,

Or only for a few years?

I'd like to know,

Because.

.

.

Perceiving William,

He stopped abruptly,

And William's mother murmured,

It's so nice to have her here,

Dear.

Then Aunt Emily entered.

Have you slept well,

Aunt?

Slept,

Repeated Aunt Emily,

Majestically.

I hardly expect to sleep in my state of health.

A little rest is all I can expect.

Sorry you're no better,

Said William's father sardonically.

Better,

She repeated again,

Indignantly.

It will be a long time before I'm better.

She lowered her large healthy frame into a chair,

Carefully selected a substantial piece of bread and butter,

And attacked it with vigour.

I'm going to the post after tea,

Said William's mother.

Would you care to come with me?

Aunt Emily took a large helping of jam.

You hardly expect me to go out in the evening,

In my state of health,

Surely?

It's years since I went out after tea,

And I was at the post office this morning.

There were a lot of people there,

But they served me first.

I suppose they saw I looked ill.

William's father choked suddenly,

And apologised,

But not humbly.

Though I may say,

Went on Aunt Emily,

This place does suit me.

I think after a few months here I should be a little stronger.

Pass the jam,

William.

The glance that William's father fixed upon her would have made a stronger woman quail.

But Aunt Emily was scraping out the last remnants of jam,

And didn't notice.

I'm a bit overtired today,

I think,

She went on.

I'm so apt to forget how weak I am,

And then I overdo it.

I'm ready for the cake,

William.

I just sat out in the sun yesterday afternoon,

And sat a bit too long,

And overtired myself.

I ought to write letters after tea,

But I don't think I have the strength.

Another piece of cake,

William.

I'll go upstairs to rest instead,

I think.

I hope you'll keep the house quiet.

It's so rarely that I can get a bit of sleep.

William's father left the room abruptly.

William sat on and watched with fascinated eyes the cake disappear,

And finally followed the large portly figure upstairs,

And sat down in his room to plan the show,

And incidentally listen with a certain thrilled awe for the sounds from next door.

The place and time of the show presented no little difficulty.

To hold it in the old barn would give away to the world the cherished secret of their meeting place.

It was William who suggested his bedroom,

To be entered not by way of the front door and staircase,

But by the less public way of the garden wall and scullery roof.

Ever an optimist,

He affirmed that no one would see or hear.

The choice of a time was limited to Wednesday afternoon,

Saturday afternoon,

And Sunday.

Sunday at first was ruled out as impossible,

But there were difficulties about Wednesday afternoon and about Saturday afternoon.

On Wednesday afternoon,

Ginger and Douglas were unwilling and ungraceful pupils at a dancing class.

On Saturday afternoon,

William's father gardened,

And would command a view of the garden wall and scullery roof.

On these afternoons also,

Cook and Emma,

Both of a suspicious turn of mind,

Would be at large.

On Sunday,

Cook and Emma went out,

William's mother paid a regular weekly visit to an old friend,

And William's father spent the afternoon on the sofa,

Dead to the world.

Moreover,

As William pointed out to the outlaws,

The members of the Sunday school could be waylaid and induced to attend the show,

And they would probably be provided with money for the collection.

The more William thought over it,

The more attractive became the idea of a Sunday afternoon,

In spite of superficial difficulties.

Therefore,

Sunday afternoon was finally chosen.

The day was fortunately a fine one,

And William and the other outlaws were at work early.

William had asked his mother,

With an expression of meekness and virtue that ought to have warned her of danger,

If he might have just a few friends in his room for the afternoon.

His mother,

Glad that her husband should be spared his son's restless company,

Gave willing permission.

By half-past two,

The exhibits were ready.

In a cage by the window sat a white rat,

Painted in faint alternate stripes of blue and pink.

This was Douglas's contribution,

Hand-painted by himself in watercolours.

The rat wore a bewildered expression,

And occasionally licked its stripes,

And then obviously wished it hadn't.

Its cage bore a notice printed on cardboard,

Rat from China.

Rats are all like this in China.

Next came a cat belonging to William's sister,

Smuts by name,

Now imprisoned beneath a basket chair.

At the best of times Smuts was short-tempered,

And all its life had cherished a bitter hatred of William.

Now,

Enclosed by its enemy in a prison two feet square,

Its fury knew no bounds.

It tore at the basket work,

It flew wildly round and round,

Scratching,

Spitting,

Swearing.

Its chair bore the simple and appropriate notice,

Wild Cat.

William watched it with honest pride,

And prayed fervently that its indignation would not abate during the afternoon.

Next came a giant,

Composed of Douglas upon Ginger's back,

Draped in two sheets tied tightly around Douglas's neck.

This was labelled Genuine Giant.

But Ginger was already growing restive.

His muffled voice was heard from the folds of the sheets,

Informing the other outlaws that it was a bit thick,

And he hadn't known it would be like this,

Or he wouldn't have done it.

And anyway,

He was going to change with Douglas at half-time,

Or he'd chuck up the whole thing.

The next exhibit was a black fox fur of William's mother's,

To which was fortunately attached a head and several feet,

And which he had surreptitiously removed from her wardrobe.

This had been tied up,

Stuffed with waste paper,

And wired by William,

Till it was,

In his eyes,

Remarkably lifelike.

As the legs,

Even with the assistance of wire,

Refused to support the body,

And the head would only droop sadly to the ground,

It was,

Perforce,

Exhibited in a recumbent attitude.

It bore marks of sticky fingers,

And of several side-slips of the scissors,

When William was cutting the wire.

But on the whole,

He was justly proud of it.

It bore the striking,

But untruthful legend.

Bear shot by outlaws in Russia.

William himself,

A showman,

Was an imposing figure.

He was robed in a red dressing gown of his father's,

That trailed on the ground behind him,

And over whose cords in front he stumbled ungracefully as he walked.

He had cut a few strands from the fringe of a rug,

And glued them to his lips,

To represent the stashes.

They fell in two straight lines over his mouth.

On his head was a tinsel crown,

Once worn by his sister,

As Fairy Queen.

The show had been widely advertised,

And all the neighbouring children had been individually canvassed,

But under strict orders of secrecy.

The threats of what the outlaws would do,

If their secret were disclosed,

Had kept many a child awake at night.

William surveyed the room proudly.

Not a bad show for a penny,

I should say.

I guess there aren't many like it anyway.

Do shut up talking,

Ginger.

It'll spoil it all,

If folks hear the giant talking out of his stomach.

It's Douglas that's got to do the giant's talking.

Anyone can see that.

I say,

They're coming.

Look,

They're coming.

Along the wall.

There was a thin line of children,

Climbing along the wall,

In single file,

On all fours.

To be continued.

Reviews

bow i adored these books as a child! thank you for such a delightful reading. i was smiling as i fell asleep. now i’m looking up all of your readings. you have the perfect voice and delivery for this.

I fell asleep so fast I missed most of the story! I’ll try again tonight. Thanks, Mandy, for continuing to present delightful bedtime stories! 🙏🏻😊🩷