A HANDFUL OF STARS

Evening Post, Volume CXXVI, Issue 134, 3 December 1938, Page 20

A HANDFUL OF STARS

CHE was called Tandy because it was her own baby effort at repeating her *■* real name, Miranda. Now Tandy was 12 and she had never been to a party. Perhaps it was because she longed for one tod much. In her dreams she went to parties, sometimes two in one evening, like the pretty girl in the drapery store. Tandy had overhead her telling her friend about it that morning when she was buying buttons. In her dreams she became a Cinderella ... a more glorious Tandy than anybody who knew her ever dreamed could exist. Then her rather rough, yellow hair softened into shining ringlets beneath a sparkling hairband (she always wore a sparkling hairband in her party dreams). It was mostly that which made her so lovely . . . that drew all eyes to her. This morning Tandy was in charge of the shop, a small sweets shop near the junction of the city's two main streets. Her elbows on the counter, she .watched the passing traffic, seeing a line of cars, motor-buses, and tramcars, punctuated with glass towers of pink raspberry drops, white peppermints, and green jubes. Suddenly someone paused in the doorway; a tall, black-gowned woman. Her skin was fair against shadowy furs, her hair like a curve of painted gold beneath her black hat. Tandy smiled shyly as the customer advanced. She became sensitively aware of an elusive perfume that stole over the dry sweetness of the air in the shop. The stranger's smile had a magical charm. "I wonder if you have what I'm looking for," she said with a fascinating slowness in her deep voice ... a different voice from any Tandy had heard. "I want little silver stars to decorate a cake." Tandy's heart sank. She knew she'd have to say "No." They had silver wedding bells and lovers' knots, but no silver stars. Oh, why hadn't they! Suddenly, in her dreamy mind sprang an idea. She had cut out stars for her small sister's fairy frock at the last school concert. She had mastered the trick of clipping the points very evenly. Daringly she answered: — "We haven't any now, but we will have later." ... "I can't call again*." "I could bring them to you," offered Tandy breathlessly. The stranger's smile warmed her again. "Oh, if you would! Everything was going wrong. The dancing girl has the measles and . . . but you'll bring the stars to the house? 10 Ngaio Avenue. Mrs. Mark Cole is the name." As soon as she had gone, Tandy slipped through to the living-room for some scissors. Her mother was polishing. She sat back on her heels and surveyed Tandy's excited face. "Why are you so pleased?" she asked curiously. Tandy described the .new customer and her own sudden idea of silver stars. "Just somebody's birthday, I suppose," she said. ' Tandy went back into the shop and took down a box containing cake decorations. There were some silver bells left over from the Christmas sales. From these she would make her stars. And these silver stars that she, Tandy, was snipping so skilfully were to decorate a cake. They would be the centre of gaiety. How she'd like to §ip seme magic potion and turn into stars, herself, each star an eye through which to see the party. Soon they were finished and packed neatly in a little box. Excitedly she set off for Ngaio Avenue. It was a street of green hedges broken only by gates through which one caught glimpses of wide drives lined with the flaming shades of winter flowers. The white gates of No. 10 were open. The house was hidden save where its gabled roof pierced the trees. It seemed a very long walk to the division of the paths and a notice marked "Tradesmen's Entrance." The kitchen door was open and Tandy heard voices as she approached. "Here is the programme for the evening, Cook, so you'll know exactly when to serve the ices." It was Mrs. Cole—Tandy's cheeks flushed as she caught sight of her. "I've brought the stars," she said, holding out the blue box. "Oh, just at the right moment!" Mrs. Cole smiled. "Come in and wait while I fetch the money. How much do I owe you?" Tandy looked bewildered. "It's nothing . . . ." she stammered in confusion. "What, stars for nothing?" Her clear laugh brought a smile to the cook's face. . "Well, you see, there isn't a real charge because I made them myself." The fine eyebrows went up. "Made them yourself? You're a clever child." She opened the box and examined the contents. "You've made them beautifully. If only you could dance you could take the place of my dancing fairy who has the measles. She is small and rather like you. with the same yellow hair. Tandy's reply could scarcely come quickly enough. "I can dance," she said. "My mother used to teach dancing." "Why, you are the answer to all my problems!" said Mrs. Cole gaily. "Come and try on the fairy frock." Through doorways and up a wide staircase she led the way, and, in a room that was all rose and ivory, Tandy tried on the fairy frock of white, foamy tulle. It was spangled with sequins that gleamed like moonlight. Next they walked down to the enclosed garden, where Tandy learned just what she was to do. At the beginning of that mild summer evening, while the sky was scattered with coloured stars arid rainbow rockets, a spotlight on the roof of the summer-house swept across the lawn to discover Tandy, lovely from the tips of. her satin slippers to the sparkling band through her smooth, golden curls. Little Dorothy Cole and her guests, watching from the upstairs balcony, saw the fairy figure change from gold to rose, then to the blue of shadows. It was the surprise of the evening to see Tandy dancing around the fountain's rim. The fairy must be captured. She must come into the party! It was their special wish. And so Tandy's dream came true, and all through a handful of stars.