First Term at Malory Towers (11 page)

“I should hate a sister,” said Sally. “I wouldn't share my mother with anyone!”

She walked out of the room, her face as wooden as ever. The girls were really puzzled. “She's a funny one,” said Irene. “Hardly ever says anything—all closed up, some-how. But sometimes those closed-up people burst open suddenly— and then, look out!”

“Well, I shall certainly write and tell Mother she's mistaken,” said Darrell, and she did so, then and there. She told Sally the next time she saw her.

“I'm sorry I made that mistake about your having a sister,” she said to Sally. “I've written to tell Mother you said you hadn't one. She must have mistaken what your mother said.”

Sally stood still and glared at Darrell as if she suddenly hated her. “What do you want to go interfering for?” she burst out. “Leave me and my family alone! Little busybody, always sticking your nose into other people's affairs!”

Darrell's temper flared up. “I don't,” she said. “You guard your tongue, Sally. I never meant to interfere, and I can't think what all the fuss is about. Either you have a sister or you haven't. I don't care.”

“You tell your mother not to interfere either!” said Sally. “ Writing letters about my family!”

“Oh, don't be so
silly!
” flared back Darrell, really exasperated now. “Anyone would think there was a deep, dark mystery, the way you go on! Anyway, I'll just see what my mother says when she next writes to me—and I'll tell you.”

“I don't want to know. I won't know!” said Sally, and she put out her hands as if she was fending Darrell off. “I hate you, Darrell Rivers—you with your mother who comes to see you off, and sends you things and writes you long letters and comes to see you! And you boast about that to me; you do it all on purpose. You're mean, mean, mean!”

Darrell was utterly taken aback. What in the wide world did Sally mean? She watched the girl go out of the room, and sank down on to a form, completely bewildered.

THE girls became very excited at the beginning of half-term week. Many of them would see their parents on the Saturday—and Miss Remmington, the games-mistress, had suddenly decided to have a small edition of the Swimming Sports for the benefit of the parents. Everyone who visited Malory Towers was struck with the beautiful natural pool, and loved to see it.

“So it would be nice this half-term, as it's so hot, for your people to go down to the breezy pool, and see not only the beauties of the water, but the way their girls can swim and dive!” said Miss Remmington. “We will have a pleasant time down there and then come back for a strawberry and cream tea, with ices!”

What fun! Darrell hugged herself with joy whenever she thought of it. She had got on so well with her swimming and diving, and she knew her parents would be pleased. And strawberries and ice cream afterwards. How simply wizard!

But she was rather taken aback on Wednesday when the half-term places were read out. Instead of being in the first three or four, as she had hoped, she was tenth from the bottom. She could hardly believe her ears! Katherine was top, Alicia was fifth, Betty was fourteenth, Gwendoline was bottom—Mary-Lou was sixth from the bottom, not very far below Darrell!

Darrell sat very quiet whilst the rest of the marks were read out. There were thirty or so girls in her form—and more than twenty of them had done better than she had. Surely, surely there must be some mistake?

She went to Miss Potts about it, looking worried. “Miss Potts,” she began, rather timidly, for the mistress was correcting papers and looked very busy, “Miss Potts, excuse my interrupting you, but can I ask you something?”

“What is it?” said Miss Potts, running her blue pencil across a line of writing.

“Well—it's about the form order,” said Darrell. “Am I really so low down as that?”

“Let me see—what were you? Quite a long way down,” said Miss Potts, pulling the list to her and looking at it. “Yes, that's right. I was surprised and disappointed, Darrell. You did so well in the first two weeks.”

“But Miss Potts,” said Darrell, and then stopped. She didn't know quite how to say what she wanted to say. She wanted to say that she had much better brains than at least half the form, so why was she so low? But somehow that sounded conceited.

However Miss Potts, who was very quick-minded, saw her difficulty. “You have come to ask me how it is you are nearer the bottom than the top when you could so easily be among the top ones?” she said. “Well, I'll tell you, Darrell. There are people like Alicia, who can play the fool in class and waste their time and everyone else's, and yet still come out well in their work. And there are people like you, who can also play the fool and waste their time—but unfortunately it affects their work and they slide down to the bottom. Do you understand?”

Darrell flushed very red and looked as if she could sink through the floor. She nodded.

“Yes, thank you,” she said in a small voice. She looked at Miss Potts out of her clear brown eyes. “I wouldn't have been so silly if I'd known it was going to affect my place in the form,” she said. “I—I just thought as I had good brains and a good memory I'd be all right, anyhow. Daddy and Mother will be disappointed.”

“They probably will,” said Miss Potts, taking up her pencil again. “I shouldn't copy Alicia and Betty too much if I were you, Darrell. You will be a finer character if you go along on your own, than if you copy other people. You see, what vow do, you do whole-heartedly—so if you play the fool, naturally other things will suffer. Alicia is able to do two or three things quite well at one and the same time. That certainly has its points—but the best people in this world are the whole-hearted ones, if they can only make for the right things.”

“I see,” said Darrell. “Like my father. He's whole-hearted. He's a surgeon and he just goes in for giving back people their health and happiness with all this heart—so he's marvellous.”

“Exactly,” said Miss Potts. “But if he split himself up, so to speak, and dabbled in half a dozen things, he would probably not be nearly such a remarkable surgeon. And when you choose something worthwhile like doctoring—or teaching— or writing or painting, it is best to be whole-hearted about it. It doesn't so much matter for a second rate or third-rate person. But if you happen to have the makings of a first-rate person and you mean to choose a first-rate job when you grow up, then you must learn to be whole-hearted when you are young.”

Darrell didn't like to ask Miss Potts if she thought she had the makings of a first-rate person in her, but she couldn't help hoping that she had. She went away rather subdued. What a pity she hadn't been whole-hearted over her work and got up to the top, instead of being whole-hearted over playing the fool with Alicia and Betty, and sliding down towards the bottom.

Gwendoline's mother and her old governess, Miss Winter, were coming on Saturday too. Gwendoline was very much looking forward to showing off in front of them. How small she would make Miss Winter feel, when she talked of her lessons and how wonderful she was at everything!

Mary-Lou's people were not coming and she was disappointed. Gwendoline spoke kindly to her. “Never mind, Mary-Lou. You can keep with me and my mother and Miss Winter all day. I won't let you feel lonely.”

Mary-Lou didn't much want to keep with Gwendoline. She was tired of being pawed about by Gwendoline, and tired of the never-ending stories of her family, in all of which Gwendoline herself shone out brightly as someone really too marvellous for words.

But Gwendoline thoroughly enjoyed such a quiet listener as Mary-Lou, though she despised her for being weak enough to put up with so much.

When Darrell heard that Mary-Lou's people could not come on half-term Saturday she went to her. “Would you like to come and be with my mother and father and me all day?” she said. “They are taking me out to lunch in the car.

We're having a gorgeous picnic.”

Mary-Lou's heart leapt. She gazed at Darrell in adoration and delight. To be asked by
Darrell
to share the half-term— could anything be nicer? Darrell had ticked her off so much lately, and found her such a nuisance—but now she had been decent enough to give her this invitation.

Then she remembered Gwendoline's invitation, and her face fell. “Oh,” she said, “Gwendoline's asked me to join
her
—and I said I would.”

“Well, go and tell her
I've
asked you, and that my father and mother would like to meet you,” said Darrell. “I shouldn't think she'd mind.”

“Well—I don't know if I dare say that,” said timid Mary- Lou. “She might be very angry—especially as she doesn't like you, Darrell.”

“I suppose that means you'd rather go with Gwendoline than with me,” said Darrell, unkindly. It always irritated her when Mary-Lou put on her 'scared” look. “Well, go then.”

“
Darrell
How can you say that?” cried Mary-Lou, almost in tears. “Why—I'd—I'd—I'd give
anything
to come with you.”

“Well, go and tell Gwendoline then,” said Darrell. “If you want a thing badly you can surely pluck up enough courage to get it. You're a terrible little coward.”

“Oh, I know,” said Mary-Lou, in despair. “Don't keep on and on saying that! It only makes me worse!
You
tell Gwendoline, Darrell.”

“Certainly not,” said Darrell. “
I'm
not going to do your dirty work! Anyway, I'm not sure I want such a silly baby tagging on to me all half-term.”

She walked off, leaving Mary-Lou looking after her in despair. Jean, who was nearby and had overhead everything, felt a little sorry for Mary-Lou. She walked after Darrell.

“I think you're a bit hard on her,” she remarked, in her forthright Scots voice.

“Well, it's all for her good,” said Darrell. “If I can
make
her have a little courage, she'll thank me for it. I said those things purposely, to shame her into going to Gwendoline and asking her.”

“You've shamed her all right, but not in the way that will make her pluck up her courage.” said Jean. “You've given her the kind of shame that puts people into despair!”

Jean was right. Mary-Lou was quite in despair. The more she thought of going to Gwendoline and asking her if she minded her going with Darrell at half-term instead of with her, the more terrified she got. In the end she did go to find Gwendoline, but found that she didn't dare to ask her; which made it worse than ever! Poor Mary-Lou!

Gwendoline got to hear that Darrell had asked Mary-Lou for half-term, and she was pleased that Mary-Lou had not apparently wanted to go with her. She spoke to her about it.

“Fancy Darrell having the cheek to ask you, after
I'd
asked you!” she said. “I'm glad you had the decency to refuse, Mary-Lou. You'd surely not want to go off with a girl like that, who thinks you're such a poor worm?”

“No.” said Mary-Lou, and couldn't say any more. If only she could have said yes, boldly, right out! But she couldn't.

The morning of half term dawned bright and clear. It was going to be a super day. The sea glinted in the sunlight, as calm as a mirror. It would be high tide at two o'clock. The pool would be just right. What luck!

Girls took loads of campstools down to the pool and set them up on the high rocky place above the pool, where the tide seldom reached. It was a fine place for watching. Darrell sang loudly as she went up and down, her heart leaping because she would see her parents that day. Mary-Lou did not sing. She looked sober and downhearted. Sally Hope looked sober too—her face more “closed-up” than ever, thought Darrell.

Alicia was in high spirits. Her mother and father were coming and one of her brothers. Betty's parents were not coming, so she was, of course, going to be with Alicia.

Darrell, catching sight of Sally trudging up the cliff, after taking down some campstools, was struck by the sad expression on her face. Impulsively she hailed her.

“Hi, Sally! Sally Hope! Your people aren't coming, are they? Wouldn't you like to join me and my parents today? I can ask anyone I like.”

“I'd rather not, thank you,” said Sally, in a stiff little voice, and went on up the cliff without another word.

“Well, she
is
a funny girl,” thought Darrell, feeling rather annoyed that the two girls she had so far asked hadn't either of them agreed to come with her. She went off to find someone else whose people were not coming. She really must get
somebody
, because her mother had said she would like to take another girl out too. “Your own particular friend, if possible,” her mother had written.

But Darrell hadn't got a “particular friend.” She would so much have liked Alicia, but Alicia was Betty's friend. She liked Irene, too, but Irene never seemed to feel the need a friend. Her music made up to her for everything.

“Oh, well—what about asking Emily?” thought Darrell. She was not at all interested in the quiet, studious Emily, who always seemed to be sewing most industriously every evening. But Emily's people weren't coming, and no one had asked her to go out to lunch with them.

So she asked Emily, who blushed with pleasure and said, yes, she would be delighted to come. She seemed surprised that Darrell had asked her. Mary-Lou was almost in tears when she saw the two of them going off to get ready to meet Darrell's parents. She couldn't bear to think that Emily was going to have the treat she would so much have loved herself—but hadn't enough courage to get.