First Term at Malory Towers (13 page)

But it did come to an end. At about six o'clock the cars began to purr out of the big drive, and girls waved wildly. One by one their parents went, and the excited chattering died down. The girls went into their common rooms to talk over events of the day.

After a while Darrell remembered the message she had for Sally Hope. She glanced round the common room. Sally wasn't there. Where was she? She seemed always to be disappearing!

“Where's Sally Hope?” asked Darrell.

“I believe she's in one the music-rooms,” said Katherine. “Goodness knows why she wants to practice today, when everyone is let off lessons!”

“I'll go and find her,” said Darrell, and walked off. She made her way to the music-rooms, where the girls did their practising each day. They were tiny rooms, containing only a piano, a stool, and a chair.

Music came from two of them. Darrell peeped into the first one. Irene was there, playing softly to herself. She didn't even see Darrell. Darrell smiled and shut the door. Irene was certainly mad on music!

She came to the other practice room, from which music was coming. It was not the entrancing melodies that Irene had been playing though, but plain five-finger exercises, played over and again, over and over again, in an almost angry manner.

Darrell opened the door. Yes—Sally was there all right. Good. Darrell went in and shut the door. Sally turned round and scowled.

“I'm practising,” she said. “Get out.”

“What's the matter with you?” said Darrell, feeling annoyed immediately. “You don't need to jump down my throat like that. I've been trying to find you all day. My mother wanted to speak to you.”

“Well, I didn't want to speak to her,” said Sally, and began to thump out the irritating exercise again, up and down, up and down.

“
Why
shouldn't you want to speak to my mother?” cried Darrell, angrily. “She had a message for you from
your
mother.”

No answer. Up and down, up and down went Sally's fingers on the notes, more loudly than ever. Darrell lost her temper.

“Stop playing!” she shouted. “Don't be so horribly rude! Whatever's the matter with you!”

Sally put the loud pedal down and crashed the notes more loudly than ever. Plainly she was not going to listen to a word.

Darrell went near to her and put her mouth to her ear. “Why did you say you haven't got a sister? You
have
, and that's why your mother couldn't come and see you! But she sent you her love and said...”

Sally swung round from the piano, her face looking queer and white. “Shut up!” she said, interfering little busybody! Leave me alone. Just because you've been with your mother all day long, and had her fussing round you, you think you can come and taunt me like this! I hate you!”

“You're mad!” cried Darrell, and she struck her hand on the piano, making a queer sound of clashing notes. “You won't listen when I want to tell you things. But you
shall
listen! Your mother told mine that you only write her funny wooden letters... she said...”

I
won't
listen!” said Sally, in a choking voice, and got up from the stool. She pushed Darrell blindly away. But Darrell could not bear to be touched when she was in a temper, and she shoved back with all her might. She was strong, and she sent Sally flying across the little room. She fell across the chair, and lay there for a moment.

She put her hand on her stomach. “Oh, it hurts,” she said. “Oh, you wicked girl, Darrell!”

Darrell was still trembling with anger as Sally stumbled out of the room. But almost immediately her rage went, and she was overwhelmed with horror. How could she have been so awful? Sally was queer and silly and horrid, it was true—but she, Darrell, had used her strength against her to hurt her. She had lost her temper all over again, after boasting to her parents only a little while ago that she never would any more.

She ran to the door, eager to go after Sally and beg her pardon. But Sally was nowhere to be seen. Darrell ran back to the common room. No Sally there, either. She sat down in a chair and rubbed her hot forehead. What a scene! How disgusting!
Why
couldn't she manage her temper?

“What's up?” asked Alicia.

“Oh—nothing much. Sally was a bit difficult, that's all— and I lost my temper,” said Darrell.

“Idiot!” said Alicia. “What did you do? Slap her? Give her some broth without any bread?”

Darrell couldn't smile. She felt near tears. What a horrid ending to such a lovely day! After all the excitement and now this sudden row, she felt quite exhausted. She was not all pleased when Emily came up with her sewing.

“I do think your people are nice,” began Emily, and started to chatter in a way she seldom did. How boring! Darrell wanted to tell Emily to be quiet. If she had been Alicia she would—but as a rule she was kinder than the sharp tongued Alicia, and did not like to hurt people's feelings. So she bore with Emily as patiently as she could.

Mary-Lou watched her from the other side of the room. She wanted to come over and join Emily and Darrell. But Gwendoline was pouring out reams of family history to her, and she had to listen. Also she was a little afraid that Darrell might snub her if went across.

Darrell watched for Sally to appear in the common room. Perhaps she could slip over to her then and tell her she was sorry. She was ashamed of herself now, and she could only put it right by telling Sally. Oh, dear! It was awful to have a temper that simply rose up out of the blue, before you even knew it was coming! What
could
you do with a temper like that?

Sally didn't come back to the common room. Soon the supper-bell went and the girls filed into the dining room. Darrell looked about for Sally again. But still she wasn't there. This was really very queer.

Miss Potts noticed that there was an empty chair. “Who's missing?” she said.

“Sally Hope,” said Darrell. “I last saw her in one of the practice rooms- about an hour ago.”

“Well, go and fetch her,” said Miss Potts, impatiently.

“Oh, she left when I was there,” said Darrell. I don't know where she went to.”

“We'll get on without her then,” said Miss Potts. “She must have heard the supper-bell.”

The girls chattered about the day they had had. Only Darrell was silent. Was Sally somewhere, very upset? What could be the matter with her? Why was she so queer about things? Was she unhappy about something?

Mary-Lou sniffed loudly. “Where's your hanky?” asked Miss Potts. “Haven't you got one? Oh, Mary-Lou, you know you must always have one. Go and get one at once. I can't bear that sniff of yours.”

Mary-Lou slipped out of the room, and ran up to the dormy. She didn't come back for a little while and Miss Potts became impatient.

“Really! It seems to take Mary-Lou all evening to find a hanky!”

There came the sound of running steps and the door of the dining room was flung open. Mary-Lou came in, looking even more scared than usual.

“Miss Potts! Oh, Miss Potts! I've found Sally. She's lying on her bed in the dormy, and she's making an awful noise!”

“What sort of noise?” said Miss Potts, hurriedly getting up.

“A groaning sort of noise and she keeps holding herself and saying, “Oh, my tummy!”“ said poor Mary-Lou, bursting into tears. “Oh, Miss Potts, do go to her. She wouldn't even speak to me!”

“Girls, get on with your supper,” said Miss Potts, briskly, it sounds as if Sally has eaten too many strawberries and too much ice cream. Katherine, go and tell Matron, please, and ask her to go up to your dormy.”

She swept out of the room. The girls began talking at once, asking scared Mary-Lou all kinds of questions. Only Darrell still sat silent, a cold fear creeping round her heart.

She had flung Sally across the room, and Sally had fallen over that chair! She must have hurt herself in the stomach then. Darrell remembered how she had said, it hurts.” It wasn't too many strawberries and too much ice cream. It was Darrell's temper that had caused the trouble!

Darrell couldn't eat any more supper. She slipped off to the common room to be by herself. Surely Sally wasn't much hurt? Just bruised, perhaps. Surely Miss Potts would come in soon and say cheerfully, “Well, well! Nothing much wrong with Sally after all!”

“Oh, I hope she does, I hope she does,” said poor Darrell, and waited impatiently and anxiously for the sound of Miss Potts’ quick footsteps.

THE girls poured into the common room after their supper. They had half an hour before bedtime. They were tired after their exciting day, and some of them were sleepy already.

Alicia looked at Darrell in surprise. “Why so gloomy?” she said.

“Well—I was just wondering about Sally,” said Darrell. “Hoping she wasn't very ill.”

“Why ever should she be?” said Alicia. “Lots of people can't eat strawberries without getting a pain or a rash. One of my brothers is like that.”

Alicia plunged into one of her bits of family history and Darrell listened gratefully. Alicia did not relate stories that glorified herself, as Gwendoline always did—she simply poured out amusing tales of the life she and her brothers led in the holidays at home—and, if Alicia was to be believed, the pranks they got up to were enough to turn any mother's hair completely grey! However, Alicia's mother had not seemed to Darrell to have any grey hairs at all, when she had seen her that day.

The bedtime bell went for the first-and second-formers. They put away their things at once. Matron did not show much patience with laggards at bedtime. There were too many girls to hustle into bed for that!

Miss Potts had not come back. Darrell felt her anxiety creeping over her again. Perhaps Matron would know. She would ask her about Sally as soon as she saw her hovering around the bathrooms.

But Matron wasn't there. Mam'zelle was there instead, beaming placidly at everyone, still in a good temper because of the lovely day they had all had.

“Hallo, Mam'zelle! Where's Matron?” asked Alicia in surprise.

“Looking after Sally Hope,” said Mam'zelle. “Ah, the poor child—she is in great pain.”

Darrell's heart sank, is she—is she in the San. then?” she asked. Girls who were ill were always put in the San., which consisted of a good many nice rooms above the Head Mistress's own suite of rooms. There was also a special matron for the San itself, a smiling, but strict hospital nurse, who was extremely efficient not only at dealing with any kind of school accident or illness, but also at dealing with any kind of girl!

“Yes. Of course she is in the San. She is very ill,” said Mam'zelle. Then, with her love of exaggerating, she added a sentence or two that sent Darrell's heart down into her boots. “It is her poor tommy—no, tummy is what you say,
n'est-ce pas?
She has a big pain there.”

“Oh,” said Darrell. “Do they—do they know what has caused the pain, Mam'zelle? Has Sally hurt herself?”

Mam'zelle didn't know. “All I know is that it is not the strawberries and the ice-cream,” she said. “Because Sally did not have any. She has told Matron that.”

That made it all the more certain, then, that it must have been Darrell's rough push and the fall that followed! Poor Darrell! She felt so miserable that Mam'zelle's sharp eyes noticed her downcast face and she began to wonder if here was another girl about to be ill!

“You feel all right, my little Darrell?” she said, in a sympathetic voice.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” said Darrell, startled, I'm just— well, just tired, I suppose.

Darrell hardly slept at all that night. She was so horrified at what had happened. How could she have lost her temper so thoroughly, how could she have yelled at Sally like that and how
could
she have sent her flying across the room? She, Darrell, was wicked! It was true that Sally was queer and annoying, but that was no excuse for Darrell's behaviour.

Now Sally was ill and in pain. Had she said anything about Darrell losing her temper? Darrell felt herself growing cold as she thought of what Miss Grayling might do if she heard.

“She would hear about my slapping Gwendoline too, and she would send for me and tell me I was a failure already,” thought Darrell. “Oh, Sally, Sally, do get better by tomorrow! Then I'll tell you I'm terribly sorry, and I'll try to make it up to you all I can.”

She fell asleep at last, and was very tired when the dressing-bell rang for them all to get up. Her first thought was Sally. She saw the girl's empty bed and shivered. How she hoped Sally would be back there that night!

She ran downstairs before any one else. She saw Miss Potts and went to her. “Please,” she said, “how is Sally?”

Miss Potts thought what a kind child Darrell was. “She's not at all well, I'm afraid,” she said. “The doctor is still doubtful about what exactly is the matter. But she really seems rather ill, poor child. It was so sudden, too—she seemed all right yesterday.”

Darrell turned away, miserable. Yes, Sally had been all right till she had fallen across that chair.
She
knew what was the matter—but nobody else did! It was plain that Sally hadn't told anyone of the quarrel.