In the Fifth at Malory Towers (18 page)

The two mothers turned their heads away quickly at the sight of the teeth. They hurried off with Miss Grayling who hardly heard what they said, she was so concerned about Mam’zelle’s teeth. She determined to send for Mam’zelle that evening and ask her about them. Really — she couldn’t allow any of her staff to go about with teeth like that! They were monstrous, hideous!

Mam’zelle was so thankful to see the last of the mothers that she hurried straight into a little company of fifth-formers going back to the school, some to do their piano practice and some to have a lesson in elocution.

“Hallo, Mam’zelle!” said Mavis. “Are you coming back to school?”

Mam’zelle smiled. The fifth-formers got a dreadful shock. They stared in silent horror. The teeth had slipped a little, and now looked rather like fangs. They gave Mam’zelle a most sinister, big-bad-wolf look. Mam’zelle saw their alarm and astonishment. Laughter surged back into her. She felt it swelling up and up. She gasped. She gulped. She roared.

She sank on to a bench and cried with helpless laughter. She remembered Matron’s face — and Miss Grayling’s — and the faces of the two mothers. The more she thought of them the more helplessly she laughed. The girls stood round, more alarmed than ever. What was the matter with Mam’zelle? What was this enormous joke?

Mam’zelle’s teeth slipped out altogether, fell on to her lap, and then to the ground. The girls stared at them in the utmost amazement, and then looked at Mam’zelle. She now looked completely normal, with just her own small teeth showing in her laughing face. She laughed on and on when she saw her trick teeth lying there before her.

“It is a treek,” she squeaked at last, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. “Did you not give me a dare? Did you not tell me to do a treek on you? I have done one with the teeth. They are treek teeth. Oh
, là là
— I must laugh again. Oh my sides, oh my back!”

She swayed to and fro, laughing. The girls began to laugh, too. Mam’zelle Rougier came up, astonished to see the other French mistress laughing so much.

“What is the matter?” she asked, without a smile on her face.

Irene did one of her explosions. She pointed to the teeth on the ground. “Mam’zelle wore them — for a trick — and they’ve fallen out and given the game away!”

She went off into squeals of laughter again, and the other girls joined in. Mam’zelle Rougier looked cold and disapproving.

“I see no joke,” she said. “It is not funny, teeth on the grass. It is time to see the dentist when that happens.”

She walked off, and her speech and disapproving face sent everyone into fits of laughter again. It was altogether a most successful afternoon for Mam’zelle, and the “treek” story flew all through the school immediately.

Mam’zelle suddenly found herself extremely popular, except with the staff. “A little
undignified
, don’t you think?” said Miss Williams.

“Not a thing to do
too
often, Mam’zelle,” said Miss Potts, making up her mind to remove the trick booklets from Mam’zelle’s desk at the first opportunity.

“Glad you’ve lost those frightful teeth,” said Matron, bluntly. “Don’t do that again without warning me, Mam’zelle. I got the shock of my life.”

But the girls loved Mam’zelle for her “treek”, and every class in the school, from top to bottom, worked twice as hard (or so Mam’zelle declared) after she had played her truly astonishing “treek”!

THE end of the term was coming near. The pantomime was almost ready. Everything had gone smoothly since the Big Row, as it was called.

Moira had softened down a lot, pleased by the unstinted admiration of the girls for her act in going down to the Head to speak for June. Alicia was back as demon king, as good as ever, complete with eerie chant. Betty was back as co-producer. Everyone knew her part perfectly.

Belinda’s scenery was almost finished. She had produced all kinds of wonderful effects, helped by the properties Pop had out in the barn — relics of other plays and pantomimes. She painted fast and furiously, and Pop had helped to evolve a magnificent coach which they had somehow managed to adorn with gilt paint.

“It looks marvellous,” said Clarissa, in awe. “I suppose Merrylegs couldn’t pull it, Belinda? He’d be awfully good, I know.”

“I daresay — but if you think I’m going to have Thunder and Merrylegs galloping about madly all over my precious stage, you can think again,” said Belinda, adding a final touch of gilt to a wheel.

All the actors knew the songs, both words and music. The costumes were ready. Janet had done well, and everyone had a costume that fitted and suited the wearer perfectly. Cinderella looked enchanting in her ball-gown — a dress whose full skirt floated out mistily, glittering with hundreds of sequins patiently sewn on by the first-formers in the sewing-class.

The whole school was interested in the pantomime because so many of them had either helped to paint the scenery or make the “props” or sew the costumes. They were all looking forward tremendously to the show the next week.

Gwen and Maureen looked enviously at Mary-Lou in her ball-gown. How they wished they could wear a frock like that. How beautiful they would look!

Catherine gazed at little Mary-Lou, too. She had got very fond of her. Mary-Lou was gentle and timid and always grateful for anything that Catherine did for her. She didn’t call her a doormat or laugh at her self-sacrificing ways. She didn’t even call her Saint Catherine as the others did.

Catherine had stopped being a doormat for the form. She had felt angry and sore about it. But she somehow couldn’t stop waiting on people — and Mary-Lou didn’t mind! So she fussed over her, and altered her frock, and praised her, and heard her words; and altogether she made life very easy for Mary-Lou, who was really very nervous about taking the principal part in the show.

Now the days were spinning away fast — Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday — two more days left, one more day...

“And now it’s THE DAY!” cried Darrell the next morning, rushing to the window. “And it’s a heavenly day, so all the parents will get down without any bother. Gosh, I feel so excited I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Well, you certainly don’t know the difference between my sponge and yours,” said Sally, taking her own sponge away from the excited Darrell. “Come on — get dressed, idiot. We’ve got a lot to do today!”

The parents arrived at teatime. Tea was at four. The pantomime was due to begin at half-past five, and went on till half-past seven. Then there came a Grand Supper, and after that the parents went — some to their homes, if they were within driving distance, some to hotels.

The tea was grand and the first and second-formers scurried about with plates and dishes, helping themselves to the meringues and eclairs whenever they could. The fifth-formers slipped away to dress at half-past four. Darrell peeped at the stage.

How big it looked — how grand! It was already set for the first scene, with a great fireplace for Cinderella to sit by. Darrell felt solemn. She had written this pantomime. If it was a failure she would never never write anything again — and you never knew — it might be a terrible flop.

Sally came up. She saw Darrell’s solemn face and smiled. “It’s going to be a terrific success,” she said. “You just see! And you’ll deserve it, Darrell — you really have worked hard.”

“So have you,” said Darrell, loyally — but Sally knew that the creative part had all been Darrell’s. The words and the songs had all come out of Darrell’s own imagination. Sally hadn’t much imagination — she was sensible and sturdy and stolid. She admired Darrell for her quick creativeness without envying her.

The school orchestra were in their places, tuning up. They had learnt all Irene's music, and she was going to conduct them. She looked flushed and pleased.

“Are you nervous?” asked Belinda.

“Yes. Now I am. But at the very first stroke of my baton, at the very first note of the music, I’ll forget to be nervous. I just won’t be there. I’ll be the music,” said Irene. Belinda understood this remarkable statement very well, and nodded gravely.

The actors were all dressed in their costumes. Mary-Lou had on her ragged Cinderella frock and looked frightened. “But it doesn’t matter you looking pensive and scared,” Moira told her. “You’re just right like that — Cinderella to the life!”

Alicia looked simply magnificent. She was dressed in a tight-fitting glowing red costume that showed off her slim figure perfectly. It was glittering with bright sequins. Her eyes glittered, too. She wore a pointed hood and looked “positively
wicked
” Betty said.

“And don’t you drop any of your juggling rings, and discover your rabbit isn’t in your hat after all, or something,” she said to Alicia. But Alicia knew she wouldn’t. Alicia wasn’t nervous — she was cock-sure and confident and brilliant-eyed, and leapt about as if she had springs in her heels.

“Shhhhhhh!” said somebody. “The orchestra’s beginning. The audience are all coming in. Shhhhh!”

The orchestra played a lively rousing tune. Lovely! Darrell peeped through the curtains and saw Irene standing up, conducting vigorously. What did it feel like to conduct your own music? Just as good as it would feel to see your own play acted, no doubt. She shivered in excitement.

A bell rang behind stage. The curtains were about to swing open. The chorus got ready to go in. The pantomime had begun!

When the chorus danced off the stage, Mary-Lou was left by the fire as Cinderella. She sang — and her small sweet voice caught Irene’s lilting melodies, making everyone listen intently.

The Baron came on — Bill, stamping around in riding-boots, roaring here and roaring there.

“It’s BILL!” shouted the delighted school and clapped so much that they held up the pantomime for a bit. The two Ugly Sisters brought down the house too. They were perfectly hideous, perfectly idiotic and perfectly wonderful. And how they enjoyed themselves! Gwen even found herself wishing she might have been one of them! Ugly or not, it must be wonderful to have a comic part like that. But Gwen was only a servant in the chorus, unseen and almost unheard!

Mrs. Lacy hardly caught sight of her at all. But for once in a way she didn’t mind — she was so enraptured with the pantomime.

Then the Prince came — tall, slender Mavis, looking shy and nervous until she had to sing — and then what a marvel! Her voice broke on the startled audience like a miracle, and there was not a single sound to be heard while she sang.

Mothers found their eyes full of tears. What a wonderful voice! What a good thing it had come back to Mavis. Why, one day she would be a great opera-singer, perhaps the greatest that ever lived. Mavis sang on and on like a bird, her voice pure and true, and Irene exulted in the tunes she had written so well for her.

There was such a storm of clapping that again the pantomime was held up. “Encore!” shouted everyone. “Encore! ENCORE!”

Darrell was trembling with excitement and joy. It was a success. It WAS a success. In fact, it looked like being a SUPER success. She could hardly keep still.

Alicia was excellent. She leapt on magnificently, with her eerie chant. “Oooooh!” said the lower school, deliciously thrilled. “The demon king. It’s Alicia!”

Without a single mistake Alicia juggled and tumbled, did cartwheels and conjured as if she had been doing nothing else all her life. Fathers turned to one another and exclaimed in astonished admiration.

“She’s good enough to be on the London stage. How on earth did she do
that
trick?”

So the show went on, and everyone clapped and cheered madly at the end of the first act. The actors rushed to Moira and Darrell — when the curtain came down at the end of the act.

“Are we doing all right? I nearly forgot my lines! Isn’t the audience grand? Oh, Darrell, aren’t you proud? Moira, we’re doing fine, aren’t we? Aren’t we?”

The second act was performed. Now the audience had time to appreciate the lovely costumes and marvel at them. They marvelled at the scenery, too — and applauded the gilt coach frantically, especially the lower school, some of whom had helped to paint it.

And then at last the end came. The final chorus was sung, the last bow made. The curtain swung back once — twice — three — four times. The audience rose to its feet, cheering and shouting and stamping. It was the biggest success Malory Towers had ever had.

The audience sat down. A call came that grew more and more insistent.

“Author!
Author
!
AUTHOR
!”

Someone gave Darrell a push. “Go on, silly. They’re calling for you. You’re the author! You wrote it all!”

Blindly Darrell stepped out in front of the curtain. She saw Felicity’s excited face somewhere. She searched for her father and mother. There they were — clapping wildly. Mrs. Rivers found tears running down her face. Darrell! Her Darrell! How wonderful it was to have a child you could be proud of! Well done, Darrell, well done!

“Speech!” came a call. “Speech! Speeeeech!”

“Say something, ass!” said Irene, from the orchestra.

There was suddenly silence. Darrell hesitated. What should she say? “Thank you,” she said, at last. “We — we did love doing it. I couldn’t have done it by myself, of course. There was Irene, who wrote all the lovely music. Come up here, Irene!”