Upper Fourth at Malory Towers (3 page)

The beds stood in a row along the dormy, each with its own coloured eiderdown. At the ends of the dormy were hot and cold water taps and basins.

Irene was splashing in one basin, removing the dust of the journey. She always arrived dirtier than anyone else.

No one would ever guess that the scatterbrain was a perfect genius at music and maths, and quite good at her other lessons too! Everyone liked Irene, and everyone laughed at her.

She was humming a tune now as she washed. “Tumty-tooty-tumpty-tooty, ta, ta, ta!”

“Oh, Irene—don't say we're going to have that tune for weeks,” groaned Gwendoline, who always complained that Irene's continual humming and singing got on her nerves.

Irene took no notice at all, which maddened Gwendoline, who loved to be in the limelight if she possibly could.

“Irene” she began, but at that moment the door opened and in came two new girls, ushered by Matron.

“Girls—here are the Batten twins,” she said in her genial voice. “Connie—and Ruth. They are fourth-formers and will be in this dormy. Look after them, Sally and Darrell, will you?”

The girls stood up to look at the twins. Their first thought was—how unlike for twins!

Connie was bigger, fatter, sturdier and bolder-looking than Ruth, who was a good deal smaller, and rather shy-looking. Connie smiled broadly and nodded to everyone. Ruth hardly raised her head to look round, and as soon as she could she stood a little way behind her sister.

“Hallo, twins!” said Alicia. “Welcome to the best dormy in the school! Those must be your beds up there—the two empty ones together.”

“Got your night-cases?” said Darrell. “Good. Well, if you'd like to unpack them now, you can. Supper will be ready soon. The bell will go any minute.”

“Hope it's good,” said Connie, with a comradely grin. “I'm frightfully hungry. It's ages since we had tea.”

“Yes—we get a wizard supper the first evening,” said Sally. “I can smell it now!”

Connie and Ruth put their noses in the air and sniffed hungrily.

“The Bisto twins!” said Alicia, hitting the nail right on the head as usual. Everyone laughed.

“Come on,” said Connie to Ruth. “Let's hurry. I've got the keys. Here they are.”

She undid both bags and dragged out everything quickly. Ruth picked up a few things and looked round rather helplessly.

“Here. These must be our drawers, next to our beds,” said Connie, and began to put away all the things most efficiently. She took the washing-things to the basin and called Ruth.

“Come on, Ruth. We'd better wash. I'm filthy!” Ruth went to join her, and just as they were towelling themselves dry, the supper-bell went. There was a loud chorus of joy.

“Hurrah! I hope there's a smashing supper. I could do with roast duck, green peas, new potatoes, treacle pudding and lots of cheese,” said Belinda, making everyone's mouth water.

“What a hope!” said Darrell.

But all the same there was a most delicious supper that first night—cold ham and tomatoes, great bowls of salad, potatoes roasted in their jackets, cold apple pie and cream, and biscuits and butter for those who wanted it. Big jugs of icy-cold lemonade stood along the table.

“My word!” said Connie to Ruth. “If this is the kind of food we get here, we'll be lucky! Much better than the other school we went to! “

“I hate to undeceive you,” said Alicia, “but I feel I must warn you that first-night and last-night suppers are the only good ones you'll get in any term. We're supposed to be jolly hungry after our long journeys to Cornwall—hence this spread. Tomorrow night, twins, you'll have bread and dripping and cocoa.”

As usual Alicia was exaggerating, and the twins looked rather alarmed. Darrell looked round for Felicity. Where was she? She couldn't have her at the Upper Fourth table, of course, but she hoped she would be near enough to say a word to.

She was too far away to speak to—and she was next to that nasty little June! June was talking to her animatedly, and Felicity was listening, enthralled.

Alicia saw Darrell looking across at Felicity and June. “They've soon settled in!” she said to Darrell. “Look at young Felicity listening to June. You should hear the tales June can tell of her family! They're all madcaps, like mine.”

Darrell remembered how interesting and amusing Alicia could be when she produced one of her endless yarns about her happy-go-lucky, mischievous family. She supposed that June was the same—but all the same she felt rather hurt that Felicity should apparently need her so little.

“Well, if she thinks she can get on by herself, all right!” thought Darrell. “I suppose it's best for her really—though I can't help feeling a bit disappointed. I suppose that horrid little June will find out everything she needs to know and show Felicity the swimming-pool, the gardens, the stables, and all the things I'd planned to show her.”

Felicity badly wanted to go to Darrell after supper and ask her a few things, but as soon as she said she was going, June pulled her back.

“You mustn't!” said June. “Don't you know how the older ones hate having young sisters and cousins tagging after them? Everyone will be bored with us if we go tailing after Alicia and Darrell. In fact, Alicia told me I'd jolly well better look after myself, because first-formers were such small fry we weren't even worth taking notice of!”

“How horrid of her,” said Felicity. “Darrell's not like that.”

“They all are, the big ones,” said June in a grown-up voice. “And why
should
they be bothered with us? We've got to learn to stand on our own feet, haven't we? No—you wait till your sister comes over to you. If she doesn't, you'll know she doesn't want to be bothered—and if she does, well don't make her feel you're dependent on her and want taking under her wing. She'll respect you much more if you stand on your own feet. She looks as if she stood on her own all right!”

“She does,” said Felicity. “Yes, perhaps you're right, June. I've often heard Darrell speak scornfully of people who can't stand on their own feet, or make up their own minds. After all—most new girls haven't got sisters to see to them. I suppose I shouldn't expect mine to nurse me, just because I've come to a new school.”

June looked at her so approvingly that Felicity couldn't help feeling pleased. “I'm glad you're not a softy,” said June “I was afraid you might be. Hallo—here comes Darrell after all. Now, don't weep on her shoulder.”

“As if I should!” said Felicity, indignantly. She smiled at Darrell as she came over.

“Hallo, Felicity. Getting on all right?” said Darrell, kindly. “Want any help or advice with anything?”

“Thanks awfully, Darrell—but I'm getting on fine,” said Felicity, wishing all the same that she might ask Darrell a few things.

“Like to come and see the swimming-pool?” said Darrell. “We might just have time.”

Darrell had forgotten that the first-formers had to go to bed almost immediately after supper on the first night

But June knew it. She answered for Felicity.

“We've got to go to bed, so Felicity won't be able to see it tonight,” she said, coolly. “We planned to go down tomorrow before breakfast. The tide will be in then. I've asked.”

“I was speaking to Felicity, not to you,” said Darrell, in the haughty tones of a fourth-former. “Don't get too big for your boots, June, or you'll be sat on.” She turned to Felicity and spoke rather coldly.

“Well, I'm glad you're settling down, Felicity. Sony you're not in my dormy, but only fourth-formers are there, of course.”

A bell rang loudly. “Our bedtime bell,” said June, who appeared to know everything. “We'd better go. I'll look after Felicity for you, Darrell.”

And with that the irrepressible June linked her arm in Felicity's and dragged her off. Darrell was boiling with rage. She gazed angrily after the two girls, and was only slightly mollified when Felicity turned round and gave her a sweet and rather apologetic smile.

“The brazen cheek of that little pest of a June!” thought Darrell. “I've never wanted to slap anyone so much in my life.”

Going to bed on the first night was always fun, especially in the summer term, because then the windows were wide open, daylight was still bright, and the view was glorious.

It was lovely to be with so many girls again too, to discuss the holidays, and to wonder what the term would bring forth.

“School Cert, to be taken this terra,” groaned Daphne. “How simply horrible. I've been coached for it all the hob, but I don't feel I know much even now.”

“Miss Williams will keep our noses to the grindstone this term,” said Alicia, dolefully.

“Well, you don't need to mind,” said Bill. She had spoken very little so far, and the others had left her alone. They knew she got, not homesick, but “horse-sick” as she called it, the first night or two back at school. She was passionately attached to all the horses owned by her parents and her seven brothers, and missed them terribly at first

Alicia looked at her. “Why don't I need to mind?” she said. “I mind just as much as you do!”

“Well, I mean you don't really need to work, Alicia,” said Bill. “You seem to learn things without bothering. I've been coached in the hols, too, and it was an awful nuisance just when I was wanting to ride with my brothers. I jolly well had to work, though. I bet you weren't coached in the hols.”

“Mavis, are you going in for School Cert.?” asked Darrell. Mavis had been very ill the year before, and had lost her voice. It had been a magnificent voice, but her illness-had ruined it. She had always said she was going to be an opera singer, but nobody ever heard her mention it now. In fact, most of the girls had even forgotten that Mavis had had a wonderful voice.

“I'm going in all right,” said Mavis. “But I shan't get through! I feel like a jelly when I think of it. By the way—did you know my voice is getting right again? “

There was a pause whilst the girls remembered Mavis's lost voice. “Gosh! Is it really?” said Sally. “Good for you, Mavis! Fancy being able to sing again.”

“I mayn't sing much,” said Mavis. “But I shall know this term, I expect, if my voice will ever be worth training again.”

“Good luck to you, Mavis,” said Darrell. She remembered that when Mavis had had her wonderful voice they had all thought the girl was a Voice and nothing else at all—just a little nobody without an ounce of character. But now Mavis had plenty of character, and it was quite difficult to remember her Voice.

“I wonder if she'll go back to being a Voice and nothing else,” thought Darrell. “No—I don't think she will. She deserves to get her voice back again. She's never complained about it, or pitied herself.”

“I say!” said Mary-Lou's voice, “who's this bed for, at my end of the room? There are nobody's things here.”

The girls counted themselves and then the beds. “Yes—that bed's over,” said Darrell. “Well, it wouldn't have been put up if it hadn't been going to be used. There must be another new girl coming.”

“We'll ask tomorrow,” said Alicia, yawning. “How are you getting on, twins? All right?”

The two new girls answered politely. “Fine, thank you.” They had washed, cleaned their teeth, brushed their hair, and were already in bed. Darrell had been amused to see that Connie had looked after Ruth as if she had been a younger sister, turning down her bed for her, and even brushing her hair!

She looked at them as they lay in bed, their faces turned sleepily towards her. Connie's face was plump and round, and her thick hair was quite straight. She had a bold look about her—”sort of pushful” thought Darrell. The other twin, Ruth, had a small heart-shaped face, and her hair, corn-coloured as Connie's, was wavy.

“Good night,” said Darrell, and grinned. They grinned back. Darrell thought she was going to like them. She wished they had been absolutely alike though—that would have been fun! But they were really very unalike indeed.

One by one the girls got yawning into bed and snuggled down. Most of them threw their eiderdowns off, because the May night was warm. Gwendoline kept hers on. She always liked heaps of coverings, and nobody had ever persuaded her to go without her quilt in the summer.

Miss Potts looked in. Some of the girls were already asleep. “No more talking,” said Miss Potts, softly. A few grunts were made in reply. Nobody wanted to talk now.

Darrell wondered suddenly if Felicity was all right. She hoped she wasn't homesick. She wouldn't have time to be if June was in the next bed, talking away! What an unpleasant child! thought Darrell. And the cheek she had! It was past believing.

When the bell rang for getting up the next morning, there was a chorus of groans and moans. Nobody stirred out of bed.

“Well—we
must
get up!” said Darrell at last. “Come on, everybody! Gracious, look at Gwendoline—still fast asleep!”

Darrell winked at Sally. 'Gwendoline was not fast asleep, but she meant to have a few more minutes' snooze.

“She'll be late,” said Sally. “Can't let her get into trouble her very first morning. Better squeeze a cold sponge over her, Darrell!”

This remark, made regularly about twenty times every term, always had the desired effect. Gwendoline opened her eyes indignantly, and sat up. “Don't you dare to squeeze that sponge over me,” she began angrily. “This beastly getting up early! Why, at home...”