Third Year at Malory Towers (10 page)

“Oh dear!” sighed Darrell to herself one afternoon as she ran out for a lacrosse practice,” why is it that Alicia is always so
specially
nice to me in front of Sally—and why has Sally changed so much? She is jealous, I know—but does jealousy change people such a lot?”

Darrell wasn't at all jealous herself. It was not in her nature, so she couldn't really understand Sally's feelings. She saw both sides very clearly. Sally didn't like Alicia and wanted Darrell's entire friendship. Alicia didn't see why she should give up Darrell's companionship completely just because Sally had come back. Why not a threesome till Betty returned?

“Well, I shan't think about
either
of them!” said Darrell, as she caught the lacrosse ball very deftly, spun round and sent it cleanly and swiftly to another player. So she didn't bother about anything except giving her whole attention to the fun of running and catching and throwing.

Molly Ronaldson was really pleased with her. It was not only Darrell's swiftness and deftness that made her pleased, but the girl's keenness. She had never missed a practice, she had come out in the coldest weather and the bitterest winds. She was a Good Sport—and Molly Ronaldson had no higher praise for anyone than that.

“Darrell Rivers, count yourself as third reserve for the third match-team,” she said, as she went off the field with Darrell.

“I'll put the notice up on the board this evening. There's always a chance you might play in a match, so keep up your practice. In this term there's such a lot of illness and people often fall out by the dozen.”

“Oh, Molly—
thank
you!” said Darrell, finding it quit difficult to speak, she was so overcome. “I won't let you down- I'll not miss a single practice, even if it snows! I say, I do think it's super of you!”

“No, it isn't really,” said Molly. “I'm thinking of the team. You're good enough—so in you go—as reserve first, with a faint chance of playing in a match later on.”

Darrell rushed indoors, walking on air. Luckily she didn't collide with Mam'zelle round the corner this time. All she did was to bump into a bunch of fourth-formers, who scattered in alarm at her headlong rush.

“Darrell Rivers! Are you mad?” said Lucy.

“No! Well, perhaps I
am
a bit!” said Darrell. “I'm third reserve for the third match-team! Molly's just told me.”

“That's jolly good,” said Ellen. “Congratulations! Lucky thing! I'll never be in any match-team, and I'm a fourth-former. “

Everyone seemed pleased and clapped Darrell on the back. She rushed to the third form common room to break the news there. Most of the girls were there, sitting about, reading, playing games or sewing. They looked up as Darrell burst in.

“Here comes the hurricane!” said Alicia, with a grin. “Shut the door, for goodness” sake, Darrell. There's an icy blast blowing round my legs already.”

Darrell slammed the door. “Girls, I'm third reserve!” she announced. “Molly's putting it up on the notice board tonight.”

Alicia, who had been a little annoyed at Darrell's success at lacrosse that term, made up her mind to be pleased about it this time. It wouldn't do for her to be sour over this and Sally to be sweet! So she leapt up, thumped Darrell on the back, and yelled congratulations as if there had never before been anyone in the reserve.

She would hardly let Sally get near Darrell. Jean was pleased too, and Irene and Belinda came round to marvel.

Even Mary Lou added her bit, and Zerelda smiled and looked pleased, though secretly she wondered how anyone could possibly be so thrilled about such a peculiar thing. Altogether it was quite a triumph for Darrell, and she basked in the admiration with delight.

Sally was cross to see how pleased Alicia apparently was, and how Darrell welcomed her delight. “Oh dear!” she thought, “I am getting horrid! I can't even make myself say all the nice things to Darrell I'd like to say, just because Alicia got there first!”

Darrell was rather surprised that Sally didn't seem as pleased as she had expected her to be. “Aren't you glad, Sally?” she asked anxiously. “It's an honour for the third form, you know. Do say you're pleased!”

“Of course I'm pleased!” said Sally. “It's—it's fine. You've done jolly well, Darrell.”

But she didn't sound very whole-hearted about it and Darrell felt faintly disappointed. Never mind! Alicia was thrilled—and so were the others. Perhaps Sally was still feeling a bit out of things having come back so late in the term.

The next excitement was a notice put up on the board, next to the notice about Darrell, to say that Miss Hibbert, the English mistress, was going to start rehearsals for
Romeo and Juliet
. All third-formers were to go to the art-room to be tried out for parts.

“Blow!” said Gwendoline, who didn't like Miss Hibbert because she had so often ticked her off for being affected and silly in her acting. “I was hoping she had forgotten about the play. It's such a waste of time.”

“Oh no, it isn't,” said Zerelda, who had brightened up very much at the notice. “Acting is marvellous! That's a thing I really can do. I did Lady Macbeth over in...”

“Yes, we know you did,” interrupted Daphne. “We ought to know by now, anyway! You tell us often enough.”

“I suppose you fancy yourself in one of the chief parts, Daphne?” said Alicia. “What a disappointment you'll get! Anyway, if Zerelda's so good, she'll play Juliet—if she can get rid of that American drawl!”

Zerelda looked alarmed. “Do you think my way of speaking will stop me having a good part?” she asked.

“Well—I can't imagine Shakespeare's Juliet talking with a pronounced American accent,” said Alicia. “Still—if you act the part well enough I don't see why you shouldn't get it!”

Zerelda had been rather subdued lately, but now she came to life again, with the hope of starring in “Romeo and Juliet”! She paid a tremendous lot of attention to her appearance and spent as much time as she dared in front of her looking glass. She also tried to get rid of her American drawl!

This amused the class very much. Zerelda had never made the slightest attempt before to speak in the English way and had laughed at the English accent and called it silly. Now she badgered everyone to tell her how to pronounce the words the way they did.

“Well, try to say ‘won
d
erful’ with the D in the middle, instead of ‘wunnerful’, for a start,” said Darrell. “And say ‘twen
t
y-four’ with the T in the middle, instead of ‘twermy-four’. And couldn't you say ‘stop’ instead of ‘starp’ and ‘shop’ instead of ‘sharp’? Or can't you hear the difference?”

Zerelda patiently tried to master the English way of speaking, much to Miss Peter's astonishment. She had felt quite pleased with Zerelda's efforts to keep up with the work of the form, but she was still annoyed with the girl's constant attention to her hair and appearance. Nor did she like Zerelda's still grown-up air, and her habit of appearing to look down on the others just because they were schoolgirls.

“Now I'll show them all!” thought Zerelda, studying the part of Juliet with great attention. “Now they'll see what I mean when I say I'm going to be one of the greatest of all film stars!”

MISS HIBBERT took a great deal of trouble in producing the school plays. She gave her time to each form in turn, and really achieved some excellent results. This term it was the third form's turn. They were to give the play towards the end of the term. They were thankful not to be doing French plays. Both the Mam'zelles took a hand in producing those, and as they had quite different ideas about acting, it was a little trying for the actors.

“ Does Miss Hibbert choose the characters the first time?” asked Zerelda.

“Oh no—she tries us all out in almost every part several times,” said Darrell. “She does that for two reasons—she says that in that way she really does find the right actor for every part—and we all get to know every part of the play and work better as a team.”

“Gee, that's wunnerful—I mean, won
der
ful,” said Zerelda. “I've been studying Juliet's part. It's a lovely one. Would you like to hear me do some of the lines?”

“Well—I'm just going out to my lacrosse practice,” said Darrell. “Sorry! Look—ask Alicia. She's got nothing to do this period.”

But Alicia was not going to admire Zerelda's Juliet. She got up hastily. “Sorry! I've got to go to a meeting, Zerelda. But I'm sure you'd be just wunnerful!”

“I'll hear you, Zerelda,” said Gwendoline, glad of an opportunity to please the American girl. “Let's go into one of the empty music-practice-rooms, where you won't be disturbed. It will be lovely to see you act. I'm sure you must be awfully good. As good as—what's the star you like so much—oh yes, Lossie Laxton!”

“Well, maybe I'm not up to her standard yet,” said Zerelda, fluffing up her hair in the way Lossie did on the films. “Okay, Gwen—we'll go to a practice-room,”

But they were all full, and music sounded from each of them, with the exception of one at the end. Irene was there, poring over a music score.

“I say, Irene,” said Gwen, going in, “Can you...”

“Go away,” said Irene, fiercely. “I'm busy. Can't you see?”

“Well, you're not needing the piano, are you?” said Zerelda. “Can't you do your work, whatever it is, somewhere else?”

“No, I can't. I shall want to try it out on the piano in a minute,” said Irene. “Go away. Interrupting me like that!”

Zerelda was surprised. She had never seen Irene so annoyed before. But Gwendoline had. She knew that Irene could not bear to be disturbed when she was concentrating on her music, whether it was writing it out, or playing it on the piano.

“Come on,” she said to Zerelda. “Let's go.”

“Yes. GO!” said Irene, with a desperate expression on her face. “You've stopped me just when it was all coming beautifully. Blow you both!”

“Well, really, Irene, I do think you might let us use this room if you're only playing about with pencil and paper,” began Zerelda. “I want to recite some lines of Juliet and...”

Then Irene went quite mad. She threw her music, her pencil and her music-case at the alarmed Zerelda. “You're daft!” she shouted. “Give up my music-hour for your silly acting! Oh yes, I know you're going to be a wonderful film star, parading about in marvellous clothes, thinking of third-rate things if ever you
do
have a thought in your head—but what's all that compared to music! I tell you I'm...”

But Zerelda and Gwen did not wait to hear any more. They saw Irene looking round for something else to throw and as there was a vase of flowers on the little mantelpiece

Gwen thought the sooner they went out of the room the better.

“Well!” said Zerelda. “If that doesn't beat all! Irene's mad!”

“Not really,” said Gwen. “It's only when she feels sort of inspired, and music comes welling up into her mind and she has to write it down. She's got the real artistic temperament, I suppose.”

“Well, so have I,” said Zerelda at once. “But I don't go mad like that. I wouldn't have believed it of her.”

“She can't help it,” said Gwendoline. “It's only when she's interrupted. Look—there's Lucy going out of one of the practice-rooms. We can have that one if we're quick!”

They slipped into the room that Lucy had just left. Gwendoline sat down, ready to listen for hours if she could please Zerelda and make her feel really friendly towards her. Zerelda struck a lovesick attitude and began.

“Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day;

It was the nightingale and not the lark,

That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree; Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.”

Gwendoline listened with a rapt and admiring expression on her face. She had no idea at all whether Zerelda was good or not, but that made no difference to her praise.

“It's marvellous!” she said, when Zerelda at last stopped for breath. “However have you learnt such a lot? My goodness, you do act well. And you really look the part, Zerelda, with your hair and all.”

“Do I?” said Zerelda, pleased. She always enjoyed herself when she was acting. “I know what I'll do. I'll shake my hair loose. And I'll wrap this tablecloth round me. No-it's not big enough. The curtain will do!”

To Gwendoline's amusement Zerelda took down the blue curtain and swathed it round herself over her brown school tunic. She undid her brilliant hair and shook it all over her shoulder. She decided to put the tablecloth round her too. Ah—now she felt more like Juliet. Holding her hands out pathetically in front of her she began another speech. It sounded really a little queer because Zerelda tried very hard to speak in the English way but kept lapsing into her usual drawl, so that the whole effect was rather funny.

Gwendoline wanted to laugh but she knew how offended Zerelda would be. The American girl paraded up and down, declaiming her speeches most dramatically, the blue curtain dragging behind her like a train, her hair almost hiding one eye.

Someone looked in. It was Bessie, a second-former. She had come to practice. But seeing two third- formers there, she fled. Then a fourth-former came. She was not scared of third-formers, but was very much astonished to see Zerelda and her strange raiment.

“I've got to practise,” she said, coming in. “Clear out”

Zerelda stopped indignantly. “Clear out yourself!” she said. “Gee, of all the nerve! Can't you see I'm rehearsing?”

“No, I can't,” said the fourth-former. “And wait till a mistress sees you in that curtain—You'll be for it, Zerelda Brass. Clear out now, both of you. I'm late already.”

Zerelda decided to go all temperamental like Irene. She caught up her book of Shakespeare's plays and threw it at the fourth-former. Most unfortunately at that moment Matron came by, and, as she always did, glanced into the practice-room to see that each girl there was practising. She was filled with astonishment to see somebody wearing a curtain and a tablecloth, with hair all over her face, throwing a book at a girl about to sit down at the piano.