First term at fernside, p.14
First Term at Fernside, page 14
Fran declined to join them.
‘But you mightn’t get in the team!’ Mabel said. ‘Phoebe’s getting off her tram two stops early to get fitter. She says she feels the good of it already.’
‘I’m delighted for her,’ Fran said. ‘Look, Mabel, I’ll go to practices and do my best, but that’s it.’
‘You do know that the more lower fourths make it into the team, the more points we’ll get towards the Form Shield?’ Mabel persisted.
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Fran said coolly, and Mabel looked outraged at her lack of form spirit.
‘It’d be nice to make the team,’ Fran told Linnet as they sat by the common room window, Mabel and Robin having buzzed off in to the gym, ‘but it’s not the end of the world if I don’t. Look, there’s a jay. Isn’t he colourful?’
It was lovely having someone else so interested in animals. Linnet wasn’t sure if she and Fran were friends – she didn’t know enough about how friendships worked – but she thought they might be moving in that direction. She realised that Fran was looking at her oddly.
‘What?’ Linnet asked.
Fran shook her head. ‘Nothing. Only most friends would say something like, Of course you’ll get in. But you didn’t.’
‘But you said you didn’t mind much.’ Linnet bit her lip. Deep down, in the part of herself she didn’t really like to look at too closely, was the hope that Fran wouldn’t make the team. Which was very mean, especially as Fran had indeed used the word friend.
But even this casual attitude to the netball team meant Fran having to practise every afternoon, so Linnet was often alone. She had always craved solitude, but now she found herself sometimes bored and lonely. She had promised not to go back to Rowanbank, but she couldn’t silence the voice in her head that said, What’s going on there? What was that scream? Could Doctor Flynn really be trapping animals? And what about those disappearing animals Josie told us about? Is it just silly gossip, or is there something in it?
The more she tried not to think about it, the more she did.
After Mim’s rescue, most of lower fourth lost interest in the mystery of Rowanbank, even Sadie. Giulia was released from the San, her arm in a sling and under strict orders to take life quietly, and a friendship sprang up between her and Sadie. They swopped books and giggled in corners, and Giulia taught Sadie to play chess.
One wet day, when Fran and Robin were at netball, and the common room was pulsing so hard with noise that Linnet seemed to feel it beat in her temples, she knew she must go somewhere quiet or she would explode. Not Rowanbank, not anywhere outside …
The attic! That little window from which you could see so far. Just five minutes’ looking out, seeing something beyond the busy world of Fernside, would be enough. Linnet paused. The attics were out of bounds. What if she were caught by one of the maids whose room was up there? She couldn’t bear anyone to think she was poking about.
She remembered Miss Rea, that first terrible morning. Come to me, she had said, if anything confuses you. But Linnet wasn’t confused; she knew what she wanted: to be allowed to climb a staircase, walk along a corridor, and look out of a window. A reasonable request, surely?
But Miss Rea would say that if she gave Linnet permission she would have to allow other girls to go where they liked. And she couldn’t. So if I don’t ask, Linnet reasoned, she can’t say no, and I won’t be disobeying an actual order. So she didn’t ask, but slipped down the passage to the back stairs, pausing to pet Mim who was sitting on the windowsill, looking out at the wet garden with sad green eyes.
‘You’re like me, Mim,’ she murmured. ‘You want to be outside, but you’re scared.’
It was creepier in the attic without Robin, and Linnet lost no time in going straight to the window and hoisting herself up by her elbows.
I’ll look at something nearby, she decided, something in the middle distance, and something far away on the horizon. It was a trick Daddy had taught her, to help her to be observant and to calm her down when she was getting into a state. She stared hard at a sprig of ivy growing just outside the window, counting the leaves, tracing their delicate lines, noticing the different shades of green on stem and leaves.
She shifted her focus to the middle distance. Hmm, not much to see in the garden today – oh yes: there was Josie picking something from the raised vegetable beds, bent over like an old woman. Poor Josie. She wasn’t much older than the lower fourth – maybe fourteen. It couldn’t be much fun being a kitchen maid.
Far distance – nothing stirred on the damp grey riverbank. She made her eyes slide right, to take in Rowanbank, heart pounding as if she was afraid of what she might see. Though it was a dank, dull day, she saw quite a lot: the dense protecting wall of trees and bushes, many of them now rust and gold, the rowanberries burning bright red through the greyness, and inside their embrace, the house, some outbuildings – stables, built around a cobbled yard. Oh, she had missed Rowanbank!
When Linnet was small she had had a toy farm; her greatest treat was to be allowed to set it up on the fireside rug in the sitting room. The rug was green, and the farm never looked as real on the patterned carpet in her bedroom, or the dull wood of the nursery table. Looking down at Rowanbank now reminded her of that farm. There were even three or four hens, tiny from this distance, pecking in the yard. Were they the ones she had met? And if so – where were the rest? (She hurried this thought along.) And was that a tiny piebald donkey in that little green paddock at the bottom of the yard? She looked harder. No, it was a goat.
The goat stopped grazing and flung up its head as though startled. A wheelchair appeared. She couldn’t see who was in it, except that it was a man; he was well wrapped up against the October afternoon, with a muffler round his neck and a blanket over his knees, rather like the ones lower fourth made for Activities. Maybe Doctor Flynn had an aged father? Or was the man a patient, or a visitor? He pushed himself across the yard and stopped at one of the sheds, where he reached out of the chair to look over the half door rather as Linnet was stretching up to see out of the window. How she wished she could have seen what he was looking at!
The bell clanged through the house. Linnet sighed and scrambled down from her perch. That was the worst of school: no sooner were you absorbed in something than the bell summoned you somewhere else. She slipped down the staircase, and hurried to afternoon prep to wrestle with the perfect tense in French and colouring in the thirty-two counties of Ireland.
Before she turned into the bottom corridor she heard squeals and shouts, and names being called.
‘Who’d have thought Betty would get in? Up the thirds!’
‘Hooray! We’re both in!’
‘Ugh – Ghastly Gillian.’
‘Shh!’
‘Why? She can’t hear me from – well, wherever she lives.’
‘It’s not the final team – it’s the eight best – one will be a reserve.’
‘Bags not me!’
The netball team.
Linnet’s heart thumped as she turned the corner and slowed down to look at the noticeboard. She skimmed past the names that didn’t matter – Betty Barbour of the third, some upper fourths she didn’t know – and read Robin Grey. Fran’s name wasn’t there. She tried not to feel glad.
Chapter 27
A Cry in the Morning
‘But do you really, really not mind?’ In Fran’s place Robin would have been, what was that Italian word Giulia used? – devastata – rather than cheerfully washing her face and telling Linnet about the time she had jumped Nutmeg at the county show.
‘I really, really don’t mind.’ Fran reached past Robin to turn on the taps. ‘You and Mabel are better, and you trained harder. You deserve to be in the team. It’s a pain that Gillian’s there, but …’ She shrugged.
‘Phoebe worked just as hard,’ Robin said. ‘She’ll be disappointed when she finds out tomorrow.’ She couldn’t wait to tell Mother in her weekly letter. Mother had never played games, but Father had been a keen cricketer. There was a photograph of him with his school first eleven in the dining room at home. Robin had always thought Father looked almost grown up in that photo, but now she realised he must have been Lucy and Nancy’s age. It crushed a little part of her that she and Mother never talked about Father. Sometimes, lately, Robin had thought Mother would like to, but not talking about him had become a habit they didn’t know how to break. Maybe she could do it in a letter – ask Mother if she thought Father would have been pleased about the team? That might be easier than talking.
‘I’m glad Fran didn’t get in,’ Linnet said, hanging up her towel on the peg, ‘or I’d have had nobody to talk to – nobody interesting, that is.’
‘Now, that,’ said Babs, who had just come in, ‘is one of those things that only you could get away with saying. Budge up, Robin.’
‘What d’you mean?’ Linnet looked hurt.
‘Well, if I said that, people would think I was being unkind and selfish.’ Babs grinned. ‘And to be fair, they’d be right. But when you say it you’re just being … well, how you are.’ She squeezed paste on to her toothbrush and added, ‘I hope you’ – she looked at Robin – ‘aren’t going to become unbearably hearty now you’re in a team. One Mabel is enough.’
‘Mabel’s all right,’ Robin said.
She wasn’t so sure of this next morning when Mabel appeared at the door of Lilac to ask Robin to join her for a quick run before breakfast.
‘It’s too early!’
‘Oh, come on.’ Mabel glanced back over her shoulder as if imagining Matron about to pounce. It was unlike her to risk trouble by visiting another dormitory. ‘Fifteen minutes. Just a few laps round the tennis court. It could make all the difference. Imagine if Ellis House beat us by one goal and—’
‘Oh, all right.’ It was easier to give in. ‘But I’ll have to make my bed first.’
‘I’ll do it,’ offered Linnet.
Robin bit her lip. It was kind of Linnet, but bedmaking was one of the many practical tasks she had not taken to easily.
‘I’ll make them both,’ Evangeline said. ‘It could be my contribution to the team even though God hasn’t seen fit to endow me with athletic ability.’
‘No,’ Linnet said, her face stubborn. ‘I have to learn to do it properly.’
‘Oh, for goodness sake!’ Mabel said from the doorway.
‘Linnet can make them, and I’ll supervise,’ Evangeline said. ‘Now go!’
Robin would have been happy with a gentle stroll down to the tennis courts, but Mabel insisted on marching – ‘to get our blood pumping and our muscles warmed up before we start,’ she explained as they let themselves out into the crisp morning.
Robin yawned.
‘Being on the team will give us points for the Form Shield,’ Mabel said. ‘It’s a pity Phoebe and Fran didn’t try harder.’
‘Phoebe did her best,’ Robin said. ‘And Fran doesn’t care much.’
‘Well, she should,’ Mabel said. Her eyes burned with purpose.
‘Why are you so bothered about the Shield?’ Robin asked, as they made their way down a garden hung with sparkling spider webs.
Mabel shrugged. ‘People think we’re young and silly. I want to prove them wrong.’
‘People? Mistresses?’
‘And seniors. Let’s run while we talk. Jog to the net, then sprint back.’ Mabel was halfway down the court before Robin realised what was happening.
‘I don’t care what people like Nell McGreavy think,’ Robin huffed.
‘You care about Lucy and Nancy.’
‘Well, yes.’ And Mother. For a moment Robin let herself imagine lower fourth winning the Form Shield. Saw it displayed in their form room all of next term. Miss West would be pleased. Mother would be delighted. But it was impossible. Lower fourths didn’t do enough of the things you won points for – they were less likely to be on teams or to do public exams.
‘I don’t suppose anyone below upper fifth has ever won it,’ she said.
Mabel caught her up. ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ she said. ‘Margaret’s form won it in upper fourth – in 1920.’
‘And you want to go one better than your sister?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ Mabel started doing star-jumps, her arms and legs scissoring in and out as though her life depended on it.
Robin copied her, wishing the breakfast bell would hurry up and ring. Of course she was thrilled to be on the team, and determined to do her absolute best, only – well, she’d thought it might be more fun. Would Mabel expect her to do early practice every day?
‘I was thinking,’ Mabel said, ‘that we should stop eating cakes and sweets.’
Robin sighed, and for the first time felt herself slightly looking forward to the match being safely over. She was also looking forward to spending breakfast time with Babs, who could be relied on not to talk about the Form Shield or expect her to do star-jumps or to give up sweets. She was about to say so when a strange noise tore the morning stillness – not quite a scream, not quite a howl, but an unmistakable cry of agony. Robin didn’t know if it was human or animal. She knew only that it came from Rowanbank, and that it made even Mabel stop star-jumping, and say, in a frightened voice, ‘What on earth was that?’
Chapter 28
Lost Dog
Miss West looked up from the register. ‘Enid?’ she said. ‘No? Has anyone seen Enid?’
Lower fourth exchanged glances and shook heads. It was always more mysterious when a daygirl was absent, and so far the only daygirl who had missed the odd day was Gillian, and nobody ever asked her why. When a boarder wasn’t in school, you always knew why, and had possibly witnessed her being carted off by Matron.
‘I sometimes walk down Fernside Road with her,’ Phoebe said, ‘but I was early today so I didn’t see her.’
Robin felt a pang for Phoebe – she must have come in early to see the team list.
‘Probably a cold or a bilious attack,’ Miss West said.
But before she had finished the roll, the door was flung open and Enid rushed in. Her plait was untidy, and she was red and breathless.
‘Enid! I’ve just marked you absent.’
‘I’m sorry. We – we’ve had a drama.’
Most of lower fourth pricked up their ears, especially people like Sadie and Babs who loved excitement.
Enid burst out, ‘Has anyone seen Rudy? He’s run off. I hoped he might have come back here.’
‘Again?’ Miss West asked, at the same time as Fran burst out, ‘I’m not surprised, the way you treat him.’
‘Frances,’ Miss West said in a warning voice.
Robin couldn’t help agreeing with Fran, but she felt sorry for Enid, who was clearly on the edge of tears. Her mind went to that strange noise she and Mabel had heard: could that have had anything to do with Rudy? But it hadn’t sounded like a dog, and it had died away almost at once. Maybe it wouldn’t be helpful to mention it.
Miss West sounded impatient. ‘I sincerely hope your dog is not here, causing the sort of mayhem he did the other night,’ she said. Enid’s cheeks flushed even redder and she looked intently at the floor. ‘Take yourself off to the cloakroom and tidy yourself up,’ Miss West said. ‘I’ll excuse you from Prayers. Off you go, girls. And Enid, I shall go to the kitchen and ask if Cook or any of the servants have seen Rudy – but you must not miss class.’
‘I knew this would happen,’ Fran said, as lower fourth made their way to Prayers.
‘You needn’t sound so pleased about it,’ Robin said. ‘He might have hurt himself.’
‘I’m not pleased,’ Fran said. ‘I’m just right.’
‘We should help Enid,’ Robin said, ‘not boast about who’s right and who’s wrong.’
‘He’d better not frighten Mim again,’ Linnet said.
‘I bet he’s nowhere near here,’ Babs said. ‘He’s probably gone in the other direction – behind the shop, or on to the main road.’
‘Under a tram,’ Fran said. ‘I said he’d get run over.’
‘We can’t exactly look for him,’ Robin said, ignoring this, ‘since we aren’t allowed to leave the grounds.’
‘Oh, but we must find him!’ Sadie said. ‘The lower fourth solves the mystery!’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Babs said. ‘There isn’t a mystery. It’s not a story. It’s just a dog that’s gone AWOL.’
‘Shh,’ Robin warned, as they reached the hall, where Nell McGreavy was on duty to check everyone was entering prayerfully, or at least quietly. ‘We’ll talk about it at breaktime.’
At breaktime they lined up for their milk – water for Linnet – and, as the day was fine, though cold, headed out to the garden, bringing a very subdued Enid with them.
‘No news,’ Enid said. ‘Mummy said she’d telephone Miss Rea if he came home.’ She sighed and nibbled distractedly at her bun. ‘I’ll be home for lunch but that feels hours away.’
‘So did he just escape from the garden again?’ Sadie asked. She had her notebook out. Breaktime Meeting, Robin saw her write in her bold handwriting. Present – Robin, Linnet, Sadie, Fran, Babs (Investigators) & Enid (owner).
‘N-not exactly.’ Enid looked uncomfortable.
‘So what happened?’
‘He bit Ellie last night. Quite hard; her wrist was bleeding.’
‘She must have teased him,’ Fran said. ‘Dogs don’t bite for nothing.’
‘She might have, but actually he is quite snappy—’
‘Collies can be,’ Fran said in her know-all voice. ‘They get frustrated easily when they aren’t properly—’
‘Can you let Enid tell the story?’ Robin said.
