First term at fernside, p.6
First Term at Fernside, page 6
‘But when do we just be?’ Linnet asked.
Robin and Babs stared at her. ‘What do you mean – be?’
‘I mean, do we have to do things all the time?’
‘What’s wrong with doing things? It’d be boring if we’d nothing to do.’
Linnet struggled to explain. ‘We’re always in such a rush – ten minutes to wash, five minutes to dress, five minutes to make the bed—’
‘I’d like to see you make your bed in five minutes.’
‘It’s all timetables and bells. I thought at the weekend we might be able to just sit and think.’
‘Think!’
‘Well – be with nature, maybe.’ The thought of all those lovely trees in Rowanbank flashed into her mind. ‘I don’t know. Just not be rushing around so much.’
‘The rising bell doesn’t go until eight on Saturdays,’ Babs said, and Linnet sighed. Why could nobody understand? Promise me that if you’re confused, you ask to see me, Miss Rea had said the other day, but she couldn’t really go and say she needed time to be.
The common room was worse than the form room. Not so stuffy, but noisy, and the view of the garden was even more enticing. Droplets of rain hung like tiny crystals off the ends of leaves. A robin fluffed its feathers and dived under a clump of ferns in search of insects. Linnet opened the window, and the cool damp air rushed in. She took a deep satisfying breath.
‘You look like Nutmeg,’ Fran said, flinging her scarlet woollen cardigan into a corner of the sagging old sofa, the accepted way to bag a seat.
‘Who’s Nutmeg?’
‘My pony. When she comes out of her stable on a cold morning, that’s just how she sniffs the air.’ For a moment a tight, closed look came over Fran’s face. Then she seemed to shake it off, and asked Robin if she had any bright ideas about the cat.
‘Not yet,’ Robin admitted. ‘I might have one in my bath – that’s the place for ideas.’
Linnet settled down to read, trying to block out the fustling and chatter of lower fourth at leisure. But no sooner had she started to read Emily of New Moon than something terrible happened – Emily’s father died. With Mummy and Daddy somewhere in the Atlantic, and so much that could happen to them before they came safely back to her, she couldn’t bear Emily’s orphaned fate, and slammed the book shut before the wave of tears which had been building up in her since Nancy had said there was to be no going outside, could break.
She looked through the window. Dared she sneak outside? Not to Rowanbank, of course, though that was what she wanted, more than anything, but just to the garden? The sky had greyed again and the bright green leaves of the camellia darkened with fresh rain. Linnet didn’t mind rain, but she could imagine the trouble she would be in if Matron saw her at tea with damp hair. She sighed. This really was a prison. Lucky daygirls to be home until Monday! Imagine that horrible Gillian snuggled up with her family!
Robin and Babs, working together on a jigsaw, had started the kind of giggling which is extremely tiresome to anyone not involved with the joke. They muffled the noise by giggling into the yokes of their tunics, but every time they erupted, Linnet itched with irritation. She had to take deep breaths to stop herself crying out.
‘Can you stop breathing so loudly?’ Mabel demanded. ‘We’re trying to concentrate.’ She was playing chess with Giulia, and the sight of the little wooden pieces, especially the knights, which she always called ‘horses’, gave Linnet another kick of homesickness. Daddy loved chess: he had tried to teach her but she could never remember which pieces moved in which directions. She thought of Daddy’s chess set gathering dust in the empty house, while she was forced to stay here with girls who told you off for breathing, and she knew she would have to escape from this room before she lost control.
‘Where are you going?’ Fran looked up from The Autobiography of a Pit Pony.
‘I don’t know!’ She was annoyed by the wobble in her voice. ‘The dorm?’ At least she could open the window and lean out and breathe – and look at Rowanbank.
‘Matron will kill you if she finds you,’ Fran said.
‘Is there nowhere in this …?’ Then she took hold of herself. ‘I’m going’ – to the lavatory, she was about to say, supposing the junior cloakroom would be as good a place as any to hide. Though how embarrassing to be caught spending a long time in there. She had a better idea – ‘to the library.’
‘Well, be careful.’ Mabel rescued her king from ‘check’. ‘The big girls study in there and they don’t like being disturbed. I don’t want you getting a bad mark for the form.’
‘I’ll be like a mouse,’ Linnet promised. She lifted Emily of New Moon and set out for the library, at the far end of the hall. She would choose a new book for the weekend. The big girls wouldn’t even know she was there. She would take time to look properly. Yesterday Miss West had rushed them in and out as if choosing a book was something you did with no more thought than choosing two ounces of sweets.
Maybe the library would have The Story of Doctor Dolittle, an old friend she would be happy to revisit, or might it be time for a reread of Little Women? She mightn’t feel so lonely with Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy around. But how strange to feel lonely, when she was surrounded by more girls than she had met in her whole life. Maybe lonely wasn’t quite the right word—
‘Linnet Grey.’
She swung round at the sound of her name and was stumbling out an explanation before she even realised who was speaking. ‘I-I’m only going to the library. I thought we were allowed.’
It was Miss West, and standing beside her was a girl whose blue tunic, like Linnet’s own, looked uncomfortably new. She had short curly brown hair, and big dark eyes that looked at Linnet with an expression half-nervous, half-merry, but completely friendly.
‘This is Sadie Hayes,’ Miss West said. ‘She’s in your form and your dormitory. Maybe you’d like to show her round?’
Linnet wrinkled her forehead. Was Miss West asking her to show Sadie round? ‘I don’t know where everything is yet,’ she said.
Miss West smiled. ‘You know enough. She’s been to the dormitory and unpacked, but she hasn’t seen the form room or the common room yet.’
‘Or the library,’ Sadie said, speaking for the first time. She glanced down at the book in Linnet’s hands. ‘I can’t wait to see the library.’
‘I’ll leave Sadie in your capable hands, then, Linnet,’ Miss West said. ‘Good luck, Sadie.’
‘I expect she thinks I’ll need it,’ Sadie said as Miss West swept off down the corridor in the direction of the staff room.
‘Oh, school’s not that bad,’ Linnet said, forgetting how glum and hopeless she had just been feeling, and almost reeling at being described as ‘capable’. ‘It’s just a bit busy. And peoply.’
Sadie laughed. ‘That sounds bliss. Life has been quite unpeoply lately – for obvious reasons.’ She gestured at her legs, and for the first time Linnet saw that she wore a metal-and-leather brace on one of them, and that she was leaning on wooden crutches.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, mortified. ‘I didn’t even notice.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Sadie said. ‘It’s quite nice if it’s not the first thing people notice.’
‘Have you hurt yourself? Is that why you’re starting late?’
‘I’ve had polio. I’m better now except that one of my legs isn’t much good at walking.’ She shrugged, as best she could with crutches, and went on, ‘But I’m so excited about being at school. My parents didn’t want to let me come – they wanted me to go to a day school. But I begged and begged, and here I am.’
‘You mean, you wanted to board?’
‘Of course!’ Sadie looked puzzled. ‘Wouldn’t anyone? You see, I’ve read all the school stories: Angela Brazil and Elsie Oxenham and Dorita Fairlie Bruce – oh, and Elinor Brent-Dyer – she has a new one out next month; I can’t wait. And The School Friend every Thursday.’ She spoke with the same intensity Linnet reserved for nature and Robin for games. ‘It was dreadful when I caught a cold last week, and they made me wait. I don’t want to miss a minute of school, and I want to join in everything. Now, shall we go and see this library? I hope there are lots of school stories.’
‘Um, I don’t know.’ Linnet had never read a school story. ‘It’s this way.’
Off they went, Sadie swinging along very nimbly on her crutches, but stopping every few seconds to comment on her surroundings.
‘A green baize noticeboard! Oh, they always have those in the books! Let me look.’ She glanced down the lists of duty prefects, netball practices and a couple of stern notices from Matron: Girls must not wash stockings in the bathrooms. Girls washing their hair without permission will not be allowed jam with Sunday tea. Sadie drank this all in with evident delight. ‘Oh, it’s just like the books!’ she kept saying. ‘Who’s this portrait? No, don’t tell me – it’s the lady foundress, isn’t it? I knew it! Oh, gosh, how exactly like a story!’
Nancy and Lucy walked by and smiled in a lordly way. Sadie turned her head as they passed.
‘Who are they?’ she asked. ‘Aren’t they glamorous?’
‘That’s the head girl and the games captain.’
Sadie struck her breast, which was awkward while holding a crutch. ‘The head girl and the games captain! And they smiled at us!’
‘Why wouldn’t they? They’re only girls.’
Instead of answering, Sadie gave a little squeak. ‘Oh my!’ she said, stopping at a particularly dull and empty noticeboard. ‘The Form Shield! That sounds so – so perfectly out of a book. Tell me all about it!’
Linnet tried to remember what she had heard. ‘You get bad conduct marks—’
‘Oh!’
‘—and good ones too. For – I don’t know, being in teams, doing good work. Robin says it’s usually the upper fifth who get it.’ Linnet had no interest in the Form Shield.
‘Maybe I can help the lower fourth to win it!’
‘Um – maybe.’
They never made it to the library. The bell for tea – ‘a real school bell! How thrilling!’ – rang just then, and Linnet had to take Sadie into the dining hall, where the new girl’s excitement at finding real school tea and real school buns knew no limits. And Linnet’s hopes, which had been quite high when Sadie said she loved the library, floundered again. She didn’t think a girl whose goal in life was to help win the Form Shield was likely to be the kindred spirit she craved.
Chapter 11
On the Riverbank
Hooray for Saturday! Hooray for the rain having stopped! And though it was annoying to think that all over the city, in other schools, girls would be playing hockey today, Robin very much approved of Miss Rea’s announcement at breakfast that the whole school would go on expeditions, taking picnic lunches. She waited anxiously to see where lower fourth were going – please not an improving visit to the Municipal Museum, or a dull polite walk along the main road in full uniform! You could sometimes persuade the mistress in charge to stop at the tea rooms at the end of the tram line, but because it was along a main road, there was a good deal of keeping your hat straight and talking in a ladylike tone before you got there.
But it was all right – the fourths were to go down to the riverbanks and along the towpath. This always meant a free-and-easy walk, and they were allowed to wear their comfy blue gymslips. They were to have Miss Taylor as escort and, if the weather held, eat their sandwiches at the Giant’s Ring, a favourite local beauty spot.
The thirds, who were going to the Botanic Gardens, looked on with envy as they streamed out of the dining hall.
‘The Giant’s Ring’s a neolithic monument. A stone circle,’ Robin explained to the new girl, Sadie, who looked thrilled – but then she seemed thrilled by everything at Fernside House, even such dull things as her coat peg and the bath rota.
Miss Taylor was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Ah, Sadie,’ she said, ‘just the girl I need. Now, today’s walk will be too much for you, so if you’d like to choose someone to stay home with—’
‘Wh-what?’ Sadie’s face fell.
Evangeline pushed forward. ‘I’ll stay, Sadie. We could play a board game. It would be fun.’
Sadie shook her head. ‘I can’t stay behind.’
‘But, my dear …’ Miss Taylor looked awkward.
‘I need exercise,’ Sadie said. ‘My muscles won’t get strong from board games.’
‘But it is quite a strenuous walk.’
Sadie tilted her chin. ‘I walk for miles at home,’ she said.
‘Maybe I should consult Matron.’ It wasn’t like Miss Taylor to sound so uncertain.
‘Matron’s gone to see her sister in Ballyhackamore,’ said Mabel, who knew everything.
Miss Taylor sighed. ‘Oh, dear.’ She looked at Sadie. ‘Well, if you’re sure, Sadie. But you mustn’t overtire yourself.’
When Miss Taylor had gone about her business, Evangeline patted Sadie’s arm. ‘You’re very brave.’
‘I’m not brave,’ Sadie said. ‘I’m an ordinary schoolgirl with tiresome legs.’
‘Yes, Evangeline – like you’re an ordinary schoolgirl with a tiresome personality,’ Babs said.
Evangeline looked hurt. ‘I know you don’t mean to be unkind,’ she said.
‘Yes, I do,’ Babs said. ‘You make me feel sick the way the way you fuss.’
‘I don’t fuss!’
‘You do,’ Linnet said, joining them. She was always slowest to stack her dishes.
Before either Babs or Linnet could say anything worse, Robin turned to Sadie. ‘We used to take a short cut to the river,’ she explained, ‘through the garden next door. But it’s been bought by some horrible man, so we’ll have to go all the way to the end of the road, and across a big meadow.’
‘You shouldn’t call him horrible just because he doesn’t want us trespassing,’ Evangeline said. ‘If I were a grown-up I wouldn’t want strangers traipsing over my lovely garden.’
‘It’s not exactly lovely. It’s overgrown and jungly,’ Robin said, with a pang of nostalgia for those third-form games of hide-and-seek amongst the undergrowth and empty stables.
‘You know what I mean,’ Evangeline said crossly, but nobody heard her, because Sadie said, in her clear voice, ‘Is he an eccentric recluse? Is that why the garden’s a jungle? How thrilling!’
‘It’s not thrilling,’ Babs said. ‘There just hasn’t been a gardener for years. I expect they’ll hack it all down and start again.’
‘And I don’t suppose he is an eccentric recluse,’ Robin said. ‘Most people wouldn’t want eighty girls in their garden. It’s a pity, though. There’s loads of space there, and here we are, without even a hockey pitch to our name.’
It seemed even more of a pity an hour later when the lower- and upper-fourth boarders were trooping down the long road to the river. Although Rowanbank was the very last house, Fernside Road continued for another half-mile, before narrowing into a lane, with high hedges on each side, as it meandered down towards the Lagan banks.
‘It’s like the countryside,’ Sadie remarked. For a new girl she wasn’t shy, and she was swinging along on her crutches just as quickly as any of them.
‘I can smell the river,’ Linnet said, and they all sniffed the air like the Bisto kids until Miss Taylor told them to stop.
It couldn’t be much fun for Miss Taylor, Robin thought, having to go for a walk with lots of girls. Whatever she became when she grew up, she wouldn’t like to be a teacher, not even a games mistress.
They all lined up to climb over the stile into the meadow.
‘Can you manage, Sadie?’ Miss Taylor asked, and Sadie said she could, if someone held her crutches. Evangeline took them and Robin and Babs helped her to clamber over. Sadie’s face reddened with the effort, but she didn’t complain.
She is brave, Robin thought, whatever she says, but she understood Sadie hating a fuss. It was the same for her: if people were soppy about Father being killed in the war it made her want to scratch her face off and scream.
They streamed across the meadow. Gloves were pulled off and stuffed into pockets. The long grass tickled Robin’s legs through her black school stockings. Fran dashed off to make friends with a donkey and her foal in a neighbouring field, and looked cross when Miss Taylor called her back.
‘That donkey’s hooves were far too long,’ she said. ‘They’re starting to turn up. Do you know who owns her, Miss Taylor?’
‘When can we have our lunch?’ demanded Giulia as the path sloped steeply down to the river. Her blazer pockets bulged with something more than the packet of sandwiches they had all each been given, so Robin guessed she had filled up with tuck. Giulia’s family always sent her to school with delicious Italian biscuits and sweets.
Miss Taylor laughed. ‘Good gracious, Giulia, it’s nowhere near lunchtime. We won’t eat until the Giant’s Ring.’
‘That’s miles,’ Giulia wailed.
‘Only a couple,’ Miss Taylor said cheerfully. ‘Come on, girls! Here’s the riverbank. Let’s see who can find ten different leaves.’
‘Does she think we’re five?’ Babs muttered, and Fran was still fretting about the donkey’s hooves. But others set out enthusiastically, Linnet among them. Behind the towpath, the banks were thickly wooded; to Robin a tree was a tree, distinguished mostly by whether or not it was good to climb, but Linnet rhymed off as she picked the leaves, ‘That’s oak; there’s rowan; that’s blackthorn – don’t try to lean over for that one, Sadie – I’ll bring you one and you can give me some of that yew.’
She was like a different person out in nature, Robin thought – confident and engaged. She pointed out where the early sloes were ripening on the blackthorn.
‘Can you eat them?’ one of the upper fourths asked. ‘They look tasty.’
‘They’re the bitterest things you can imagine.’
‘We could make sloe gin,’ Babs said. She raised her voice so that Miss Taylor would hear, but Miss Taylor was telling Giulia about her plans to visit Italy with Miss McWilliams, the drawing mistress. Robin knew Babs had no intention of making sloe gin but loved shocking people like Evangeline. ‘We could have a midnight feast with it.’ Again, she raised her voice, but it had no hope of competing with Giulia’s enthusiastic description of Tuscany.
