Читать книгу Last Term at Malory Towers - Enid blyton - Страница 4

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Darrell and Sally went up the steps, and into the big hall. “Let’s go up to our study,” said Darrell. “We can dump our things there and have a look round.”

They went up to the small, cosy room they shared between them. The sixth-formers were allowed to have these studies, one to every two girls, and both Sally and Darrell loved their small room.

They had put down a gay rug that Mrs. Rivers had given them, and each had a favourite picture on the walls. There were some old cushions provided by both mothers, and a few ornaments on the mantelpiece—mostly china or wooden horses and dogs.

“I wonder who’ll have this room next term,” said Darrell, going to the window and looking out. “It’s one of the nicest.”

“Quite the nicest,” said Sally, sinking down into one of the small arm-chairs. “I suppose one of the fifth-formers will have it. Lucky things!”

The sixth-formers had a common-room of their own, as well as studies. In the common-room was a wireless, of course, a library, and various cupboards and shelves for the use of the girls. It looked out over the sea and was full of air and light and sun. The girls loved it.

“Better go down and report to Matron,” said Darrell, when they had unpacked their night-bags, and set out two clocks, three or four new ornaments, and Darrell had put a little gay table-cloth into a drawer, which she had brought back to use that term. It would look nice if they gave a tea-party, as they often did!

“Got your health certificate?” asked Sally. “I wonder if Irene has got hers. She has remembered it faithfully for the last three or four terms. I’d love her to forget it just this last time.”

Darrell laughed. Irene’s health certificate was a standing joke in the school. “I’ve got Felicity’s certificate with mine,” she said. “I’d better give it to her. Come on, let’s go down.”

They went down and found Matron, who was standing in the middle of a mob of girls. They were handing out health certificates to her, and, in the case of the lower-formers, handing over their term’s pocket-money too.

A voice greeted Darrell and Sally. “Hallo! Here we are again!”

“Irene!” said Darrell and Sally at once. Irene grinned at them. She looked very little different from when Darrell had seen her the first time, six years back—older and taller, but still the same old untidy scatterbrain. But her looks belied her. Irene was a genius at music and brilliant at maths—it was only in ordinary things that she was a feather-head.

“Irene!” called Matron, who had been in despair over the girl’s health certificate almost every term. “Am I to isolate you this term, because you’ve forgotten your certificate again—or have you condescended to remember it?”

“Here you are, Matron!” said Irene, and handed an envelope to her. She winked at Darrell and Sally. Matron opened it. Out fell a photograph of Irene in bathing-costume!

“Irene! This is a photograph!” said Matron, annoyed.

“Oh, sorry, Matron. Wrong envelope,” said Irene, and handed her another. Matron tore it open, and glared at Irene.

“Is this a joke? This is a dog’s licence!”

“Gosh!” said Irene. “So that’s where old Rover’s licence went! Sorry, Matron. This must be the right envelope!”

Everyone was giggling. Alicia had now joined the mob round Matron, her bright eyes enjoying the joke. Matron opened the third envelope. She began to laugh.

It was a cleverly drawn picture of herself scolding Irene for forgetting her health certificate. Belinda, Irene’s friend, had drawn it, and the two of them had pushed it into the third envelope for a joke.

“I shall keep this as a memento of you, Irene,” said Matron. “It shall be pinned up in my room as a warning to all girls who have bad memories. And now—what about the real thing, please?”

The “real thing” was produced at last, and Matron pronounced herself satisfied. “I suppose you had to keep up the tradition of losing your certificate for the last time,” she smiled. “Now, June, where’s yours—and you, Jo?”

Felicity came up and Darrell gave her her certificate to hand in. Then she went off with Alicia and Sally to see who was back.

“I bet that’s Bill!” said Darrell, suddenly, as she caught the sound of horses’ hooves up the drive. “I wonder how many brothers are with her this time!”

Wilhelmina, Bill for short, had seven brothers, all of whom were mad on horses. Some of them accompanied her to school each term, which always caused a great sensation! The girls ran to the window to see.

“Yes—it’s Bill—but there are only three brothers with her,” said Sally. “I suppose that means another one’s gone into the army, or into a job. Look, there’s Clarissa too. She must have come with Bill on Merrylegs, her little horse.”

“And there’s Gwen!” said Alicia, with malice in her voice. “How many many fond farewells have we seen between Gwen and her mother? Let’s feast our eyes on this one—it will be the last!”

But Gwen was on her guard now. Too often had the girls imitated her weeping farewells. She stepped out of the car, looking rather solemn, but very dignified. She kissed her mother and Miss Winter, her old governess, and wouldn’t let them be silly over her. But she didn’t kiss her father good-bye.

He called after her. “Good-bye, Gwen.”

“Good-bye,” said Gwen, in such a hard voice that the girls looked at one another in surprise.

“There’s been a row!” said Sally. “I expect her father’s ticked her off again for some silly nonsense. It’s a jolly good thing for Gwendoline Mary that there’s one sensible person in her family!”

Gwen’s mother was not dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. The car swung round, went down the drive and disappeared. Gwen came into the room behind the others.

“Hallo!” she said. “Had good hols?”

“Hallo, Gwen,” said Darrell. “Did you?”

“Fair,” said Gwen. “My father was an awful nuisance, though.”

The others said nothing. Gwen never could understand that it just wasn’t decent to run down your parents in public.

“Mother had fixed up for me to go to Switzerland to a simply marvellous finishing school,” said Gwen. “Frightfully expensive. All the best people send their girls there. Lady Jane Tregennton’s girl’s going there, and ...”

“The same old Gwen!” thought Darrell and Sally, feeling sick. “Conceited, snobbish, silly.” They turned away, feeling that nothing in the world would ever teach Gwen to be an ordinary decent, kindly girl.

Gwen didn’t in the least mind talking to people’s backs. She went on and on. “And then, when it was all fixed, Dad said it was too expensive, and he said it was all nonsense, and I ought to get a job—a job! He said ...”

“I don’t think you ought to tell us all this,” said Darrell, suddenly. “I’m sure your father would hate it.”

“I don’t care if he would or not,” said Gwen. “He’s tried to spoil everything. But I told him what I thought of him. I got my own way. I’m going!”

Sally looked at Darrell and Alicia. This was Gwen’s last term. She had spent six years at Malory Towers, and had had many sharp lessons. Yet it seemed as if she had learnt nothing of value at all!

“She probably never will now,” thought Darrell. “It’s too late.” She walked out of the room with Sally and Alicia, all of them disgusted. Gwen scowled after them resentfully. People so often walked out on her, and she never could stop them.

“Just as I was going to tell them some of the things I said to Dad,” thought Gwen. “I’m glad I hardly said good-bye to him. I’m his only daughter, and he treats me like that! Well, now he knows what I think of him.”

She was so full of herself and her victory that she quite forgot to be mournful and homesick, as she usually pretended to be. She wandered off and found little Mary-Lou—a much bigger Mary-Lou now, but still shy and ready to think that most people were much better and more interesting than she was.

Mary-Lou always listened to everyone. Gwen began to tell her again all she had told the others. Mary-Lou stared at her in disgust. “I don’t believe you said anything like that to your father!” she said. “You can’t be as beastly as all that!”

And little Mary-Lou actually walked off with her nose in the air! Gwen suddenly began to realize that she wasn’t going to be at all popular in her last term if she wasn’t very very careful.

When supper-time came, the girls could see who was back and who wasn’t. They could see the new girls in their Tower and they could see any new mistresses. Each Tower had its own common-rooms and dining-rooms. North Tower, where Darrell and her friends were, overlooked the sea, and was supposed to be the best Tower of all—though naturally the girls in the other Towers thought the same of theirs!

Darrell was sure there would be no new girls at all in the sixth. It was rare for a new girl to come so late to Malory Towers. She was very much surprised to see two new faces at the sixth-form table!

One girl was tall and sturdy and rather masculine looking, with her short cropped hair, and big legs and feet. The other was small, beautifully made, and had small hands and feet. As soon as she spoke, Darrell realized that she was French.

Mam’zelle Dupont introduced the girl, with one of her beaming smiles.

“Girls! This is Suzanne! She is niece to Mam’zelle Rougier who is in South Tower, but there is no room for her, so she has come to me here. She will be in the sixth form—and she must learn the language well. Eh, Suzanne?”

“Certainement, Mam’zelle Dupont,” answered Suzanne, in a demure voice. She flashed a quick look round at the sixth-formers with bright black eyes, then lowered them again. Darrell felt a sudden liking for her.

“Ah non—you must not say one word of French, you bad girl!” scolded Mam’zelle. “You must say ‘Certanelee’, not ‘certainement’!”

“Zer-tane-lee,” drawled Suzanne, and the girls laughed. Darrell nudged Sally.

“She’s going to have some fun with Mam’zelle,” she said, in a low voice. “And we’re going to have some fun with Suzanne!”