Third Year at Malory Towers (5 page)

Somebody put their head in at the door.” Hey, is Wilhelmina here? Matron wants her. Wilhelmina!”

Nobody stirred. “Wilhemina!” said the voice again. “Hey, you, new girl! Aren't you Wilhelmina?”

Bill put down her book hastily. “Golly, yes, so I am!” she said. “I quite forgot. I really must tell Matron to call me Bill.”

She went out and everyone laughed. “Good old Bill! I'd like to see Matron's face when she tells her to call her Bill!” said Belinda.

AFTER a few days it seemed to Darrell as if she had been back at school for weeks. The world of home seemed very far away. She thought pityingly of her sister Felicity at her day school. Why, Felicity didn't even guess what it was like to be at a proper boarding school, where you got up all together, had meals together, planned fun for every evening, and then all rushed off to bed together.

Wilhelmina, or Bill, had been rather silent those first two or three days. Darrell wondered if she was homesick. As a rule the happy, normal girls did not mope and pine—life was so full and so jolly at Malory Towers that there simply wasn't time for anything of that sort.

All the same, she thought Bill looked a bit serious. “Not homesick, are you?” she asked, one morning when she was walking down one of the corridors with Bill.

“Oh no. I'm horse-sick!” said Bill, surprisingly. “I keep on and on thinking of all our horses at home that I love so much--Beauty and Star and Blackie and Velvet and Midnight and Miss Muffet and Ladybird, and...”

“Good gracious! However do you remember all those names?” said Darrell, in surprise.

“I couldn't possibly forget them,” said Bill, solemnly. “I'm going to like Malory Towers, I know that, but I simply can't help missing all our horses, and the thunder of their hooves and the way they neigh and nuzzle—oh, you can't understand, Darrell. You'll think me silly, I know. You see, I and three of my brothers used to ride each morning to their tutor—four miles away—and we used td go out and saddle and bridle our horses—and then off we'd go, galloping over the hills.”

“Well, you couldn't do that all your life long,” said Darrell, sensibly. “And anyway, you'll do it in the hols again. You're lucky to have been able to bring Thunder with you here.”

“That's why I said I'd come to Malory Towers,” said Bill. “Because I could bring Thunder. Oh dear, Darrell—it's been the week-end so far, when there weren't lessons—I'm just dreading to think what will happen when I have to go to classes and perhaps shan't see Thunder all day long. It's a pity Miss Peters wouldn't let him stand at the back of the classroom. He'd be as good as gold.”

Darrell gave a squeal of laughter. “Oh, Bill—you're mad! Golly I'd love to have Thunder in the classroom too. I bet he'd neigh at Mam'zelle, and she'd teach him to whinny in French!”

“She wouldn't. She doesn't like horses. She told me so,” said Bill. “She's scared of them. Imagine that, Darrell! I shouldn't have thought there was anyone in the world silly enough to be frightened of a horse.”

Most of the third-formers had been out to the stables to see Bill's wonderful horse. Actually he didn't seem very wonderful to Darrell, who didn't know a great deal about horses, but she did think he was lovely the way he welcomed Bill, whinnying in delight, pushing his big velvety nose into the crook of her arm, and showing her as plainly as possible that he adored every bit of his freckled little mistress.

Mavis, Gwendoline, Daphne and Mary-Lou would not go near him. He was a big black horse, and they all felt certain he would kick or bite. But the others loved him.

Zerelda was not scared of him, and she admired him very much. “Gee, he's wunnerful,” she said. “But what a pity you've got to get yourself up in those awful breeches to ride him, Wilhelmina.”

Bill scowled. She hated to be called by her full name. “I suppose you'd ride him in flowing skirts, with your hair down to your waist—and rings on your fingers and bells on your toes!” she retorted. “All the way to Banbury Cross.”

Zerelda didn't understand. She didn't know the old English nursery rhyme. She smiled her lazy smile at Bill.

“You're wunnerful when you scowl like that,” she said.

Shut up,” said Bill, and turned away. She was puzzled by Zerelda and her grown-up ways—and even more puzzled by her good humour. Zerelda never seemed to take offence, no matter how much anyone laughed at her or even jeered, as Mavis did very often.

She made the others feel small and young and rather stupid. They felt uncomfortable with her. She really did seem years older, and she deliberately used a grown-up manner, jeering gently at their clothes, their “hair-do's” as she called them, their liking for getting hot and muddy at games, and their complete lack of interest in the lives and careers of film stars.

But she was generous and kind, and never lost her temper, so it was difficult really to dislike her. Gwendoline, of course, adored her. She quite neglected Mavis for Zerelda, which annoyed that conceited young opera-singer immensely.

The first full week of school began on the next day, Monday. No more leniency from the mistresses, no more slacking from the girls, no more easy-going ways. “Work, now, work for everyone!” said Miss Peters. “It's not a very long term but you must work hard and show good results even if w e are a week or two short.”

The third form did not have only the third form girls from North Tower but the third-formers from others towers too, so it was a fairly big form. The standard was high, and Miss Peters was strict.

Mavis had been in Miss Peters” black books the term before, because of her poor work. But as it had been her first term, she had not been too hard on her. But now she, like everyone else, was getting tired of Mavis's parrot-cry, “when I'm an opera-singer” and she was quite determined to make Mavis a good third-former, opera-singer or not.

“You'd better look out, Mavis,” said Gwendoline, catching a certain look in Miss Peters” eye that morning as she studied Mavis. “I know that look! You'll have to work this term, and forget your voice for a bit!”

“When I want your advice I'll ask for it,” said Mavis. “I'm not scared of our hearty Miss Peters, if you are! I'm not going to slave and make myself miserable at Malory Towers for Miss P. or anyone else. Waste your time, if you like - You'll never have a career, or be Somebody!”

Gwendoline was very hurt. Like many silly, weak people she had a great idea of herself, and was so continually spoilt at home that she really did think herself wonderful.

“If you're going to say things like that I shan't be friends with you,” she whispered.

“Go and tag round Zerelda then,” said Mavis, forgetting to whisper softly enough.

“Mavis! That's enough whispering between you and Gwendoline,” said Miss Peters' loud voice. “One more whisper and you can stay in at Break.”

Bill couldn't seem to settle down that first Monday morning at all. She stared out of the window. She seemed very far away. She paid no attention at all to what Miss Peters was saying.

“
Wilhelmina
!” said Miss Peters at last. “Did you hear anything of what I have just said?”

Everyone turned to look at Bill, who still gazed out of the window, a dreamy expression on her small square face.

“ Wilhelmina!” said Miss Peters, sharply. “I am speaking to you.”

Still Bill took no notice at all. To the girls' amusement and surprise she suddenly made a little crooning noise, as if she was quite by herself and there was nobody else in the room at all!

Miss Peters was astonished. The girls giggled. Darrell knew what Bill was doing. She had heard that funny little crooning noise before—it was the noise Bill made to Thunder, when he nuzzled against her shoulder!

“She must be pretending she's with Thunder!” thought

Darrell. “She's in the stables with him. She's not here at all.”

Miss Peters wondered if Wilhelmina was feeling all right.

She spoke to her again. “Wilhelmina, are you deaf? What's the matter?”

Gwendoline gave Bill a poke in the back and made her jump. She looked round at Gwendoline crossly, annoyed at being so rudely awakened from her pleasant daydreams. Gwendoline nodded violently towards Miss Peters.

“That'll do, Gwendoline,” said Miss Peters. “Wilhelmina, will you kindly give me your attention. I've been speaking to you for the last few minutes.”

“Oh, sorry! Have you really?” said Bill, apologetically. “Perhaps you kept calling me Wilhelmina, though? If you could call me Bill I should always answer. You see...”

Miss Peters looked most disapproving. What an extraordinary girl!

“In future, Wilhelmina, please pay attention to all I say, and I shall not need to address you by any name at all!” she said. “As for calling you Bill—please don't be impertinent.” Bill looked astonished. “Oh, Miss Peters! I wasn't being impertinent. I'm sorry I wasn't listening to you. I was thinking about Thunder.”

“Thunder!” said Miss Peters, who had no idea that Bill had a horse called Thunder. “Why should you think about thunder on a lovely sunny day like this? I think you are being very silly.”

“But it's just the day to think of Thunder!” said Bill, her eyes shining. “Just think of Thunder, galloping over the hills and...”

Everyone tried to suppress giggles. They knew perfectly well that Wilhelmina was talking about her horse, but poor

Miss Peters looked more impatient than ever.

“That's enough, Wilhelmina,” she said. “We'll have no more talk of thunder or lightning, or...”

“Oh, how did you know that my brother George's horse was called Lightning?” said Bill in delight, honestly thinking that Miss Peters was talking of horses.

But now Miss Peters felt certain that Wilhelmina was being silly and rather rude, she gazed at her coldly.

“Have you got your book open at page thirty-three?” she asked. T thought you hadn't! How do you think you are going to follow this lesson if you haven't even got the right page?”

Bill hastily found page thirty-three. She tried to put all thoughts of Thunder out of her mind. She made a soft clicking noise, and Alicia and Irene grinned at one another.

“Horse-mad!” whispered Alicia, and when Miss Peters” back was turned, Alicia rocked to and fro as if she was on a trotting horse, sending the class into fits.

Darrell hugged herself in delight. It was lovely to be back at school again, lovely to sit in class and work, and giggle and hear Miss Peters ticking off this person and that. She missed Sally very much, but Alicia was fun.

“I'll beg her to play one of her tricks,” thought Darrell. “We haven't had any
real
fun in class for terms and terms!”

IT was sunny but cold the first week or two of that Easter term. The girls squabbled over getting the seats by the radiator in the common room. Gwendoline, Mavis and Daphne were the ones that complained most of the cold—but they were the ones who took as little exercise as they could, so of course they always got chilblains and colds.

Bill didn't seem to feel the cold at all. She was still tanned, although it was early in the year. Darrell and Alicia liked the cold, and they loved rushing out to play lacrosse in the afternoons.

“They went out ten minutes before the others to practise catching. Gwendoline couldn't understand it, and she and Mavis became friends again in sympathizing with each other over the cold, and jeering at Alicia and Darrell for being so hardy.

Zerelda, of course, being a fourth-former, was now not very often able to be with any of the third-formers, so Gwendoline had had to give up any idea of being her best friend. Zerelda did not seem to be very happy in the fourth form, Darrell thought. She often came slipping into the third form common room in the evening—saying she wanted to borrow a book or a gramophone record—and then stopping to talk to Darrell and the others.

“Got a special friend yet?” Darrell asked her one evening. Zerelda twisted one of her curls carefully round her finger and then shook it back into its proper place.

“No,” she said. “Stuck-up things, the fourth form! They seem to think I don't pull my weight. And they think the end of the world has come because I don't want to try and get into the third match-team for lacrosse!”

“Well, you're so tall, you could do well in the team,” said Darrell, considering her. “You ought to be able to take some fine catches. Can you run?”

“Run! I don't
want
to run!” said Zerelda, astonished. “As for that games captain—what's her name—Molly Ronaldson—well, I ask you, did you ever see such a girl? Big as a horse and just about as clumsy! Shouts and dances about on the field as if she had gone mad!”

Darrell laughed. “Molly Ronaldson is one of the finest games captains we've ever had. We've won more matches with her than ever before. She's got an absolute genius for picking the right people for the match-teams. My goodness, if I could get into one of the teams I'd be so thrilled I wouldn't be able to sleep at night.”

“Is that so?” said Zerelda, in her slow drawl, looking quite astonished. “Well, maybe I wouldn't sleep at night if I had spots on my face like Gwendoline goes in for, or if I broke one of my nails—but I'd not lose my beauty sleep for any games in the world!”

“You're a queer person, Zerelda,” said Darrell. She looked at her earnestly. “You're missing all the nicest years of your life—I mean, you just won't let yourself enjoy the things most English girls of your age enjoy. You spend hours over your hair and your face and your nails, when you could be having fun at lacrosse, or going for walks, or even messing about in the gym.”

“Messing about in the gym! That's another thing I can't understand your liking!” said Zerelda. Gwendoline, who had come up to join in the conversation, nodded her head in agreement.

“I can't understand that either,” she said in a prim voice. “It's a pity gym is compulsory, and games too. I wouldn't bother much about them if they weren't.”

“Only because, dear Gwendoline, you're so jolly bad at them that you make a fool of yourself every time you go into the gym or on the games field,” said Alicia, maliciously. “Zerelda's different. I bet she'd be good at them—but she thinks that all that kind of thing is beneath her.”