Third Year at Malory Towers (12 page)

“No! Oh no, Miss Peter! Don't, don't do that!” begged Bill, even her freckles going pale with anxiety. “It's only that Thunder's not well. He really isn't. If he was well I'd obey you. But he needs me when he's not well.”

“I'm not going to discuss the matter,” said Miss Peters, coldly. “You have heard what I said. I am not likely to change my mind after such a show of disobedience. Please go back to your common room, Wilhemina. I will tell you when I have made arrangements to send Thunder home and you can say good-bye to him till the holidays. It will probably be the day after tomorrow.”

Bill stood still, quite petrified. She couldn't make her legs move. Darrell couldn't see her, but she could imagine her very well indeed. Poor, poor Bill.

“Go, Wilhemina,” said Miss Peters. “At once please.”

And Bill went, her feet dragging. Darrell heard a smothered sob. Oh dear—what a pity she had to hide under this straw and couldn't go and comfort Bill. Never mind—Miss Peters would soon be going, and then Darrell could fly up to the common room and sympathize warmly and heartily with Bill!

But Miss Peters didn't go. She waited till Bill had quite gone. Then she went over to Thunder and spoke to him in such a gentle voice that Darrell could hardly believe it was Miss Peters”! “Well, old boy,” said Miss Peters, and Darrell heard the sound of her hand rubbing his coat. “What's the matter with you? Don't feel well? Shall we get the vet to YOU? What's the matter with you, Thunder? Beautiful horse, aren't you? Best in the stable. What's up, old boy?”

Darrell could hardly believe her ears. She wriggled a little in the straw so that she could get a hole to peep through. Yes, there was Miss Peters, standing close to Thunder, and he was nuzzling her and whinnying in delight. Why, Miss Peters must love him! Of course, she was very fond of horses, Darrell knew that. But this was different somehow. She really seemed to love Thunder as if he was her own horse.

Miss Peters gave Thunder some sugar and he crunched it up. Then she went out of the stable and shut the door. Darrell got out of the straw and shook herself. She went to the door and listened. Miss Peters had gone. Good!

She opened the door and went out—and then she stood still, thunderstruck. Miss Peters
hadn't
gone! She was just outside, doing up her shoelace! She looked up and saw Darrell coming out of the stables.

She stood up, red with rage. “What were you doing in there?” she demanded. “Were you there all the time I was talking to Wilhelmina? You were in the common room when I left. Did you actually dare to run down the back stairs to warn Wilhelmina?”

Darrell couldn't speak. She nodded. “I shall deal with you later,” said Miss Peters, hardly trusting herself to speak. “What the third form is coming to I really do not know!”

BILL would not be comforted by Darrell or anyone else. She hadn't gone to the common room as Miss Peters had told her to. She had gone to the dormy and wept by herself. Bill boasted that she never cried, but this time she did. Her seven brothers had taught her to be tough and boyish, and, like a boy, she had scorned ever to shed a tear.

But she couldn't help it now. When she appeared for afternoon school the third-formers saw her red eyes and came round her to comfort her. But she pushed them away. Darrell was pushed away too, though Bill spoke a few words to her, very gratefully.

“Thank you for coming to warn me. It was decent of you, Darrell,”

“Bill—it's a shame,” began Darrell. But Bill turned away.

“I can't talk about it,” she said. “Please don't.”

So the third-formers gave it up, and looked at one another helplessly, you simply couldn't do anything with Bill if she didn't want you to. Darrell took her place in class that afternoon with much trepidation. She knew she would sooner or later be called to Miss Peter's room, and she wondered what would happen to her. Oh dear—and everything had been so lovely up till then. Now she had got herself into trouble, and she had only wanted to help poor Bill.

Miss Peters was in a grim mood that afternoon. She was looking out for anyone or anything that would feed her anger. But nobody, not even Mavis, Gwendoline or Zerelda, did anything to provoke her. Miss Peters was terrifying when she was like this. Her big, heavy face was red, her eyes flashed as they looked round the class, and her short hair seemed to cling more tightly to her head than usual.

All the third-formers felt miserable that evening, with Bill sitting like a figure of stone in a corner. It was Mavis who suddenly livened them up.

“I say,” she said, in a whisper, as if somebody was listening who shouldn't be there. “I say! Look here!”

She held up a paper. On it was printed these words:

TALENT SPOTTING!

Have you a gift? Can you play the piano well?

Can you draw? Do you sing?

Then bring your talent to the Grand Hall, Billington, on Saturday night, and let us SPOT your TALENT.

Big prizes—and a CHANCE to make your NAME!

TALENT SPOTTING!

The girls read it. “Well, what about it?” said Alicia. “Surely you are not thinking of being spotted for talent, Mavis?”

“Yes, but listen,” said Mavis, still in an urgent whisper, “what about Irene going with her music—and Belinda with her drawing—and Zerelda with her acting—and me with my Voice? Think what prizes we would win!”

Everyone stared at Mavis scornfully. “Mavis! As if we'd ever be allowed to go!” said Belinda. “And besides, who wants to go to a fifth-rate affair like this? Talent spotting indeed! Just a silly show put on to amuse the people of Billington! And the prizes will probably be half-crowns! Don't be so silly.”

“But, Belinda—Zerelda—it's such a chance!” said Mavis, who had imagined herself standing on the platform and filling the hall with her lovely voice, being applauded to the echo and perhaps having her name in the papers. Poor, foolish Mavis. Her conceit blinded her to what the show really was--just a village affair got up for fun.

“Mavis, you're just too silly for words,” said Alicia, impatiently. “Can you honestly see Miss Grayling allowing Malory Towers” girls to go to a thing like this and make themselves cheap and idiotic? Do use your common-sense.”

“She can't. She hasn't got any,” said Daphne. Mavis snatched the paper from Darrell, who was reading down it with a grin. “All right,” she said. “If you don't want a bit of fun, you needn't have it. I've a good mind to go on my own.”

“Don't be a fathead.” said Jean. “Think of yourself standing up on a big platform, just a schoolgirl, singing to a crowded hall. It's ridiculous!”

But it didn't seem a ridiculous picture to Mavis. She could see it all very clearly. She could even hear the thunderous applause. She could see herself bowing time after time. It would be a little taste of what life would be like when she was an opera-singer!

She stuffed the notice into her pocket, wishing she hadn't said anything about it. But a little thought kept slipping into her mind, exciting her, making her restless.

“Suppose I go? Nobody would miss me if I said I was going for an extra lesson in singing. They would just think Mr. Young was making up the lesson he missed last week.”

It was a very exciting thought. Today was Thursday. Mavis decided to think about it all Friday and make up her mind on Saturday. Yes, that was what she would do—then she could make her plans in good time if she decided to go!

She thought about it all day Friday. And Bill thought about Thunder. Neither of them dared to be too dreamy in class, but fortunately Miss Peters did not take the third-formers a great deal that day, having to take duty for another teacher who was ill. Mam'zelle came to take her place, and she was in a pleasant mood, very talkative, and not very observant. So Bill and Mavis were able to do a little dreaming in peace.

Bill had not dared to go to the stables again. She was hoping against hope that Miss Peters might change her mind and relent. Perhaps she would let Thunder stay after all. So she did not go near the stables, hoping that Miss Peters would tell her she was not going to be so harsh after all.

Miss Peters still had not said anything to Darrell. The girl wished she would get it over, scold her, punish her—but not keep it hanging over like this. Perhaps that was part of Miss

Peters” plan though, to keep Darrell on tenterhooks for a few days!

Saturday came. Mavis had made up her mind. She would go! She would tell Miss Potts she had a singing-lesson. She often had extra singing at odd times, so Miss Potts would not think it at all queer. She would tell the girls that too. She wouldn't be back early enough for nine o'clock bedtime but she trusted the girls not to give her away. She would slip in up the back stairs.

So Mavis made her plans. She looked up the buses. She meant to catch the six o” clock bus. That would get her to Billington at seven. The show began at half-past. She could easily go into the hall and find out what she had to do.

She looked up the buses back. How long would the show last? About two hours, probably. There was a bus back at half-past nine—the last one. Goodness, it was late! Mavis began to have a few qualms about her adventure. It was very, very late for her to come back alone in the dark all the way up the school drive from the bus stop. Oh dear—would it be moonlight? She did hope so!

Bill came over to Darrell on Saturday morning. “Darrell! Would you do something for me? I'm not going to go to the stables again unless I'm allowed to—just in case Miss Peters might change her mind about sending Thunder away—so would you
please
, Darrell, slip down there yourself and go to Thunder and see if he's all right?”

“Yes, of course,” said Darrell. “He wasn't out with the other horses this morning. I saw them all go off, but Thunder wasn't there.”

“No, he wouldn't be,” said Bill. “Nobody rides him but me. Do go, Darrell”

Darrell went. It didn't matter
her
going in the least. She kicked herself for not having thought of it before. She could have gone yesterday for Bill too.

She went into the stables. All the horses were there. One of the grooms was there too, rubbing a horse down, whistling between his teeth as he did so.

“Morning, Miss,” he said.

“Good morning,” said Darrell. “Where's Thunder? Is he all right?”

“He's over there in his stall, Miss,” said the groom, standing up. “He doesn't seem too well. It's my opinion he's in for a bout of colic or something.”

Colic? That was tummy-ache, wasn't it, thought Darrell. Oh well, that wasn't anything very much. She went over to Thunder, who hung his head and looked miserable.

“He really doesn't seem very well, does he?” said Darrell, anxiously. “Do you suppose he's missing his mistress? She's not been allowed to see him.”

“Well, he may be,” said the groom. “But it's his insides are making him miserable, I guess. Have to have the vet to him if he doesn't pick up. But I did hear something about him being sent back home.”

Darrell said no more. She ran back to North Tower to find Bill, who was anxiously waiting for her.

“Thunder doesn't seem
very
well,” she said. “But you needn't worry. The groom said it was only that he might be going to have a bout of colic. That's nothing, is it?”

Bill stared at her in horror. “Colic! Why, it's one of the worst things a horse can have! Oh, Darrell, think what a big stomach a horse has and imagine him having an ache all over it. It's
agony
!”

“Oh—I didn't know,” said Darrell. “But—surely it isn't as serious as all that, is it?”

“It is, it is,” said Bill, and tears came into her eyes. “Oh, what shall I do? I
daren't
go to the stables in case I'm caught, and I might spoil Thunder's chance of not being sent home after all. Miss Peters hasn't said anything more to me about him going. Oh, what
shall
I do?”

“You can't do anything,” said Darrell. “really you can't. He'll be all right tomorrow. Don't you worry, Bill. Oh, blow-—it's begun to pour with rain—just as I wanted to go and practise catching again.”

Bill turned away. Rain! What did
rain
matter! She sat down in a corner and began to worry hard. Colic! One of her brothers” horses had had colic and had died. Suppose— suppose Thunder got very ill in the middle of the night—and nobody knew? The grooms did not sleep very near the stables.
Nobody
would know. And in the morning Thunder would be dead!

Whilst Bill tortured herself with these horrible thoughts, Mavis delighted herself with pleasant ones. She had made all her plans. She didn't care a bit if she was discovered after it was all over—by that time she could have been received with wonder and applause, and Malory Towers would praise her and admire her.

“How bold she is to do a thing like that!” they would say. “Just the kind of thing an opera-singer
would
do! All fire and temperament and boldness! Wonderful Mavis!”

Nobody had any suspicion of Mavis's mad plans that night. Miss Potts said nothing when she told her that she was to have an extra singing-lesson, and would be having her supper early to make time for it. The girls took no notice either. They were used to Mavis and her odd lessons at all times.

“It's all too easy for words!” thought Mavis, exultantly. “I shall easily be able to catch the bus. Nobody will guess a thing! Whatever will the girls say when I came back tonight! Well—they'll know I am something besides just a Voice!”

She caught the bus easily. It was pouring with rain but she had her mackintosh with her. She did not wear a hat in case somebody noticed the school-band, so her head was bare. But as the bus stopped just by the Grand Hall at Rillington, she wouldn't get her hair very wet.

The bus started off with a jolt. Off to fame! Off to applause! Off to the Beginning of a Wonderful Career!

MISS POTTS noticed that Mavis was not at the supper-table. She was about to remark on it when she remembered that Mavis had told her something about an extra singing-lesson. She must have had supper early then, as she sometimes did when Mr. Young came late. So Miss Potts said nothing.