03.5 Visitors for the Chalet School (3 page)

Of course, certain girls did prefer to speak English anyway, it being their mother tongue, and they had always found this particular rule very convenient. There was an unpleasant surprise in store for these people.

Life was going to be far less easy for them in the future.

It was a group of Middles who first discovered the news. They had finally completed their unpacking and tidying to Matron’s satisfaction and they came screaming noisily down to the front hall, where they gathered round the school notice board. And there they read the following announcement: English will continue to be the principal language of the Chalet School, but from the beginning of this Christmas term two days each week will be set aside for the speaking of French and German. Accordingly,
only French
will be spoken on Tuesdays, and
only German
on Thursdays.

On Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, only English will be spoken. On Sundays everyone may, as formerly, speak in any language she chooses.

All lessons will be given in the language of the day. This rule will be strictly enforced, although during the first four weeks of this term allowances will be made, especially for girls new to the school.

“Well, I guess that’s going to be pretty grim!” announced Evadne Lannis, a lively fair-haired girl of about thirteen, whose accent proclaimed her to be an American.

“It’ll certainly make things hard for you on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Evvy,” laughed Margia Stevens, one of her friends, who had an outstanding talent for music and was a leader among the Middles.

“Perhaps you would do best to take a vow of silence on those days,” suggested Suzanne Mercier, a French girl, another of their group.

“It’s all very find for you folks who are good at French and German,” grumbled Evadne. “Now take Joey Bettany, it won’t make a mite of difference to her, she just enjoys chattering away in any silly old language.”

“Come on, Evadne, you’ll just have to pull up your socks and make a bit more effort with your French and German.” Grizel Cochrane, games prefect and one of the older girls, was passing on her way to the dormitories, and had caught the gist of Evadne’s complaint. “Anyhow, it’s high time you were better at both; after all, you’ve been here for two years now, haven’t you?” Grizel swept on, leaving Evadne and her friends highly indignant. Evadne’s lack of accomplishment in foreign languages was renowned, but they all felt it was unnecessary for Grizel Cochrane to make so free with her comments.

Fortunately, at this moment there was a diversion as Joey Bettany, sister of the Chalet School’s founder, came dashing downstairs followed by two of her close friends, Frieda Mensch and Simone Lecoutier.

“Hello there, everybody! Have decent hols? I say, it’s absolutely topping to see you again.” Joey beamed at them all. “Oh, yes, thanks, Evvy, we’d the most utterly gorgeous time. Innsbruck first, then Belsornia, got back two days ago. Look here, we’re just going out to inspect the new hall. Anybody want to come?” And, brandishing a large key, Joey made for the door.

The new hall had been built on to the school during the summer holidays, and no one except Joey had seen it yet. So they all followed her eagerly.

In six weeks’ time Jo Bettany would be fifteen. She was slight and thin, with enormous dark eyes and straight black hair, cut with a fringe, framing her pointed face; while in no conventional sense pretty, it was a face full of life and character.

“It’s thrilling to have our very own hall for the school,” Joey was saying excitedly, as she led them down the path and into the new building. “It’ll be wonderful when we do our Christmas play, because it’s got a real stage; and we’re to use it for dancing and Guide meetings too and all sorts of things. Now – how d’you like that?”

The hall was a plain wooden one-storey building in traditional Tyrolean style, similar to the two chalets which housed the school. Inside it was quite large, with a platform at one end and a staircase leading to a small room, which would serve as green-room. Everything was extremely simple but the girls were delighted.

“Gosh – splendacious!”

“
Fabelhaft!
“

“
Mais c’est magnifique!
“

“Gee, it’s absolutely great!”

There was a salvo of comments as Jo pointed out some of the features of the hall and indicated the proscenium arch, which would make it possible to have retractable curtains and some proper stage lighting.

“Remember when we did our first Christmas play?”

“But yes, my Jo,” answered Simone. “You were the Youngest Shepherd and you sang …”

But here Jo interrupted hastily; Simone tended to idolize her in a rather sentimental fashion, which Jo found embarrassing. “I was only thinking of how those hefty screens had to heaved back and forth because there weren’t any curtains. Now
this
time everything can be really professional.”

“Who will write the play this year, Joey?” asked Frieda Mensch in her pretty, gentle voice.

“Oh, my sister will arrange it all as usual,” Joey assured her. “But I believe she’s got something a bit different up her sleeve for this year; partly to make use of all this,” she swept her hand round in a gesture indicating the stage and hall, “and partly because she won’t have much time for writing now she’s got a home to look after.” A frown crossed Jo’s face; she said abruptly: “Come on, then; better buck up and get back to the common-room or we’ll be late for
Kaffee
.”

The girls were all looking very serious as they left the hall. Joey had reminded them that this term, for the first time since the school had started, they would be without “Madame”, as they always called their popular young headmistress.

Jo’s thoughts were running along similar lines, her lips pressed tightly together, as she locked the hall door with the key entrusted to her by Mademoiselle Lepâttre, now the Chalet School’s joint headmistress. Jo adored her elder sister who had brought her up, their parents having died when Jo was a small baby. Until the previous July, when Madge had married Dr. James Russell, the two sisters had never been separated.

It was now two and a half years since Madge Bettany had begun the Chalet School with only nine pupils: her sister Jo; Simone Lecoutier, who was Mademoiselle Lepâttre’s cousin; Grizel Cochrane; and six Tyrolean girls. From the start, the school had flourished; by the second term there were already thirty-three pupils, and numbers had continued to mount steadily ever since.

Mrs Russell intended to continue to act, with Mademoiselle Lepâttre, as joint headmistress; but she would be able to visit the school only once or twice a week now, for her new home was a considerable distance away, high above on the opposite shore of the Tiernsee. It was there, on the Sonnalpe, that her husband known to the school as Dr Jem, was head of a rapidly expanding sanatorium established to give patients the benefits of the wonderful mountain air.

Jo did genuinely want her sister to be happy and she was very fond of her brother-in-law. But, as the girls were making their way back to the house and her eyes lighted for a moment on the window of her sister’s former room, she thought rather miserably: “I do wish things
never
had to come to an end.” Then, with a characteristically abrupt change of mood, she touched Margia Stevens on the arm, and exclaiming, “Race you to the splasheries!” she darted off with none of the dignity that might have been expected of a Fifth-former. The others followed more sedately.

After
Kaffee und Kuchen
(the name given at the Chalet School to the informal meal of bread twists, cakes and milky coffee, which they had at the end of the afternoon), the entire school gathered to hear the headmistress’s address of welcome. By tradition this was given on the first evening of each term. It was always attended by every member of the school, both staff and girls, including all the Juniors. The latter usually spent most of their time in their own special domain, known as Le Petit Chalet; this stood a short distance from the original school, near the high fence surrounding all the school’s premises and grounds.

The girls seated themselves in three groups, consisting of Juniors, Middles and Seniors. Facing them were placed the chairs for the staff. There were also eight chairs at the side destined for the prefects, when these were named in a few moments’ time.

There was a feeling of anticipation in the air and a murmur of subdued talk, hushed immediately when the door opened and Mademoiselle Lepâttre entered the room followed by all the staff.

This was Mademoiselle’s first appearance as co-principal of the school. Beneath her calm and dignified manner she was feeling a touch of nervousness. But no one listened as she addressed the assembly, her kindly plain face beaming with welcome, would ever have guessed it. Speaking in excellent and only very slightly accented English, she welcomed them all most warmly at the beginning of this new school year; and spoke of the deep regret they all felt at the departure of their former headmistress. She assured them that she would always do everything in her power to continue steadfastly on the lines that “Madame” had laid down.

In this endeavour she knew that she could count on the loyal support of every single one of them.

At this the girls broke into applause, which brought a faint tinge of pink to Mademoiselle’s face as she paused for a moment before continuing: “I am sure that you will be very happy, as I am, to learn that our dear Madame does not intend to withdraw altogether from the Chalet School. She will continue to act with me as joint headmistress and will visit us each week to give lessons in English literature.”

Here delighted glances were exchanged among the Senior girls, for Madge Russell’s literature classes had been greatly appreciated by all those lucky enough to attend them.

I should like now on behalf of all to extend an especially warm welcome to those who are joining our staff for the first time, Miss Annersley and Matron Lloyd, and also to all new girls. We hope they will be very happy among us. And now” – Mademoiselle consulted a list in her hand – “I have pleasure in naming for you those girls who have been chosen to act as prefects in the school. First, our new head girl will be Bette Rincini – she had been with us since the earliest days of the Chalet School and has always shown herself a most loyal member of it.”

There were enthusiastic cheers as pretty Bette went forward to receive her badge of office. Better was justly popular and had already proved herself an excellent prefect, liked and respected throughout the school. Her appointment was no surprise, nor were the other names that Mademoiselle now announced: Grizel Cochrane, Rosalie Dene and Gertrud Steinbrücke had already been prefects the previous term and Luigia di Ferrara a sub-prefect; now Mary Burnett, Deira O’Hagan and Vanna di Ricci would join them, bringing the total up to the usual number of eight.

“And now, my dear girls, I must draw your attention to a matter of the greatest importance. So important, indeed, that we have thought it well to forewarn you all. This is why we have taken the unusual step of placing a notice in the entrance hall; and this notice I am sure you have all read. As you will realize,” she noted that in some quarters meaning, even rueful, glances were being exchanged, “I refer to our new rule, by which we shall dedicate two days each week, one to the French language, the other to German. Since our Chalet School embraces many nationalities, Madame and I have thought it wise that you should all strive for proficiency in speaking languages other than your own. And, in time, we may possibly extend the practice and have two days each of French and German. But do not look so apprehensive,
mes enfants
! If you will try with good will I am persuaded that you all, in time, can become trilingual. Let us all endeavour to do our best.”

The headmistress then went on to read out the form lists, and to remind the girls that all regular activities, such as games, folk-dancing, Hobbies Club and Guide meetings, would resume immediately. Arrangements for the new Christmas play would be discussed towards the end of October.

Then, taking up an envelope, Mademoiselle said: “Finally,
mes enfants
, I have here a letter from Juliet Carrick, our last head girl, who wishes us to know that a party of girls from Grange House School in London will be visiting the Tiernsee next month. They will be staying at the Stephanie Hotel, which is of course quite near us. Juliet had made the acquaintance of several of the girls and tells me that Miss Bruce, the mistress who will be in charge of the group, has been very kind to her. Now I feel sure that you would all wish me to extend the hospitality of the Chalet School to these visitors from England, and so I have decided to invite them to an informal party here on the first Saturday after their arrival. This little party will be from 6.30 pm until 9 o’clock, and you will
all
,” here she smiled in the direction of the Juniors and younger Middles, “be permitted to remain until the end.”

This was a delightful surprise; it was only on a very few occasions that the Chalet girls were allowed to depart from their normal routine of early bedtimes.

Mademoiselle proceeded to dismiss the girls, telling them that they were now free until
Abendessen
, which would give them “ample opportunity to talk over all the news.”

There was a positive explosion of talking as soon as the staff had departed. And, through the tumult, Evadne’s penetrating tones could be clearly heard: “Gee, you folks! I just figured it out: in only fourteen hours we’ll be sitting down to breakfast in FRENCH! I guess I’ll just have to begin, right now, and talk until I lose my voice entirely.”

Joey’s Hike

“All set for this afternoon, Margia?” Joey Bettany was rushing towards the common-room after Saturday morning’s Guide meeting. “Did you check that list I gave you? And d’you know where Elisaveta’s got to?

I’ve looked in the dorm and the classroom, and she’s not in either.”

But there was no answer. Margia, who had dumped a large pile of music from her locker on to the floor, was kneeling beside it, searching frantically. Sheets of music lay round her like fallen leaves.