03.5 Visitors for the Chalet School (7 page)

The Fifth form’s lesson that afternoon was science. Had it been a subject that came easily to her, Jo might have been able to let her thoughts wonder to the coming interview with her sister. But, after answering a question about magnetic currents with somewhat unscientific vagueness, she caught Miss Wilson’s eye fixed on her with such a chilly gleam that she hastily pulled herself together.

Punctually at a quarter to five Joey arrived at Madame’s study, as it was still called. Characteristically, she plunged straight into an account of her conversation with Patricia.

Madge listened with obvious interest. When Jo finished her tale, and had inveighed vehemently against any mother who would deliberately stand in the way of her daughter’s splendid ambition, Madge looked at her younger sister thoughtfully.

“I’d very much like to meet Patricia,” she said quietly. I’ve already heard something about her from Juliet, and I’d dearly love to help in any way I could. But you must realize, Joey, that it isn’t an easy situation. I couldn’t possibly suggest the Patricia should defy her mother; that would be very wrong and, in any case, could only lead to more unhappiness for Patricia herself. Do you know, does her father concern himself at all about what she does?”

“Not very much, I gather,” replied Jo gloomily. “Apparently he’s living in America and hardly ever comes to London nowadays, so I don’t think there could be much help from him. Madge!” Joey looked earnestly at her sister. “Don’t you think you could invite Patricia to spend a weekend with you when Jem at Die Rosen?” This was the name of the Russells’ pretty home on the Sonnalpe. Jem could talk to her about medicine – oh, I know he wouldn’t be able to encourage her plans,” Jo had noticed her sister’s quick frown,

“but she’s bound to be interested in hearing about the hospital and all that, and even just seeing something of a doctor’s life.”

“Yes, I’ll certainly think about it,” Madge agreed. “And in the meantime, Joey, you must promise me to be tactful; and not to interfere, or say anything that would encourage Patricia to look on herself as a slighted heroine.”

“Of course I won’t interfere, Madge,” protested Jo, shaking her mop of black hair into a fine confusion in her indignation. “And of course I’ll be tactful. I’ll be as tactful as Solomon and all the ambassadors in Europe rolled into one. Really I will.”

Madge could not help smiling at the unlikely picture presented to her imagination of Joey, her hair standing on end, as a member of the
Corps Diplomatique
.

Changing the subject, she said: “There’s something else I’d like to discuss quickly. Have you any idea’s about your birthday this year?”

Something in Madge’s tone caught Joey’s instant attention. “No, not really; why, Madge? Have you got some plan?”

Madge nodded. “We thought you might like to go and see the Salzburg Marionette Theater. They are giving some performances in Innsbruck at the end of October, and Jem suggested we take you as a birthday treat. If you like the idea, you may choose three friends to go with us and come back and spend the weekend up to the Sonnalpe.”

“Oh, Madge!” Joey gave her sister quick hug. “You really are an absolute angel; I’ve always wanted to see the marionettes. Perhaps I could invite Patricia to come with us; and I’d like to have Frieda, and the Robin, of course.”

But Madge shook her head. “Not the Robin, Jo, I’m afraid; it would be far too tiring for her. She’s only little girl and not at all strong. But it would be a good idea to include Frieda, because her father has very kindly offered to come up here and drive you all down to Innsbruck, which will save a great deal of time.

Let me know soon what you decide, Joey. Now I simply must be off.” Madge got up rather reluctantly from the comfortable chair where she had been sitting, with Joey on the rug at her feet. “I’ve promised teach the Middles that French game we used to play. Do you remember
Je suis allée au marché
?”

“Rather!” answered Jo. “What a rip — I mean, jolly idea. And it ought to help the ones who find the French-speaking days so hard. Can I come, Madge? I’d enjoy the game too.”

“Yes, I’d like to have a few people who speak French easily,” replied her sister. Then she added severely:

“But first, please go and make yourself respectable. You look a disgraceful sight at the moment.”

Jo grimaced but she departed obediently to brush her hair and then to join the Middles who were gathered in the common-room.”

The two days each week of compulsory French and German had been proving very difficult for many of the girls. The mistresses had all discussed ways of helping, and Madge had remembered an old game from her childhood. In this the players all sit round in a circle, and each in turn must tell, in French, what she bought that morning and the market. Her list must include any items mentioned by previous players, and she then adds a new purchase of her own. For the first player it is very easy she begins, using the formula that everyone must repeat at the beginning of her turn, “
Aujourd’hui, je suis allée au marché et j’ai acheté

…”, and then she adds in French whatever she bought, perhaps “
du pain
” or “
des oeufs
“. As the other players join in, the list grows longer and longer, and naturally becomes more and more difficult to remember. Anyone who makes a mistake or forgets an item forfeits a “life”; and those who have lost three lives must drop out of the game temporarily.

The great beauty of the game is that, in striving to remember what others have bought and in repeating the words, the players unconsciously extend their French vocabulary and learn to speak the words correctly and with confidence.

The Chalet School Middles took up the game with enthusiasm. In fact it was to become for some weeks a favorites spare-time amusement; which was just what their wily headmistress had intended.

On this first occasion, things eventually came to an end in laughing confusion. Evadne Lannis, in her very transatlantic French, had managed to work right through a long list of household items; finally she announced with pride that she had bought “
un elephant
“.

This precipitated an immediate argument with Simone, who had a very literal mind and protested that “
un
elephant ne se trouve jamais dans un marché
.”

Evadne retorted that she was thinking of a market in the East and, “there would sure elephants there; I know, but Poppa’s told me he’s seen them.”

The Middles were now on their own (Mrs. Russell having departed for the Sonnalpe as soon as the game got going) and the argument might become heated. Fortunately Frieda Mensch could often in her quiet way contrive to restore peace; she suggested that perhaps, since it was a French game, they should restrict their imaginary shopping to items that could be bought in France. Joey promptly backed her up, adding that they might adapt the game and play it also in German, buying things obtainable in Innsbruck. In discussing this the original argument was forgotten.

Earlier that same Wednesday afternoon, while Joey and her fellow Fifth-formers we’re struggling to give their attention to the problems of science, the Grange House party had set off to walk up to the Bärenbad alm.

By now they were becoming quite familiar with Briesau and it’s immediate surroundings. They had been exploring all through the pine-woods the cluster over the lower slopes of the mountains. And they had walked right around the Seespitz end of the lake, past Buchau on the opposite shore and up as far as Seehof.

The
Gasthaus
there had provided them with coffee and some of the cakes for which it was renowned.

The Bärenbad, at about four thousand, five hundred feet, is one of the smaller mountains in the Tiernsee district. The Londoners found it an agreeable climb and not difficult. They were enjoying the way up through the pleasantly scented pine-woods when Pamela Trent suddenly gave the little shriek:

“Goodness gracious heavens! Did you ever and all your life see anything so enormous?” She pointed, shuddering, at the ground.

Joan Hatherley, just behind her, stopped dead and looked apprehensively downwards. The others crowded up; Patricia peered over Joan’s shoulder. And then Joan hooted with laughter. “Pamela Trent! I’d like to strangle you, I really would. How
could
you give me a shock like that? I thought at the very least that you’d seen a hooded cobra.”

“Terribly sorry, Joan. I didn’t mean to scare you, but – “

“Well, you must agree that they
are
jolly enormous,” Patricia said, bending down to get a closer look at some unusually large snails, which were enjoying an afternoon promenade among the tree roots and pine needles. “I’ve certainly never seen snails as big as that in England.”

They reached the alm with no further alarms. The air had a deliciously invigorating tang, and everyone was now beginning to feel hungry. Fortunately they had been warned that that little hut, which sold refreshments during that tourist season, would be closed. They had brought flasks of coffee with them cakes purchased the previous day at Seehof.

“Shall we have our picnic here Miss Mortlock?” Joan asked.

But before the young games mistress had a chance to reply, Miss Bruce cutting in “No indeed … you must use your common sense, girls … most unwise t sit in this exposed place … don’t want you all catching chill’s … find somewhere sheltered.”

After a little searching they found a sunny corner, tucked away behind some rocks. It was a wise precaution for they were all feeling warm after the climb; and the wind, hardly noticeable down at Briesau, could be felt strongly up here.

All around stretched the magnificent panorama of mountains. Looking southwards, the Zillerthal Alps, bluish-purple in the distance, could be clearly seen; far too clearly for there to be any likelihood of the good weather continuing, though the visitors did not realize this.

“You tend to come back to the same adjectives all the time in this place, don’t you?” Joan Hatherley leant back lazily against a convenient boulder. “I’m sure you must all be sick of hearing me say, ‘what a wonderful view’. I’m quite tired of hearing myself, it just keeps being dragged out of me.

“You mean you’re like a minute gun,” rejoined Patricia, laughing, “set to go off every minute with the delighted exclamation.” Relaxed and happy, Patricia was lying on her back on the springy grass gazing up into the sky.

“I’ve got a cousin who really is rather like that.” Pamela Trent was listening, amused. Every few seconds she breathes, ‘Too,
too
divine!’ It gets dreadfully monotonous.”

“Talking of adjectives, have you noticed that the Chalet girls hardly ever use slang?” This was Patricia again.

“I should jolly well think we’ve
all
noticed that,” answered Joan. “It seems they have a very strict rule about it. They don’t want the foreign girls to catch any of our more horrible English slang expressions.

Their games captain, Grizel Cochrane, was telling me about it; she said it made life hard at times. Well, I can imagine being absolutely sunk myself if we’d got the same rule!” A faint sardonic smile crossed Miss Bruce’s face. She was sitting a few yards away beside Miss Mortlock. Miss Bruce often had occasion to deplore some of the expressions in use among her pupils, and would have been happy to see a rule against slang at Grange House.

Miss Mortlock looked upon hearing Grizel Cochrane’s name. “By the way, Veronica,” she said to the Grange House games captain, “have you talked to Grizel yet about the idea of a netball match?”

“Yes, Miss Mortlock, I did say something to her yesterday,” Veronica answered, “and she seemed most awfully bucked about it. I’m going to write out the challenge when we get back to the hotel this evening, and then I can take it round to the Chalet School. Is that all right?”

Veronica Cunningham well deserved her position as games captain. She played tennis, cricket, netball and hockey, all exceptionally well, and was excellent at arranging and organizing the school teams. However, as sometimes happens, Veronica, instead of taking a legitimate pride in her athletic achievements, had a secret hankering to be considered one of the school’s intellectuals. She had a habit of making dogmatic pronouncements on subject of which, as her hearers were often aware, she knew very little. Girls found this side of Veronica intensely irritating at times. But they all recognized that, with a tennis racket or a hockey stick, Veronica was superb.

The challenge to the Chalet School’s netball Seven, to meet Grange House’s team, was duly delivery that evening, and accepted the next morning. It was arranged for the match to take place the following Saturday afternoon.

Unfortunately, the next day it started to rain, at first only moderately but gradually more and more heavily.

During most of the day it continued with only short intervals between the showers. And on Friday morning the girls woke up to find the mountains wrapped in blankets of thick mist and the lake barely visible through the haze. The rain was still falling although it had now turned to a steady monotonous drizzle.

In the Yellow dormitory at the Chalet School the girls were consulting Frieda Mensch about the weather prospects. They did not find her forecast very encouraging. Frieda was considered the expert in weather conditions at the Tiernsee, having lived all her life in the neighbourhood. In her opinion, once mist and rain settled down like this, it usually took three or four days before there was any real improvement in the weather.

“This jolly well puts paid to the netball match tomorrow,” Grizel Cochrane commented morosely. She was surveying the misty prospect from a window of the Green dormitory, which was on the top floor of the house, immediately above the “Yellows”. “And it’s the very first chance we’ve ever had to play against another school. What an absolutely beastly, foul shame!”

Bette Rincini, to whom the remarks were addressed, drew her brows sharply together at this use of forbidden slang by a prefect. But, since others were listening, the head girl did not think it diplomatic to draw attention to Grizel’s lapse. Her disapproval was nevertheless plain, and Grizel, seeing it, bit her lip in vexation. Although still thoughtless, Grizel was beginning at last to recognize her responsibilities as both one of the oldest in the school and one who had been longest there. Secretly grateful for Bette’s tactful forbearance, she resolved to be more careful.