Upper Fourth at Malory Towers (8 page)

“Well,
I
was the first to say she should have a chance and I'd stick by her,” said Gwen, untruthfully, for it had been little Mary-Lou who had said that, not Gwen. “So she was kept on—but as you can see, Clarissa, she wouldn't be a really
nice
friend to have, would she? You'd never feel you could trust her.”

“No. I suppose not,” said Clarissa. “Oh, dear—I hate thinking nasty things about Mavis and Daphne like this. I hope there are no more nasty tales to tell.”

“Did you ever hear how Darrell slapped me about a dozen times in the swimming-pool, for nothing at all?” said Gwen, who had never forgotten or forgiven this episode. “I had a bad leg for ages after that. And you know that girl in the fifth—Ellen? Well, she tried td get hold of the exam papers and cheat by looking at the questions, the night before the exam! She did, really.”

“Don't,” said Clarissa, beginning to think that Malory Towers was a nest of cheats, thieves and idiots.

“And even Bill, that everyone thinks such a lot of, was in awful disgrace last year, through continual deceit and disobedience,” went on the poisonous voice in Clarissa's ear. “Do you know, Miss Peters had to threaten to send Bill's horse, Thunder, away to her home, because she was so disobedient?”

“I don't want to hear any more,” said Clarissa, unhappily. “I really don't.”

“Well, it's all true,” said Gwendoline, forgetting her own record of deceit and unkindness, and not even realizing how she had distorted the facts, so that though most of them were capable of simple and kindly explanations, she had presented them as pictures of real badness.

Darrell came up, determined to get Clarissa away from Gwendoline's everlasting whispering. “Hey, Clarissa,” she called, in a jolly voice. “You're just the person I'm looking for! Come and help me to pick some flowers for our classroom, will you? “

Clarissa sat as if rooted to the spot. “Come on!” called Darrell, impatiently. “I shan't bite you—or even slap you!”

“Oh, dear!” thought Clarissa, getting up slowly, and remembering Gwen's tale of the dozen slaps Darrell had given her, “I hope she
doesn't
go for me!”

“Has dear Gwendoline been regaling you with tales of our dark, dreadful deeds?” said Darrell, and then, as she saw Clarissa go red, she knew that she had hit the nail on the head.

“Bother Gwendoline!” she thought. “She really is a poisonous little snake!”

Three or four weeks went by. The School Certificate girls worked very hard indeed, and some of them began to look rather pale. Miss Williams decided it was time to slack off for a bit.

“Go for an all-day picnic,” she suggested. “Go to Langley Hill and enjoy yourselves.”

Langley Hill was a favourite spot for picnics. It was a lovely walk there, along the cliff, and from the top there was a magnificent view of the countryside and the sea.

“Oh thanks, Miss Williams! That would be super!” said Darrell.

“Smashing!” said Alicia, which was the favourite adjective of all the first-formers at the moment, often ridiculed by the older girls.

“Langley Hill,” said Clarissa. “Why, that's where my old nurse lives!”

“Write and ask her if we could go and have tea with her,” said Gwendoline, who didn't like what she called 'waspy picnics' at all. “It would be nice for her to see you.”

“You always think of such kind things, Gwendoline,” said Clarissa. “I certainly will write. She will get us a wizard tea, I know. She's a marvellous cook.”

So she wrote to her old nurse, who lived at the foot of Langley Hill. (“Thank goodness we shan't have to walk all the way up the hill with the others!” thought Gwendoline, thankfully. “I really am getting very clever!”)

Old Mrs. Lucy wrote back at once. “We're to go to her for tea,” said Clarissa. “She says she'll have a real spread. What fun!”

“We'd better ask permission,” said Gwendoline, suddenly thinking that Darrell might prove obstinate if the idea was suddenly sprung on her on the day of the picnic. “Go and ask Miss Williams, Clarissa.”

“Oh no—you go,” said Clarissa, who was always scared of asking any mistress anything. But Gwendoline knew better than to ask a favour of Miss Williams. Miss Williams saw right through Gwendoline, and might say “No” just on principle, if Gwen went to ask her a favour! She didn't trust Gwendoline any farther than she could see her.

So Clarissa had to go—and with many stammerings and stutterings she at last came out with what she wanted to ask—and handed over her old nurse's invitation.

“Yes. You can go there for tea, so long as you take another girl with you,” said Miss Williams, thinking what an unattractive child Clarissa was, with her thick-lensed glasses and the wire round her teeth. She couldn't help looking so plain, of course—but that dreadful hangdog expression she always wore made it worse!

The day of the picnic dawned bright and clear, and promised to be lovely and hot

“A whole day off!” rejoiced Darrell. “And such a day, too! I vote we take our bathing-things and bathe at the foot of Langley Hill. There's a cove there.”

“You'll have to take your lunch with you, but you can have your tea at the little tea-place on top of the hill,” said Miss Williams. “I've asked the kitchen staff to let you go and help them cut sandwiches and cakes to take with you. Be off with you now—and come back ready to work twice as hard!”

They clattered off, and in half an hour were streaming up the cliff-path on their way to Langley Hill, each girl carrying her share of the lunch.

“I should think we've got far too much,” said Mavis.

“Do you? I don't think we've got enough!” said Darrell, astonished. “But then, my idea of a good picnic lunch is probably twice the size of yours, Mavis! You're a poor eater.”

Gwendoline and Clarissa panted along a good way behind the others. Darrell called to them to hurry up. She was annoyed to see the two together again after all her efforts to separate them.

“Clarissa gets a bad heart if she hurries,” called Gwendoline, reproachfully. “You know that, Darrell.”

“Oh, Gwen—I hardly ever feel my heart this term,” said Clarissa. “I believe I'm almost cured! I can easily hurry.”

“Well,” said Gwendoline, solemnly, “I'm just a
bit
worried about
my
heart, Clarissa. It does funny things lately. Sort of flutters like a bird, you know.”

Clarissa looked alarmed. “Oh, Gwen—that's just what mine used to do. You'll have to be careful. Oughtn't you to see a doctor?”

“Oh no, I don't think so,” said Gwen, bravely. “I hate going to Matron about anything. She makes such a fuss. And she's quite likely not to believe what I say. She's very hard, you know,”

Clarissa had been to Matron once or twice, and had thought her very kind and understanding. She didn't know that Gwendoline had tried to stuff Matron up with all kinds of tales, term after term, whenever she wanted to get out of anything strenuous, and that Matron now consistently disbelieved anything that Gwendoline had to say. She merely handed out large doses of very disgusting medicine, no matter what Gwen complained of. In fact, Alicia said that she kept a special large bottle labelled “Medicine for Gwen” on the top shelf of her cupboard, a specially nasty concoction made up specially for malingerers!

“Look at Connie,” said Gwen, as they gradually came nearer to the others. “Carrying Ruth's bag for her as well as her own! How can Ruth put up with it?”

“Well, they're twins,” said Clarissa. “I expect they like to do things for each other. Let's catch them up and talk to them.”

But the conversation as usual was carried on by Connie, not by Ruth!

“What a heavenly day for a picnic!” said Clarissa, looking at Ruth.

“Beautiful,” said Connie, and began to talk about the food in the bags she carried.

Gwen spoke to Ruth. “Did you find the pencil you lost—that silver one?” she asked.

Connie answered for her as usual. “Oh yes—it was at the back of her desk after all.”

“Ruth, look at that butterfly!” said Clarissa, determined to make Ruth speak. Whatever is it?”

“It's a fritillary, pearl-bordered,” answered Connie, before Ruth had even got a look at the lovely thing. Then Gwen and Clarissa gave it up. You just couldn't get Ruth to speak before Connie got her word in.

They had the picnic in sight of Langley Hill, because they were much too hungry to wait till they had climbed up to the top. Gwendoline was very thankful. She was already puffing and blowing.

“You're too fat, that's what's the matter with you, Gwendoline,” said Alicia, unsympathetically. “Gosh, what a wonderful scowl you've put on now—one of your best. A real snooty scowl!”

Belinda overheard and rolled over to be nearer to them. She gazed at Gwendoline, and felt all over herself for her small sketchbook, which was always somewhere about her person.

“Yes—it's a peach of a scowl,” she said, “a smasher! Hold it, Gwen, hold it! I
must
add it to my collection!”

Clarissa, Ruth and Connie looked surprised. “A collection of
scowls
!” said Connie. “I never heard of
that
before! “

“Yes, I've got a nice little bookful of all Gwendoline's different scowls,” said Belinda. “The one that goes like this”—and she pulled a dreadful face—”and this one—and this one you must have seen hundreds of times!” She pulled a variety of faces, and everyone roared. Belinda could be very funny when she lied.

“Oh quick—Gwen is scowling again!” she said, and flipped open her little book. “You know, one term I stalked Gwen the whole time, waiting for her scowls, but she got wise to me the next term, and I hardly collected a single one. I'll show you my collection when I get back if you like, Clarissa.”

“Er—well—I don't know if Gwen would like it,” she began.

“Of course she wouldn't,” said Belinda. Her quick pencil moved over the paper. She tore off the page and gave it to Clarissa,

“There you are—there's your darling Gwendoline Mary,” she said. Clarissa gasped. Yes—it was Gwen to the life—and looking most unpleasant, too! Wicked Belinda—her malicious pencil could catch anyone's expression and pin it down on paper immediately.

Clarissa didn't know what in the world to do with the paper—tear it up and offend Belinda—or keep it and offend Gwendoline. Fortunately the wind solved the problem for her by suddenly whipping it out of her fingers and tossing it over the hedge. She was very relieved.

It was a lovely picnic. There were sandwiches of all kinds, buns, biscuits and slices of fruitcake. The girls ate every single thing and then lazed in the sun. Darrell reluctantly decided at three o'clock that if they were going to have tea at the top of Langley Hill, and bathe afterwards, they had better go now.

“Oh, Darrell—Clarissa and I have been given permission by Miss Williams to go and have tea with Clarissa's old nurse, Mrs. Lucy, who lives at the foot of the hill,” said Gwendoline, in the polite voice she used when she knew she was saying something that the other person was going to object to.

“Well! This is the first I've heard of it!” said Darrell. “Why ever couldn't you say so before? I suppose it's
true
? You're not saying this just to get out of climbing Langley Hill and bathing afterwards? “

“Of course not,” said Gwendoline, with enormous dignity. “Ask Clarissa!”

Clarissa, feeling rather nervous of Darrell, produced the invitation from Mrs. Lucy. “All right,” said Darrell, tossing it back. “
How
like you, Gwen, to get out of a climb and a bathe! Jolly clever, aren't you!”

Gwendoline did not deign to reply, but looked at Clarissa as if to say “What a head-girl! Disbelieving us like that!”

The girls left Gwen and Clarissa and went to climb the great hill. The two left behind sprawled on the grass contentedly. “I'm just as pleased not to climb that hill, anyway,” said Gwen. “This hot afternoon, tool I wish them joy of it!”

They sat a little longer, then Gwen decided that she was being bitten by something. She always decided this when she wanted to make a move indoors! So they set off to find Mrs. Lucy's cottage, and arrived about a quarter-past four.

The old lady was waiting. She ran out to greet Clarissa, and petted her as if she was a small child. Then she saw Gwendoline, and appeared to be most astonished that there were no other girls besides.

“But I've got tea for twenty!” she said. “I thought the whole class was coming. Miss Clarissa dear! Oh my, what shall we do? Can you go after the others and fetch them?”

“You go after them, Gwen,” said Clarissa, urgently. “I daren't tear up that steep hill. They'll be halfway up by now.”

“No, indeed, Miss Clarissa, I wouldn't dream of you racing up that hill, and you only just recovering from that bad heart of yours,” said Mrs. Lucy at once. “I meant this other girl to go.”

Gwendoline was certainly not going to go chasing up Langley Hill in the hot sun, to fetch back people she disliked, to enjoy a fine tea. Let them go without!

She pulled rather a long face. “I will go, of course,” she said, “but I think there's something a bit wrong with
my
heart, too—it flutters, you know, when I've done something rather energetic. It makes me feel I simply must lie down.”