Malory Towers - In The Fifth At Malory Towers Part 10

'Shows what Malory Towers does to you!' said Darrell. 'Still, I suppose any good boarding-school does the same things - makes you stand on your own feet, rubs off your corners, teaches you common-sense, makes you accept responsibility.'

'It depends on the person!' said Sally, with a laugh. 'It doesn't seem to have taught dear Gwendoline Mary much.'

'Well, I suppose there must be exceptions,' said Darrell. 'She's about the only one that's come up the school with us who doesn't seem to have learnt anything sensible at all.'

'It was a shock when we told her she and Maureen might be twins!' said Sally. 'She really saw herself then as others see her. Anyway, I think she is better than she was - especially since she's had to go in for games and gym properly.'

'She doesn't like being a servant in the play,' said Darrell, with one of her wide grins. 'Nor does Maureen. They've neither of them got a word to say in the play, and not much to do either - but as they both act so badly, it's just as well!'

'It's an awful blow to their pride,' said Sally. 'I say - Bill's going to be good, isn't she? She's the surly baron to the life as she strides about the stage in her riding-boots, and slaps her whip against her side!'

Yes - the play was really going quite well. The fifth-formers were almost sorry that it was half-term weekend because it meant missing a rehearsal that Friday. Still, it would be lovely to see their people again. Darrell had a lot to tell her parents - and so had Felicity.

Felicity's ankle had certainly been black and blue the next day, and she showed it off proudly to the first-formers. What a marvel to shoot a goal when you had an ankle like that! Felicity was quite the heroine of the lower school.

Half-term came and went, all too quickly. Darrell's father and mother came, and had to listen to two excited girls both talking at once about pantomimes and matches.

'We're rehearsing well, and my words sound fine, and you should see Mary-Lou as Cinderella,' cried Darrell at the top of her voice.

'And when I shot the winning goal I simply couldn't believe it, but there was such a terrific noise of cheering and shouting that I had to,' shouted Felicity, at the same time as Darrell. Her mother smiled. What a pair!

Four of Bill's brothers came to see her, and her mother as well, all on horseback! It was the boys' half-term, too, and Bill rode off happily, taking Clarissa with her. 'What a lovely way to spend half-term,' thought Clarissa, 'riding all day long, and having a picnic lunch and tea!'

Gwendoline watched her go jealously. If she had been sensible last term she could have been Clarissa's friend. But she hadn't been sensible - and now she was stuck with that awful Maureen!

The dreadful thing was that Maureen's parents couldn't come at the last moment, so Maureen had no one to go out with. She went to tell Gwen.

'Oh, Gwen - are you taking anyone out with you? My parents can't come. I'm so bitterly disappointed.'

Gwen stared at her crossly. This would happen, of course. Now she would have to have Maureen tagging about with her all day long.

She introduced Maureen to her mother and Miss Winter, her old governess, with a very bad grace.

'Mother - this is Maureen. Her parents haven't come today, so I said she could come with us.'

'Of course, of course!' said Mrs. Lacy at once. As usual she was dressed in far too fussy things, with veils and scarves and bits and pieces flying everywhere. 'Poor child - what a shame!'

Maureen warmed to Mrs. Lacy. Here was someone she could talk to easily. She gave her silly little laugh.

'Oh, Mrs. Lacy, it's so kind of you to let me come with you. It's my first term here, you know - and really I don't know what I'd have done without dear Gwendoline. She's really been a friend in need.'

'I'm sure she has,' said Mrs. Lacy. 'Gwendoline is always so kind. No wonder she is so popular.'

'And do you know, the girls say Gwen and I ought to be friends, because we're so alike,' chattered Maureen, tucking the rug round herself in the car. 'We've both got golden hair and blue eyes, and they say we've got the same ways, too. Aren't I lucky to have found a twin!'

This was the kind of conversation that both Miss Winter and Mrs. Lacy understood and liked. Miss Winter made quite a fuss of Maureen, and Gwen didn't like that at all.

Gwen hoped that Maureen would say nice things about her as she was taking her out for the day. But Maureen didn't. Maureen talked about herself the whole time. She described her home, her family, her dogs, her garden, all the holidays she had ever had, and all the illnesses. Gwen couldn't get a word in, and after a time she fell silent and sulked.

'What a bore Maureen is! How silly! How selfish and conceited!' thought Gwen, sulkily. 'What a silly affected laugh.'

Her mother made a most terrifying remark at lunch-time. She beamed round at both girls. 'You know, except that Maureen's teeth stick out a little, you two are really very alike! You've got Gwen's lovely way of chattering all about your doings, Maureen - and even your laugh is the same - isn't it, Miss Winter?'

'Yes, they really might be sisters,' agreed Miss Winter, smiling kindly at the delighted Maureen. 'Their ways are exactly the same, and even their voices.'

Gwen felt quite sick. She could hardly eat any dinner. If her mother and Miss Winter, who really adored her, honestly thought that that awful, boring, conceited Maureen was exactly like her, then she, Gwen, must be a really appalling person too. No wonder she wasn't popular. No wonder the girls laughed at her.

That day was a really terrible one for Gwen. To sit by somebody who was supposed to be like her, to hear her own silly laugh uttered by Maureen, to listen to her everlasting, dull tales about herself, and see her own shallow, insincere smile spread over Maureen's face was a horrible experience.

'I shall never forget this,' thought poor Gwen. 'Never. I'll be jolly careful how I behave in future. And I'll alter my laugh straightaway. Do I really laugh like that? Yes - I do. Oh, I do feel so ashamed.'

'Gwen's very quiet,' said Miss Winter, at last. 'Anything wrong, Gwen?'

'Oh, poor Gwen - she's so disappointed because she's not chosen for Cinderella,' said Maureen, swiftly.

'Well, so were you!' retorted Gwen.' You thought you were going to be. Moira said so!'

'Girls, girls! Don't talk like that to one another,' said Mrs. Lacy, shocked. 'Why - I quite thought Gwen was to be Cinderella!'

'Yes - you said in your letter that most of the girls wanted you to be,' said Miss Winter. 'Why didn't they choose you, Gwen? You would have made a fine Cinderella! It's a shame.'

'For the same reason they didn't choose Maureen, I suppose,' said Gwen, sulkily. 'They didn't think we were good enough.'

'Well, of course, I couldn't possibly expect to be chosen - it's only my first term,' said Maureen, quickly.

'You did expect to be!' said Gwen.

'Oh no, Gwen dear,' said Maureen, and laughed her silly laugh. It grated on Gwen's exasperated nerves.

'I shall go mad if you laugh that laugh again,' she said, savagely.

There, was a surprised silence. Maureen broke it by laughing again and Gwen clenched her fists.

'Poor Gwen!' said Maureen. 'Honestly, Mrs. Lacy, it was a shame they didn't choose her - it really did upset her. And when we go to rehearsals it's, maddening for Gwen to see Mary-Lou as Cinderella, whilst she's only a servant, and says nothing at all - not a single word in the whole of the play!'

'Darling!' said Mrs. Lacy, comfortingly, to the glowering Gwen. 'I'm so sorry! I don't like to see Mother's girl sad.'

'Stop it, Mother,' said Gwen. 'Let's change the subject.'

Mrs. Lacy was very hurt. She turned away from this unusually surly Gwen, and began to talk to Maureen, being extra nice to her so as to show Gwen that she was very displeased with her. Miss Winter did the same, and Maureen blossomed out even more under this suns.h.i.+ne of flattery and rapt attention. Poor Gwen had to listen to more and more tales of Maureen's life, and to hear her silly laugh more and more often!

The day came to an end at last. Maureen thanked Mrs. Lacy and Miss Winter prettily, tucked her arm into Gwen's, and went off, waving.

'I'll look after Gwen for you!' she called back.

'Well, what a charming child - and what a nice friend she'd make for Gwen,' said Mrs. Lacy, driving off. 'It's a pity Gwen's so upset about that Cinderella business. Maureen must have been just as disappointed.'

'Yes. I'm afraid dear Gwen's not taking that very bravely,' said Miss Winter. 'Never mind, she has that nice child Maureen to set her a good example.'

'I think we ought to ask Maureen to stay for a week or two in the Christmas holidays,' said Mrs. Lacy. 'It would be so nice for Gwen.'

Poor Gwen! If she had heard all this she would have been furious. She was to get a great shock when her mother's letter came, telling her she had invited Maureen to stay for a week in the holidays.

She pulled her arm away from Maureen's as soon as the car drove out of sight. She turned on her.

'Well - I hope you've enjoyed spoiling my whole day, you beast! Telling your awful tales, and laughing your awful laugh, and sucking up like anything. Ugh!'

'But, Gwen - they said I was so like you,' said Maureen, looking puzzled. 'They liked me. How can I be so awful if I'm exactly like you?'

Gwen didn't tell her. It was a thing she really couldn't bear to think about.

18 THE DICTATOR.

THE days began to fly after half-term. Darrell and Sally got fits of panic quite regularly whenever they thought of the pantomime being performed to the parents at the end of term.

'We'll NEVER be ready!' groaned Darrell.

'No. We never imagined there'd be so much to do,' said Sally, seriously.

'If only everyone knew their parts like Mary-Lou and Mavis,' said Darrell. 'Louella drives me mad. She forgets the words of her songs every single time. I wish we hadn't chosen her to be the fairy-G.o.dmother now.'

'Oh, she'll be all right on the night,' said Sally. 'She was like that in the play she was in last year - never knew a word till the last night, and then was quite perfect.'

'Well, I only hope you're right,' groaned Darrell, amusing the steady Sally very much. Darrell went down into the dumps easily over her precious pantomime. Sally was very good for her. She refused to think anyone was hopeless, and was always ready with something comforting to say.

'Alicia's marvellous, isn't she?' she said, after a pause, looking up from the work she was doing.

'Yes. She's a born demon,' said Darrell, with a giggle. 'I get quite scared of her sometimes, the way she leaps about the stage and yells. And her conjuring is miraculous.'

'So is her juggling,' said Sally. 'And she's practised that demon-sounding voice till it really sounds quite uncanny.'

Daphne joined in with a laugh. 'Yes - and when she suddenly produces it in French cla.s.s, the amazement on Mam'zelle's face is too good to be true.'

'Alicia's a scream,' said Darrell. 'She'll be the best in the show, I think.'

There was a little silence. 'There's only one thing that really worries me,' said Darrell, in a low voice. 'And that's Moira. She's not hitting it off with Betty at all - or Alicia either. She's bossing them too much.'

'Yes. She can't seem to help it,' said Sally. 'But it's idiotic to be bossy with people like Betty and Alicia. After all, Betty's co-producer, and Alicia's a terrific help to them.'

Darrell was right to worry about Moira. Moira was intensely keen on getting the whole pantomime perfect, and made everyone work like slaves under her command. The girls resented it. Louella purposely forgot her words in order to annoy Moira. Bill purposely came in at the wrong side each time to make her shout. And Moira couldn't see that she was handling things in the wrong way.

She was a wonderful organizer, certainly. She had gone into every detail, worked out every scene with Darrell, proved herself most ingenious, and given very wise advise.

But she did it all in the wrong way. She was aggressive and opinionated, she contradicted people flatly, and she found fault too much and praised too little.

'You're a dictator, Moira,' Bill informed her at one rehearsal. 'I don't take kindly to dictators. Nor does anyone else here.'

'If you think you can produce a first-cla.s.s pantomime without giving a few orders and finding a few faults, you're wrong,' said Moira, furiously.

'I don't,' said Bill, mildly. 'I never said I did. But you can do all that without being a dictator. You sit up there like a warlord and chivy us all along unmercifully. I quite expect to be sent to prison sometimes.'

'Let's get on,' said Darrell, afraid that Moira was going to blow up. Arguing always wasted so much time. 'We'll take that bit again. Mavis, begin your song.'

Mavis sang, and a silence fell. What a lovely voice she had, low and pure and sweet. That would make the audience gasp! It wasn't often that a schoolgirl had a voice like that.

'We shall miss her when she leaves, and goes to study music and singing at the College of Music,' thought Darrell. Mavis's song came to an end, and she stepped back to let b.u.t.tons come on and do her bit.

Yes, rehearsals were hard work, but they were fun, too. Sally and Darrell began to feel more confidence as time went on. Darrell surprised herself at times, when she suddenly saw something wrong with the lines of the play, and hurried to alter them.

'I know just what's wrong and what's right now,' she thought, as she scribbled new lines. 'I adore doing this pantomime - feeling it's mine because I wrote it all. I want to do a play next. Could I write one - perhaps just a short one for next term? Shall I ever, ever be a well-known playwright?'

Gwen was a sulky actor. She hated being stuck at the back in the chorus, dressed as a servant, with nothing to say or do by herself. Maureen was much more cheerful about it. She drove Gwen nearly mad by some of the things she said.

'Of course, I don't mind having such a small, insignificant part,' she said. 'But it's different for you, Gwen. You've been here for years, and I've not been even one term. You ought to have had a good part. I couldn't expect one.'

Gwen growled.

'I shall write and tell your mother you are awfully good as a servant,' went on Maureen. 'I do think it's so kind of her to ask me to stay. Won't it be fun to be together so much, Gwen, in the hols?'

Gwen didn't answer. She was beginning to be a little afraid of Maureen. Maureen was silly and affected - but she had a cunning and sly side to her nature, too. So had Gwen, of course. She recognized it easily in Maureen because it was in herself too. That was the dreadful part of this forced friends.h.i.+p with Maureen. It was like being friends with yourself, and knowing all the false, silly, sly things that went on in your own mind.

Gwen did try to alter herself a bit, so that she wouldn't be like Maureen. She stopped her silly laugh and her wide, false smile. She stopped talking about herself too.

To her enormous annoyance n.o.body seemed to notice it. As a matter of fact, they took so little notice of her at all that if she had suddenly grown a moustache and worn riding-boots they wouldn't have bothered. Who wanted to pay any attention to Gwen? She had never done anything to make herself liked or trusted, so the best thing to do was to ignore her.

And ignore her they did, though poor Gwen was doing her best to be sensible and likeable now. She had left it a bit too late!

Two more weeks went by, and then suddenly a row flared up at a rehearsal. It began over a very silly little thing indeed, as big rows often do.

Alicia took it into her head to evolve a kind of demon-chant whenever she appeared or disappeared on the stage. She only thought of it a few minutes before rehearsal, and hadn't time to tell Darrell or Sally, so she thought she would just introduce the weird little chant without warning.

And she did. She appeared with her sudden, surprising leaps, chanting eerily. 'Oo-woo-la, woo-la, riminy-ree, oo-woo-la . . .'

Moira rapped loudly. The rehearsal stopped. 'Alicia! What on earth's that? It's not in the script, as you very well know.'

'Of course I know,' said Alicia, annoyed as always by Moira's unnecessarily sharp tone. 'I hadn't time to ask Darrell to put it in. I only thought of it just now.'

'Well, we can't insert new things now,' said Moira, coldly. 'And in any case it's not for you to suggest extraordinary chants like that. If we'd wanted one we'd have got Darrell to write one in.'

'Look here, Moira,' said Alicia, losing her temper rapidly, Tm not a first-former. I'm . . .'

Darrell interrupted hastily. 'Moira, I think that's really a good idea of Alicia's. What do you think, Betty? I never thought of a chant like that for the demon - but it does sound very demon-like, and . . .'