[CS] Triptych :: PG-13 :: Gen :: 1/1
Title: Triptych
Author: chaletian
Fandom: Chalet School
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Triplets, Felicity, Steve - set after Prefects.
Summary: The Maynard triplets shake off the shackles of Her. Sequel to Liberation.
The Maynard triplets, Len, Con and Margot, sat in their large, airy bedroom at Die Blumen, and contemplated each other and the bottle of wine they had purloined from the Salon.
“I don’t think I’m going to become a nun,” announced Margot, pouring herself a glass.
“Ha, ha,” retorted Con. “As if there was ever the slightest possibility!”
“Well, She seemed pretty keen on the idea,” said Margot.
“She thought Reg and I would be great together!” said Len, nabbing the bottle. “Just goes to show she hadn’t a clue. But if not nunning, what? Are you still going to go in for medicine?”
Margot shrugged. “Dunno. Haven’t really thought about it.” She glanced across at Len. “What about you? Still Oxford-Languages-Teaching?”
Len pulled a face. “Don’t think so. Certainly not teaching! I can’t imagine anything more vile!” She hesitated, rubbed the base of her wine glass. “And I’m not sure about Oxford, either.”
Con looked up in surprise. “No Oxford? Why on earth?”
“It’s just…” Len trailed off, struggling to express herself. “I’ve always had to try so hard. I mean, Margot’s a five-star genius, and no-one minds about Con…”
“…Thanks!” put in Con drily.
“…but everyone’s been expecting me to be brilliant, and I’m really not. To be quite honest, I’m not really sure how well I’d cope with Oxford.” With this admission, she knocked back the remains of her glass, and looked defiantly at her sisters.
“I’m sure you’d manage,” offered Margot, a little warily. Len grinned.
“Oh, probably,” she said. “I’m no genius, but I’m not stupid! Thing is, though, I’m tired of having to try so hard at everything. I mean, it’s no wrong, is it, to go for something a bit easier? I was thinking Manchester or London or something.”
“They’re perfectly good unis,” said Con loyally. “And no, there’s nothing wrong with taking it a bit easier: you’ve worked jolly hard all these years. Send you to Oxford and you’d probably have a nervous breakdown or something.” She hesitated. “Look here, Len, you wouldn’t mind if-well, if I still went, would you?”
Len looked at her, astonished. “Mind? Why should I? Honestly, Con, we’ve always done our own thing - well, as much as we could with Her all over the place! - I don’t see why that should change now.”
“Dunno, just thought you might,” replied Con with a sheepish smile.
“Still English for you?” asked Margot, and Con nodded.
“Rather. I do want to be a writer, you know, it wasn’t just her. I’d like to travel, though. Get a bit of experience of life. You can’t write properly when you’ve been as sheltered as we have. I want some adventure!” Her dark eyes glowed at the prospect, and her sisters giggled.
“Yeah, and I know who you want some adventure with!” exclaimed Len.
“Could it be, Helena, that the chap in question is tall?”
“Why, yes it could, Margaret!”
“And might he have hair of a ruddy hue?”
“I do believe he might!”
“Why, Helena, do you think…”
“Constance lo-o-oves Roger! Constance lo-o-oves Roger! Constance…”
All the triplets looked up sharply, where the eldest of their sisters danced in the doorway. Felicity was dressed in a leotard and one of their mother’s scarves, and her fair plaits had seen better days. Con chucked a book at her.
“Push off, Flix! Little girls are not wanted!”
Felicity stuck her tongue out. “Push off yourself, Con! I’m telling everyone you’re in love with Roger! Con and Roger, sitting in a tree…” She broke off as Con jumped up, pushed her younger sibling clear of the doorway, and slammed the door shut. “I’m telling Mamma!” Felicity bawled through the door, then kicked it for good measure.
“Tattle-tale!” shouted Con, and they listened to the sound of Felicity running down the hall.
“I think I liked Flix better under Her,” mused Margot, and her sisters laughed.
“It did have its moments,” agreed Con, abandoning her post by the door. “The kids were a lot easier to manage!”
“Ours, anyway,” said Len. “I reckon the prees are going to have an easier time of it now - I’ve always been sceptical about the amount of mischief the Middles seem to get into.”
“The feuds have always been a bit OTT,” said Con.
“Never mind all that,” said Margot with a glint in her eye. “We have got very off track here! Con was telling us about how she yearned to go adventuring with young Roger!”
“Why, I do believe that’s so,” said Len gleefully, showing every sign of entering into the spirit of things once again. Con scowled both of them.
“Oh, you’re both hilarious.”
“Yes, we are,” said Margot, and eldest and youngest triplet clinked glasses.
“Anyway, what’s wrong with liking Roger?” demanded Con. “He’s a nice chap. We get along. Remember that time we went hiking up Mondscheinspitze? It was nice.”
“Nothing wrong at all!” declared Margot. “He is pretty dishy!”
Len, having discovered the wine bottle to be empty, lay back on the bed, long chestnut hair flung over the bedspread. “Margot and Roger, sitting in a tree, k-i-”
“Shut up!” said Margot, laughing. “I don’t poach, Len Maynard!”
“Probably as well you’re not planning to be a nun, though, if you think thoughts like that!” said Con.
“I’ve always wondered,” said Len, “if nuns just don’t think about stuff like that, or whether they do and have to sort of squash it.”
Margot giggled. “Maybe Auntie Rob’s been squashing ardent fantasies about Cary Grant for years!” The three girls howled with laughter at the thought of Soeur Marie Cecile pining for the Hollywood star.
“It’s not even that funny!” said Len, clutching her stomach.
“I think we drank too much wine,” admitted Con, peering down the neck of the bottle.
“What would Matey say?” asked Margot, and they all fell about laughing again; so hard, in fact, that Len fell off the bed with a thump.
They were still giggling when there was a knock at the door a couple of minutes later, and Steve poked his head in.
“Dad says, are you killing each other up here? Either way, keep it down.”
“We’re a little bit the worse for wear,” announced Len, who had reclaimed her position on the bed. “Go away, Steve, darling!”
“No, wait a sec,” interrupted Con. “What was the hoo-hah earlier?”
Steve grinned. “Chas talked Mike into some stunt on the lake and Dad went ballistic.”
“Why?” asked Con curiously. “I doubt Mother went into fits.”
“Not she!” replied Steve. “But they nearly crocked the boat. Chas nearly ended up on bread and water for a week.”
“Chas is such a wretch,” said Len. “He swans around looking all innocent and priestly, and he’s the worst of us all.”
“Too right,” said Steve fervently. “I’ve a devil of a time trying to keep him out of trouble at Winchester. Come next year, I’ll not bother.”
“Well, Mike shouldn’t be too much trouble,” offered Len. “He’s a nice kid under the mischief!”
“And Chas is always ready to make the most of Mike’s mischief!” said Con. “They’re like thingy and thingy - you know, one of them thinks of things, and the other does them.”
“With bells on!” finished Len. “Elizabeth Arnett, wasn’t it, and Betty whatshername?”
“Whoever,” said Steve, bored. “Anyway, keep it down.” He departed, closing the door behind him.
The triplets were silent for a minute or two, then Margot spoke.
“I’m glad I don’t have to be a nun. I’d’ve been a rubbish nun.”
“And I’m glad I don’t have to marry Reg,” said Len.
Con stretched herself out on the rug. “I think we’re pretty lucky She disappeared,” she said.
“Hear, hear,” said Margot. “And on that note, who wants to volunteer to go on a wine mission?”
Len and Con exchanged mischievous glances. “Margot Maynard!” they chorused, “What would Matey say?!”
Author: chaletian
Fandom: Chalet School
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Triplets, Felicity, Steve - set after Prefects.
Summary: The Maynard triplets shake off the shackles of Her. Sequel to Liberation.
The Maynard triplets, Len, Con and Margot, sat in their large, airy bedroom at Die Blumen, and contemplated each other and the bottle of wine they had purloined from the Salon.
“I don’t think I’m going to become a nun,” announced Margot, pouring herself a glass.
“Ha, ha,” retorted Con. “As if there was ever the slightest possibility!”
“Well, She seemed pretty keen on the idea,” said Margot.
“She thought Reg and I would be great together!” said Len, nabbing the bottle. “Just goes to show she hadn’t a clue. But if not nunning, what? Are you still going to go in for medicine?”
Margot shrugged. “Dunno. Haven’t really thought about it.” She glanced across at Len. “What about you? Still Oxford-Languages-Teaching?”
Len pulled a face. “Don’t think so. Certainly not teaching! I can’t imagine anything more vile!” She hesitated, rubbed the base of her wine glass. “And I’m not sure about Oxford, either.”
Con looked up in surprise. “No Oxford? Why on earth?”
“It’s just…” Len trailed off, struggling to express herself. “I’ve always had to try so hard. I mean, Margot’s a five-star genius, and no-one minds about Con…”
“…Thanks!” put in Con drily.
“…but everyone’s been expecting me to be brilliant, and I’m really not. To be quite honest, I’m not really sure how well I’d cope with Oxford.” With this admission, she knocked back the remains of her glass, and looked defiantly at her sisters.
“I’m sure you’d manage,” offered Margot, a little warily. Len grinned.
“Oh, probably,” she said. “I’m no genius, but I’m not stupid! Thing is, though, I’m tired of having to try so hard at everything. I mean, it’s no wrong, is it, to go for something a bit easier? I was thinking Manchester or London or something.”
“They’re perfectly good unis,” said Con loyally. “And no, there’s nothing wrong with taking it a bit easier: you’ve worked jolly hard all these years. Send you to Oxford and you’d probably have a nervous breakdown or something.” She hesitated. “Look here, Len, you wouldn’t mind if-well, if I still went, would you?”
Len looked at her, astonished. “Mind? Why should I? Honestly, Con, we’ve always done our own thing - well, as much as we could with Her all over the place! - I don’t see why that should change now.”
“Dunno, just thought you might,” replied Con with a sheepish smile.
“Still English for you?” asked Margot, and Con nodded.
“Rather. I do want to be a writer, you know, it wasn’t just her. I’d like to travel, though. Get a bit of experience of life. You can’t write properly when you’ve been as sheltered as we have. I want some adventure!” Her dark eyes glowed at the prospect, and her sisters giggled.
“Yeah, and I know who you want some adventure with!” exclaimed Len.
“Could it be, Helena, that the chap in question is tall?”
“Why, yes it could, Margaret!”
“And might he have hair of a ruddy hue?”
“I do believe he might!”
“Why, Helena, do you think…”
“Constance lo-o-oves Roger! Constance lo-o-oves Roger! Constance…”
All the triplets looked up sharply, where the eldest of their sisters danced in the doorway. Felicity was dressed in a leotard and one of their mother’s scarves, and her fair plaits had seen better days. Con chucked a book at her.
“Push off, Flix! Little girls are not wanted!”
Felicity stuck her tongue out. “Push off yourself, Con! I’m telling everyone you’re in love with Roger! Con and Roger, sitting in a tree…” She broke off as Con jumped up, pushed her younger sibling clear of the doorway, and slammed the door shut. “I’m telling Mamma!” Felicity bawled through the door, then kicked it for good measure.
“Tattle-tale!” shouted Con, and they listened to the sound of Felicity running down the hall.
“I think I liked Flix better under Her,” mused Margot, and her sisters laughed.
“It did have its moments,” agreed Con, abandoning her post by the door. “The kids were a lot easier to manage!”
“Ours, anyway,” said Len. “I reckon the prees are going to have an easier time of it now - I’ve always been sceptical about the amount of mischief the Middles seem to get into.”
“The feuds have always been a bit OTT,” said Con.
“Never mind all that,” said Margot with a glint in her eye. “We have got very off track here! Con was telling us about how she yearned to go adventuring with young Roger!”
“Why, I do believe that’s so,” said Len gleefully, showing every sign of entering into the spirit of things once again. Con scowled both of them.
“Oh, you’re both hilarious.”
“Yes, we are,” said Margot, and eldest and youngest triplet clinked glasses.
“Anyway, what’s wrong with liking Roger?” demanded Con. “He’s a nice chap. We get along. Remember that time we went hiking up Mondscheinspitze? It was nice.”
“Nothing wrong at all!” declared Margot. “He is pretty dishy!”
Len, having discovered the wine bottle to be empty, lay back on the bed, long chestnut hair flung over the bedspread. “Margot and Roger, sitting in a tree, k-i-”
“Shut up!” said Margot, laughing. “I don’t poach, Len Maynard!”
“Probably as well you’re not planning to be a nun, though, if you think thoughts like that!” said Con.
“I’ve always wondered,” said Len, “if nuns just don’t think about stuff like that, or whether they do and have to sort of squash it.”
Margot giggled. “Maybe Auntie Rob’s been squashing ardent fantasies about Cary Grant for years!” The three girls howled with laughter at the thought of Soeur Marie Cecile pining for the Hollywood star.
“It’s not even that funny!” said Len, clutching her stomach.
“I think we drank too much wine,” admitted Con, peering down the neck of the bottle.
“What would Matey say?” asked Margot, and they all fell about laughing again; so hard, in fact, that Len fell off the bed with a thump.
They were still giggling when there was a knock at the door a couple of minutes later, and Steve poked his head in.
“Dad says, are you killing each other up here? Either way, keep it down.”
“We’re a little bit the worse for wear,” announced Len, who had reclaimed her position on the bed. “Go away, Steve, darling!”
“No, wait a sec,” interrupted Con. “What was the hoo-hah earlier?”
Steve grinned. “Chas talked Mike into some stunt on the lake and Dad went ballistic.”
“Why?” asked Con curiously. “I doubt Mother went into fits.”
“Not she!” replied Steve. “But they nearly crocked the boat. Chas nearly ended up on bread and water for a week.”
“Chas is such a wretch,” said Len. “He swans around looking all innocent and priestly, and he’s the worst of us all.”
“Too right,” said Steve fervently. “I’ve a devil of a time trying to keep him out of trouble at Winchester. Come next year, I’ll not bother.”
“Well, Mike shouldn’t be too much trouble,” offered Len. “He’s a nice kid under the mischief!”
“And Chas is always ready to make the most of Mike’s mischief!” said Con. “They’re like thingy and thingy - you know, one of them thinks of things, and the other does them.”
“With bells on!” finished Len. “Elizabeth Arnett, wasn’t it, and Betty whatshername?”
“Whoever,” said Steve, bored. “Anyway, keep it down.” He departed, closing the door behind him.
The triplets were silent for a minute or two, then Margot spoke.
“I’m glad I don’t have to be a nun. I’d’ve been a rubbish nun.”
“And I’m glad I don’t have to marry Reg,” said Len.
Con stretched herself out on the rug. “I think we’re pretty lucky She disappeared,” she said.
“Hear, hear,” said Margot. “And on that note, who wants to volunteer to go on a wine mission?”
Len and Con exchanged mischievous glances. “Margot Maynard!” they chorused, “What would Matey say?!”