Title: Between Friends at Malory Towers Chapter 7
Series: Enid Blyton's Malory Towers
Rating: M-15
Summary: Alicia and Betty have always been ready with a sharp word for Gwen. But one warm summer evening, their jibes start a malicious chain of events no-one could have expected.
Alicia and Betty were not the only friends to see one another that summer holidays. It was quite common for the girls to invite their particular friend to stay for a few days, or often longer in the upper forms. Belinda went to stay with her good friend, Irene. The two scatterbrains caught the train to London to attend an art exhibition. Afterwards, both were so inspired - Belinda to draw and Irene to compose - that they promptly became distracted and caught the wrong train home. After several failed attempts to right their mistake, Irene’s father ordered them to stay put and drove quite some distance to collect them in the car. On their return, Irene’s mother declared, not for the first time, that the pair would not be allowed out unsupervised in future if they couldn’t even manage a train timetable by themselves.
Bill, who had become such firm friends with Clarissa in those last weeks of term, gladly accepted the invitation to stay with the Carters. The two horse-mad girls spent their days riding out across the countryside, taking picnics and sharing stories. Neither Bill nor Clarissa had ever had a proper friend before, and each privately marvelled at her good fortune to have met someone so perfectly matched.
Sally had joined Darrell at her house the week before, and would stay for another week yet. Now they sat in the small conservatory together, tucking into fresh jam buns and sandwiches for tea. It had been a splendid hols so far, Darrell thought. She sighed happily, and took a big bite into a bun.
This caused Sally to laugh out loud. Darrell looked at her in surprise.
‘What is it?’ she asked, not able to see anything even faintly amusing.
She felt even more surprised when Sally reached to brush a finger across her cheek, and held it up for Darrell to see.
‘Jam,’ the girl said, eyes twinkling.
Darrell groaned. ‘Gosh, I can’t seem to eat them with doing that. How do you put up with me?’
‘I don’t know,’ Sally said, chuckling. ‘I manage somehow. Actually, I think it’s rather sweet.’
Darrell felt her cheeks warm ever so slightly. Sally picked up a jam bun, and used one of the butter knives to cut it in half. Darrell sighed. That’s what she ought to have done.
‘Rather reminds me of Daffy,’ Sally went on.
Daffy was Sally’s sister - bright, bonny and only four years old. Darrell picked up a knife and followed Sally’s example.
‘Well, much as I adore Daffy, I think I’ll be more careful,’ she declared, her cheeks still hot. ‘I don’t know that it’s quite as sweet when you’re going on 17.’
Luckily, Darrell was saved from further teasing by the appearance of Jane at the door with a letter. She looked at the envelope, and recognised the messy scrawl at once.
‘Oh, it’s a letter from Alicia,’ she exclaimed in delight.
Sally looked up with interest.
‘Really? Did you write to her, then?’ she said.
‘Yes, I sent her a postcard from Devon - like the one I sent you.’
Darrell fumbled with the envelope and pulled out a thin folded letter. It unfurled in her hand into a single sheet. Nothing else was hidden inside - no word game or limerick, as Alicia sometimes sent. She couldn’t help feeling rather disappointed. At the least, Alicia usually wrote a couple of pages about the merry goings-on of her household, with vivid descriptions of who had done what. Darrell looked forward to her amusing letters, and often chuckled over them for days.
Well, there was no point in moping about it. Alicia probably had her hands full with the wretched June. How glad Darrell felt, knowing she would not have to put up with the girl that hols. The thought of her narrow squeak in that regard put her in better spirits at once.
‘Rather different from Irene’s affair, isn’t it?’ she laughed, holding it up so that Sally might see. ‘Did I show you hers? She wrote pages and pages - and can you believe, not a sum or treble clef to be seen!’
‘Good old Irene,’ said Sally fondly. She picked up the teapot and hefted it in her hand. ‘Feels like there’s enough for another cup each. Shall I pour?’
Dearest Darrell [Alicia wrote]…
Alicia always wrote ‘dearest’ - as a stunt, Darrell supposed, though it was rather a nice way to begin reading. She didn’t register that Sally had spoken until she noticed the cool around her. Or rather, she thought she did. When she glanced up, Darrell saw her friend looking at her patiently as ever, the teapot still in one hand.
‘Oh, you asked me something, didn’t you? Sorry, Sally! You know what I’m like when I read.’
Sally smiled. ‘Yes, I know alright. Did you want more tea?’
Darrell nodded, and returned her eyes to the paper. Alicia hadn’t written much - only that she thought composing a letter might relieve her boredom. How like Alicia to actually say so! She dropped the flimsy paper onto the table, and reached for another bun.
‘What does she say?’ asked Sally.
‘Not a great deal, actually - just that she was bored. Says hallo to you, of course.’
Sally nodded in acknowledgement. Darrell flicked open the letter again and scanned it once more.
‘Oh, and she’s waiting for Betty to arrive.’
‘I expect she’s there by now,’ Sally said. ‘When was that sent?’
Darrell looked, and saw that Sally was probably right.
‘I can’t imagine Alicia’s poor mother has a moment’s peace in the hols - Alicia and Betty, and all of Alicia’s brothers too.’
Sally grinned. ‘Must be awfully nice to have brothers, though. Alicia and Bill have got ten between them - imagine that!’
Darrell shook her head firmly. ‘Imagine is all I want to do, thank you! One sister is quite enough for me. She keeps my hands full as it is.’
Sally followed Darrell’s gaze to where Felicity sat in the garden with their mother. The girl was talking excitedly about something or other, and Mrs Rivers nodded patiently between sips of tea.
‘It’s all off between Felicity and June, though, isn’t it?’ she asked.
Sally had a most determined look on her face just then, and Darrell felt a sudden giddy fondness for her. Sally cared as much for Felicity as if she were her own sister. The thought made her feel happy and warm. And of course, Felicity adored Sally no end - but then, Darrell couldn’t think why anyone wouldn’t.
‘I jolly well hope so,’ she replied. ‘I know June’s terribly clever and witty and all that - well, she’s rather like Alicia, but not so likeable, somehow. I don’t know why.’
‘No, nor I,’ Sally said.
Her face was smooth as she picked up her cup and drank the tea. Darrell wished she could be like that. She never knew what Sally was thinking - and then the girl would come out with some incredible piece of insight, just like that. She said things that you knew were right as soon as you heard them - and she did it by watching and thinking, not rushing about in the middle of everything.
Nothing came now, though. Darrell supposed she didn’t have anything particular to say about June and her potential to be liked. Well, what could you say? She was an impossible kid - and they had all agreed heartily on that last term. She returned to the matter of her younger sister.
‘I think Felicity will stick to Susan now. They seem awfully firm friends - she was here at the start of the hols, you know. She’s such a good kid.’
‘Yes, she is, isn’t she?’ Sally agreed.
Sally’s eyes shone with warmth, and Darrell could see that the girl liked Susan very much. She supposed she knew that already, but sometimes she could read Sally alright, even if doing so required a bit more effort. Sally was a wonderful friend, and worth it, after all.
Seeing the two younger kids together had reminded her of things she had almost forgotten - how it was when she and Sally first became friends. All the new and remarkable facts they had discovered about one another - and how she had chattered on to her parents about Sally this and Sally that, just as Felicity did now with Susan.
Sally was now so part of her normal life that it was odd to think she had ever been without her - and she felt sure that Felicity would feel the same about Susan before too much longer.
‘Susan rather reminds me of you, actually,’ she said.
‘Me?’ Sally looked astonished. ‘Why on earth should she do that?’
How funny that Sally shouldn’t see the resemblance between the two of them! But Darrell saw it all right, and she drew breath to explain.
‘Well, you’re both frightfully decent,’ she said earnestly, ‘and you both always seem to know the right thing to say, especially to me and Felicity.’
Sally reached for another sandwich, and grinned at her friend, though her cheeks were beginning to pink.
‘Gosh, are you writing a catalogue of virtue?’ she teased.
Darrell grinned back, completely remorseless. Well, why not? Much better a catalogue of virtue than of people who sneaked about midnight feasts or pretended to have bad hearts to get out of exams! And it wasn’t just about important things. Sally would never write a letter, for instance, to relieve her own boredom without a care for the person reading it.
‘You’re both completely reliable, and you always take the time to help others when they need it,’ Darrell went on, ‘And what’s more, you’re a marvellous antidote to people like Alicia or June when they get out of hand!’
Finished, she looked at Sally triumphantly. The other girl shook her head.
‘You make me sound too pi for words!’
She laughed, but there was something not quite right about it. Darrell frowned. That wasn’t what she meant at all!
‘You’re not a bit pi,’ she said. ‘You’re just jolly sensible - for which I’m eternally grateful. I should have lost my temper so many more times without you to keep me grounded.’
‘I’ll take your word for it, then,’ Sally said. She sounded completely normal then, and Darrell felt relieved. She must have imagined something silly, that was all.
Sally stood and stretched.
‘Enough fine words. How about a spot of badminton?’
They had set up a net the day after Sally arrived, and played each evening before supper. It was rather early, though, and the sun still very warm. Darrell also felt she had probably eaten one jam bun too many.
‘I think I’d rather let my tea settle a bit first, if it’s all the same,’ she said apologetically, for she knew how Sally loved to play.
Sally paused a minute, and then nodded, smiling.
‘Yes, you’re quite right. Now that you mention it, I don’t particularly want to leap about either.’
They had all but demolished the sandwiches and tea buns. Although Darrell didn’t feel like badminton, it occurred to her that a good walk would help ease the feeling of having overindulged. She stood too and made the suggestion.
‘Jolly good idea,’ Sally agreed.
Then went into the garden to tell Darrell’s mother where they were going, then slipped through the gate to the lane. It really had been such a warm summer that year, and Darrell was glad of the cool elms overhead.
Sally too glanced up at the trees, but didn’t say anything. Darrell felt the same unease from earlier creep back. Sally was so jolly and sensible, but at times a queerness would come over her that Darrell couldn’t work out.
She wasn’t like Darrell, who too frequently lost her temper when provoked. Nor was she like Alicia who, if not as straightforward as Darrell, nevertheless left those around her in no doubt of her displeasure when roused.
With Sally, it was more an uneasy roll in her stomach that Darrell recognised than anything to do with the girl herself. Like a sixth sense that told her all was not quite as it ought to be. What could be the matter, she wondered. Sally had first seemed a bit funny when Darrell started saying how marvellous she was.
‘I say, I didn’t embarrass you before, did I?’ she said, brow furrowed.
Sally looked around in surprise.
‘Why, no, not really. After all, it was just between the two of us.’ She nudged Darrell, and grinned. ‘I shouldn’t like you to start waxing lyrical in front of your parents, though.’
Darrell laughed and slipped her arm through Sally’s.
‘You’re too late on that account, I’m afraid. I’ve been waxing lyrical, as you put it, for years now!’ she said, thinking again of how Felicity chattered on about Susan.
Sally looked away, and Darrell scolded herself silently. Gosh, she was being dreadfully soppy this afternoon. Sally was so matter-of-fact and not at all given to grand words or gestures. When she said something, she said so simply, and meant it wholeheartedly. Yet Darrell meant it wholeheartedly too - she was always thankful for her friendship with Sally, especially when she thought how easily it might never have been.
‘Good to have the School Cert behind us, isn’t it?’ she said, determined to steer the conversation back to firmer ground.
Sally nodded. Darrell felt the girl’s arm tighten against her own, and knew she had said the right thing.
‘Yes, I’ll say. I bet you’ve done frightfully well. Your mother and father will be pleased.’
Darrell laughed sheepishly. ‘I don’t know about that. It seemed dreadfully difficult at the time. It felt like I spent half the English exam trying to remember the poem, let alone write about it! You’ll do well, Sally.’
The other girl made a small, self-deprecating gesture with her free hand.
‘We’ll see.’
Darrell grinned and patted her arm. ‘Of course you will - and so shall we all, I expect, for all that we worried over it.’
‘Not Gwen,’ said Sally thoughtfully. ‘Nor Alicia.’
Darrell stopped then, aghast. She had quite forgotten about Alicia’s collapse during the exams.
‘Golly, that’s right! Surely they won’t keep Alicia back, though. Any other time, she would’ve outdone us all!’
But the thought occurred to her now that Alicia could be kept back after all. There might be no other way for her to take the exams. How awful that would be! Alicia was the first person she had met at Malory Towers, and had always been there, term in and term out.
‘I can’t imagine school without her,’ she said aloud.
Sally nodded slowly, and they walked on without speaking for a moment, each lost in her own thoughts.
In truth, Sally couldn’t imagine school without Alicia either. There had been times, though - and she despised herself for it - when she had tried very hard. In their second and third years at Malory Towers, in fact, it was something she thought about often. A sequence of events formed in her mind where Alicia went Too Far and Miss Grayling promptly expelled her. She lay awake in the dorm and pictured it all in fine detail, right down to the look of disgust on Darrell’s face when the extent of Alicia’s misdeeds were revealed. Sometimes the story included Betty’s expulsion, but more for the sake of thoroughness than any real animosity towards the girl. She posed no threat to Sally. Betty Hill didn’t appear to have a conscience, and therein lay both her appeal for Alicia and the lack of it for Darrell. Whereas Alicia moved between doing the right thing and doing as she liked with a fluid, practiced ease - and Sally couldn’t help wondering whether Darrell secretly wanted to as well.
The fantasy grew stale when she found she couldn’t quite believe it. She couldn’t bring the events properly to life because she simply couldn’t imagine how it might really be without Alicia. She was too permanent a fixture. Sally had altered details, tried the dream with Alicia moving to West Tower to join her friend. Then she would be a laughing, merry figure seen only in classes, or perhaps at Break. Over time, the bonds between Darrell and Alicia would stretch and snap, and she wouldn’t have to feel guilty about how much she hated Alicia at times.
In third form, Darrell ticked her off for being silly about it. ‘She only wants my company because she doesn’t have her friend here. You’ll see - once Betty comes back, everything will be like it always is.’
Not willing to risk a serious row with Darrell, Sally didn’t voice the response in her head. She wanted to scream at the frustration of it, though. She knew exactly why Alicia sought out Darrell. Solitary pursuits were about the only thing the girl didn’t excel at - she always wanted someone to giggle or scheme with, and Darrell was Alicia’s default when she couldn’t have Betty. That much was plain to anybody! Sally’s unhappiness stemmed from something else. Darrell did have her friend back, so why did she still want Alicia’s company? Why was she so willing to upset Sally for Alicia’s sake? That one thought clogged her mind so completely that eventually she couldn’t bear to think of it any more. All she could do was hate Alicia for revelling in her misery.
But she didn’t really hate Alicia any more. Or at least, only sometimes and only a little bit. She was past all that now. She must be, surely. She had to be sensible. It wasn’t as if there was a reason to be jealous. Darrell always said that Sally was her special friend, so why should she care if the girl still listened to Alicia with shining eyes? She didn’t want to care so much about Alicia Johns that she hated her. Next term she would be a fifth-former. She had conquered her jealousy with Daffy, whom she now truly adored, and she’d almost done it with Alicia.
It would be easier, she thought, if the sneaking suspicion didn’t linger that if Betty ever left Malory Towers more permanently than her absence in third form - and Sally couldn’t believe the girl truly needed almost a whole term to recuperate from whooping cough! - then she would lose Darrell to Alicia at once.
Sometimes when she thought of that, she found the familiar threads of the expulsion fantasy weaving their way through her mind once again.
Still, the chances of that grew slimmer with each year. Going into the fifth, Alicia was too old for the type of behaviour that might jeopardise her future. She contented herself with cutting the weak to shreds and bending the rules to suit her own purposes.
Besides, Alicia was small fry compared to the other horror looming at the back of Sally’s mind. Only two more years, and they would leave Malory Towers for good. She and Darrell might say goodbye, promise to write - and then she would receive one page letters that grew more and more infrequent. And she would have to bear it, because she had never been the jolly, natural sort of girl, like Darrell, who would write pages and pages anyway, regardless of response, and eventually win over the other person by sheer force of personality. Sally couldn’t bring herself to impose or draw attention. She couldn’t demand the things she wanted like Alicia. She wrote ‘wooden little letters’ - oh, would she never forget those words! - even when it was not what she wanted to do.
She hoped - and it was, in fact, blurring from hope into plan - that she and Darrell might go off to college together. Alicia had mentioned that she and Betty were considering St Andrews. Alicia was quicker than Betty, of course, but both were sufficiently clever that acceptance to the college of their choice was inevitable.
‘Why St Andrews?’ Darrell asked with interest.
Alicia and Betty had laughed and exchanged one of their looks - the ones that always seemed to make Darrell impatient, and which certainly made Sally uneasy. Then Alicia said something about distance being an advantage when you went to college, and they’d all laughed. Privately, Sally thought distance from Alicia and Betty would be an advantage - but she didn’t really mean that. It was just an old reflex.
‘Well, I don’t suppose it will come to that,’ Darrell said now, drawing Sally back from her thoughts and into the elm-lined lane.
She meant Alicia staying back in the fourth form, of course. Sally nodded.
‘No, I don’t suppose it will,’ she replied, voice as untroubled as ever.
For in her heart, Sally had already felt the well of hope that Alicia might be left behind, and quashed it as best she could. There was no point in wishing for things like that - expulsion, failed exams, Alicia consigned to a place where neither friendship nor duty could reach her. Things like that didn’t really happen. Sally simply needed take a deep breath, and remember that she was Darrell’s friend. She had been for such a long time that it was silly to still fret about it.
They neared the village then, and she saw Darrell’s face light up suddenly. Sally looked around, and spotted an ice-cream man outside the grocer’s shop.
Darrell pulled some coins from her pocket.
‘I know we’ve just had tea, but I could do with something cold, couldn’t you?’
Sally shook her head. ‘I haven’t brought any money with me.’
‘Don’t be a donkey,’ laughed Darrell. ‘What flavour would you like?’
Sally said strawberry, and Darrell hurried over to the man. She smiled and chatted to him in her friendly, natural way. A wave of shame came over Sally then, because her first thought at seeing Darrell’s brightened face had not been pleasure, but rather annoyance that it was directed somewhere other than herself.
Bother! Sally straightened up and pushed her shoulders back. She couldn’t allow that horrid little feeling to take hold. She didn’t want it to. She wasn’t in the third form dormy now, hearing Alicia whisper something indiscernible - and apparently humorous - to Darrell in the next bed. All of that was in the past, kids’ stuff, and they weren’t kids anymore - neither Darrell, Alicia, Irene, nor herself. Of this, Sally felt acutely aware recently, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.
Darrell returned with the ice-creams, and Sally stored those thoughts away for later. If she didn’t pull herself together, she would spoil their lovely afternoon. Fingers tangled over passing the cone, and Sally’s stomach jolted suddenly. The sensation left her breathless, and she felt her spirits lift unaccountably, as if by some invisible magic.
‘Ice-cream makes everything nicer,’ she decided, savouring the delicious cool of it in her mouth.
But then Darrell grinned, and her blue eyes twinkling back at Sally made all those sensible thoughts seem rather less convincing.
END OF CHAPTER SEVEN