Summer Term
It felt very queer indeed to be coming back to school without her twin Lawrie and older sister Ginty. In the last week of the holidays Nicola Marlow had boldly pretended to all around her that it didn’t matter a fig, to the point where she had almost conviced herself that she would be Absolutely A1 OK by herself. But as the train had pulled away from Victoria, she had felt tiny cracks appear in her veneer of confidence, cracks that had spread and travelled until, right now, she thought it probably was a good thing that Karen and Rowan had vetoed the idea of Nicola travelling down to school with the rest of IIIA. Her sisters had been quite adamant that there would be no roaming about the train, accompanied or unaccompanied, and Rowan had firmly squashed Nicola’s every request to do anything other than sit quietly in the corner seat and rebuff Ann’s attempts at comforting conversation.
It had been much better, thought Nicola, as the train slowed towards Wade Abbas station, and her sisters began pulling hats and suitcases from the rack, much better to sit quietly and listen to Karen and Rowan gossip with Margaret Jessop about their respective Easter holidays and chances at Oxford (Karen) and Cambridge (Margaret) scholarships this term; much better to put it off as long as possible. Because if, as she now knew, she couldn’t have faced a compartment of Thirds all clamouring to know just how Lawrie had broken her leg and why Ginty was being kept at home until half term; if she couldn’t face it for the length of a train journey, how was she going to manage for a whole term?
Waiting on the platform for Rowan to sort out their trunks, Nicola decided she was not looking forward to a new term at Kingscote at all. On the one hand, it was summer term, with its pleasures of swimming and riding lessons and cricket to look forward to. On the other hand, she felt a cold stone in her stomach at the thought of being condemned another term in IIIA without Lawrie or Tim for company. Idiot Lawrie, she grumbled mentally, to walk under a bus and break her leg and not come back to school and IIIA as planned; and idiot Tim to fail all her exams again last term and potter about in Third Remove for another term; and beastly Miranda West with her pointed comments to Sandra Grigson but at Nicola about people who may have thought they were clever putting on plays but were not so clever as to actually achieve exam results worth boasting about. The sooner this term was over the better, decided Nicola, because even if Lawrie was coming back at half term, there was nothing worth coming back for and the summer holidays could not come soon enough.
And so went Nicola’s thoughts, round and round, gloomier and gloomier, through the taxi ride up to school and the queue to hand in health certificates and be ticked off the list; up the stairs and into Dormitory Six; until, as Rowan observed, she looked as if she’d lost her nearest and dearest and her fartherest and least loved all at once.
“What is the matter, Nicky?” said Ann, lifting blouses from Nicola’s trunk and placing them neatly on hangers.
“Nothing,” said Nicola in fierce response, “Don’t slosh around me like that. And do leave my trunk alone, Ann. Just because Lawrie’s not here doesn’t mean you have to unpack for me instead”.
Rowan and Ann exchanged glances, the one sardonic, the other bemused, and decided to leave their prickly sister to thump drawers and bang cupboards until trunk and suitcase were both empty. “’M going to see if the lists are up,” she said, stuffing hands into her blazer pockets and gripping her pocket knife like a talisman as she trudged out the door.
Rowan caught Ann’s eye as the mood in the room lightened considerably, and said, “If she goes on like this all term, then I for one will be lobbying Matron like mad to get her shoved in a dorm with the other infants so we can have some peace”.
“She’s only missing Lawrie,” said Ann, “and you know how much they were looking forward to being in the same form again after being separated all last term”.
“All the same, I have enough on my plate this term with Matric and the inter-school cricket cup without being a psychiatrist and shoulder to cry on as well,” replied Rowan, and Ann thought it best to keep suggestions for keeping a kind eye on Nicola to herself.
It had been much better, thought Nicola, as the train slowed towards Wade Abbas station, and her sisters began pulling hats and suitcases from the rack, much better to sit quietly and listen to Karen and Rowan gossip with Margaret Jessop about their respective Easter holidays and chances at Oxford (Karen) and Cambridge (Margaret) scholarships this term; much better to put it off as long as possible. Because if, as she now knew, she couldn’t have faced a compartment of Thirds all clamouring to know just how Lawrie had broken her leg and why Ginty was being kept at home until half term; if she couldn’t face it for the length of a train journey, how was she going to manage for a whole term?
Waiting on the platform for Rowan to sort out their trunks, Nicola decided she was not looking forward to a new term at Kingscote at all. On the one hand, it was summer term, with its pleasures of swimming and riding lessons and cricket to look forward to. On the other hand, she felt a cold stone in her stomach at the thought of being condemned another term in IIIA without Lawrie or Tim for company. Idiot Lawrie, she grumbled mentally, to walk under a bus and break her leg and not come back to school and IIIA as planned; and idiot Tim to fail all her exams again last term and potter about in Third Remove for another term; and beastly Miranda West with her pointed comments to Sandra Grigson but at Nicola about people who may have thought they were clever putting on plays but were not so clever as to actually achieve exam results worth boasting about. The sooner this term was over the better, decided Nicola, because even if Lawrie was coming back at half term, there was nothing worth coming back for and the summer holidays could not come soon enough.
And so went Nicola’s thoughts, round and round, gloomier and gloomier, through the taxi ride up to school and the queue to hand in health certificates and be ticked off the list; up the stairs and into Dormitory Six; until, as Rowan observed, she looked as if she’d lost her nearest and dearest and her fartherest and least loved all at once.
“What is the matter, Nicky?” said Ann, lifting blouses from Nicola’s trunk and placing them neatly on hangers.
“Nothing,” said Nicola in fierce response, “Don’t slosh around me like that. And do leave my trunk alone, Ann. Just because Lawrie’s not here doesn’t mean you have to unpack for me instead”.
Rowan and Ann exchanged glances, the one sardonic, the other bemused, and decided to leave their prickly sister to thump drawers and bang cupboards until trunk and suitcase were both empty. “’M going to see if the lists are up,” she said, stuffing hands into her blazer pockets and gripping her pocket knife like a talisman as she trudged out the door.
Rowan caught Ann’s eye as the mood in the room lightened considerably, and said, “If she goes on like this all term, then I for one will be lobbying Matron like mad to get her shoved in a dorm with the other infants so we can have some peace”.
“She’s only missing Lawrie,” said Ann, “and you know how much they were looking forward to being in the same form again after being separated all last term”.
“All the same, I have enough on my plate this term with Matric and the inter-school cricket cup without being a psychiatrist and shoulder to cry on as well,” replied Rowan, and Ann thought it best to keep suggestions for keeping a kind eye on Nicola to herself.