by Enid Blyton
So that was what had happened, thought Bonnie. The brooch must have fallen on to the floor, and while the girls were making their way downstairs, Matron had done a quick dormitory inspection, and her sharp eyes had spotted it. In the time it had taken Bonnie to realise she had forgotten her handkerchief and walk back upstairs to fetch it, Matron had pocketed the brooch and made her way back to her own quarters.
‘I should have asked you about the brooch when you came to my room earlier, but it went right out of my mind,’ said Matron. ‘Here you are, and take better care of it from now on, Bonnie.’
She handed the brooch over, then looked down at her hands, saying, ‘My goodness, how the glitter comes off! I shall have to go and wash my hands now.’
Bonnie sighed with relief as the door shut behind Matron, then Pam came over and said in a low voice, ‘So Matron had your brooch all along! I quite thought the thief had taken the bait, but now it seems that we are just as much in the dark as ever.’
‘Yes, and I have this horrid little brooch back,’ said Bonnie, sounding glum. ‘I wonder if I shall ever get rid of it?’
Bonnie was unusually quiet and lost in thought for the rest of the evening, as she occupied herself with her sewing. Normally she and Amy would chatter together as she worked, but tonight Bonnie didn’t seem to have much to say for herself. At last the silence grew too much for Amy, and she said, ‘Whatever is the matter with you, Bonnie? I should have thought that you would have been pleased to learn that Matron isn’t the thief.’
‘Of course I’m pleased,’ said Bonnie. ‘But you know, Amy, I really don’t feel awfully pleased with myself at the moment. You see, I knew, in my heart, that Matron would never steal anything from any of us girls. But because I had seen the evidence – or what I thought was evidence – I was prepared to ignore my better judgement and forget everything that I know to be true about Matron’s character. It just goes to show that it’s best to have faith in what you believe.’
Amy was much struck by this, and looked at her little friend with new respect, for Bonnie sounded so wise and knowledgeable.
‘I really feel that I have learned something very important today,’ said Bonnie, a very solemn look in her big, brown eyes. ‘And it is something that I shall never forget.’
But someone who didn’t seem to have learned anything in her dealings with people was Millicent.
She held another orchestra rehearsal on Saturday afternoon, and this time things went badly wrong.
Millicent was not in the best of moods, for she had planned to start the rehearsal at two o’clock, but had had to put it off until after tea.
This was thanks to June, who had already put Gillian down for tennis practice at two o’clock, and flatly refused to change it. Millicent did her best to convince Gillian that it was far more important to rehearse for the competition than play tennis, but her efforts were in vain, for Gillian said firmly, ‘I can’t let June down, Millicent. She put me down for tennis practice before you arranged the rehearsal, you know. But I don’t want to let you down either, so if you can just hold the rehearsal later I can attend both.’
Millicent had done this, but with very bad grace indeed. Somehow the girls always seemed to feel more tired and less attentive after tea, and Millicent knew that they would not be at their best.
Her temper was not improved when she entered the hall to overhear Anne talking to Belinda.
‘I think it’s jolly brave of you to take Jessie’s place,’ Anne was saying. ‘The rest of us who have been in the orchestra from the start didn’t know what we were letting ourselves in for when we put our names down. But now word of Millicent’s bad temper and high-handed manner has got around, so you do know. And you still let her talk you into it!’
Belinda gave a rather nervous laugh, and said, ‘I’m not sure whether I am being brave or foolish, but no doubt I shall soon find out.’
Just then the two girls heard a loud cough behind them, and turned, startled, to see that Millicent had come in. Both of them turned red, hoping devoutly that the girl hadn’t heard what they were saying.
But, as the rehearsal went on, it became clear that Millicent had heard.
So, Anne thought that she was bad-tempered and high-handed, and had tried to turn the new cello player against her! Well, she was in for a shock.
And, much to the surprise of the orchestra, Millicent was sweetness itself to Belinda, although the girl played a great many wrong notes.
‘You have only had a few days in which to learn the music,’ she said kindly. ‘I am sure that you will be quite as good as Jessie was, once you have practised a little more.’
Anne, however, came in for a great deal of criticism, much of it unfair. Millicent felt very sore with Anne, for she thought it most improper of her to have spoken disrespectfully to one of the younger girls. This was very true, and Anne was regretting having done so. In fact, she had already made up her mind to go up to Millicent and apologise to her after the rehearsal. But that was before Millicent decided to humiliate her in front of the entire orchestra, and in a very short time all of Anne’s good intentions had vanished.
When Millicent made her play the same passage over and over again, Anne suddenly decided that nothing, not making her parents proud, not even winning the competition for the glory of Malory Towers, was worth putting up with this for.
Deliberately, and with great relish, Anne brought her hands down hard on the keys, making a loud, discordant sound that caused the others to wince and cover their ears. Then she played the passage through for the final time, her face perfectly serious as she purposely struck all the wrong keys. The noise that Anne made was quite dreadful, but her expression and attitude were so solemn, as though she were some great concert pianist, that the others couldn’t stop laughing.
Millicent listened as though she couldn’t believe her ears, at first, then, when she realised that Anne was fooling, she flew into a fine rage!
‘Anne, stop that at once!’ she cried, quite white with anger. ‘You are making a mockery of the whole thing!’
But Anne took no notice and carried on playing – and the rest of the orchestra carried on laughing!
Of course, this was really very childish behaviour from a fifth former, and Anne realised this, but there was just something about Millicent that made one want to behave childishly!
At last the music – if one could call it music, thought Millicent – came to an end. Anne’s fingers became still on the keys, and the laughter of the rest of the orchestra ebbed away as they looked at Millicent standing before them, silent and furious.
But the girl wasn’t silent for long.
‘Fine behaviour for a fifth former, I must say!’ she said, her voice quivering with anger. ‘And a fine example to set the younger members of the orchestra. In fact, Anne, I shall have to consider whether I can allow you back after this.’
‘Oh, really?’ said Anne in rather a haughty manner. ‘Well, let me save you the trouble, Millicent. I wouldn’t carry on playing in your beastly orchestra for the world!’
Gillian, who hadn’t joined in the others’ laughter at Anne’s antics, stepped in to say, ‘Anne, please think carefully. If you have a bone to pick with Millicent that is between the two of you, but by resigning you are letting down the orchestra and the whole school.’
‘Well, you would say that, Gillian!’ retorted Anne. ‘Millicent never picks on you as she does on me, for you are her favourite and can do no wrong in her eyes. No, I am sorry, but my mind is made up.’
‘Very well, then, go,’ said Millicent, coldly.
‘I shall,’ said Anne, getting up from the piano and stalking towards the door. ‘Do you know, I believe that I might take up tennis, instead. It will be a pleasant change to spend time with someone like June, who has the qualities that make a good leader.’
This was an unfortunate remark, for Millicent, who felt intensely jealous of June, and the way that she inspired such loyalty among the girls, bristled. And,
although she did not betray it, Millicent felt extremely alarmed as Anne walked out. It had been difficult enough to replace Kathy and Jessie, but finding a good pianist at this late stage would be almost impossible.
Then Millicent suddenly remembered that Anne hadn’t been her first choice. Young Hannah had, but that beastly June had got in first and nabbed her for the tennis team. Well, thought Millicent, with sudden resolve, she was going to jolly well change Hannah’s mind, and get her to drop tennis and play for the orchestra instead. That would be one in the eye for June, and for Anne, too, when she saw how well the orchestra was doing without her, and how much better Hannah was.
Millicent looked round at the orchestra now. Some of them looked apprehensive, some gleeful. The girl knew that she was not going to get anything worth listening to out of them now, and decided to abandon the rehearsal for the time being. Far better, she thought, to concentrate her efforts on getting a really first-class pianist. That would give everyone’s spirits a boost!
All of the girls were pleased to finish early, no one more so than Gillian. She had come straight to rehearsal from a very energetic tennis practice, and felt quite exhausted. And very soon it would be time for prep! Ah well, at least there was time for a quiet sit-down in the common-room first.
Millicent, meanwhile, was lucky enough to bump into Hannah in the corridor, and lost no time in trying to win the girl round.
‘Hannah,’ she said. ‘I have been meaning to congratulate you on getting into the tennis team. You must be very proud.’
Hannah, who knew that Millicent had been displeased with her for turning down a place in the orchestra, was rather taken aback by this, and stammered, ‘W-why, thank you, Millicent.’
‘My loss is June’s gain,’ said Millicent with a laugh. ‘I do hope that she isn’t working you too hard.’
‘Oh no,’ said Hannah, her eyes shining. ‘June is simply marvellous, always offering help and encouragement so that somehow one wants to do one’s best for her. It doesn’t seem like hard work at all.’
Once again Millicent felt the familiar stab of jealousy, but she quelled it, saying brightly, ‘How nice! I like to think that I have instilled the same spirit into my orchestra.’
Hannah, who, along with the rest of the school, had heard the tales of Millicent’s autocratic attitude and bursts of temper, rather doubted this, but didn’t dare say so.
‘I may as well tell you this, Hannah,’ said Millicent, leaning forward in a confidential manner. ‘For you are sure to hear it sooner or later. I have had to ask Anne to resign her place in the orchestra.’
This was almost true, thought Millicent, for she had told Anne that she would have to consider whether she could have her back or not.
Hannah, of course, felt enormously flattered at being confided in by one of the bigger girls and, her eyes growing big, said, ‘Heavens, Millicent! Whatever will you do now, without a pianist?’
‘Well, between you and me, Hannah, Anne simply wasn’t up to the job,’ said Millicent with a sigh. ‘I decided that if I couldn’t have a first-rate pianist I would rather have no one at all. Of course, it means that I am going to have to do an awful lot of rewriting, but that can’t be helped.’
The girl paused for a moment, as though thinking deeply, then said, ‘What a pity that you can’t do as Gillian is doing, and play tennis for June, and the piano for me. Still, I suppose there aren’t many girls who have Gillian’s energy and commitment.’
Just then a group of Hannah’s friends came along, so Millicent said goodbye and went on her way. She judged that she had said quite enough to set Hannah thinking, anyway. Millicent knew that the girl had a competitive streak, and wouldn’t relish being unfavourably compared to Gillian. Really, Millicent thought, she had been quite clever in the way she had handled the situation. Hannah was sure to want to prove herself, and would soon come running to Millicent almost begging for a place in the orchestra. All she had to do was sit back and wait!
14
Delia makes a discovery
Millicent was quite right, for her words brought Hannah’s competitive streak to the fore. The second former watched Gillian at tennis practice, a few days later, and noticed that the girl seemed to be a little off her game. She also overheard Felicity saying to June, ‘Gillian really doesn’t look at all well. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she’s suffering from exhaustion.’
‘Oh, don’t be so melodramatic!’ June had scoffed. ‘She’s just a little tired, that’s all. A good, long sleep tonight and she will be absolutely fine.’
Felicity wasn’t so sure, and nor was Hannah. She began to think that it would be quite a feather in her cap if she, a mere second former, could succeed where a fifth former had failed.
So, after tea, Hannah went in search of Millicent and told her that she would be happy to play the piano for her. Millicent, of course, was thrilled and made a great fuss of Hannah, which pleased the girl enormously. So much, in fact, that she began to get a little swollen-headed and, when she returned to the second-form common-room, couldn’t resist boasting a little.
‘It’s difficult to be so much in demand,’ she said, with a little toss of her head. ‘But both June and Millicent are relying on me, so I must do my best not to let them down. Or the school, of course, for I am doing all of this for the honour of Malory Towers.’
The downright second formers, however, weren’t fooled by this, and Hilda, the head-girl, said scornfully, ‘Pooh! You’re doing this for your own glory, my girl. You like the idea that you are “in demand”, as you call it, and are enjoying setting two of the fifth formers at loggerheads.’
‘What nonsense!’ said Hannah, though her cheeks turned a little pink. ‘Besides, June and Millicent aren’t at loggerheads. How can they be, when June doesn’t even know yet that I am going to be in the orchestra.’
‘Oho!’ cried Hilda. ‘So June doesn’t know yet? Well, she’s going to be none too pleased when she finds out, you mark my words!’
Hilda was quite right. Millicent took great delight, that evening, in telling June that Hannah was going to play piano in the orchestra. June was very displeased, for, although she would not admit it to any of the others, she had seen the toll that being involved in both projects was taking on Gillian. She had held her tongue, for she had hoped that Gillian would see sense and resign from the orchestra. But gradually she had come to realise that Gillian was the kind of person who stuck to her word and, if she said that she would do a thing, jolly well did it! And now here was one of the younger girls – and another of her star players – trying to copy her!
June had no intention of letting Millicent see that she was annoyed, though, and said with a smile, ‘I hope that she works as hard for you as she does for me, Millicent. I know that you have a talent for getting the best out of people. People like Kathy, and Jessie, and Anne…oh no, wait a minute! They have all resigned from the orchestra, haven’t they? Well, Hannah is a sticker, just like Gillian, so at least you know that you have two players you can rely on.’
Millicent’s face darkened, and June laughed softly, before saying, ‘Be careful, Millicent, or your entry for the competition might just be a duet, instead of an orchestra!’
So Millicent was the one left feeling cross and uncomfortable, and she stomped away, wondering bitterly how it was that she never managed to get the better of June when they had one of their clashes.
As soon as she was out of earshot, June turned to Freddie, who was sitting beside her and had overheard the whole exchange, saying determinedly, ‘She’s not having Hannah. And I shall get Gillian away from her somehow, too. They are two of my best players, and I don’t like to see them splitting themselves in two, so to speak.’
‘But what can you do?’ asked Freddie. ‘You can hardly order them to resign from the orchestra. And if you make them choose, there is always the chance that they might choose Millicent.’
‘I know,’ said June, with a sigh. ‘And I can’t risk that, for without them
Malory Towers hasn’t a hope of winning the tennis tournament.’
‘Perhaps you and Millicent could reach a compromise,’ suggested Freddie. ‘You could have Gillian, and she could have Hannah, or vice-versa. At least then you both end up with someone first-rate.’
But June was far too stubborn to agree to any kind of compromise, and she was quite certain that Millicent was too.
In fact, both girls were far more alike than they cared to admit. June was firmly convinced that her tennis tournament was far more important than Millicent’s little competition. And Millicent thought that tennis was just a silly game, unlike music, which was lasting and brought pleasure to so many people.
One thing the two girls did have in common was their determination to bring glory to their school. Freddie, glancing from one to the other, thought that if they had both been on the same side they would have been a formidable force indeed. What a pity that they were enemies instead!
Millicent slept well that night, for she decided that it was foolish to let June needle her. Instead, she decided to think of the good things that had happened that day. She had lost Anne, but had got Hannah – the girl she had really wanted – in her place. The youngster was going to have to put in a lot of practice to learn the music in time, but that was good too, for it meant that she would have less time to spend on tennis. And June wouldn’t like that at all!
June took a little longer to get to sleep, for she was turning over various plans in her mind to get Gillian and Hannah to leave the orchestra and concentrate solely on their tennis. Hannah would be relatively easy, she decided, for the girl admired her, June, enormously. All she had to do was take an interest in one of the other youngsters, and hint that Hannah’s place in the team was at risk if she spent too much time rehearsing with the orchestra. Hannah would soon fall into line, for she thought a great deal more of June’s good opinion than she did of Millicent’s. Once she had arrived at this decision, June felt a lot easier in her mind and soon dropped off.