by Anne Digby
Well, he'd snatch a few hours' sleep there. But not too many.
He rose in the early hours and left a farewell note, saying he had to get back to Hertfordshire, to his supermarket job.
Then he drove into the darkness but heading for south London. They were playing I drove all night on Radio One and after that its urgent rhythm kept going through his head.
Rebecca woke early that morning to the sound of tiny stones rattling against the glass pane. She climbed sleepily out of bed, looked out of the window and saw Robbie waiting below.
She tip-toed downstairs in her dressing gown, silently opened the front door to let him in and then silently closed it after him.
'My parents are asleep!' she whispered.
He fluttered the computer printout under her nose. His A-level results! His dark curly hair stood up wildly. He was unshaven, elated. She took the printout from him and gasped at his marks.
Robbie! Without thinking, seeing him so happy, she flung her arms round him. Congrat...
Suddenly he, too, was holding her, tightly, and kissing her for a very long time. Then he whispered:
'I've been wanting to do that for years. Ever since your first summer at Trebizon, that Sports Day when Tish introduced us and we shook hands and you blushed ....'
'Robbie, I'm sure that's not true,' murmured Rebecca, very nearly blushing again. 'Anyway, that would have been cradle-snatching.'
'I've been waiting for you to catch up with me,' he replied solemnly and then kissed her again, very tenderly now, and she kissed him back.
After a while, as the memories of that first meeting came flooding back, Rebecca whispered:
'But I liked the way you shouted and cheered me on in my race that day, Robbie. It really helped to spur me on somehow.'
'I'll always be cheering you on, Becks. Whatever it is you decide you want to do. I really mean that.'
It was his way of apologising.
She made him coffee in the kitchen and for an hour they held hands and talked in low voices about all the trials and tribulations of the last two terms and also how much they meant to each other.
'I'm so pleased you're going to try again, then, for the RAF,' said Rebecca quietly. It was such a relief that he'd told her everything at last. She didn't have to pretend not to know any longer! 'And if you don't make it - ?'
'I'll get over it.' He grinned. 'At least I think I'm going to make it as a human being!'
He left the house shortly after, before her parents woke up.
He really did need to get back to his job at the supermarket.
Rebecca was glad that Robbie was going to make it and she only hoped that she was, too. It was another ten days before the GCSE results were out. Miss Welbeck had told her there was still time but was there?
On the fateful day that the results arrived, Rebecca snatched the envelope from the postman, rushed past her parents in the hall and took it straight up to her bedroom.
Her hands were literally shaking as she tore it open and pulled out the contents. A computer printout, headed Name...Candidate Number... Subject...Grade...
Quickly she worked out from the key her grades in each subject:
Biology, D. Mathematics, C. English, A. English literature, A. Geography, E. German, C. Latin, A. French, A. History, B.
B, an unbelievable B, for history!
An A for both French and Latin!
Two As and a B for the three subjects she wanted to study at A-level.
'Yippee!' she shouted at the top of her voice. She took a flying leap on to her bed and trampolined up and down on it. 'Yippee...yippee...yippee!'
Her parents came rushing up the stairs.
'Are you all right, Becky?'
'All right? I'm delirious!' She jumped off the bed and handed them the precious piece of paper. 'Look, Mum. Look, Dad. I've made it!'
Pleased, they took it downstairs to study. 'We'll put the kettle on and have breakfast, Becky!' Rebecca lay on her bed, flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling as a delicious feeling of happiness suffused her whole being.
She'd be accepted for the A-level history now. Giving up that tennis contract hadn't been in vain, after all. She'd be going back to Trebizon. Of course, they'd have let her come back to school to do other things but it was the history she wanted and now she'd be allowed to do it. Now, at last, she knew where she was going.
Back for the Sixth. Two more years at Trebizon. First year in Willoughby, second year in Parkinson. Lovely houses, both of them. Lots more privileges now.
She'd start playing tennis again, seriously. Have another go at the Darling Cup next summer. Maybe some county coaching, too; nothing too stressful. And she'd work in the lovely library and get brilliant A-levels and go to university, like the rest of her friends. She'd start writing poetry again, as Robbie suggested. Maybe she'd be editor of the Trebizon Journal one day.
And they'd all go to Mulberry Island. In September, when they got back. They'd get permission and Harry would take them over there. Apparently Miss Welbeck had plans to make it a kind of wild place, even wilder than it was now. More trees; vegetation; wild flowers. And maybe red squirrels. They'd be safe from the grey ones there. The Old Trebizonians had all had a letter about it.
And one day perhaps, when it really didn't matter any more and wouldn't get Emmanuelle into trouble, they'd tell Miss Welbeck about the phantom of the island.
What an unforgettable year it had been.
She heard the faint burr of the telephone downstairs. Then her mother's voice calling up to her: 'You're wanted, Becky!'
She roused herself from her reverie, got off the bed and moved towards the door. It started to race through her mind who it might be, making the first phone call of the day.
Was it Mara, calling from Athens, hot from ringing the school for her own results? Or Emmanuelle, ringing from Paris? And incidentally longing to talk about Cliff. Both of them had promised to phone. Would Mara's grades be okay? Oh, yes, surely.
Or would it be Tish? Or Sue...Margot...Elf...? All anxious to know how she'd done and, as far as those four themselves were concerned, nothing lower than a B grade to their names!
Cliff, ditto?
In the course of the next two days, when the telephone never seemed to stop ringing, Rebecca received each one of those calls, and they all proved to be satisfyingly as predicted. There were others, too.... Roberta Jones had done very well, in the end, and so, apparently, had Deborah Rickard.
But the person making that very first call of the day, who wasn't even prepared to wait until she'd had her breakfast to know her results, was of course Robbie Anderson.
THE TREBIZON SERIES IN READING ORDER
The TREBIZON series
A classic series which charts the progress and adventures of Rebecca Mason at Trebizon School in the West of England.
First Term at Trebizon
Second Term at Trebizon
Summer Term at Trebizon
Boy Trouble at Trebizon
More Trouble at Trebizon
Tennis Term at Trebizon
Summer Camp at Trebizon
Into the Fourth at Trebizon
Hockey Term at Trebizon
Fourth Year Triumphs at Trebizon
Ghostly Term at Trebizon
Fifth Year Friendships at Trebizon
Secret Letters at Trebizon
Unforgettable Fifth at Trebizon
'Viva Trebizon! Like other giants of the genre, Anne Digby recreates the genuine flavour of schoolgirl aspirations and anguishes, friendships and rivalries. Her Trebizon stories span the so-called generation gap' – COLLECTORS' DIGEST
MORE ANNE DIGBY TITLES
A HORSE CALLED SEPTEMBER
A moving story of the passionate friendship between two girls growing up together on an isolated Devon farm in the 1970s, the break-up of that friendship – and the horse that changed their lives forever. Anne Digby’s debut novel, now regarded as a modern classic.
/> www.amazon.com/dp/B0077EG830
The QUICKSILVER HORSE
An enthralling story of horsemanship and a bittersweet friendship between a girl and a boy from two very different milieux -- a small travelling circus and a big racing stables. And the conflict that arises between them.
“A very happy positive book about overcoming huge obstacles...brings a wonderful vibe” – AMAZON USA Review
www.amazon.com/dp/B00AWCMEB4
AND SOME OTHER FAVOURITES....
By Alan Davidson
QUEEN RIDER
Bonnie Wyndham is angry, difficult and apparently spoiled – but she excels at horse riding.
“The momentum begins to build from the very first page and never flags at all...Highly recommended” – REVIEWSHEET
“A great story – and not just for horse-lovers” – AMAZON UK Review
www.amazon.com/dp/B00873PF5C
THE BEWITCHING OF ALISON ALLBRIGHT
Davidson’s classic suspense novel from the 1980s.
“An irresistible combination of dream indulgence and unsettling nightmare” – Center for Children’s Literature, Chicago
“Can’t keep count of the number of times I’ve read this fantastic book” – AMAZON UK Review
“Haunted me for years... just as good as I had remembered” – AMAZON USA Review
www.amazon.com/dp/B0085383TY
MARINA IN A GREEN DRESS
A new suspense novel from the same author, about secrets and obsession. A fangirl from the backwoods is haunted by a lush London musical show, MARINA. By its boy star – its songs – but most of all by its storyline.
“Mesmerizing...beautifully woven...cannot recommend it highly enough” – AMAZON USA Review
www.amazon.com/dp/B00852PZUA
By Alan Davidson and John Richardson
The classic satire about imprisoned chickens, with 38 b/w cartoon-style illustrations.
ESCAPE FROM COLD DITCH
www.amazon.com/dp/B004R1QH3C
FREE DOWNLOADS, FACEBOOK & TWITTER
For lovers of crossover British humour, from Richmal Crompton to P.G.Wodehouse, we have now reissued all Alan Davidson’s ANNABEL BUNCE books in e-format. The opening chapters of the first collection of stories, A FRIEND LIKE ANNABEL, can be read in ePub at www.goodreads.com and in .mobi at www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00658N2GA.
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