by Enid Blyton
3
A hard time for Esme
Felicity watched, torn between amusement and exasperation, as Esme got ready for breakfast the following morning. The girl had insisted on sleeping with curlers in her hair last night, even though the task of putting them in had had to be accomplished in darkness. Felicity was extremely strict about putting the lights out on time, and flatly refused to break the rule except in an emergency.
‘But this is an emergency,’ Esme had wailed.‘How am I going to make a good impression on our form mistress if my hair’s a mess?’
‘My dear Esme, I can assure you that Miss Peters won’t give a fig for how your hair looks,’ Felicity had informed the new girl, grinning to herself in the darkness at the thought of how the forthright, no-nonsense Miss Peters was likely to react to Esme. The mistress had no time at all for what she called‘frills and fancies’, and Felicity could see trouble ahead for the girl.
Now Esme was standing in front of a big mirror, carefully removing the curlers and patting each blonde curl into place.
But Felicity’s amused smile turned to a frown as Esme began applying lipstick, and she said to Susan, ‘Now that’s something that most definitely won’t make a good impression on Miss Peters! And she’s put that awful black stuff on her eyelashes as well.’
A couple of terms ago, Felicity would have been a little diffident about tackling Esme, for she had lacked confidence and been a little shy about expressing her opinions, always rather afraid of offending others. But two terms as head-girl of the third form had changed her. Felicity’s belief in herself had grown, along with her confidence, and now she marched up to the new girl, saying forthrightly, ‘Esme, you can’t go downstairs with that stuff on your face! Wipe it off at once!’
‘Why?’ asked the girl, turning to face Felicity in surprise.‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘Well, for one thing, it looks simply awful,’ said Felicity.‘I can’t think why you want to go around looking as if you’re about twenty, when you look perfectly fine just as you are. And, for another thing, Miss Peters will certainly send you out of the room to wash it off. The girls at Malory Towers don’t wear make-up.’
‘I can see that,’ said Esme, a little stung by Felicity’s words.‘You would all look so much more glamorous if you did.’
‘We’re not here to look glamorous,’ Felicity told her sharply.‘We’re here to learn, and play games and have fun. Perhaps you should try it, Esme.’
But Esme shook her head, saying in her lazy drawl, ‘You and your friends are a nice bunch, Felicity, but I’m not like you. And—don’t take offence—I don’t want to be like you. So I guess Malory Towers is going to have to take me as I am—and so is your Miss Peters.’
Felicity opened her mouth to argue, then changed her mind. What was the point? None of them could turn Esme into an English schoolgirl. Only Esme herself could do that—if she decided that she wanted to. And Felicity couldn’t force the girl to wipe her make-up off, but Miss Peters could—and would! Esme was going to have to learn the hard way.
Immediately after breakfast, Esme, Lucy and the other new girls had to go and see Miss Grayling, the Head mistress. Esme felt very nervous, for she hadn’t yet spoken to Miss Grayling. But she had seen her briefly in the dining-room, and had thought that she looked most distinguished and rather grand. So she was pleasantly surprised when, on entering the Head’s study, Miss Grayling greeted the new girls with a warm smile. The words that she spoke made a great impression on Esme, and Lucy too. The Head began by welcoming each girl individually and asking her name and form. Then her expression became more serious as she addressed the whole group.
‘I would like you all to listen carefully,’ she said, her clear blue eyes moving from one girl to the next.‘For what I have to say is very important. One day you will leave this school and go out into the world as young women. You should take with you eager minds, kind hearts and a will to help. You should take with you a good understanding, a sense of responsibility, and show others that you are women to be loved, trusted and respected. These are all qualities that you will be able to learn at Malory Towers—if you wish to learn them.’
Miss Grayling paused, and every girl in the room felt that the Head was speaking to her and her alone.
‘I do not count as our successes those who have passed exams and won scholarships, though they are great achievements. I count as our successes those who are good-hearted and kind, sensible and trustworthy. Responsible women, on whom others can rely. Our failures are those who do not learn those things during their years here.’
All of the new girls listened intently, every one of them inspired by the Head’s words and determined that they were going to be one of Malory Towers’ successes. Even vain, silly Esme, who left Miss Grayling’s study with her pretty head in a whirl as, for the first time, she began seriously to consider that perhaps there were more important things in life than one’s appearance. Goodness, perhaps her transformation into an English schoolgirl was beginning already!
But Esme still had a long way to go, and she soon fell foul of Miss Peters. She and Lucy, along with three new girls from other towers, hung back while the others chose their seats. The coveted desks at the back of the class went to the leaders of the form—Felicity, Susan and June. Freddie slipped in next to June, while Pam, Nora and Julie took the row in front of them. Soon only the new girls were left standing. There was an empty seat next to Julie, and Rita, a new South Tower girl, moved towards it, only to receive a ferocious glare from Julie. So poor Rita hastily backed away, and Julie beckoned Lucy across.
‘Thanks,’ said Lucy gratefully, slipping into the seat.‘I was awfully afraid that I wouldn’t be able to sit next to you.’
Esme was left with a seat in the hated front row, right under Miss Peters’s sharp eyes, but she took it without complaining, pretending not to notice the slightly pitying look that her cousin gave her. In fact, Esme didn’t mind at all being in the front row, for it would be all the easier for her to make an impression on Miss Peters.
Alas for Esme! She certainly did make an impression on the mistress, but it wasn’t a good one.
The third formers got to their feet as Miss Peters strode in. She was a rather mannish young woman, with short hair and a rosy complexion, and Esme couldn’t help staring at her, for she had never seen anyone quite like her before. Miss Peters always looked rather uncomfortable in the smart blouse and skirt that she wore while teaching, and felt far more at home in her riding gear. She smiled round at her class now and said, ‘Good morning, girls. Please sit down.’
The class sat obediently and the mistress said, ‘I see that we have a few new girls, and I would like you all to stand up, one by one, and introduce yourselves to me and to the class.’
Rita, from South Tower, stood up first, her knees trembling, for it was quite nerve-wracking to stand up in front of all these girls. Her voice quavering a little, she introduced herself quickly, then sat down again, rather red in the face. It was Esme’s turn next, and she was determined to make a better showing than Rita had. Eagerly she got to her feet and began confidently, ‘Hallo, Miss Peters. Hallo, third formers. I’m Esme Walters and—’
‘One moment!’ Miss Peters interrupted her, looking hard at the girl. ‘Esme, did you have jam for breakfast this morning?’
‘Jam?’ repeated the girl, puzzled.‘No, Miss Peters.’
‘Then what is that red stuff all around your mouth?’ asked the mistress.
Esme blushed a fiery red—as red as her lipstick—as muffled laughter ran round the classroom, and Miss Peters said firmly, ‘Quiet, please! Esme, I am waiting for an answer.’
‘It’s lipstick, Miss Peters,’ answered the girl.
‘Lipstick!’ repeated the mistress, sounding quite horrified.‘Go and wash it off at once, please. And is that mascara on your eyelashes? I thought so! Remove that as well. Quickly, now!’
Esme was every bit as horrified as Miss Peters, but one glance at th
e mistress’s grimly determined face told her that it would be useless to protest, so she walked from the room, head down so that she didn’t have to face the mocking glances of the rest of the girls.
She went into the nearest bathroom, where it took her a few minutes to remove her make-up. And how much younger and prettier she looked without it! Esme didn’t see it like that at all, though, and thought that she looked very plain indeed. Almost as plain as these jolly English girls! She felt rather humiliated too, certain that Lucy and a few of the others would crow over her. Gee, maybe she should have listened to Felicity after all!
The class was busy making out timetables when Esme returned, and everyone looked up as the door opened.
‘Much better!’ said Miss Peters approvingly.‘Sit down now, Esme, and begin copying the timetable from the blackboard.’
The girls thought that Esme looked much better too, and her resemblance to Lucy was much more striking now that the make-up had been removed. Felicity opened her mouth to say as much to Susan, but Miss Peters caught her eye and she hastily shut it again. The third-form mistress certainly didn’t intend to stand any nonsense this term!
Nor did Miss Maxwell, the games mistress, and poor Esme found herself in hot water again during tennis practice that afternoon. Miss Maxwell partnered the girl with June, and the two of them played doubles against Felicity and Susan. The games mistress was pleased to see that Esme had a graceful style and a good eye—but unless the ball was placed where she could reach it easily, she made no effort to hit it, and refused to exert herself at all. This did not please June, who was a ferociously competitive player, chasing after every ball, even when it seemed impossible to reach.
‘Esme!’ she cried in exasperation, as one of Felicity’s serves whizzed right past her.‘If only you’d run to the baseline you could have got that one back!’
‘Gee, keep your hair on, June!’ said Esme with a comical expression. ‘It’s only a game!’
Unfortunately for Esme, this was the worst thing that she could have said, for June hated to be beaten at anything. Felicity and Susan were both very good players, while June was outstanding at tennis. Had June’s partner been Freddie, who also played well, they would have stood a very good chance of winning. As it was, June felt that she was taking on her two opponents single-handed, and she soon grew hot, out of breath and irritable. Felicity took pity on her and sent a few easy shots Esme’s way, which the girl managed to hit back. But June knew that Felicity was going easy on her, and that just made her even crosser.
Amanda Chartelow, who joined Miss Maxwell to watch the match, wasn’t impressed with the new girl either.
‘My word, June just gets better and better!’ she said, a note of pride in her voice, for she had coached June herself.‘Did you see how powerful that serve was, Miss Maxwell? And just look at the way she’s putting herself at full stretch to reach that return.’
‘Felicity and Susan are coming along very well, too,’ said the games mistress.‘There really are some very talented players in the third form this term.’
‘And one extremely untalented one!’ said Amanda, glaring in Esme’s direction.‘Now there’s a candidate for some extra coaching, if ever I saw one.’
‘The pity is that she could be quite promising, if only she would make the effort,’ said Miss Maxwell with a frown.‘She places the ball well, and her service is good.’
After watching Esme for a few moments, Amanda had to agree, and said, ‘But she’s dreadfully lazy! She’s leaving June to do all the hard work.’
And one thing Amanda had no patience with was laziness. She knew Esme’s sort—she was the kind of girl who didn’t like exerting herself in case it made her hair untidy, or her face red. Well, Amanda vowed, she was jolly well going to make the new girl skip around a bit and think about something other than her appearance!
So when the quartet of third formers came off the court, the games captain had a few words for each of them.
‘Jolly well played, Felicity and Susan!’ she said, in her loud voice. ‘I must say, the two of you have improved no end. You must have been practising like anything in the hols.’
‘We were,’ said Felicity, thrilled at the bigger girl’s words.‘I say, Amanda, do you think there’s any chance of either of us playing for the team this term?’
‘Well, I can’t make any promises,’ said Amanda, smiling at Felicity’s eagerness.‘But you’re both in with a chance, that much I will say!’
Then she turned to June and said, ‘The same goes for you. You have it in you to do really well for the school if you put your mind to it.’
June grinned and thanked Amanda rather off-handedly, but inwardly she was very pleased indeed. She might appear don’t-careish, but Malory Towers was beginning to have an effect on June, and she felt a sense of pride in it, and was starting to think that she might like to give something back.
‘As for you,’ began Amanda, looking rather sternly at Esme, ‘I’ve never seen such a hopeless display in my life! What’s your name?’
‘Esme Walters,’ answered Esme, looking rather afraid of this big, outspoken girl.
‘Well, Esme, you’re going to have to play up a bit if you want to get into one of the teams,’ said Amanda crisply.
Esme didn’t have the slightest interest in getting into one of the teams, but somehow she couldn’t quite bring herself to say so to Amanda, who looked as if she breathed, slept and ate games! Amanda was quite unaware of Esme’s complete absence of enthusiasm, for her imagination was not a lively one and it was quite unthinkable to her that anyone could fail to share her passion for games. So she said bracingly, ‘I’m holding a coaching session on Monday afternoon. Come along and we’ll see if we can get you up to scratch.’
With that she strode off, leaving Felicity and Susan struggling to contain their smiles at Esme’s expression of dismay. June was not so restrained and said with an unkind laugh, ‘Now do you see where your vanity has got you, Esme? If only you had made a bit more effort, Amanda wouldn’t have singled you out like that. As it is, she’s going to have her eye on you from now on. I hope for your sake that you make a better showing at swimming tomorrow, or you’ll be down for extra coaching at the pool too!’
Poor Esme groaned inwardly, for she didn’t like swimming any better than tennis. Oh dear, what a difficult term this was going to be!
4
Settling in
As the first week of term sped by, the two new girls settled down in their own ways. Lucy was moderately good at most of her lessons, and well behaved enough not to attract any unwelcome attention from the teachers, most of the time. However, when she became bored she had a habit of daydreaming about riding off across the fields on Sandy, and this earned her a ticking off from Miss Peters and the stern Mam’zelle Rougier on several occasions. On the whole, though, Lucy was very happy at Malory Towers and enjoyed life there. She and Julie got on very well indeed, and, as Five Oaks was only a few minutes walk from the school, the two of them managed to slip over there every day to check on their beloved horses and enjoy a ride together.
Life was not so easy for Esme, however. The girl wasn’t stupid, by any means, but the lessons at Malory Towers were very different from what she had been used to in America and she sometimes struggled to keep up with the others. Rather surprisingly, the one thing she excelled at was English. Miss Hibbert took the third formers for this lesson, and although Esme’s way of pronouncing certain words drove the mistress mad at times, she produced some very good written work.
‘I find it very strange that the only girl who managed to get top marks for her essay this week is someone who has spent the last few years living in a different country,’ Miss Hibbert had said at the beginning of one lesson.‘Very well done indeed, Esme.’
‘Jolly good show, Esme,’ Felicity had said after class, clapping the girl on the back, and Esme had turned red with pleasure.
She turned red during games as well—but from exertion, not from pleas
ure! Amanda Chartelow had kept her word and been most strict about ensuring that Esme attended her extra coaching. Amanda played a set against Esme herself, but instead of feeling honoured—as the others told her that she should—the girl just felt extremely nervous and made some silly mistakes. The games captain pointed these out to her in great detail, then proceeded to run her ragged! Poor Esme limped off the tennis-court at the end of the set with blistered feet, a red face and a very poor opinion of her ability! Nor did she fare much better at swimming. She wasn’t afraid of the water—so long as she stayed in the shallow end—but complained that it ruined her hair. And when Felicity suggested that she wear a bathing cap, Esme didn’t care for that idea either, as it would flatten her carefully set curls. The others found it very funny to watch Esme desperately trying to keep her head above the water as she swam around in the shallow end, and it soon became quite a sport among them to try to get the girl’s hair wet.
Esme was quite popular with the third formers, but felt that she had little in common with most of them. The two she felt most akin to were Amy and Bonnie, but although Bonnie seemed to like her, Amy showed all too plainly that she had no time for Esme. Which was a shame, for Esme felt that life at this no-nonsense English school would be much easier to bear if she had like-minded friends to talk to.
She spoke about it to Bonnie in the common-room one evening, saying with a sigh, ‘Felicity and the others are really nice girls, but they’re just not my type somehow.’
‘Well, I don’t mind if you want to tag along with Amy and me,’ said Bonnie, who liked the good-natured Esme and felt a little sorry for her.
‘You might not mind, but I can’t see Amy being too keen on the idea,’ said Esme glumly.