Secret Letters at Trebizon

by Anne Digby

  'I'll make a teabag,' decided Rebecca as she bounced up the stairs to the top floor of Court House. Then I'll go in my cubie and draw the curtains across and learn the first two pages by tea time. Then two more pages this evening. Last two tomorrow morning . . . and I'll know the whole thing in time for the mock!'

  That was the plan.

  And when she reached the attic floor and walked softly down the aisle between the cubicles, she gave a sigh of relief. Twelve girls sharing one floor could sometimes create a lot of chatter - but not today. No need to draw her curtains, after all. Everybody else is working hard, too, she realised. It's like a morgue up here!

  Mara had gone to have a flute lesson, otherwise every single cubicle was occupied by a girl revising. Curtains had been left companionably open but there was a powerful working atmosphere. They were right in the thick of mocks now and a free afternoon was too precious to waste.

  First the three As, in the cubicles to the right of the door: Ann Ferguson, Anne Finch and Aba Amori; heads bent over their work tables. Opposite was Jenny, propped on her bed with her chemistry notes; Elizabeth Kendall, ditto, next cubicle along; then Fiona Freeman, sitting cross–legged on her rug, frowning over some history notes.

  Down at Rebecca's end, Margot and Elf were sitting on the edge of Margot's bed and testing each other on elements. Sue was listening to a GCSE music tape on her new walkman and clapping time. The cubicle in the far corner, separated from Rebecca's by the big communal table and the fire exit, was Tish's. She peeped out, grinned and said 'Hi!' then disappeared again.

  Rebecca stood by the big table, brought the electric kettle to the boil and smiled to herself. Good; no distractions. Even Tish didn't want to chat.

  She was feeling pleased with her plan.

  But when she settled down at her work table with a mug of tea and reached up to the shelf for her history file she discovered that the Time Chart was missing.

  'Help!' she muttered out loud. 'HELP!'

  It brought Tish over. But it was two or three minutes before Sue noticed them; after her tape had stopped running.

  'What's going on, you two?' she whispered, coming across to Rebecca's cubicle and gazing at the books, papers and file covers now scattered all over the bed. The other two had pulled them all down from the shelf and were scrabbling through them.

  'Rebeck's lost her Time Chart!' hissed Tish.

  'I need it,' moaned Rebecca. 'I've got to find it. I'll never pass my history mock if I don't.'

  'Where were you expecting it to be?' whispered Sue.

  'In my history file. It's always there. On top of all my notes. But it's gone. I'm sure I haven't had it out . . . at least I don't think I have . . .'

  Panic was taking hold. When did she last use it? She couldn't remember. She took a look in her bedside locker and then went through the drawers of her work table. Had somebody borrowed it without asking? No, surely not.

  'Library?' suggested Sue.

  'Form room?' asked Tish.

  'I never take it out of my file,' repeated Rebecca, just as Mara appeared, back from flute lesson. 'And I always keep my file in here. It's got much too heavy to cart around.'

  'What is happening?' demanded Mara. 'What do you never take out of your file, Rebecca?'

  'Will you lot shut up, please?' yelled Elizabeth from the far end. 'It's chem in the morning and I'm going to fail!'

  'REBECCA'S LOST HER HISTORY CHART!' Tish shouted back.

  That brought more people out of cubicles.

  'Rebecca! Not your lovely Time Chart?' exclaimed Jenny in dismay.

  Elf and Margot groaned in sympathy. But then Mara suddenly clapped her hands with excitement.

  'You do take it out of the file, Rebecca!' she cried. 'You do. You do.'

  'Do I?' asked Rebecca eagerly.

  'You used up all the copy paper -- remember? I wanted to copy something! You said the machine had been scrunching loads up when you used it over half term. You said you'd copied your Time Chart for Cliff. So you must have taken it out of your file then, for a start!'

  'Cliff!' gasped Rebecca. 'You're right, Mara. I'd forgotten.'

  So much had happened over half term. Such a fantastic amount. But she had copied it out for Cliff. Last Tuesday, in fact, the day he'd come to visit her. Clifford Haynes was at Caxton High School now, having moved down from London, and struggling a bit because the Wessex Board courses were different from the London ones. He'd said the chart would be a brilliant help!

  'Anyone used the machine since half term?' asked Tish. 'No, of course not. Not if the paper's run out.'

  'I expect it's under the lid!' laughed Sue. She hurried round to the big table with Tish and Mara, to have a look. Rebecca followed more slowly. The others just drifted away.

  Mara investigated her photocopy machine, a gift from her father, while Tish and Sue hunted round and underneath the table.

  'No sign, Rebecca,' said Mara, disappointed.

  'It runs to six pages,' said Rebecca. 'So I guessed it wouldn't be under the lid.'

  'I know!' suggested Tish. 'Cliff picked up both lots, by mistake.'

  'Then he would have phoned Rebecca at once,' protested Mara. 'Wouldn't he?'

  'Not if he put it away somewhere and hasn't looked at it yet,' argued Sue.

  Rebecca frowned, trying to remember something. She had the feeling that she'd seen the chart since last Tuesday, been staring at it. When . . . ? No matter. She was suddenly feeling more cheerful.

  'Your friend Cliff must have it,' Sue was insisting.

  'I'll dash downstairs and ring him anyway!' said Rebecca quickly. She was sure Cliff hadn't got the original. But, even so: 'What a bit of luck. That I copied it! I can borrow Cliff's.'

  She turned to Mara and gave her a quick hug. 'Thanks!' Then raced off. The payphone was down on the ground floor.

  As long as Cliff can get it over here, she thought as she rang his number. Quickly! Quickly! Then I won't have wasted too much time.

  His mother's voice, at the other end of the phone, was like a douche of cold water.

  'I'm afraid Cliff's at school, Rebecca.'

  She felt a complete fool. Caxton High was a day school and it was still the middle of the afternoon!

  'Can he ring me when he gets home, please?' she asked, in embarrassment. 'The minute he gets in, that is.'

  'I'll make sure he gets the message.'

  But it was six o'clock before Cliff rang back, by which time Rebecca's nerves were in tatters.

  She'd spent the past hour pacing up and down the hall by the phone refusing to go to tea, waiting for the call to come through. She didn't dare tell Mrs Barrington what had happened and ask for help. Their housemistress could be really strict when she wanted to be. You weren't supposed to share your GCSE work all over the place, were you?

  'Cliff, I could kill you! Where've you been?'

  'I've just this minute walked in!' said Cliff, indignantly. 'Soccer practice!'

  'Listen, have you looked at my Time Chart yet?'

  'Looked at it? I've never stopped looking at it! I learnt it for this morning's exam and, Rebecca, it saved my life, it really did. It was fantastically useful. But what's the matter - ?'

  So he didn't have the original. She knew he wouldn't have.

  'Cliff, I've mislaid mine. I need yours! Now! Three hours ago!! I've been really stupid, leaving it all till the last minute, and the exam's tomorrow afternoon and I've lost it somewhere. It seemed such a good plan, but ---'

  To Rebecca's shame, she burst into tears. There was a horrified silence at the other end, then a groan:

  'It's at school, Rebecca. And the caretaker locked up as soon as soccer finished. He's locked up for the night and gone home!'

  'Oh.'

  'Look, I've got an exam in the morning but I'll think of something,' said Cliff. 'I'll get it across to you --'

  'An exam! Oh, that's it then. I've had it.'

  'I'll think of something - '

  'It's all right, Cliff. It's
not your fault. I'll go on looking then. Sorry about this!'

  She hung up, too upset to talk any more and trudged miserably upstairs.

  Cliff was left standing in the hall at home, gazing at the phone, scratching his head. If only he could explain the problem to his brother, who had a car. But Tom was such a stuffshirt. Cliff had been intending to have his tea then go straight upstairs to his bedroom and revise for his own mock GCSEs.

  It was geography in the morning! What to do now?

  That was what Rebecca wondered as she searched her cubicle for the last time. She'd better just start reading her history essays, hadn't she? And all her notes, mountains of them. If she rushed over to hall there might still be some tea left. But no, she'd wasted too much precious time already. She hadn't got time for tea now. She wasn't hungry, anyway. Not after this. . .

  As for getting in touch with Robbie about the photo, that was the last thing on her mind.

  THREE

  KNIGHT ON WHITE CHARGER

  Rebecca had sent Robbie's passport photo to Emmanuelle on impulse early last term.

  By that time, she'd already decided that her French pen friend was going to be a kindred spirit.

  . . . Something embarrassing happened, she'd told Emmanuelle, writing in French of course. As you know, I've got this plaster on my arm. A boy I know called Cliff wrote his name on it, with a big heart and a message: R.M. IS WONDERFUL. It was only a joke. The very next day, when Robbie and I were having tea together in the town, he NOTICED it. He at once wanted to know who Cliff was! Robbie is being difficult at the moment. He can be moody at times. It's good to have met up with Cliff again. He comes from London, like me, and is a link with home, with the past. I do hope I see him some more, Cliff is loads of fun.

  Thanks for listing my errors on my first letter; please do the same again on this one. Your letter was very good, just a few mistakes. I've listed them for you. Have you got a boyfriend at the moment? Have you got a photo of him? I enclose one of Robbie. You can keep it. What do you think of him? Love, Rebecca.

  She'd received a great letter back!

  . . . Rebecca, you were very silly to let Robbie see the plaster. You should over the big heart wear a very big chunky bracelet. It will look crazy but never matter. As you ask me what I think I must tell you that Robbie is very handsome. My boyfriend's name is Jean-Pierre. He has given me a picture to send to you. Do you like it? He sends it specially for you, with love and kisses to keep forever! Rebecca thought the tanned, dark-haired French boy looked really stunning. Her grandmother (who was to see the portrait on Rebecca's bedroom wall during the Christmas holidays) was to take it for granted he was some pin-up or other! Emmanuelle returned to the subject of Robbie at the end of the letter.

  Robbie looks truly smiling and nice. In what way moody? I cannot believe it, Rebecca! Write soon. Love, Emmanuelle.

  'Robbie's in a filthy mood,' mentioned Justin Thomas, when he and Sue were having one of their regular chats on the Court House phone that evening. 'Rebecca still hasn't rung him! You don't know whether she's turned up that photo yet, do you?'

  'Haven't a clue,' replied Sue. 'Shouldn't think so. She's got other things to worry about right now!'

  'Oh, what's wrong?'

  'She's lost her history chart. Or maybe her friend Cliff's lost it for her, I don't know. She's in real trouble now.'

  Sue explained the whole saga to Justy.

  'She skipped tea, as well!' she said, in conclusion. 'Tish and I brought her some food back but she refused it. She's just sitting there in her cubie with the curtains drawn, trying to read five terms' history notes. It's the exam tomorrow!'

  'Poor girl! So that's it, then! I'll tell Robbie.'

  After that, of course, Robbie came straight over.

  He persuaded Justin to get the car out - 'It won't take long, Justy!' - and was at Court House in fifteen minutes, armed with three bags of crisps from the late opening store, en route. Mrs Barry asked him to wait in the common room and sent Alice Burridge up to fetch Rebecca.

  'Yes?' asked Rebecca, lifting bleary eyes from her history file as the Third Year girl peeped in. She hadn't reached the end of the eighteenth century yet and was already bogged down. She hadn't done any summaries: they'd all gone on the Time Chart! 'What is it, Alice? I'm busy.'

  'You've got a visitor. He's in the common room.'

  Rebecca leapt to her feet. Cliff! Had he managed something after all?

  She rushed down to the ground floor -

  'Five minutes, that's all, Rebecca!' said Mrs Barry, passing along the hall. 'This is supposed to be a revision period.'

  And into the common room.

  'Rebeck!'

  Rebecca gave a little jump.

  'Robbie!' she exclaimed, guiltily.

  'I hear you've got a crisis. Sorry I've been going on about that photo. I've nipped over to get it!'

  'Oh, Robbie, I was going to ring you about that but – '

  'Not to worry,' he said nobly. 'I'll dash up and get it if you tell me where - '

  'I'm sorry, Robbie!' Rebecca took a deep breath. 'I haven't got it. I gave it away.'

  'What?'

  'Only to my French pen friend. Last term! She thinks you're handsome!'

  That didn't mollify Robbie. He looked hurt.

  'You said you wanted it to keep!'

  He suddenly became cross.

  'You might have rung me and told me. I could have got some done in Exonford at the weekend. Blast! Now I'll have to pay full fare on the coach tomorrow.'

  He was going all the way to Birmingham, he said, to a big Careers Fair. He was still trying to decide about his future! He couldn't get a student fare without a special coach card and they wouldn't issue that until he produced a passport-sized photo!

  'I was going to look through the other photos but I know they're no good,' said Rebecca, lamely. 'You didn't tell me any of this when you rang last week! Why you needed it - and the machine being broken down - '

  'You didn't tell me you hadn't got it!' Robbie retorted.

  'Well I am in the middle of mocks! I can't think of everything!'

  They fell silent.

  'Sorry, Rebecca,' said Robbie, relenting. 'It just won't have to matter now. Sorry. Better get back to your swotting! Here, you need some sustenance.' He handed her the crisps. 'I got these for you. They're the ones you like.'

  'Thanks,' she said, and smiled.

  They walked out into the hall together. Robbie turned to her:

  'Don't know why you didn't just grab that tennis contract and run!'

  'Oh, Robbie, DON'T say that!' exclaimed Rebecca. It was so undermining.

  As she walked away, up the stairs, he called:

  'Hope your history stuff turns up. Are you sure your chum Cliff hasn't got it? Sue told Justy he might have taken it by mistake.'

  'Not a chance,' replied Rebecca, over her shoulder.

  Robbie hadn't meant to be sarcastic about Cliff, she decided. He was only trying to make amends for his remark about not grabbing the tennis contract. Yet somehow his second remark rankled almost as much as the first. Back in her cubicle, she settled down at the table again, trying to concentrate on the history.

  Her curtains were slightly apart now and she could see Tish and Sue, in Sue's cubicle opposite, kneeling on the bed and hanging out of the window. Tish was calling down to Justin, laughing. 'Want some string, Justy? It's going to fall to bits any minute!' Referring to his old car, of course, parked below but some distance away, visible in the lamplight at the front of Court House. Justin shouted something back. Rebecca put her hands over her ears.

  She heard car doors slam and then the throb of the engine as the vehicle drove away into the night. Oddly, the sound of Robbie's departure filled her with a slight sense of relief.

  Tish and Sue remained by the window, whispering quietly now, glancing back at Rebecca, slumped at her table, a picture of despair. Poor thing! Sue felt slightly guilty, and Tish annoyed, that Robbie had come over to hassle
Rebecca about the photograph. Looked like his visit hadn't cheered her up much!

  Rebecca didn't even hear the second car pull up, less than five minutes later. The first thing she heard was a shriek from Tish —

  'Rebecca! Someone's just arrived!'

  Rebecca ran over and kneeled on Sue's bed, and the three of them leant out of the window. Parked, directly below and gleaming white, even in the shadows, was a two-seater sports car with its hood down. A figure in jeans had jumped on to the car seat; face upturned he was signalling up to them and brandishing something above his head in triumph. A roll of paper.

  'Knight gallops to the rescue on white charger!' exclaimed Tish. 'With Holy Grail.' Sue was laughing.

  Rebecca gasped.

  This time it was really Cliff.

  FOUR

  AFTER THE MOCKS

  Waved on by Rebecca, Cliff vaulted over the car door and ran silently round to the back of the building, towards the fire escape. He knew where it was. He'd been there before! Inside, Rebecca raced to the fire exit, slid back the bolt and waited for him on the iron balcony.

  She could hear his footsteps clanking up the metal staircase in the darkness. Knight in shining armour clanking to the rescue! Behind her, girls started crowding in the doorway to get a look at him.

  'You've got it!' she whispered in disbelief, as Cliff materialised on the balcony and handed her a thin roll of paper. He was puffing and perspiring, his spiky brown hair standing on end.

  'Not too late?'

  'I'll work all night!' exclaimed Rebecca, removing an elastic band and unrolling the photocopied pages of her Time Chart. She still couldn't quite believe it. Then she flung her arms round Cliff and hugged him. 'You're incredible, Cliff. Do you mean you managed to find the school caretaker?'

  'Bunked in through a back window!' Cliff whispered cheerfully. 'Had to shin up a drainpipe first. Two drainpipes!'

  'Cliff, you didn't!'

  He turned and waved cheekily at the girls peering out at him. 'Fellow inmates?' Rebecca laughed and took his hand, tugging at it.

  'Come in a minute. We'll make some coffee --'

  'Can't stay,' he hissed, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. 'Car waiting. Got to bunk off home now. Do some revision.'