Third Year at Malory Towers

by Enid Blyton

  'I'm never going to mention my voice again,' Mavis told Zerelda. 'I'm never going to say "when I'm an opera-singer" again. Perhaps if I'm sensible and don't boast and don't think about my voice, it'll come back.'

  'Oh, it'll come back, I expect,' said Zerelda, comfortingly. 'You did your best to get rid of it though! Oh, Mavis—you're just like me—reduced to being a schoolgirl and nothing else. But, gee, you wouldn't beiieve how nice it is to belong to the others, to be just as they are, and not try to make out you're too wunnerful for words!"

  'Tell me about Mam'zelle and the sneezing again,' begged

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  Mavis. 'You do make me laugh so. You're terribly funny when you tell things like that, Zerelda."

  Zerelda was. She could not act any part, but she could tell a story in a very humorous way. and keep everone in fits of laughter. Privately Alicia thought that was Zerelda's real gift, the ability to be really funny—but she wasn't going to say so! She wasn't going to give Zerelda any chance of thinking herself 'wunnerful' again!

  The girls admired the way Zerelda gave her time so generously to Mavis. They thought a good deal more of her for taking Miss Hibbert's rather harsh ticking-off so well, and for taking to heart all she had said.

  T didn't think she had it in her,' said Darrell to Sally. T really didn't. I thought she was just an inflated ballon—and when Miss Hibbert pricked her, I thought she'd just deflate and there'd be nothing. But there is something after all. I like her now, don't you?'

  'Well—I always did think she was very generous, and I liked her good nature,' said Sally. 'But then I didn't have such a dose of her silliness as you did—I didn't come back to school till so late.'

  'I'm glad Betty's back, aren't you?' said Darrell. 'Thank goodness! Now Alicia has got someone to go round with, and she doesn't always want you and me to make a threesome. I wish Bill had a friend. She's rather one on her own.'

  'Well—J don't mind making up a threesome with Bill sometimes,' said Sally. 'Though Bill doesn't really need a friend, you know, Darrell—honestly I think Thunder takes the place of a friend with her.'

  'Yes. He does,' said Darrell, remembering that dark rainy night when she and Bill had walked Thunder round and round the yard. 'But it would be nice for Bill if we let her go with us sometimes. She's a sport.'

  So Bill, to her delight, was often taken in tow by Darrell

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  and Sally. She thought the world of Darrell. 'One day I'll repay her for that night,' thought Bill, a hundred times a week. ·I'll never forget.'

  She was very happy now. Thunder was quite well. Darrell and Sally welcomed her. She was doing well in class. And Miss Peters was Simply Grand!

  Bill was a simple person, straightforward, natural and very loyal. These things made a great appeal to Miss Peters, who was much the same. So there grew up a real understanding between the form-mistress and Bill, delightful to them both.

  'I'm so happy here,' said Bill to Darrell. 'I didn't want to come—but oh, I'm so glad I came!'

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  23 A LOVELY END TO THE TERM!

  THE term was coming to an end. Darrell as usual was torn in two over her feelings about this. 'I do so love going home--but I do so love being at Malory Towers!' she said to Sally.

  'Well, you're lucky to have both worlds,' said Sally. 'So am 1.1 love being at home—but I love school, too. It's been a good term, hasn't it, Darrell?'

  'Yes,' said Darrell. 'I've only had one bitter disappointment—and that was, that after all the practising I've done, and all the extra coaching I got, and the help that Molly gave me—I never played in the third match-team after all.'

  'Did they play the match that was cancelled?' asked Sally. 'No. The other school hadn't a free date,' said Darrell. 'We break up next week—so there's no chance now. That's the only thing that has really spoilt the term a bit for me—and you being so late back, of course.'

  'Isn't it a gorgeous afternoon?' said Sally, as they strolled out into the courtyard, and looked at the daffodils growing everywhere there, dancing in the March breeze. There's half an hour before dinner. What shall we do?'

  'Let's go out to the lacrosse field,' said Darrell. 'It will be lovely there. I feel restless after sitting still so long. A bit of running and catching will do us good.'

  Sally didn't really want to. She was not as good at games that term as usual, because she had come back so late. But she saw Darrell's eager face and put aside her own wishes.

  'All right. I'll get the sticks. You go and ask for a ball,' she said. They met again on the field, and were soon running and catching and passing.

  They were the only ones there. Molly Ronaldson, passing

  by, smiled to see Darrell out there again. What a sticker she was! She really did stick to whatever she made up her mind to do. Molly liked that kind of thing.

  She called to Darrell. 'My goodness, you deserve to play well, Darrell! Have you heard that we are playing Barchester after all, next week—you know the match that was cancelled the half-holiday Thursday? We thought we wouldn't be able to fix it up again—but Barchester have let us know that they can play us next Thursday—the day before we break up.'

  'Oh, really?' said Darrell. 'Molly—any chance of my being in the reserve three again? Do say yes!'

  ' Well, last time, apparently, you would have actually played in the match, as all the reserves were to play,' said Molly, 'but I heard that you played the fool, you and the third form, and got the half-holiday forfeited. So you wouldn't have been able to play after all.'

  'Yes that's true,' said Darrell. 'But I haven't played the fool since. Put me in the reserve next Thursday, Molly, please do. Not that I've much hope of playing in the match this time, because everyone who was ill is all right again!'

  'True,' said Molly. 'Well, I shall be making a new list of match-team players, and you may be in the reserve or you may not. I'm making no promises! I'll come and watch the third and fourth forms playing lacrosse on Monday afternoon. I shall only want a few players from them for the Barchester match, so it's up to you to do your best!'

  'Isn't Molly marvellous!' said Darrell to Sally, her face in a glow as Molly walked off.

  'Well—I think she's very good as a games captain,' said Sally, who didn't get quite such wild enthusiasms as Darrell got. 'Anyway—you play well on Monday, when Molly's watching, and see if you can get in the reserve again, Darrell.'

  So Darrell did. She was nimble and swift, she was deft at catching, unselfish in her passing, and very sure in her attack on goal. Molly was on the field, watching the various games

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  being played there. She walked from one to another, sturdy, deliberate, her sharp eyes noting every good pass and swift rush.

  That night the names of the girls in the third match-team were to be put up. The names of the reserve girls would be put below the team-list. Darrell hardly dared to go up to the noticeboard and look to see if her name was in the reserve.

  Surely it would be! Surely she had been better than most of the fourth-formers, and certainly far better than any other third-former! She glanced hopefully but fearfully at the names of the three reserves.

  Hers wasn't there! In real dismay Darrell read down the three reserve names again. No—her name was not there— not even as third reserve, which she had been before! Molly hadn't thought her good enough to put her in the reserve this time. What a terrible disappointment.

  Sally came running up. 'Darrell! Is your name down? Are you in the reserve?'

  Darrell shook her head. 'No,' she said 'Not this time. Oh, Sally-I'm awfully disappointed.'

  Sally was too. She slipped her arm through Darrell's. 'Bad luck, old thing. 1 am sorry.'

  'Oh well—I'm as bad as Zerelda used to be—imagining I'm good enough at lacrosse to be in the reserv
e for the Barchester match,' said Darrell, her voice a little shaky. 'Serves me right!'

  'It doesn't, it doesn't!' said Sally. 'You ought to be at least//r,sY reserve—yes, you ought, Darrell. You are awfully good—super—at lacrosse. And you've practised so hard, too.'

  'Don't rub it in,'said Darrell, Sally's eager championship making her feel much worse. They went to the common-room together. Mavis was there with Zerelda, for the first time.

  'Hallo, Mavis!' cried Sally, in surprise. T thought you

  weren't coming to join us again till tomorrow. I'm so glad you're back.'

  'Welcome home again!' said Darrell, trying to forget her disappointment. 'I'm glad you're all right, Mavis. How do you feel?'

  'Grand,' said Mavis, in her changed voice. She no longer had the deep, delightful voice she used to have. It was hoarse and had lost its lovely tone. The girls were used to it by now, but poor Mavis wasn't. She couldn't bear this horrid, creaky voice! But she had made up her mind not to grumble or complain. 'I'm glad to be back, too. Sister was awfully nice to me, and it's cosy over in the san. —but I did miss all the fun and noise of school.'

  She coughed. 'Don't talk too much all at once,' said Zerelda. 'You know Sister put me in charge of you—and I've got to deliver you well and healthy up to Matron tonight, before you are allowed to sleep in our dormy again!'

  'I'll be all right,'said Mavis. 'Darrell—are you in the reserve? Zerelda said you were sure to be. I'm looking forward to seeing a match again.'

  'No. I'm not,' said Darrell, and turned away. Zerelda looked up, surprised and sorry.

  'Gee, that's too bad,' she said, and then stopped as Sally frowned at her to stop her saying too much about it. Darrell was feeling it very much. She couldn't understand why Molly had left her out of the reserve this time. It didn't seem fair, after all she had said!

  Darrell went out of the room. Sally didn't follow her, knowing that she wanted to be alone and get over her disappointment before she faced the rest of the form.

  There came a clatter of feet down the corridor. The door burst open and the rest of the third form poured in. T say! Where's Darrell! My goodness, has she seen the notice-board?'

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  'Yes. She's frightfully disappointed,' said Sally. The beaming third-formers looked immensely surprised.

  'Disappointed!' echoed Alicia. 'Why? She ought to be so bucked that she's doing a war-dance round the room!'

  Now it was Sally's turn to be surprised. 'But why, you idiot? She's not even been put into the reserve this time!'

  'No—she hasn't—because, idiot, she's in the team itself!' cried Alicia.

  'Yes. Actually in the teamV said Bill, joyfully. 'Isn't it an honour?'

  Sally gasped. 'Gracious! Darrell must just have looked at the names of the reserves—and not looked at the names in the team at all! How like her!'

  'Where is she?' demanded Alicia, impatiently.

  'Here she is!' yelled Belinda from the door. 'Darrell! Come here!'

  Darrell came in, looking rather subdued. She gazed round in surprise at the excited third-formers. 'What's up?' she said.

  'You are!' cried Irene slapping her on the back, 'Up on the notice-board, silly! In the TEAM!'

  Darrell didn't take it in. The others all crowded round her impatiently, talking at the tops of their voices.

  'You're in the TEAM! Don't you understand?'

  'Not in the reserve. You're PLAYING on Thursday against Barchester.'

  'Look at her—quite dumb. Darrein Do you mean to say you only looked at the names in the reserve and not at the names in the match-team itself? Well, of all the donkeys!'

  Light suddenly dawned upon Darrell. She seized Alicia's wrists joyfully. 'Alicia! Do you mean it? I'm in the TEAM! Golly—I never thought of looking there.'

  Then there was so much shouting and congratulating and rejoicing that Matron came in to see whatever the noise was about, and to find out how Mavis was standing it.

  Mavis was standing it very well. She was smacking Darrell on the back and calling out 'Jolly good! Jolly good!' in a cracked but most determined voice. Her face shone with pleasure, just like the faces of the rest.

  Matron went out again without being noticed. She smiled to herself. 'All because someone's put into the team!' she thought. 'Well, well—what a thing it is to be a schoolgirl!'

  It was a lovely thing to Darrell at that moment. She thought she had never been so happy in her life before—just when she had felt so disappointed and miserable, too! She was almost in tears when she saw the pleasure and pride of the others. 'Why, they must like me an awful lot!' she thought, happily. 'Oh, I do hope I play well on Thursday. If only we can beat Barchester! We haven't for a whole year.'

  She could hardly wait till Thursday came—but it dawned at last, sunny and clear—the ideal day for a match. It was a home match, and as it was the day before breaking up, all girls who wished to could watch it. Most of them turned up to cheer the Barchester girls when they arrived in their coach. Then they all streamed to the field to find seats on the wooden forms.

  Darrell was nervous. She was cross with herself for this, but she couldn't help it. Molly came by, and grinned at her. 'Got stage-fright? Wait till you're on the field—you'll soon forget it!'

  Molly was right. Once on the field, with her lacrosse stick in her hands, dancing about joyfully, all Darrell's nervousness went, and she was eager for the match to begin. She was on the wing. She glanced at her opponent. She was a big, sturdy girl. Oh dear—probably she could run even faster than Darrell!

  She certainly could run very fast and she was powerful too, getting the ball from Darrell nearly every time by tackling strongly and swiftly.

  'Play up, Darrell! Play up!' yelled the watching third-

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  formers, every time Darrell got the ball and sped off with it. 'Oh, well passed! Oh, well caught! Play UP, Malory Towers!'

  Goal to Barchester. Goal to Malory Towers. Half-time. One all. Slices of sour lemon being brought out on plates. And here was Molly beside Darrell, talking to her earnestly.

  'Darrell! You're tiring the other girl out nicely. She's good, but she gets winded more quickly than you do. Watch your chance, tackle her next time she comes up, get the ball, pass to Catherine, run level, let her pass back to vou and then SHOOT! Do you hear?'

  'Yes. Yes, Molly,' said Darrell, almost swallowing her slice of lemon in her eagerness to take it all in. 'Yes—I think my opponent's tiring. I can out-run her. I'll do what you say if I can. Tell Catherine.'

  'I have,' said Molly. 'Now—there's the whistle. You're all doing well. But I think it will have to be you who does a bit of shooting this half, Darrell. The others allow themselves to be tackled too easily. Good luck.'

  Molly went off the field. A chorus went up from the watchers 'PLAY—UP—Malory TOWERS! PLAY—UP-Malory TOWERS!'

  And Malory Towers played up. Darrell and Catherine passed beautifully to one another, and Catherine shot. Two goals to Malory Towers! Then the Barchester team got going again. Second goal to them. Two all. Fifteen minutes to play. 'PLAY—UP—Malory TOWERS!'

  Darrell felt the time slipping by. Two goals all—Malory Towers must shoot again before time was up. She took a fine pass, and ran with the ball in her lacrosse net. Her opponent tackled her. Darrell dodged her very neatly and sped down the field.

  'Go it, DARRELL! SHOOT! SHOOT!'yelled everyone but Darrell was too far from goal to do that. Instead, she sent the ball to Catherine, who, alas! muffed the catch, fell over, and let the enemy snatch it up from where it rolled on

  the ground. Then down the field rushed the Barchester wing, back towards the Malory Tower's goal.

  But there the goal-keeper stopped it valiantly. Hurrah! Saved again! Up the field came the ball again, and Darrell made a r
emarkable catch, leaping high in the air.

  'Go it, DARRELL!'yelled the onlookers. Darrell ran towards the Barchester goal. Catherine kept level with her, watching carefully for a pass. When she was tackled Darrell passed the ball deftly to Catherine, making a lovely throw. Catherine caught it, but was tackled immediately. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Darrell, watching.

  She threw. It was a clumsy throw, but Darrell ran to catch the ball. Once in her net she kept the ball there, dodging cleverly when she was tackled. A great cry came up from the onlookers.

  'SHOOT! SHOOT! SHOOT!'

  And Darrell shot. She threw the ball with all her might at the goal. The Barchester goal-keeper came out to stop it. The ball struck her pad, then struck the goal-post—and rolled to the back of the net.

  'GOAL!' What a cry went up. 'Jolly good, Darrell! Fine shot! Hurrah! Three goals to two!'

  Almost immediately the whistle blew for time. The two teams lined up and cheered one another. Darrell was trembling with excitement and joy. She had played in a match-she had shot the winning goal!

  'Well played, young Darrell!' said Molly's voice. 'You did well. That was a very fine goal.'

  Darrell went off to the big tea provided for the two match-teams, her heart singing. This was a great moment for her. The third-formers all crowded round her, clapping her on the shoulder, praising her, delighted that one of their own form should have shot the winning goal.

  Darrell was very tired and very happy that evening. What would her father and mother and her sister Felicity say when