by Anne Digby
'Borrow my bike!' said Rebecca. 'It's by the front porch. But wait a sec, let's think where she'll be –'
Elf looked at her watch and said with some prescience:
'Gone half past three. She'll be watching the gym display. She thinks Lucy Hubbard's wonderful.'
'And while you're getting Holly I'll try and think about Miss Angel!' shouted Tish, and Sue disappeared through the door.
Miss Angel!
Rebecca had almost forgotten about her.
'You'd better go and get dressed,' she told Tish. 'But try and remember if you really have seen her somewhere before. Elf – you try and draw her face.'
Elf was quite good at faces. But –
'I only saw her once,' she said unhappily. 'She didn't come into school much, did she? I just saw her Wednesday when I was swimming. But I'll try.'
While Tish hurried off to the bathroom with her clothes, Mara found paper and pencil and they gathered round Elf, hopefully, as she tried to sketch the young woman's face.
'Oh, it's no use,' exclaimed the plump girl in frustration, giving up at the third attempt. 'Lots of blonde hair . . . the dark glasses . . . that's all I remember.'
Tish came back dressed in athletics shorts, found her track suit and running shoes and packed her sports bag. She looked worried and tense.
'I'll have to go soon,' she said. 'I've been thinking and thinking about Miss Angel. There was something familiar about her and yet there wasn't. I can't quite describe it. Maybe if I could see her just once more. . . but no chance of that now, is there?'
Margot shrugged her shoulders, getting impatient.
'What's the point anyway? She wasn't anybody important. I saw her a few times, but I never took any notice of her. Why does it matter, Tish? We've got to try and find some way of getting the film stopped, haven't we?'
'We've got to know a bit more about it first,' said Tish stubbornly. 'There was something creepy about Miss Angel. You felt it, too, didn't you, Rebeck –?'
Rebecca nodded.
'And why did they pick on Trebizon to pull to pieces?' persisted Tish. 'And assuming they knew about Mulberry Island, how did they know? And how did they know to interview Mrs Tarkus and that she's a gas–bag and scandal-monger?'
'Well, perhaps the film director comes from round here?' suggested Margot. 'I mean, he was the one in charge of everything –'
'No!' said Rebecca suddenly.
'Well perhaps he's got friends down here then,' said Margot.
'I don't mean that, Margot. I mean I'm not sure he was the one in charge! I got the most peculiar feeling, when I was down at the hotel just now. ..I've only just remembered.'
She explained the odd feeling she'd had, that Miss Angel was really the boss. The others listened with interest.
'So it's back to Miss Angel again,' said Tish, in some triumph.
'She didn't look quite real, did she?' commented Margot. She was getting more curious about her now. 'She looked very dressed up all the time.'
'Angel,' mused Mara. 'In Greek, the name is common. In England less common? But it is also slang? What does it mean?'
Rebecca gasped.
A person in charge called – angel. How odd!
'Clever Mara!' she exclaimed. Mara having a foreigner's view of the English language could see that word with a fresh eye, was questioning something that the rest of them hadn't given any thought to. The word angel.
'What does it mean in slang, though?' repeated Mara.
'Isn't it something to do with show business?' hazarded Tish, looking interested.
'An "angel" puts up the money!' said Rebecca. 'The rich backer! The person who puts up the cash needed to stage a play! But why just a play? Why not a film?'
They all looked at Rebecca in admiration. The amount of useless information she stored in her brain! No wonder she usually beat them at Trivial Pursuits!
'Of course, it could be coincidence –'added Rebecca.
'Some coincidence!' exclaimed Tish. 'No, I don't think so. Miss Angel, whoever she really is, must have a sense of humour.' She started to pace up and down the room, glanced at her watch, then slapped the side of her head again and again. 'I feel we're edging forward. I feel there's a clue here. Why should someone use a phoney name, unless they're dishonest or something?'
'Just think,' said Elf excitedly, 'if Miss Angel were a crook, then Miss Welbeck might be able to get the film stopped –'
'Stop babbling, Elf,' Tish said despairingly, still pacing up and down. 'My lift will be here any minute. Can't you see I'm trying to think –'
But she got no further.
The door burst open and Sue walked in, propelling somebody in front of her. It was Holly Thomas, snuffling, her cheeks tear-stained.
'Ssh, Holly. Stop crying,' Sue said gently. She carefully closed the door. 'Just tell the others what you've told me. And after that we'll think what to do next.' She looked at Rebecca and added heavily: 'I'm afraid we guessed right. Holly's in the film as well. In fact, she's got what you might call a starring role.'
Tearfully Justin's little sister explained.
It had all been done secretly. 'We want to put you in the film, Holly!' Miss Angel had told her. 'You'll be a TV star, then! You've got just the right colouring, you know. You'll be very photogenic.' They'd persuaded her to come down to Mulberry Cove and they'd filmed her standing by the shore, pointing to the island. Then they'd asked her to explain into the microphone how Tish Anderson had taken them all for a run there, and about the funny tide, and what an adventure they'd had – and to be sure to look straight at the camera while talking.
Afterwards they'd made her swear to keep the whole thing secret because otherwise the rest of the First Years would be jealous, wouldn't they? And they'd want to be in the film, too, but they hadn't had an exciting adventure, had they? Much better to say nothing and let it be a surprise.
This had taken place quite early in the week and Holly had found it all very heady. She'd badly wanted to be in the film and had persuaded herself that as she'd been punished at the time and it was all a long time ago now, nobody would really mind. She'd hugged the secret to herself ever since. But gradually her euphoria at the idea of seeing herself on television had worn off. A niggling feeling of guilt and anxiety began to take over. What would Miss Welbeck say? What would Tish and Sue and Rebecca say? What would Della and Justy say? Justy hadn't even liked her writing abut it in the J.J., had he?
So when confronted by Sue, Holly had confessed at once.
'Justy's going to like this even less,' Sue had told her through gritted teeth. 'You fool, Holly.'
Tish was even more furious.
'You stupid idiot!' she raged now. 'And I didn't take you to the island – you followed us there. This is going to be an expose type of film – trying to show everyone this is a real dump, or something. It could ruin Trebizon! And you've played right into their hands!'
Holly started to weep again.
'Shut up!' snapped Tish.
'By the way, Angela Hessel's arrived,' said Sue then. 'She's sitting outside in the car. I'm supposed to send you straight down to her.'
Miserably Tish walked across to her bed and picked up her sports bag.
'I'd better go then, hadn't I?' she said dully. She came back and put an arm round Holly's shoulders. 'Sorry I lost my temper. They just made use of you, that's all. It was despicable.' She gazed round at the others. 'What's to do about this film then? Is there any way it can be stopped? I don't suppose there is, really?'
'The only thing we can do,' began Rebecca, slowly, 'is report everything we've found out. Miss Welbeck ought to be told. Oughtn't she? It's awful having to admit defeat, but she's really got to know, hasn't she?' Rebecca pulled a wry face. 'And to think it's Commem.'
But everyone agreed there was no other option.
They all trooped downstairs again. Angela Hessel was sitting outside in the car, looking impatient. Tish's face was troubled as everyone wished her luck, by the front porch.
'I'll need it,' she said. She turned to Rebecca and Sue. 'I don't feel much like running tonight,' she said. 'And I wish I'd never thought of going running to the island that time, either. It's led to nothing but bad luck. First for you, Sue . . . and now this.'
She was trying to apologize.
Rebecca felt very sad as she watched her get into the waiting car. She'd been training for this race all term, but she wouldn't have her heart in it now, not with this cloud hanging over her. Poor Tish!
The car scrunched away over the gravel.
'Perhaps Miss Welbeck will be able to do something?' said Holly hopefully.
'What?' said Sue. 'What can she do?'
'Fine action committee we've turned out to be,' lamented Mara.
THIRTEEN
THE FINAL CLUE
'I don't see what we can do, George!' said Miss Welbeck, in despair. 'The birds have flown. Half-way back to London now, no doubt, with the film in the can.'
'It's outrageous,' said Colonel Peters, a faint purplish tinge to his cheeks. It was beginning to hit home now, very hard. 'It's quite the most outrageous thing I've ever come across.'
Rebecca and Co. had sent Holly packing, with sealed lips, then lost no time in reporting the facts to Mrs Barrington – who in turn had prised Miss Welbeck away from the party of visitors she was showing round the rose garden, looking at her most summery in a linen dress and a wide-brimmed straw hat and long white fishnet gloves. Leaving Miss Gates to take charge, the principal had hurried across to her big study in the main building accompanied by Colonel Peters. They'd straight away telephoned the Trebizon Bay Hotel, in the faint hope that Mark Coughlin would agree to see them to discuss the whole matter in a civilized way.
But the film company had left for London.
'They wouldn't have agreed to see us anyway,' sighed Miss Welbeck. 'People like that aren't civilized. They've sold the idea to television and they've got what they came to get. Nothing will deflect them now!'
'We've been completely hoodwinked!' fumed Colonel Peters. 'We've got to stop this programme going out next month. Can we get an injunction?'
'Probably not,' said the principal calmly. 'They'll be careful to put in the film only what's strictly speaking true or, in the case of Mrs Tarkus, what they would describe merely as legitimate expression of local opinion. We have had our problems over the years, what school hasn't? There was the shoplifting episode with the Dawson girl, the expulsion of Elizabeth Exton – famous father, colourful stuff, I expect they've managed to dredge that one up! – and those wretched parties last summer. There's also the fact that we allow the older girls to mix freely with the Garth boys. We believe that to be right, but it's controversial. Above all, we have the sea here – with all its joys and just occasionally, its dangers, if rules are broken. It's the fact that they've got hold of the Mulberry Island incident that worries me most of all.'
'We must try and stop them!' said the colonel, with renewed vigour. 'A sensationalized and melodramatic picture of life here will set all the parents buzzing with alarm. One film obviously can't destroy Trebizon, but it could put you under pressure to run a tighter ship –'
'This is a tolerably well run school. I don't think I'd be prepared to change it. I'd have to be replaced, George.'
'Come, Madeleine. Let's think what to do. We must think about legal action, you know.'
'I believe Silver & Silver will advise us against it,' said Miss Welbeck. Silver & Silver were the school's solicitors. 'Even if we won, the publicity would do so much harm! It would cause parents at least as much anxiety as this silly little film!' She shook her head. 'Either way, we can't win.'
There was a heavy silence.
'I'm still amazed that a reputable company could be so downright dishonest about their real intentions!' said the colonel. He walked across to the window and stared out over the parkland. 'You checked up on them carefully. Their record's good. They've produced excellent documentary films in the past –won prizes.'
'Yes. It's very, very puzzling. Unless they're under new management. Do you know the girls have some fanciful idea that Miss Angel is a pseudonym?'
'That sounds like nonsense,' smiled the colonel briefly. 'But there could have been some changes at the top. They could have been bought up, but kept the same name and the goodwill.'
Miss Welbeck sighed. 'I'll make an appointment to see Silver & Silver first thing on Monday morning. They'll advise us.'
Colonel Peters nodded, then walked over to the door, held it open for her and made a slight bow.
'Come. The others will be wondering where we are. It's Commemoration Day. We must rejoin the celebrations.'
'Yes,' said Miss Welbeck. Today was the high point of the school year. The weather, though not quite as beautiful as last year, was being kind. It had all seemed a great success – until now.
'I don't feel there's much to celebrate, do you?' she said bitterly, as they descended the main staircase together.
Half-way down, Miss Welbeck suddenly stopped and looked back over her shoulder.
'What's wrong, Madeleine? Left something behind?'
'That sounds like the phone ringing in my study. Should I answer it?'
'Must you?' he smiled.
The principal hesitated for a moment, undecided. Then –
'Wait here, George. I'd better go and see who it is.'
Rebecca and Co. didn't feel there was much to celebrate, either. Instead of being out in the sunshine enjoying the activities, they moped about in the empty common room on the ground floor of Court House, endlessly discussing what had happened.
Through the window they could see a large white Ford car parked in the front. A chauffeur was stacking the boot with luggage. Margaret Exton was leaving Trebizon today, for ever, having taken her final exam. Even that thought didn't cheer them up.
They weren't even looking forward to tonight's Commem Ball that much. They hadn't talked about their dresses all afternoon – or even pressed them yet. The shadow of the day's events cast a blight over everything. Rebecca was convinced that Tish would do badly in her race, too.
'I wonder what Robbie's going to make of all this?' she murmured to Sue.
'Justin's going to be shattered, I just know he is,' said Sue.
Suddenly came the sound of hurrying footsteps and the door burst open. Mrs Barrington stood there, cheeks flushed, puffing slightly.
'Quick! Phone! In the house. Tish wants to talk to you. You, Margot. And Rebecca, I think. You'd all better come –'
They leapt to their feet in surprise and surged out of the common room in Mrs Barry's wake. At a fast pace the housemistress led them through the door that communicated with her private wing.
'What's Tish ringing for?' exclaimed Rebecca. 'She's supposed to be on her way to the race.'
'She is!' retorted Mrs Barry over her shoulder. 'She's half-way there. They've stopped by a public phone box – this is a reverse charge call. It's important. She's just told me something very interesting, but I want it confirmed.'
They all dashed through into the Barringtons' large study, where the phone was off the hook. Rebecca tried to get to the phone first but Margot beat her to it.
'Tish?'
'Margot!' Tish's voice was trembling a little. 'Listen, you saw her more than any of us. Miss Angel, I mean. Tell me if you think what I think –'
There was a moment's silence in the room while Margot closed her eyes tight, then opened them again, then squealed:
'Yes! Yes, yes, yes!'
She handed over the phone to Rebecca. 'Hurry! You talk to her!'
'What's going on!' wailed Sue.
'Listen Rebeck,' crackled Tish's voice, 'I know who Miss Angel is now. The final clue was in the name, all the time. Clever you! Knowing it meant a rich backer and so on! All the time in the car I've been thinking, who do I know who's rich? Rich enough to finance a whole film production? Who have I ever known who's really rich –?'
'Tish, get on with it –' cried Reb
ecca. 'Who then? Who?'
'Elizabeth Exton!'
'No!' Rebecca nearly dropped the phone.
'It's her, I tell you. She's Miss Angel.'
'But she didn't have blonde hair!'
'Dyed, I expect. Or even a wig. It's her. I know it is!'
Margot was looking fervent in the background, whispering to the others. 'It's Elizabeth Exton, I tell you. Once you know, you can just shut your eyes and see it.'
Susan, Mara and Elf looked thunderstruck. And Rebecca, just as they were, was trying to visualize 'Miss Angel' with straight black hair. No fluorescent make-up. No dark glasses. Nearly three years younger. And wearing the clothes of a member of the Upper Sixth at Trebizon. Because that would have been her last sight of Elizabeth Exton, the exalted and rather remote senior girl that they'd tangled with (especially Tish) in Rebecca's very first term at Trebizon. With a slight shiver of recognition, she remembered the face in the car park at Exonford.
'The eyes!' she said suddenly. 'You're right, Tish. How amazingly clever of you.'
Mrs Barry had been listening to all this with considerable interest.
'Good luck with the race, Tish!' said Rebecca quickly, just before Mrs Barry took the phone from her.
'We've got them now, haven't we, Rebeck!' Tish was saying happily. 'Won't they just look sick when this comes out –'
'Tish?' said Mrs Barry. 'It's me again. Look, I want you to hang on a minute. With luck, we'll catch Miss Welbeck. I know where she's gone. I'm going to try and transfer the call. I think it's important you speak to her. Okay? Hold the line.'
The principal picked up the phone on the eighth ring. 'Yes?'
'It's Joan Barrington here, Miss Welbeck. I've got Tish Anderson on the line. She's ringing from a call box, on her way to the West of England meeting. It's a reverse charge call, so she won't run out of money. May I transfer her?'
'Certainly,' said the principal, puzzled. After a few clicks: 'Well, Ishbel. What's the trouble exactly?'
A moment later she sank down on to her chair, feeling a little weak at the knees. 'Will you repeat that, Ishbel?'
Miss Angel – Elizabeth Exton!