Tennis Term at Trebizon (The Trebizon Boarding School Series)

by Anne Digby

‘There’s a goodbye present for you over at the boarding house.’

  ‘For me? What?’

  Pippa just smiled mysteriously and put a finger to her lips.

  ‘Your parents will probably like it,’ she said and turned back to her partner.

  Pippa was catching the early train to London. She’d be back at the end of term to collect her car and all her luggage and say her goodbyes. But now that the Upper Sixth had finished their exams there was nothing to keep them at Trebizon for the last three weeks of term. By tacit agreement, Annie Lorrimer had already gone, straight after exams. Tomorrow, Pippa was going to London and then Paris.

  Her schooldays were just about over.

  When Robbie took Rebecca back to Court House later he said goodnight to her and then she walked slowly inside. It had been the best day she could ever remember in her whole life.

  ‘I must just see what Pippa’s left for me,’ she thought.

  It was propped up in the hall, wrapped in brown paper, with her name on it. She pulled off the wrappings – and gasped.

  ‘The painting!’

  Rebecca stared and stared at it.

  It was all there, the original canvas for the magazine cover, so painstakingly worked in oils. ‘I love this tree!’ Pippa had told her, on the first day of term. Rebecca gazed at the magnificent trunk with its massive girth – how real the bark looked! – and the layers of green on heavy boughs casting a deep, cool shade on the grass beneath. Beyond, peeping through, a glimpse of the old building, its mellow stone bathed in sunlight, soft and warm and luminous.

  Rebecca looked at the tiny figure of herself. It could have been a stranger. A girl in white, come out of the hot sun and the red dust of battle on the tennis court, to fling herself joyously down on the grass . . . spreadeagled there beneath the cedar tree . . . held still forever.

  Tomorrow Pippa would be on the train and it would be rushing along, faster and faster, saying goodbye Trebizon . . . goodbye . . . goodbye . . . over and over again.

  ‘I love Trebizon,’ Pippa had said to her, the day she finished the painting. ‘In fact, I’ve been very happy here. This is how I’ll always remember it. When I’ve gone.’

  One day, Rebecca realised, she’d be going on that train, too.

  She’d be only a memory, a small figure in a summer scene painted on canvas while Trebizon marched on.

  ‘And this is how I’ll always remember it, too,’ decided Rebecca. ‘When that day finally comes.’

  But the day was still far off. She had a long time to go at Trebizon yet.

  It was a happy thought.

  ONE

  End of Term

  ‘Please stop talking about the summer camp!’ Rebecca Mason said to her friends, the day before school broke up. ‘You know I can’t stay on for it!’

  It was the end of the summer term and their year in the Third at Trebizon was drawing to a close. In September, after the summer holidays, the six of them would be going up into the Fourth Year.

  As if missing the summer camp weren’t bad enough, Rebecca had other problems, too.

  Her friends had all picked their Fourth Year options and knew exactly what subjects they’d be doing for the next two years, in preparation for their GCSEs at the end of the Fifth.

  Rebecca still couldn’t make her mind up and secretly she felt a little bit resentful that her parents were always so far away. Most of the Third had been able to keep in close touch with home over this question of Fourth Year options. Her two best friends, Tish Anderson and Sue Murdoch, had got themselves all sorted out. Tish wanted to be a doctor, like her father, and he’d advised her what subjects to concentrate on. Sue had got in a muddle but then her mother had been down over the Commemoration weekend and talked to some of the staff.

  It was around then that Rebecca began to feel at a disadvantage, especially now Pippa had gone. The girl who’d just left the Upper Sixth would have given her so much good advice. But it was no good thinking about that.

  Even Robbie Anderson, who might have been some help, was away on a French exchange.

  Now term was almost over and Rebecca’s parents were due home for two months.

  Although she was longing to see them, that was a sore point, too. It was their fault she couldn’t stay on for the summer camp! And there was the business of the dig in Mulberry Cove, as well . . .

  Because they saw Rebecca so seldom her father and mother had planned these summer holidays in some detail, starting with a fortnight’s tour of Scotland as soon as school broke up.

  Rebecca’s five friends were all staying on at Trebizon to help with a children’s summer camp. Every single one of them was being allowed to stay on, even Mara Leonodis, whose father never used to allow her to do anything at all. For Rebecca, of course, it was out of the question. The holiday in Scotland had been planned for ages. She’d been excited about it until all these other things had come up. Now it was definitely marred.

  ‘Please don’t talk about it!’ she repeated.

  Lessons were over for the day and the six were on their way down to Trebizon Bay, cutting through the little wood at the back of Juniper House that led directly on to the sand dunes. It was here in the copse that the tents were going to be pitched on Friday.

  The school governors were lending the campsite to the Pegasus Trust, an organisation that ran holiday schemes for city children who wouldn’t otherwise have a holiday. Some were from very poor homes and others were in care. With a professional social worker in charge, all the voluntary help needed to run the camp and look after the children was being provided by the school. A lot of the Trebizon girls had volunteered, but there was only room for twenty. The five in Court House could hardly believe their luck when they were chosen.

  They’d just been planning what games to organise for the children when Rebecca shut them up. Although Rebecca was really only teasing them they were overcome with remorse.

  ‘Sorry!’ said Tish in dismay.

  ‘You know how much we’re going to miss you, Rebecca!’ wailed Elf – Sally Elphinstone.

  ‘It’s going to be rotten without you,’ added Sue.

  ‘Terrible!’ echoed Margot Lawrence.

  Mara said nothing. Although Rebecca was laughing by now the Greek girl knew better than anyone how she was feeling. Poor Rebecca!

  They passed through the little gate marked TREBIZON SCHOOL PRIVATE that led directly on to Trebizon Bay. Rebecca and Tish ran on ahead and scrambled up to the top of the nearest sand dune. The huge bay was spread out in front of them with its great reaches of golden sand. The tide was a long way out today. Some little sailing boats, flashes of white on the green sea, were disappearing round the headland and into Mulberry Cove.

  ‘When does Mrs Lazarus start her dig?’ Rebecca suddenly asked Tish.

  ‘Saturday, I think,’ replied Tish.

  ‘Do you think you’ll be able to go and help, like she asked?’

  ‘Only if we get any time off from the camp,’ said Tish shiftily, trying to be casual.

  ‘I think that sounds really interesting, I bet you’ll go,’ said Rebecca. ‘And it is her last chance, after all.’

  They’d all met Mrs Lottie Lazarus on the last Sunday in June. It had been Commemoration Day on the Saturday – a high point in Rebecca’s life – and the Sunday had been Old Girls’ day, when ex-Trebizonians of all ages descended. Sue’s mother had been amongst them. In fine drizzle Rebecca had played in a School vs Old Girls tennis match and School had been trounced. Afterwards, at Court House, they’d entertained to tea some old Trebizonians who were visiting their former boarding house, including an elderly, scholarly lady with twinkling blue eyes in a sun-bronzed face and a charismatic personality.

  Mrs Lazarus was easily the oldest ‘old girl’ Rebecca had ever met at Trebizon and she was fascinated by her. She’d been a leading expert in Latin literature all her life, but for the past two years had turned to archaeology, trying to prove a theory that no one really believed in. It was something
to do with pirates in Roman times and a hoard of newly-minted Roman coins buried in Mulberry Cove, less than a mile from her old school.

  ‘As soon as I read the text of the old poem, I knew it must be Mulberry Cove,’ she told Rebecca, who had just brought her some sugar for her tea. ‘I did no end of sailing round here at your age.’

  She then quoted some very obscure Latin verse at Rebecca in order to convince her. ‘You see!’ Rebecca didn’t see at all, but it sounded rather mysterious and exciting. She had seen a bulldozer in Mulberry Cove one day, shifting boulders. Apparently Mrs Lazarus had brought excavation parties down before.

  ‘We’re having our last dig next month, so I need plenty of extra help,’ said Mrs Lazarus, who had taken a liking to Rebecca on sight. ‘If you’re staying on for this camp you and your friends can come over sometimes. You see –’ she looked unhappy for a moment ‘– the people who gave me the grant are getting impatient.’

  ‘I–I’m not staying on,’ Rebecca had said, with real regret. ‘But I’m sure the others would like to help.’

  Now as she stood on the sand dunes with Tish, gazing in the direction of Mulberry Cove, she was reminded of all this. She looked so wistful that Tish suddenly couldn’t stand it any longer. She threw an arm round Rebecca’s shoulders.

  ‘I wish you could stay. Don’t you sometimes wish parents had never been invented?’

  When the telegram arrived, that was just what Rebecca wished.

  Rebecca put the summer camp out of her mind and on Thursday morning she packed her big trunk feeling happy and excited. Her parents’ plane was due in at Heathrow Airport at midday. They were hiring a car for the holidays and driving straight down to Trebizon to collect her. They’d all stop the night at a motel somewhere and by tomorrow night they’d be in the hilly Scottish borders!

  There they were going to spend the weekend in Langholm, a pretty border town on the River Esk, with Nanny MacDonald, Rebecca’s grandmother on her mother’s side. And it was Rebecca’s fourteenth birthday on Sunday! It would be wonderful to spend it with her parents and her Scottish Nan, who made delicious home-made baps and shortbread and Dundee cake. Rebecca’s mouth watered at the thought of it. After that they were going to tour the Scottish Highlands, before returning to Langholm for the colourful Common Ridings and then back to their little house in London for the rest of the holidays.

  Not that she’d be seeing a lot of London these holidays. She was booked to play in various tennis competitions during August and her parents would be taking her around to them. It would be interesting staying in different places.

  She packed her things carefully, taking a last look at the painting Pippa had given her before wrapping it up carefully and placing it between layers of clothes in her trunk. She liked it more every time she looked at it and had decided to give it to her parents. Perhaps they’d hang it up in their apartment in Saudi Arabia and the sight of Rebecca in her tennis clothes beneath the big green cedar tree would remind them of England.

  It was a hectic morning. All the beds in Court House were stripped and the rooms were being cleared out. The domestic staff was standing by ready to spring-clean the building from top to bottom. Rebecca and her friends and the other Third Years across the corridor were giving up their ground floor rooms and would be moving up to the first floor when they came back in September. Tish had gone out for a last training run because she was being taken to the County Sports after lunch and had set her heart on winning the 800 metres this year. But the other five rushed round saying their goodbyes and getting the school leavers’ signatures in their autograph books.

  The end of the summer term was always full of goodbyes. The Upper Sixth Formers were all leaving and had come back for end-of-term Assembly. Rebecca saw Pippa all too briefly and said goodbye to Della Thomas and Kate Hissup as well. There would be a new Senior Prefect and Head of Games in September.

  The six friends had done well enough in the summer exams to stay in the A stream and so were going up en bloc from III Alpha to IV Alpha. Rebecca and Sue went and thanked Miss Hort for putting up with them for a whole year.

  The III Alpha form mistress looked stern and mannish but she was great fun underneath. She wagged her finger at Rebecca, although her eyes were twinkling.

  ‘Now remember what I’ve told you, Rebecca, and think about doing physics. You’re good at chemistry and biology and your maths has shot up. I’m sure you’re going to be a science person in the end.’

  ‘But Miss Heath says I’m an arts person and should get on with some Latin now,’ protested Rebecca. ‘And they clash. I just don’t know what to think!’

  ‘Oh, yes, Latin,’ said Miss Hort. She didn’t look particularly approving. ‘Well, you must sort it out with your parents. You’re quite capable of doing either. Don’t forget they’re to write to Miss Welbeck in the holidays. Do you realise, Rebecca Mason, that you’re the only girl left who hasn’t sorted out her options?’

  Rebecca grumbled to Sue about it afterwards.

  ‘I wrote to my parents and they don’t know any better than I do. I don’t want to do physics – or Latin, either! I want to do home economics and scripture but they clash with chemistry and German and I like both of those. It’s horrible having to choose, especially when they keep saying how important it is!’

  ‘I know,’ said Sue, sympathetically. ‘It was a terrible headache fitting my GCSE music in. I’m just glad my mother came down for Commem.’

  ‘I’m longing to see Mum and Dad!’ Rebecca said suddenly.

  But when they got back to the boarding house, several girls came running out.

  ‘Mrs Barry’s been looking for you everywhere, Rebecca!’ shouted Aba Amori.

  ‘There’s been a telegram!’ said Anne Finch. ‘The postman came!’

  ‘We wondered what the post van was doing here again!’ added Jenny Brook-Hayes. They were all surrounding Rebecca. ‘He’s been once this morning.’

  Mrs Barrington, the House Mistress, looked out of a window.

  ‘Can you come round to my sitting room, Rebecca?’ she called.

  Sue walked round with her to the Barringtons’ front door at the side of the building. As the House Mistress opened the door Rebecca stiffened a little and Sue gave her arm a squeeze. ‘In you go, Rebeck. Hope everything’s all right.’

  Mrs Barrington led the way through to the sitting room, waving a telegram.

  ‘I’m afraid there’s quite an upset. I’ve just had an overseas phone call as well. Your mother’s been trying to contact me all morning. I’ve got all the instructions.’

  ‘Has the plane been delayed?’ Rebecca asked quickly.

  ‘Worse than that – sit down a minute, Rebecca – I’m afraid your parents can’t get back to England for another two weeks.’

  ‘Two weeks!’ exclaimed Rebecca in dismay. She subsided into a small armchair. ‘Why, what’s happened?’

  Gently Mrs Barrington explained that Mr and Mrs Mason were still in Saudi Arabia, having had the first part of their summer leave cancelled because of an emergency at a desert installation. Mr Mason was needed urgently to supervise repairs and Mrs Mason, who was a trained nurse and had been working for the company since January, was also needed because some men may have been injured.

  ‘Two weeks,’ repeated Rebecca glumly. No trip to Scotland, after all! No birthday with her parents! ‘Then, I – I’m to go to my grandma’s on the coach, I suppose?’

  Rebecca’s other grandmother, who lived in Gloucestershire, was her official guardian in England when her parents were out of the country.

  ‘No.’ Mrs Barrington consulted some notes she’d made on a pad. ‘You’re to leave your trunk here and your parents will collect it in a fortnight’s time, after they’ve collected you. You’re to go to Bath. I’ve got the address.’

  ‘Bath?’

  ‘Yes, to your Great Aunt Ivy. It’s an easy journey and it seems she’s your only relative down south who’s sure to be at home. She’s not on the phone but your
mother’s sent her a telegram and presumably she’s confirmed it because your mother says she’ll be expecting you tonight.’

  Rebecca’s spirits sank even further. Great Aunt Ivy! She was well-meaning but a terrible fusspot and rather deaf as well, so you had to speak in a kind of a shout all the time. She was Gran’s sister, but a lot older. Dully Rebecca remembered that it was round about now that Gran was going to visit her two sons in Canada, Uncle Bill and Uncle David, so obviously that was why she couldn’t go to Gloucestershire. At least she knew a few people up there. She didn’t know anyone in Bath. It would just be her and Great Aunt Ivy for a fortnight.

  ‘All right, Rebecca?’ asked Mrs Barrington, kindly. ‘I’ll sort out a good train for you this afternoon and give you the time of the connection.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Rebecca, trying to summon up a smile. ‘I’ll just pack a small case, then, and leave most of my stuff here in my trunk.’

  She felt like crying with disappointment. She also felt a kind of rage against her parents! Tish’s comment from the day before came back to her.

  Mrs Barrington drove her to the station some time after lunch.

  In Rebecca’s suitcase were several little packages in brightly coloured wrappings – birthday presents from the others, for her to open on Sunday. She wondered what kind of birthday she was going to have.

  Tish had gone off to the County Sports and Rebecca’s last glimpse of the other four was of them helping to unload the Pegasus camping equipment at the back of Juniper House. It had been sent on to the school by lorry in advance.

  It was kind of the House Mistress to take her to the train, because she and Mr Barrington were themselves about to dash away on holiday. She bought Rebecca’s ticket to Bath and put her on the right train. Rebecca thanked her.

  But as she settled into her seat and the train drew away from Trebizon station tears welled up and she ground her teeth with rage. Tish was right. Why had parents ever been invented?

  When she got to Great Aunt Ivy’s house in Bath that evening, it was even worse. She stood her suitcase on the doorstep and knocked and knocked. The sound echoed up and down the quiet street, but no one came to the front door. Rebecca was rather taken aback. She knew her great aunt was hard of hearing, but surely she was expecting her?