by Enid Blyton
Trying not to look too pleased at this, Millicent answered, ‘Of course.’
‘Well, you’re very talented,’ said Julie. ‘Anyone would think that it had been written by a real composer.’
The others laughed at this, and, much to their surprise, Millicent joined in. She quite understood what Julie meant, and she was pleased at the compliment, especially as she felt that most of the fifth formers didn’t really like her very much.
‘The whole piece took me simply ages, and it was so difficult that I almost gave up at times,’ Millicent said. ‘But once I had finished, and knew that I had created something worthwhile, it was worth all the hard work. Sometimes I think that I enjoy composing more than playing.’
Felicity looked at Millicent, and thought how different she was when she was talking honestly about something that she loved. Her face looked more open, and less intense, somehow, and her rather dramatic tone of voice was lighter.
‘Have you always been musical?’ she asked curiously.
‘Oh yes, for music is in my blood, you know,’ answered Millicent. ‘My mother was a concert pianist, and she taught me how to play the piano when I was quite small. I took to it at once, and it was obvious even then that I had a gift.’
Suddenly the girl gave a rather self-conscious laugh, and said, ‘That sounds awfully conceited, doesn’t it, but I truly don’t mean it to.’
‘I suppose that you were a musical genius from the moment you could walk, too, Gillian?’ said Susan.
‘I would hardly call myself a genius,’ said Gillian, with a grin. ‘I can’t play a variety of instruments, as Millicent can, and if someone asked me to compose a tune I wouldn’t know where to start. I do so love playing my violin though.’
That was the difference between the two girls, thought Felicity. As far as Millicent was concerned, music was the be all and end all. But she took it so very seriously that she didn’t seem to get a great deal of pleasure from it. Gillian, however, took great joy in her music, and this made her performances very special, for everyone listening felt her enthusiasm and shared in it.
Pam and Nora returned to school soon after the others had left the tea-table, and joined them in the common-room.
‘Hallo, everyone!’ called out Pam. ‘My word, we’ve had a super time. A spot of shopping, then a most marvellous tea.’
‘Gillian, I have your shoelaces here,’ said Nora, rummaging in her bag. ‘And the chocolate you asked for.’
‘And here is your book, Millicent,’ said Pam, handing the girl a notebook identical to the one she had mislaid.
‘Thanks,’ said Millicent. She looked round the room to see if Delia was there, and, seeing that she was absent, said, ‘I shan’t trust that idiot of a Delia to make notes in it though. I shall do it myself from now on.’
‘Oh, Delia’s not a bad sort,’ said Susan. ‘She means well.’
Julie and Lucy heard this, and exchanged glances.
‘I wonder what Susan would think if she knew that we had caught Delia looking in Millicent’s bag earlier,’ murmured Julie.
‘You’re not going to tell her, are you?’ whispered Lucy, looking rather alarmed. ‘I mean to say, we have no proof that Delia was doing anything wrong. It may have been just as she said, and she was merely fastening the bag up.’
‘I shan’t say anything to Susan, or anyone else, yet,’ said Julie. ‘But I shall be keeping an eye on Delia.’
Delia came into the common-room just then, and at once she spotted the notebook in Millicent’s hand. Of course, Delia wasn’t to know that it was a brand-new one, and she assumed that it was the one that contained her rhyme. Millicent slipped the book into the pocket of her school dress, and Delia’s mind began to race. If only there was a way of getting hold of it for a moment. It would only take a matter of seconds to find the page with her scribbled words on and tear it out.
Delia’s chance came at bedtime that evening. Millicent had changed into her pyjamas and, while she was in the bathroom brushing her teeth, Pam noticed that she had carelessly flung her dress on the bed.
‘I do hope that Millicent intends to hang her dress up,’ said Pam. ‘She’s awfully untidy, and it makes things unpleasant for the rest of us if we have to sleep in a messy room.’
‘I’ll hang it up for her,’ offered Delia, picking the dress up. As she smoothed it down, she could feel the notebook, still in the pocket, and her heart leapt. Delia was just about to slip her hand into the pocket, when she realised that Julie was watching her, an odd expression on her face.
Quickly, Delia moved her hand away, her face turning red, as she realised that she must look most suspicious.
‘Lucy!’ said Julie in a low voice. ‘Did you see that?’
But Lucy, who had been deep in conversation with Freddie, hadn’t seen a thing.
‘Well, Delia offered to hang Millicent’s dress up for her,’ explained Julie. ‘And she was just about to put her hand in the pocket, until she saw me watching her and stopped.’
‘Heavens!’ said Lucy, in dismay. ‘Her behaviour is awfully strange, I must say, but no one in the form has had anything stolen, so we can’t really tackle her about it. All that we can do is keep watching her.’
Delia had another opportunity to feel in the pocket of Millicent’s dress the following day, when the girl left her school dress lying on the bed again. This time she was alone in the dormitory, and she seized her chance. But, to Delia’s dismay, the book was no longer there. Millicent must have moved it elsewhere, for safe-keeping. How annoying! Perhaps it was in Millicent’s desk? As it was Sunday, there were no lessons that day, so Delia thought that it would be a perfect opportunity to slip into the classroom unnoticed, and take a peek.
But her luck was well and truly out, for she was caught in the act yet again – this time by Bonnie and Amy.
Cautiously, Delia lifted the lid and peered in, moving things very carefully and putting them back in exactly the same place, so that Millicent would not notice that someone had been in there. But there was no sign of the elusive notebook. Of course, Delia thought suddenly, there was a rehearsal later today, so Millicent was bound to have the notebook on her, probably in her bag. Which meant that she, Delia, had absolutely no chance of getting her hands on it until the rehearsal was over. She put the lid down, then gave a terrific start. For Amy and Bonnie had entered the classroom, and were giving her very strange looks indeed!
‘W-what are you doing here?’ she stammered.
‘I wanted a book from my desk,’ said Amy coldly. ‘And what exactly are you doing, Delia?’
‘I er – I thought I heard a knocking sound,’ she said to the two girls, her cheeks beginning to burn. ‘And it seemed to be coming from inside Millicent’s desk.’
‘Well, I can’t hear anything,’ said Bonnie, thinking Delia’s explanation very lame indeed. ‘Did you find anything in there?’
‘No, nothing at all,’ said Delia, with a nervous little laugh. ‘I daresay my ears were playing tricks on me.’
‘I daresay,’ said Amy, with a sniff. ‘But I must tell you, Delia, that it really isn’t the done thing to go poking around in another girl’s desk without her permission, you know.’
‘Yes, I realise that,’ said poor Delia, turning even redder. ‘Normally I wouldn’t think of doing such a thing. It’s just that…’
‘You thought you heard a knocking sound,’ Bonnie said, as Delia’s voice tailed off.
Bonnie and Amy exchanged meaningful glances. Neither of them believed Delia’s story for a moment, and thought that her manner had been very suspicious. And both of them would dearly have liked to know what she was really up to.
7
The term goes on
The orchestra’s rehearsal that afternoon went very well indeed. There were still odd mistakes, and the occasional wrong note, but on the whole the girls played beautifully. There was only one girl who wasn’t up to the standard of the others, and, strangely enough, that girl was Gillian.
&n
bsp; Although she had spent a great deal of time rehearsing her violin solo in one of the little music-rooms, she played badly, and without her usual passion.
But Millicent, for once, held her tongue and did not scold. She noticed that Gillian looked rather pale and tired, and guessed that the girl was finding it a strain attending both the frequent tennis practices and practising her music. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Gillian that she would have to choose between the two. But then, thought Millicent, the girl might choose tennis, and that would leave her without anyone to play the violin solo. No doubt one of the others could learn it, but Gillian was far and away the best violinist in the school, and Millicent didn’t want to lose her.
But her decision to let the girl off lightly did not go down well with the rest of the orchestra.
‘I was scolded for playing one wrong note,’ grumbled Anne. ‘And when poor Janet lost her place, I quite thought that Millicent was going to throw the baton at her!’
‘Yes, but she didn’t say a word to Gillian, and she played dreadfully,’ said Jessie from East Tower. ‘It’s out-and-out favouritism.’
Millicent, quite unaware of the ill-feeling brewing, rapped sharply on her music stand with her baton, and said, ‘Well, most of you played a little better today, but you are still not up to competition standard. Please spend as much time as you can practising your parts, particularly those of you with solos. I think that from now I shall hold two rehearsals a week, instead of one, otherwise we shall never be ready.’
There were groans at this, and some of the girls muttered under their breath.
‘I wish that I had never joined the beastly orchestra,’ said Janet, with a scowl. ‘I thought that it would be fun, but this is too much like hard work.’
‘It wouldn’t be so bad if we got a word of praise now and again,’ said Jessie. ‘Millicent should take a leaf out of June’s book. June works her tennis players hard, but she encourages them with plenty of praise, and knows how to get the best out of them.’
June certainly did. Helped by Felicity and Susan, she was coaching some of the first and second formers that afternoon, and it was clear that the youngsters simply adored her.
‘Becoming games captain has really brought out a softer side in June,’ said Felicity, watching with approval as the girl sat on the grass talking to some of the younger girls.
‘I was a little afraid that the power might go to her head,’ said Susan. ‘But it hasn’t at all, I’m pleased to say.’
Just then, June got up and came over to the two girls, and said, ‘I think it’s time that we decided who to put into the lower-school team.’
‘Young Hannah must certainly play,’ said Felicity. ‘She has worked so hard, and come on in leaps and bounds.’
‘I agree,’ said June. ‘So has little Christine. She and Dorothy play very well together, so I think that we should pick them for the doubles.’
‘Barbara and Kathleen of the first form are very good too,’ put in Susan. ‘Perhaps we could choose one of them to play singles, and the other as reserve.’
So it was agreed that Kathleen would be in the team and Barbara would be reserve, and the fifth formers went across to the younger girls to give them the news.
There were whoops and yells from those who had been chosen, while the others cheered and clapped them on the back. Some of those who hadn’t got a place on the team looked disappointed, but June noticed this and said, ‘Just because you haven’t been chosen this time doesn’t mean that you will never play for the team. You have all tried your best and I feel very proud of you, and want you to keep up your practice. Don’t forget that I shall be arranging some exhibition matches for half-term, and I shall need some good players for those.’
This cheered the disappointed girls enormously. Being chosen for the half-term matches wasn’t quite as good as playing for the school, but a tremendous honour, all the same.
The fifth formers bumped into Gillian, who had just come out of rehearsal, as they went back into the school, but the girl seemed quite preoccupied and barely noticed them, until Susan said, ‘What’s up, Gillian? Have you sent us all to Coventry, or something?’
Gillian blinked, then said, ‘Awfully sorry, Susan. I didn’t mean to ignore you, but I was in a world of my own.’
‘Are you quite all right?’ said Felicity, noticing how pale and strained the girl looked.
‘Of course,’ said Gillian, pinning a bright smile to her face. ‘Just a little tired, that’s all. I didn’t sleep very well last night, but I’m sure that I’ll make up for it tonight, and I shall be as right as rain tomorrow.’
‘Why don’t you go for a walk outside?’ suggested June. ‘That will blow the cobwebs away. It’s a glorious day, and if you get some fresh air that will help you to sleep well tonight.’
‘Later, perhaps,’ said Gillian. ‘I must go and practise my solo first, for I do so want it to be perfect.’
‘She is doing far too much, and tiring herself out,’ said Felicity, as the girl walked away. ‘If she carries on like this, June, she won’t be fit to play tennis or be part of the orchestra.’
‘Well, it was her own decision to do both,’ said June. ‘I would be more than happy if she decided to leave the orchestra and concentrate on her tennis.’
But Felicity was far from happy, and she sought out Pam, the calm, sensible head of the form. Pam listened to what Felicity had to say, an unusually serious expression on her face, and, at last, she said, ‘I’m going to tackle Gillian about this business. Her health and her work are both going to suffer if she carries on as she is.’
‘Well, you will probably find her in one of the music-rooms,’ said Felicity. ‘She seems to spend most of her time in there, or on the tennis-courts.’
So Pam went off to find Gillian, and soon heard the sound of a violin coming from one of the rooms. But surely that couldn’t be Gillian, for the player seemed uncertain and hesitant, with many wrong notes coming from the instrument! Quietly, Pam pushed open the door, and, much to her surprise, discovered that the violinist was Gillian. She hadn’t heard Pam come in, and there was a frown of intense concentration on her face as she scraped the bow across the strings. Pam, watching her, thought how different she looked from the joyous, music-loving girl who had played for them in the common-room. Now Gillian looked as if she was undertaking a rather unpleasant chore.
Pam gave a little cough and stepped into the room.
Gillian immediately looked up, her bow becoming still, and said, ‘Hallo, Pam. Did you want me? Only I’m rather busy, you see, for I simply must practise this solo.’
‘I’d like to talk to you, Gillian,’ said Pam, the serious expression on her face so different from her usual calm, serene one that Gillian felt quite alarmed.
‘I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?’ asked Gillian, rather anxiously.
‘No, you haven’t done anything wrong,’ answered Pam, coming further into the room. ‘But I am very worried about you, and so are some of the others.’
‘Really?’ said Gillian, looking most astonished. ‘Well, I don’t know why you should be, Pam.’
‘The thing is, Gillian, that we feel you are overdoing things a bit, what with all your tennis practice and the orchestra rehearsals,’ said Pam. ‘You look awfully tired, and when I watched you playing just then, it seemed to me that you weren’t enjoying it at all.’
‘Nonsense, Pam!’ said Gillian, giving a little laugh, which, to Pam’s ears, sounded rather strained. ‘I adore both music and tennis, so by choosing to play in the team and the orchestra, I really am having the best of both worlds. If I looked a little tense when I was playing, it’s because this violin solo is awfully difficult.’
‘Perhaps you are finding it difficult because you’re exhausted,’ suggested Pam.
‘I am a little tired,’ admitted Gillian.
‘Well, for goodness’ sake, forget about both your music and your tennis for a bit and just relax, and read a book or something.’
Gillian really didn’t want to do this, for she was determined to master her solo before the next rehearsal, and couldn’t afford to waste any time. But she liked the kind-hearted Pam, and could see that the girl genuinely had her best interests at heart. Besides, thought Gillian, if she went against Pam now, and insisted on carrying on with her practice, the head-girl would worry about her even more and keep a close watch on her, and perhaps even talk June or Millicent into dropping her. That would never do, for although Gillian really was finding it far more of a strain than she had anticipated to fit in both tennis and music, she was determined to stick to her word. So she smiled at Pam, began to put her violin in her case, and said, ‘Perhaps you’re right, and I do need a break. I’ll go and sit in the sun and read my book for a while.’
So Pam went off, happy that she had talked some sense into Gillian. The head-girl wasn’t to know that Gillian only stayed outside for about ten minutes, then, as soon as she was sure that the coast was clear, sneaked back up to the music-room to play her violin once more!
The other new girl, Delia, was at a bit of a loose end, meanwhile, and rather bored. She was still quite desperate to get her hands on Millicent’s notebook, but the girl had it with her in the common-room and was writing something down in it. Delia had sat and watched her for a while, hoping that Millicent might go away and leave it lying around. Then she, Delia, would be able to whip out that silly rhyme she had written and destroy it, before Millicent had the chance to ridicule her.
But Millicent did not move, continuing to scribble away in the notebook, and soon she realised that Delia was watching her and became exasperated.
‘Why do you keep staring at me all the time?’ she snapped. ‘It’s most annoying. Don’t you have anything better to do?’
Delia didn’t answer, for the truth was that she didn’t have anything to do. She liked the fifth formers, and most of them seemed to like her, but Delia had no particular friend of her own, so she tended to get a little left out sometimes. Millicent and Gillian didn’t have special friends either, but both of them had interests and activities to occupy their time, where poor Delia had nothing.
