Magic at Silver Spires

by Ann Bryant

  Then Bryony appeared. “Actually Miss Stevenson’s sent us in now, Ems, ’cos she’s going to lock up soon. So we’re going to the common room. Hurry up, you two.”

  “Come on, Antonia,” said Nicole, grabbing my bag as well as her own and slinging them both over her shoulder.

  Nicole held open the door and I walked into the common room. It was the first time I’d been in there since I got back from hospital, and immediately I felt like a celebrity, because loads of people came rushing over and asked if they could sign my cast. So far only the girls from my dorm and a few other Year Sevens from Forest Ash had signed it, but these were older girls – Year Eights and Nines. I lay down on the sofa with my leg up and let them sign away.

  “Don’t press on it too hard,” said Nicole, looking anxious. “It would be terrible if anything happened to Antonia’s leg. The bone’s been realigned, you know.”

  It was sweet the way she was being so protective. And I was glad she’d said something, because it would be absolutely terrible if anything else happened to my leg. Papà would – what’s the expression Bryony sometimes uses? – yes, he’d blow a fuse if anything went wrong with my recuperation while I was at Silver Spires. He’d probably change his mind about the Italian evening and change the train booking so we would have to go home immediately. I hated having thoughts like this and I pushed them away so I couldn’t sink into sadness again, as I watched my cast filling up with messages.

  Some girls just wrote things like Get well soon! But others had written funny messages, and a Year Ten called Tabitha, who’s really good at art, drew a picture of me on crutches. I don’t know how she managed to make it look so realistic.

  “Right, that’s enough for today!” said Nicole, putting her hands up and nodding her head firmly.

  “Yes, because we haven’t done the dance yet,” said Izzy.

  “What dance?” asked Tabitha.

  “One that Antonia taught us before she came off her bike,” Emily explained. “We’re going to do it at the Italian evening. It’s called the Chin Chirie song.”

  “Cincirinella!” chorused the rest of us.

  “Actually the Chin Chirie song sounds much better!” laughed Tabitha’s friend, Sarah. “Come on then, show us how it goes. Then we can all do it at the Italian evening.”

  So I sat down in a chair and showed them the arm movements, while Nicole stood in front of me and did the skips and turns, and we all sang the song at the same time. “Brilliant!” I said, clapping my hands together like a little child.

  “Year Sevens, time to get ready for bed!” came Matron’s bird voice. (That’s what I call it, anyway, because Matron always sounds as though she’s singing when she talks – all bright and bubbly. I think the word that Nicole uses is “chirping” or “chirruping”.)

  We didn’t really feel like going up to bed because we were having such a good time, but as we left the common room Izzy said, “Let’s get ready really quickly, then we can carry on in the dorm.”

  As it happened, though, we didn’t have time, because with my bad hand as well as my leg, everything takes me so long to do. Cleaning my teeth is awkward and so is washing my face – well, washing any single bit of me actually.

  I was the last one back to the dorm from the bathroom and as I slowly pushed open the door I heard a loud, “Shh, Emily!” and noticed that everyone was suddenly silent and Nicole had gone a bit red.

  “Were you talking about me?” I asked, instantly feeling a bit upset.

  It was Sasha who answered. “Yes, but nothing…much.”

  “What, though?” I couldn’t help my curiosity when they all seemed to be acting rather mysteriously.

  “We can’t tell you. It’s a secret,” blurted out Nicole.

  I felt my stomach do a backflip. I wasn’t used to my friends having secrets from me. It was obvious it must be something about me leaving, but I couldn’t work out what.

  “You’ll see,” said Nicole, putting her arm round me a bit awkwardly as I propped my crutches against my chair.

  I nodded to show that I was fine with the secret, even though I still felt a bit shaky inside, and then I went over to the bed that I’d been given. It was going to feel very odd sleeping in an ordinary bed on the floor when I was used to our lovely cabin beds that all the Year Seven dorms have at Silver Spires, but it was true I’d find it too difficult to climb up the ladder to my usual bed.

  “You look funny down there, Toni!” said Emily, looking at me from her own bed.

  “You look funny up there!” I replied, which made everyone laugh for some reason. I pretended I found it funny too, but inside I felt that heavy weight of sadness pulling me down again.

  “Right, give me your phones,” said Izzy.

  In our dorm we’ve made a little rota for handing in our mobiles to Matron each night, and this week it was Izzy’s turn. As I pulled my duvet over my plastered leg and watched her go off with the six phones, I was taken back to that time in the hospital when my leg was throbbing and I couldn’t even talk to Nicole because she would have handed her mobile in.

  For a moment I felt as though I’d been standing in shallow seawater with a boiling hot sun beating down on me and now a lovely wave of relief was flooding over me that I was back here in the dorm with my friends. But a second later it was as though the sun had gone behind a dark cloud and I was standing there shivering and alone. How was I going to feel back home in Italy, night after night, without Nicole and the others and this life I’ve come to love so much? I’d have my family of course, but would there always be a part of me looking back sadly to my short happy time at a very special English boarding school?

  After tonight there were only four more nights to go. I looked across at Nicole. She was lying perfectly still staring up at the ceiling. I wondered if she was having the same thoughts as me. And that made me so sad, I doubted I’d ever get to sleep.

  By the end of morning lessons on Wednesday I was exhausted. It’s impossible to explain what it’s like going round on crutches from lesson to lesson. Stairs are the hardest thing to manage and I kept on wishing I could go faster, because I was holding Nicole and the others back. They were totally kind and understanding, carrying stuff for me all the time and holding open doors and everything, but still it wasn’t easy. And the other problem was my hand. I had to hold the crutch on my right-hand side really carefully to make sure I wasn’t putting too much pressure on my hand and hurting it. So I was always stopping to adjust my grip, which was annoying.

  At lunchtime Sasha took my crutches to stand them in the corner of the dining hall once I was safely sitting on the bench. Then Nicole brought me my main course, and Emily poured out my water to save me lifting the jug with my bandaged hand. Izzy took my main course plate away and brought me dessert, and Nicole finally cleared that away again, while Bryony went to get my crutches.

  “I bet it will be a relief when I’ve gone and you don’t all have to wait on me any more,” I said, as Nicole pulled out the bench so I could swing my leg over to get out.

  Emily laughed and said, “Don’t be silly, Your Majesty, we love waiting on you,” which made the others laugh too. But I noticed Nicole was looking down, and that gave me another jab of sadness, though it was my own fault for saying what I said. I just wasn’t thinking.

  “Let’s go and get on with our masks,” said Sasha, looking anxiously at Nicole. “Mine’s nearly done, Antonia. Izzy and I did loads on Monday lunchtime.”

  It seemed to take ages to get to the art block, even though I was swinging myself along as fast as possible and really trying to be speedy on the stairs. Quite a few other Forest Ash girls passed us on the way, because everyone was keen to get their masks done now Saturday was drawing so near.

  I could feel myself actually sweating by the time I was sitting down at the art table. I wished I could stand up and dart around or reach out to get the paint and things I needed like the others were doing, but it was impossible with my leg out of action and my hand on
ly half working. So I had to just sit there while Nicole waited on me again.

  After a while, though, I really got into painting the last tiny bit of my mask and only spilled one splodge of purple on my bandage. Then I pushed the elastic through the holes I’d made in the sides of the mask, and Nicole knotted it for me, because it was too fiddly for my bandaged hand. She did her own too and we proudly showed each other our finished products.

  Izzy and Sasha tried not to look but they couldn’t help themselves, so in the end we all showed each other our masks, although we tried to keep them hidden from the other Forest Ashers who were in the room. Emily’s mask still wasn’t finished, because it was so big and she was painting it to look like a massive butterfly. Personally, I liked hers the best.

  “My mum told me that she’d heard on the news that British butterflies were in danger of becoming extinct,” she explained, “so I thought I’d make one that would last for ever!”

  Bryony had her camera with her because she seemed to take it around with her all the time nowadays, and she took a close-up of Emily’s mask and then decided to photograph all the masks. Mr. Cary came in when she was doing that and as usual he insisted that we cleared up thoroughly before the bell went.

  “Oh, I meant to ask you,” he said, turning to Nicole, “how have you been getting on with—”

  “Shhh!” came the voices of my five friends in one big wave.

  “Whoops, sorry!” said Mr. Cary, looking a bit embarrassed as he glanced at me.

  “Just ignore Mr. Cary!” said Emily.

  “Absolutely! Just ignore me!” Mr. Cary laughed. “After all, I’m only the art teacher!”

  “I don’t understand,” I said quietly, feeling that same awful feeling that I’d had in the dorm last night, as though my friends were already getting ready for the time when I wouldn’t be there any more.

  “You’ll see on Saturday,” said Nicole.

  “Yes, and you’ll like it, don’t worry,” added Emily. “It was my idea, by the way.”

  I smiled at her, not feeling so alone any more.

  “But if you don’t like it,” she added, “it was Bryony’s idea!”

  Bryony just rolled her eyes.

  Good old Emily. It’s hard not to be happy when she’s around.

  It was PE in the afternoon and I just had to sit and watch, which was boring. Stupidly, I’d forgotten to put something to read in my bag, so I played a few games on my mobile and then Mrs. Truman said it was okay for me to go back to Forest Ash, otherwise I’d catch cold just watching. She checked I was all right to go in on my own and I assured her I was.

  On the way my mobile vibrated, and surprisingly it was Papà. I stopped still and leaned on one crutch while I spoke to him.

  “Mamma’s just reminded me that you might be back in lessons, Toni!” he said. “But you’re answering the phone so it must still be your lunch break. How are you managing?”

  “It’s PE at the moment so I’m…” I was about to say “I’m a bit bored”, but I know what Papà’s like and I didn’t want him coming over from the hotel to collect me or anything like that, so I had to think quickly. “…I’m in the library reading.”

  “Poor old Toni! I bet you’ll be glad when you can lead a normal life again.”

  Instead of answering, I asked Papà what he and Mamma had been doing.

  “We’re actually in London at the moment in a French restaurant, having coffee at the end of a delicious meal.”

  So I needn’t have worried about him coming to collect me after all.

  “I bet the food wasn’t as good as your cooking!”

  Papà laughed, but the laughter seemed to dry up very quickly. “Antonia…” My stomach turned over as a memory of the last time he’d called me by my full name flew into my mind. This was something serious. Surely he couldn’t have changed his mind about the Italian evening. I swallowed and waited. “…I need to come to school tomorrow to tie up some paperwork with the school office, and I wanted to check you have started to pack. Mamma and I have made a list of things we must remember, like your bike…”

  Mamma had told me when they’d dropped me off the afternoon before that she didn’t want me to leave my packing until the last minute, and now it looked as though Papà was coming to check up on me. The trouble was, I hadn’t even started yet, because even the thought of packing made me feel like crying.

  “I…I won’t forget anything…”

  “All right. I’ll see you later. I will take the chance to look at the cooking facilities while I’m there.”

  I felt much happier talking about cooking than packing. “I think you’ll like the kitchen, Papà. And everyone is really looking forward to tasting your food!”

  “And how are you managing with your crutches and the bandage on your hand?”

  I looked down at the bandage. It had pink on it again because I’d knocked my hand earlier on, but it was only a gentle knock, thank goodness. “My hand’s fine, and I’m getting really fast on my crutches.”

  Papà chuckled. “Well done!” Then I heard Mamma’s voice in the background and knew she’d be wanting to talk to me.

  “Hello, cara,” she said in a bright voice when Papà handed her the phone. “Are you getting excited about Saturday evening?”

  Was I? I wasn’t sure that excited was quite the right word.

  “Yes…it’ll be great.”

  We talked a bit about London and then Mamma said she’d better let me go.

  “Papà will see you tomorrow then, cara,” were her last words before we rang off.

  Tomorrow. Another day closer to my last day at Silver Spires.

  I shivered.

  Chapter Seven

  After lunch on Thursday, Emily, Bryony, Sasha and Izzy went off excitedly to the art room again, even though they’d actually finished their masks completely, so I wasn’t sure what was going on. Nicole and I went to Forest Ash to practise our play with Matron.

  “Buon giorno, Signorina!” she said, when we appeared at the door to her room. “Andiamo in la sala common.”

  I had to laugh. She’d used a mixture of English and Italian-with-a-totally-over-the-top-accent to say, “Hello, Miss. Let’s go to the common room.”

  Actually it’s difficult to translate Signorina properly, because in England you don’t really use the word “Miss” very much, but in Italy it’s quite usual to say “Signorina”. I like the way languages are all so different. I think I’d be interested in doing something connected with languages for a career when I’m older.

  As I had that thought I also had another thought – a much more important one, and I couldn’t resist telling Nicole straight away. I didn’t really mind that Matron was listening too, because she’s so lovely and friendly and not like a proper teacher, or even like Mrs. Pridham or Miss Stevenson. She reminds me a bit of a younger version of Nonna, my grandmother, in fact.

  “I’ve just had a great idea, Nicole!”

  “Wow! It must be good, you look so happy about it!” said Nicole. “I hope you’re not planning on changing the play, because I know my part now and I’d never be able to learn any more lines.”

  “Neanch’io!” said Matron. Then she burst into her little-bird laughter. “Did I get that right, Antonia? That means ‘Me neither’, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, it does!”

  “You’re getting so good at Italian, Matron!” said Nicole.

  “I know, but…” Matron’s smiling face dropped as her sentence faded away. I guessed she was about to say, But how am I going to manage when you’ve left? Or something like that.

  “Let me tell you my idea,” I quickly said. “I love languages so much that I’m going to tell Papà that my biggest ambition is to be an interpreter, and for that job you need the best, best English, so he can’t make me leave Silver Spires!”

  Nicole was frowning thoughtfully. “It might work,” she said slowly.

  But Matron looked doubtful.

  We hardly ever call Matro
n by her real name. But somehow I wanted to at the moment. “What do you think, Miss Callow?”

  She pursed her lips and looked up at the ceiling as though she was trying to find the answer to my question up there. “It’s worth a try, dear.” She sighed, then repeated the words in a thin voice. “It’s worth a try.”

  “But your dad would take more notice if he heard it from a teacher, wouldn’t he?” said Nicole. “What about Mrs. Stockton? She could tell him how brilliant you are at English.”

  “That’s a great idea, Nicole. I could ask Mrs. Stockton if she’d mind having a word with Papà…as long as she really does think I’m good at English.”

  “Course she does. And we’ve got English just before morning break tomorrow, haven’t we? You could talk to her at the end of the lesson.”

  “Right, that’s settled then,” said Matron. I could tell she was trying to go back to her usual chirrupy self, but her voice had lost its bubbles. And it was no wonder. She was probably thinking that my great idea was stupid. Even if I did talk to Mrs. Stockton and even if she did then talk to my dad, he wouldn’t suddenly completely change everything just because of one conversation, would he? I don’t think anyone’s mum or dad would do that, but especially not my dad.

  We practised the play for about half an hour. I was playing the part of a receptionist, so it was okay for me to sit down nearly the whole way through, thank goodness.

  When it was time for me and Nicole to go off to afternoon lessons, I thought Matron looked a bit sad again, but then she caught me looking at her and immediately smiled. “I’m just thinking, Antonia,” she said, “you know there are always summer school courses here at Silver Spires. If you and Nicole came along to one of those, you’d get a whole three weeks together.”

  I liked that thought in one way. But in another way it was a bit depressing.

  “Matron obviously doesn’t think it’s going to do any good asking Mrs. Stockton to talk to my dad,” I said to Nicole as we got to the bottom of the stairs, “or she wouldn’t have mentioned summer school.”