by Anne Digby
'The fur is flying!' said Amanda Hancock, passing by.
'Maggie Exton walked straight into that,' said Moyra Milton.
Tish is in good form, thought Rebecca. She's taking Robbie's behaviour right in her stride.
In the kitchen that evening, with the rest of the six there, Tish said lightly:
'My brother's a big fool, that's all.'
'Oh Tish,' protested Sue, 'he's not that bad. He's never acted up like that before . . .'
'He's never been in love before,' grumbled Tish. 'Here, give us some more cake!'
They all clamoured. 'Your diet, Elf!' Sue sighed, pushing one of the hands away, but then she relented. 'Oh, all right then! . . . Here, Rebecca, you've left some of your icing behind.'
'The trouble is,' Tish went on, 'it's embarrassing having V. Slade in our house. It's going to be awful with Robbie hanging round here at weekends. Lovesick. Mean, moody –'
'And not a bit magnificent?' joked Sue.
'Exactly,' smiled Tish. Then she groaned. 'It's not funny. Why couldn't he have fallen for someone in Sterndale or Tavistock or – or –'
'Australia?' asked Rebecca.
'Perhaps he'll go off her soon?' suggested Elf helpfully.
'Not a hope,' said Tish, through a mouthful of cake.
'Well, then, maybe she'll go off him,' suggested Margot.
'That's more like it,' agreed Tish.
'Oh, poor Robbie!' said Mara suddenly. Her dark eyes were full of sympathy. 'That would be so sad for him.'
Tish just shrugged.
Next morning the big Assembly Hall swelled to the sound of four hundred girls singing the First Day hymn. Afterwards Miss Madeleine Welbeck, the principal, read out the notices from the platform. Rebecca and her friends were annoyed that Lady Edwina Burton had been made a prefect, but otherwise they approved.
Della Thomas had been elected Senior Prefect and Kate Hissup had stepped straight into her elder sister's shoes and would be Senior Head of Games. Pippa Fellowes-Walker, Rebecca's favourite prefect, was to be the new editor of The Trebizon Journal, but that had already been decided before Audrey Maxwell left in the summer.
A new school year had begun. Everybody had moved one rung up the ladder – except for poor Amanda Hancock who was staying down in the Fifth Year to retake all her GCSEs. Rebecca & Co. were Third Years now.
All the form rooms were in old school. Although III Alpha's room was not as quaint as II Alpha's, which had been stuck almost in the rafters of the former manor house, it was very agreeable nevertheless and there were less stairs to climb. Their form mistress was Miss Hort, who was the middle school maths teacher. She was slightly mannish and very strict in the classroom but the girls who lived in Sterndale, where she was housemistress, said she had a great sense of humour and was just like a father to them.
Hockey trials took place and caused a lot of excitement. Third Year girls rarely got into senior teams, but Tish made the second eleven – and Joss leap-frogged straight into the first eleven, which was a record. She was also, of course, made Third Year head of games. Rebecca opted out of the trials and so did Sue. Sue's music was taking up more and more of her time. But she promised to play tennis with Rebecca sometimes – she was a good player, but had never been wholehearted about it.
Helena King, who was in Form III Beta and Norris House, was elected Magazine Officer and would thus decide all Third Year contributions for the school magazine. The six had wanted to elect Jenny Brook-Hayes again but they knew she was dying to get something into The Trebizon Journal herself and that she would be disqualified if she were Magazine Officer.
For Rebecca the most exciting part of the first ten days of term was playing singles on the staff tennis court. She couldn't beat Joss, of course, although it was exhilarating to play at such a pace. But she beat Sue both times they played and – to her own astonishment – she once beat Pippa Fellowes-Walker, who only last term had given up many hours to coaching her and nursing her along.
'You have come on!' exclaimed the Upper Sixth girl. 'Rebecca, you are going to leave me far behind.'
Rebecca looked forward to Exonford on the nineteenth, with a mixture of dread and high excitement.
Tish's fears that Robbie would come and hang round Court House were unfounded. The danger had apparently been nipped in the bud – by Virginia.
It was her GCSE year and it was common knowledge that she was going to have to work fantastically hard to pass.
'I've made a resolution, Robbie,' she told him, when he rang through to the coin box phone in Court House on the first Friday. Elf had the kitchen door open at the time and heard every word. 'I'm not going anywhere or doing anything on Saturdays, not even with you! I'll see you Sundays when I come over home. No, of course I haven't forgotten about the dance, that's months away, don't keep asking me! I'll be over tomorrow . . . Why don't you do some work then? You've got exams, too, bad boy . . . See you around tomorrow, then.'
These were golden September days for the friends. Miss Willis had decided that in view of the good weather sea-bathing and surfing could carry on. The first weekend Sue's brothers, David and Edward, came over on both afternoons from Garth College with a friend called Michael. They all had great fun surf-riding.
'Let's hope this weather holds, Rebecca!' said Harry, the school's lifeguard, on Sunday evening as he was waiting to lock up the white hut on the beach where the Malibu boards were kept.
'Let's hope so!' exclaimed Rebecca, gazing out to the breaker line. Margot was coming in, last of all, astride her rushing Malibu board in a cloud of spray, the salt water droplets shining on her black skin.
The vast beach was nearly empty now and the sun was going down over the sea, so that the water gleamed orange and silver. Rebecca could see a little fishing boat, a long way out. She suddenly thought of Robbie. He hadn't come anywhere near Trebizon, this weekend! It must be to do with that phone call Elf had overheard. If he couldn't see Virginia Slade he didn't want to see anyone. He was keeping his distance.
Rebecca didn't know whether to be sorry or pleased.
FIVE
INVITATIONS TO THE DANCE
She badly wanted to know what her prospects were at tennis. She imagined that the truth would come in a blinding flash, when she started the training sessions at Exonford . . . that she'd play plenty of hard tennis against the others in the squad. They'd been hand-picked, from all over the county – so she'd soon get to know whether she were any good or not!
That's what Rebecca thought but she was wrong.
Actually letting them play tennis was the last thing that David Driscoll had in mind. There were indoor tennis courts in the magnificent new sports centre at Exonford, as well as a gymnasium and a special practice wall with a mock tennis net. There were also some outdoor courts that they could use if the weather were fine. Each training session lasted for three hours. They spent one hour in the gymnasium, one hour at the practice wall and then – if they were lucky – the last hour on the courts. But even then they didn't play a proper game of tennis. They went through a gruelling form of training called 'Threes'.
A lot of the time in the gym the first day was spent on 'drill' – it was rather like being in an army squad – going through the basics, over and over again.
'One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five.'
'One . . . take up your stance, feet correct. Two . . . backswing. Three . . . swing to make impact. Four . . . angle your racket head to create spin. Five . . . follow through!'
They drilled for the forehand, the backhand, the smash and the volley. There was a special drill for the service and they learnt that, too. They went through these drills, nonstop, standing in a line, tennis rackets in hand, not a tennis ball in sight. David Driscoll would shout out when anybody did anything wrong.
'Do this at home, too!' ordered the young coach. 'These are your fundamental strokes. They've got to be grooved right into your subconscious mind, with constant repetition. You've got to be able to produce t
hem automatically, when you're on court, without ever having to stop and think!'
Next they moved on to the special practice wall. They repeated each stroke, and the drill that went with it, many times – using balls now. Again they worked in a long line and this time David Driscoll moved from pupil to pupil, correcting little faults as he went. 'Don't bend your arm, Rebecca –' 'John, your left foot's trailing.' 'Victoria, you haven't got your weight behind the ball, turn your shoulder!'
Finally they worked for an hour on the actual tennis courts. There were nine of them including the coach and they worked three to a court. Each pupil, for twenty minutes, had to face a barrage of shots from the other two, who were allowed to use the full width of the court. Retrieving ball after ball without pause (in fact doing the work of two players) was exhausting and hard, especially when David Driscoll was hitting. He changed in and out of each trio at regular intervals to speed up the pace. When Rebecca's turn came she almost ran herself into the ground, trying to get to every shot. 'Threes' was a very tough form of training.
But Rebecca knew that it was doing her tennis good. She knew it, as she showered afterwards, from the sense of achievement and the way her body ached.
All the members of the squad were beginning to realize something. There was much more to tennis than they'd ever imagined. If they were hoping to make good, it would be a long, hard road and they were only at the beginning of it.
'Some of you won't stick it,' David Driscoll told them calmly afterwards. They were sitting down to tea in the cafeteria at the sports centre. 'By Christmas some of you will have dropped out. But some of you will be ready to go on to the "D" squad. Just one or two.'
Rebecca's heart seemed to lurch inside her. Early on in the session, she'd realized something. They'd all played with David in a tournament, at least once. She wasn't the only one. In fact, because she'd been up in London, she'd been the last on his list.
She didn't know how she compared with the others in the squad – but David Driscoll did. He'd made it his business to get to know each one of them.
So the conversation they had later, when she was leaving to get the train back to Trebizon, gave her grounds for cautious optimism.
'I'm not going to be one of the ones who won't stick it out!' she informed him.
'I should hope not, Rebecca,' he replied. Then – 'You have one big asset for someone who wants to be a tennis player. You can run.'
The training sessions took place once a fortnight. In between Rebecca was expected to stick to a rigid programme of daily practice and she did so. The second session took place on October 3rd and David spent quite a lot of time on Rebecca's service. Afterwards, when she was leaving for her train again, he said casually:
'I came up by train today. Decided to leave my moped at home. If you can wait five minutes, we can travel back together.'
Rebecca was surprised. David Driscoll and his moped were usually inseparable.
Walking to the station together and then on the train, he opened out. It was strange to see him so talkative.
'This coaching doesn't give me enough to live on, I have to live off my mother. I haven't been able to get a job.' He seemed rather excited as he spoke. 'But a good job's come up at last! I'm on the short-list.'
'Oh, how nice,' said Rebecca, politely. It was embarrassing that someone so mature was suddenly confiding in her. 'What sort of job is it?'
'It's in work study!' he said. 'Based in London!' He looked quite animated. 'You have to spend a lot of time visiting factories. If I get it, I'll need a driving licence – I'm taking my test. I'd start after Christmas.' He looked regretful, just for a moment. 'Of course, I'd have to give up the coaching – but they'll easily get someone else for that.'
'I – I'm pleased for you,' Rebecca said awkwardly. 'I hope you get it.'
They parted company at Trebizon station, where Miss Willis was waiting with the school minibus to pick up Rebecca and three Sixth Formers who'd been to the Archaeological Museum in Exonford.
At the next session, around the middle of October, David Driscoll had once again left his moped behind. Once more Rebecca travelled back with him on the train. She was hoping she might seize the chance to ask him about her tennis – for she alternated between hope and despair – but he had other things on his mind.
'I got the job!' he exclaimed. 'I'll be giving up at Christmas. And I've passed my driving test.'
'Well, that's just – just terrific,' Rebecca said courteously. He seemed elated.
'If you knew how many jobs I've been after –! It's all right for these public school types, with all the right contacts, everything made easy –'
Rebecca looked startled.
'I don't mean you, Rebecca! You're ordinary somehow, just like me. I like you.'
Rebecca felt uncomfortable but he just carried straight on.
'Take the lot at Garth College. That boy Anderson's a prize example.' He suddenly smiled to himself, at some private joke, then checked the smile. 'Spoiled, half of them, born with a silver spoon –'
'Robbie Anderson's not like that!' exclaimed Rebecca. 'He works every holiday –'
'Oh, just for fun, I expect. He doesn't really need the money. But, okay, Rebecca – I know some of them are friends of yours. I won't hold it against you. You're alright!'
Rebecca felt hot with embarrassment and was relieved to see Trebizon station looming up. But there was more to come. As he helped her off the train, gripping her arm, he suddenly said:
'The next session's October 31st. You've got a big dance on at your place in the evening, haven't you?'
'I'm not going to that,' Rebecca said quickly, wishing he would let go of her arm.
'You mean nobody's asked you?' They were on the platform now. Then, very suddenly: 'Let me take you!'
Rebecca was startled. Then quickly she shook her head.
'Of course not! It's kind of you to suggest it. But I don't like dances! I'm not interested in that sort of thing!'
He released her arm and became very formal.
'Somebody's waving to you over there. Remember what I told you about your serve – keep working at it.'
'I will!' gasped Rebecca in relief. Mrs Barrington had come to collect her in the car and was standing by the ticket barrier, waving. 'I'd better dash now – 'Bye!'
As the housemistress drove her back to Trebizon, Rebecca felt rather miserable. You mean nobody's asked you? David Driscoll's words kept echoing through her mind. She could hardly admit it, even to herself, but his words had hit her on the raw.
But – go to the Hallowe'en Dance with David Driscoll? That would be ridiculous. It would be like going with a teacher.
It was Mara's dress that had started the rot.
One by one they had capitulated.
'Edward's asked me if he can take me to the dance,' Tish said rather shamefacedly, referring to Sue's brother. 'I think I might as well go – I hear the food's going to be marvellous.'
'And Michael's asked me,' admitted Sue. 'I might as well go. Why don't we ask Dave to take you, Rebecca, then we can all go!'
'No fear!' said Rebecca quickly. 'If your brother wanted to take me to the dance, he'd have asked me by now. Anyway, he's shorter than me.'
They begged and cajoled, but Rebecca wouldn't budge.
Then the list went up in the Court House common room. Girls who wanted partners for the dance were asked to put their names down. Mara persuaded her two room-mates to sign up.
'Come on, Rebecca,' Margot said. 'You sign, too.'
'Be a sport,' said Elf. 'It won't be the same without you.'
But still Rebecca refused. As far as she was concerned, you only went to a dance with someone you really liked.
Some of the Fifth Years had got beautiful party dresses; almost as lovely as Mara's. Virginia Slade had tried hers on and paraded around the common room in it. It was blue and it made her blonde bubble curls look blonder than ever. She looked stunning.
For all Virginia's good resolutions,
Rebecca noticed, she wasn't working that hard for her exams. At free times she often went off on her bicycle, in the kind of casual clothes that models wore. Sometimes she wore lipstick, which was forbidden.
She must be meeting Robbie Anderson down in the town. He hadn't been near Court House all term. Maybe he guessed how Tish felt about that, after all.
The weekend before the dance was half-term and Rebecca spent it at her grandmother's. If David Driscoll had touched her on the raw, her grandmother tore the wound wide open.
She had bought Rebecca a present.
'You need a proper dance dress at school now you're getting older,' said old Mrs Mason with a twinkle in her eye. 'I got this outfit for you at the summer sales – it could have been made for you, Becky! You're to take it back to school with you. There's bound to be something special on at Christmas.'
It was a long dark green skirt with a pale green shirt and matching dark green waistcoat to go over it. Rebecca tried the outfit on and could have cried because it looked so beautiful.
As soon as she got back to school on the Monday evening, she hid the clothes under her mattress, before the others could see them.
When Rebecca went to Exonford on the afternoon of All Hallows Eve, she saw at once that David Driscoll had brought his moped. She felt relieved that he'd got tired of the idea of travelling by train.
'Pity you're not going to the dance tonight, Rebecca,' he said at tea-time. 'Somebody rather nice has agreed to let me take her. So I'd have seen you there.'
It was said rather meaningfully, but Rebecca didn't even notice.
She appeared cheerful that evening, helping the others to get ready for the dance. Mara looked lovely – so did Margot. Hooking Elf into her dress was a long job and a bit of a squeeze – but she looked really sweet in the end. If only she'd stick to her diet for more than five minutes at a time! thought Rebecca.
Sue looked very attractive although she refused to take her spectacles off. 'What – for Mike Brown?' she shrieked. 'He'd think I'd gone mad.'
