by Anne Digby
Luckily Elizabeth went and changed into her black wellies first, for there were puddles on all the paths in the school gardens. The big vegetable garden was all muddy and squelchy. She picked her way through the blackcurrant bushes, where the weak sunshine glistened on the wet leaves. Then, on past the dripping yew hedges to where her lettuces lay . . .
She gave a gasp of dismay.
‘Oh, no!’
She stood and stared at her rows of lettuce, unable to believe her eyes. Only three days ago they had been such fine specimens, all plumping out nicely and forming hearts. Now they were unrecognizable.
‘They’re all chewed up. They look horrible—’
UGH! As she bent to touch the nearest plant, a fat black slug slid off it. Gazing along the rows she saw another slug, then another. They were feasting on her lettuces! They must have been feasting on them for days.
‘Elizabeth?’
John Terry appeared, carrying a large white jug.
‘Oh, John. Look! Look! Horrible slugs. Big, fat, black ones. They’ve eaten all my lettuces. They’ve ruined them!’
He came and put an arm round her shoulders.
‘I know,’ he said, sadly. He looked down at her disappointed face. ‘Poor Elizabeth! This was what I was trying to warn you about the other day, when they said there was rain on the way. If only you hadn’t been in such a hurry—’
‘You mean you knew this might happen?’
‘When it’s very wet we nearly always get an epidemic of slugs here. There are things you have to do about it.’
‘But what, John? I don’t understand.’ Elizabeth frowned. Oh, why had she rushed away the other evening, just to hear about Patrick’s silly tennis trial? Why hadn’t she stopped and listened to John! ‘What can you do?’
‘Come with me and I’ll show you.’
Still carrying the jug, he led her to a warm, sheltered part of the garden. There stood two rows of the finest looking lettuces anyone could hope for. One row consisted of the round variety, the other of the cos variety.
‘The slugs have hardly got to them at all!’ exclaimed Elizabeth in surprise.
‘These are mine,’ said John quietly. ‘They’re extra special, so I’ve had to take good care of them. We get slugs in this part of the garden, too, though not as many. But look, come along the rows with me and you’ll see.’
For the first time, walking down the two rows with John, Elizabeth noticed there were old bowls placed at intervals, six of them in all. They were deep little bowls, old and chipped. Formerly school soup bowls, but long since thrown out. Elizabeth crouched down and peered inside one.
‘It’s full of dead slugs!’ she shrieked.
‘They all are,’ replied John. ‘They’ve all been drowned! Now, watch what I do, and I’ll explain.’
John put down his jug. Then, working quickly, he gathered up the bowls two at a time. He tipped the bowlfuls of slimy, dead slugs on a nearby rubbish heap, then replaced the empty bowls in position.
‘Some people put down pellets to kill slugs,’ he told her. ‘But that can be cruel. Pellets can harm other creatures, too. This way is much better.’
He asked Elizabeth to hand him the jug.
‘Is there milk in here?’ she asked, sniffing. ‘It smells a bit off.’
‘It is,’ smiled John. ‘Cook always has plenty of old milk left over. It doesn’t matter if it’s a bit sour. I cadge it off her.’
He went round his lettuces, slurping the clotting milk into the emptied bowls.
‘The slugs love it. They even prefer it to lettuce. They climb into the bowls and drink till they’re fat and bloated. They can’t climb out again. They just quietly drown. They feel no pain.’
Elizabeth nodded. She was learning new things all the time.
She went to the rubbish heap and stared with interest at the mound of dead slugs there. It was very satisfying. ‘No more eating lettuce for any of you,’ she thought.
‘It does make extra work, though,’ sighed John, afterwards. Elizabeth noticed he looked rather tired. ‘They say there’s going to be a lot more wet weather next week. It’s an extra job I could do without. That’s what I was trying to explain to you, Elizabeth. That as soon as you stop having to water, there’s a new job waiting to be done.’
They stood and looked at Elizabeth’s lettuces, at the wreckage.
Elizabeth bit her lip, furious both with the slugs and with herself. If only she’d stopped and listened to John, her lettuces might still be all right. To make matters worse, she had boasted about them, too. How the first form would laugh if they could see them now.
‘You must ask for extra money at the next Meeting,’ said John kindly. ‘To buy new seeds with. It’s not too late for a second planting. They would be ready by August.’
Elizabeth shook her head stubbornly. The next Meeting was a whole week away, August an eternity. It would be the summer holidays. Nobody would be here to see them! If she couldn’t watch her own lettuces grow and flourish, she would just have to admire John’s.
‘I’ve got an idea, John!’ she exclaimed suddenly. ‘Let me look after your lettuces, instead. You’ve got far too many jobs to do. You look really tired lately. And now you’ve shown me how to get rid of the slugs—’
‘No! Certainly not!’ said John sharply.
The little girl was speechless. It was as though she had been slapped.
‘Are you going back now, Elizabeth?’ he asked, more gently. ‘Could you take the jug back to Cook for me, please?’
‘No! Take it yourself!’ she cried rudely. ‘Aren’t you frightened I might drop it and break it?’
With that she raced off, boiling with rage.
John, her friend John, was telling her she was useless. Not for one moment was she to be trusted with his precious lettuces! She could have wept with anger.
She was still feeling upset, an hour later.
‘Hello, Elizabeth! Where did you disappear to?’ asked her friends, as she came into the common room.
It annoyed her that they all looked so cheerful and happy. They were building a castle out of playing cards.
‘You’re not supposed to use the best playing cards for doing that!’ said Elizabeth, before she could stop herself. ‘Only the old ones.’
‘But it’s more fun with these!’ laughed Julian.
From the other end of the room, Arabella was listening.
‘You’re not a monitor any more!’ she called out. ‘Has it slipped your mind, Elizabeth?’
Elizabeth turned away. She didn’t feel like being friendly and sociable this evening. Or being teased.
‘I’m tired,’ she said, truthfully. ‘I’m going to have an early night.’
‘Really!’ said Arabella, later. ‘Did you notice? Elizabeth’s face was like a thundercloud. It must be because you made that little joke this afternoon, Patrick. About her not being important and not needing to come to watch the match!’
‘Perhaps she’s sulking because she’s not a monitor any more!’ suggested Rosemary.
‘Do you really think so?’ wondered Patrick.
Across the room, Julian got up, stretched and yawned.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said. His eyes were mocking. ‘Elizabeth’s made of stronger stuff than that. It will be something else, I expect. There will be something else going on in her head.’
He smiled to himself. With Elizabeth, there nearly always was.
CHAPTER FOUR
John tells Elizabeth a secret
JULIAN WAS right, of course. Elizabeth went to bed that night still feeling cross about the slugs but even angrier that John had insulted her.
The following morning, in the dining-hall, she chose to ignore him.
‘Good morning, Elizabeth,’ he said, as t
hey jostled to collect their cornflakes. ‘Nice sunny one.’
Lower lip trembling slightly, she deliberately turned her back on him.
Back at her table, all the talk was about the tennis match against Woodville today.
‘Isn’t it lucky the weather’s fine?’ said rosy-cheeked Kathleen. ‘Don’t you think so, Elizabeth?’
Elizabeth said nothing. She could feel herself smouldering again. How could John behave as though nothing had happened?
Everybody noticed how quiet she was.
‘I was only joking yesterday, Elizabeth,’ Patrick said awkwardly, when breakfast was over. ‘You will come and watch the school match, this afternoon, won’t you?’
Elizabeth nodded, hardly taking in what he was saying. Her mind was elsewhere.
‘Of course, Patrick.’
Then, as she came out of the hall something unexpected happened.
She found John Terry lying in wait for her. He took her firmly by the arm.
‘I’ve got to speak to you, Elizabeth.’
He propelled her round the corner, into the corridor, then gently pushed her into an empty classroom.
‘Quick, in here. Nobody must hear.’
Elizabeth was too surprised to protest. Her bad feelings about John began to melt away. What was this all about? What did he want to say to her that was so important?
‘Now look, Elizabeth,’ he said, once the door was safely closed. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you last night. You must have thought me really rude and cruel. It was kind of you to offer to look after my plants. But I had to shut you up. I was frightened I might give something away.’
‘Give something away?’ asked Elizabeth, puzzled. But she was already feeling better, much better.
‘Look, Elizabeth, can you keep a secret? A really important one. At least, it’s important to me. There’s not one person in the school knows. Nobody at all.’
Elizabeth began to feel excited and proud.
‘Of course I can keep a secret!’ she replied.
‘Cross your heart and swear to die?’
Elizabeth did so.
‘Right. Well, this is the position . . .’
Lowering his voice, he explained everything. He had filled in forms for a competition. He was hoping his two varieties of lettuce would win a very special cup at the Village Show. The Show was in two weeks’ time, just before half-term. As well as medals for crafts and wood-working, there was a silver cup for the best produce grown by a young person under sixteen. It could be fruit, flower, plant or vegetable.
John was a modest boy. He was not doing this in the hope of personal glory. That was the last thing on his mind.
‘If by any chance my lettuces win the cup, it will be a great honour for the school. The local people sometimes grumble about us and think we have a soft life. This would show them that we don’t. That we’re not afraid to get our hands dirty and work the soil and grow good things.’
‘It would be in the local newspaper as well,’ said Elizabeth, feeling excited. ‘Then everybody would find out what a good school it is, and that we’re allowed to do things for ourselves here . . .’
She paused.
‘But why must it be such a secret, John? I’d love to tell everyone—’
‘Don’t you dare!’ he said fiercely. Suddenly Elizabeth realized just how important this was to him. He could not bear the idea of failing. Nor would he be able to bear it for everyone to know he had failed. ‘If, by any chance, I pull it off and win the cup, I want it to be a complete surprise. Now promise again that you’ll keep my secret.’
‘I promise,’ said Elizabeth, solemnly. ‘I truly swear.’
‘I’ve only told you because I wanted you to know why . . . last night . . . I wanted you to understand.’
‘John, I’m so glad you have told me,’ said Elizabeth. She looked ashamed. ‘And I’m sorry I was so rude and hot-tempered. I do understand now. Of course you couldn’t trust me to look after your plants, when it’s so important—’
John looked at her in surprise. He interrupted her.
‘Oh, Elizabeth, you still don’t understand. I suppose I haven’t explained properly. I would trust you to look after them. You’re one of my best young helpers. You make mistakes sometimes, but you learn fast. No, it’s not that.’
Elizabeth was beginning to feel a warm glow of happiness spreading through her.
‘It’s the competition rules,’ he said. ‘I’ve signed the entry forms and I had to vouch that whatever I grow will be my own, unaided work. Except for all the help Nature gives me, of course,’ he added, smiling. ‘Don’t you see, Elizabeth? Nobody is allowed to help me with these lettuces in any way. Don’t you dare even try to water them for me!’
As they emerged from the empty classroom and went their separate ways, Elizabeth wanted to laugh out loud with happiness. She had completely misjudged John. She had been silly and hot-headed and jumped to conclusions. Now everything was all right again. She was so pleased he had shared his secret with her. She would keep it safe.
Later that morning, Julian asked her to go out riding with him. He noticed how happy she seemed as they trotted along on their ponies, side by side.
‘You were like a bear with a sore head earlier!’ he remarked lightly. ‘Was something the matter?’
‘It was just a misunderstanding about something,’ replied Elizabeth, cheerfully.
‘Oh!’ Julian smiled. ‘I might have guessed.’
At Elizabeth’s dinner table, all the talk was about the afternoon’s match against Woodville. The visitors were due to arrive at two o’clock. The first formers were all proud that Patrick was playing in the second team.
‘I’ve got to find my best form!’ said Patrick edgily. He was feeling nervous. It was quite understandable. ‘I did well in the trial. But if I play badly today it will be me out and Roger back in again!’
‘We’re all going to come and cheer you on, Patrick,’ said Elizabeth.
After dinner, he left early to change into his tennis things. He now had a special badge sewn on his tennis shirt. It was a blue shield which showed that he was a second team player. He kept his precious tennis racket in a special place. He would collect that first before he changed. He was planning to get in a few practice strokes before the match.
The others sat around chatting in the dining-hall. They watched through the big windows as a minibus appeared in the drive.
‘Here they come!’ said Elizabeth. ‘Watching this match is going to be fun.’
‘Why are you in such a good mood, all of a sudden?’ asked Arabella.
‘Am I?’ asked Elizabeth. ‘Well, it’s none of your business, even if I am.’
She stuck her tongue out at Arabella. Not being a monitor and having to set a good example had its compensations sometimes.
‘Stop it, you two,’ said Kathleen. ‘Let’s go and bag places near the courts. We want to have a good view.’
Coming out of the dining-hall, they saw Patrick rushing towards them.
It was such a shock.
He hadn’t changed yet. His black hair was completely dishevelled. His face was pale and distraught.
‘My tennis racket!’ he croaked. ‘I’ve been looking for it everywhere. It’s gone. Somebody must have taken it.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Elizabeth is angry
PATRICK CONFRONTED Elizabeth. He was extremely agitated.
‘Elizabeth, is this some kind of joke?’ he asked. ‘Have you hidden my racket? If you have, please give it back,’ he pleaded. ‘The match is starting in less than fifteen minutes.’
She stared at him in surprise.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Patrick,’ she replied coldly.
‘Of course she doesn’t!’ Juli
an scolded his cousin. ‘As if Elizabeth would hide your racket—’
‘What about the time she threw it in the bushes!’
‘That was completely different,’ replied Julian. ‘Look, stop saying stupid things, Patrick. Try to think clearly. You must have mislaid it.’ He added: ‘If the worst comes to the worst, I’ll lend you mine—’
‘I don’t want your silly old racket!’ exploded Patrick. ‘Mine’s the only one I can play with properly. You know that perfectly well. I haven’t mislaid it. It should be on the top shelf in the sports cupboard. Everybody knows that’s where I keep it. And it isn’t there, I tell you!’
It was such an unexpected thing to happen. The first formers all gathered round him, feeling worried and surprised. They so wanted to see Patrick do well in his first match. They had been looking forward to it.
Meanwhile the two dark-haired, green-eyed cousins squared up to each other as if spoiling for a fight. Kathleen pushed the pair apart.
‘Stop quarrelling, for goodness’ sake. Let’s all try and do something.’
‘Yes, let’s try and find Patrick’s racket for him!’ exclaimed Belinda.
Julian’s anger at his cousin’s rudeness suddenly passed. He could see how desperate he looked. He cooled down and took command of the situation.
‘Patrick, dash and get changed,’ he said, giving him a gentle push. ‘You’ve only just got time! The rest of us will look for the racket. It can’t be far away. I’m sure we’ll find it.’
With a helpless shrug, Patrick strode off.
Julian organized a search party.
‘Martin, while he’s in the changing rooms you go and hunt around his dormy. He puts the racket under his bed sometimes, whatever he says. Kathleen, could you come with me? We’ll search the sports cupboard. It might have slipped to the very back of the shelf. Elizabeth, would you go round to the south wall? He spends hours there, practising his strokes. He might have left it behind . . .’
Soon Julian had everybody rushing round the school, hunting for the missing racket, even some of the second formers.
Elizabeth was not quite so forgiving. She felt hot and bothered inside at the way Patrick had insulted her. How dare he suggest that she might play a joke on him, just before his important match? As if she would do something like that, even to her worst enemy.
