Naughtiest Girl 5: The Naughtiest Girl Keeps a Secret

by Anne Digby

  It was a reckless thing to do. It was very hot-headed of Elizabeth.

  She left with the jug, stealing along the corridors as quickly as she could without spilling the milk inside. She would hide the big jug in her bedside locker!

  As she turned a corner, she paused. The common-room door was wide open and she would have to pass it before she could get up the stairs.

  The only thing she could do was to make a dash for it!

  ‘Elizabeth!’ her friends cried, as she flashed by.

  They crowded to the door, only to see her back view disappearing upstairs.

  ‘Aren’t you coming in?’ they shouted.

  ‘I’m sleepy, I’m going to bed!’ came the muffled reply.

  A minute later, she was on her knees in the dormitory by her bedside locker. She cleared a space for the jug of milk, placed it inside, then closed the cupboard door. Nobody ever looked in people’s lockers. They were private.

  To get her breath back, she flung herself on the bed and lay staring at the ceiling.

  ‘What have I done?’ she thought, feeling surprised at herself. ‘Well, there’s no going back now.’

  Slowly, very slowly, a feeling of relief crept over her. It could rain as much as it liked this week. The slugs could come marching out if they wanted to. She had plenty of ammunition now. She would be ready for them!

  But as so often happens in the scheme of things, there was no more heavy rain that week! The ground dried out nicely. Weather conditions for growing prize lettuce turned out to be quite perfect!

  Elizabeth continued to keep a watchful eye on them and was thankful. Great secrecy and stealth would have been required, to help them along. Roger, no longer in the tennis team, was always working in the gardens these fine evenings, as was Thomas.

  The large jug of milk remained hidden in her locker, untouched and, in time, forgotten.

  So when a second former stood up at the next school Meeting, her words gave Elizabeth a shock.

  ‘Please, I have a complaint. On Tuesday morning, when our table went up to collect our jug of milk, there was none left. Cook said staff always fill the right number of jugs, so one table must have been greedy and taken two. We had to share a jug with the next table and we all had a measly amount of milk on our cornflakes. I think the table that took two jugs of milk ought to own up.’

  William and Rita, as Judges, looked around the crowded hall.

  ‘Did any table help themselves to an extra jug of milk on Tuesday morning?’ asked Rita pleasantly. ‘If so, would they please own up now?’

  There was silence.

  The head boy and girl waited patiently for a few moments. There were rows of blank faces. It was obvious that no one was going to stand up.

  At a nod from Rita, William looked relieved and banged the gavel on the little table.

  ‘Very well,’ he announced, with a smile. ‘I think on this occasion we can be quite sure that one of the kitchen staff did make a little mistake. None of us is perfect! You must put the matter behind you, Chloe, and not be the last table to collect its milk next time!’

  The whole school laughed.

  Elizabeth felt very hot. As soon as the Meeting ended, she had to rush outside and gulp in some fresh air.

  She had never in her life not owned up to something before. She felt terribly guilty. But how could she explain to the Meeting about the missing jug of milk without giving John’s secret away?

  She went for a walk in the grounds, to calm herself down.

  Meanwhile, in the dormitory she shared with some of the other girls a mystery was being investigated.

  ‘I’ve noticed the funny smell for days,’ said Jenny. ‘But it’s suddenly much worse. It’s really bad today.’

  ‘It seems to be coming from Elizabeth’s locker!’ exclaimed Belinda, sniffing around. ‘Do you think we ought to look inside? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.’

  When Elizabeth entered the dormitory, she found a crowd of girls waiting for her. Belinda was holding a large, empty milk jug in her hands. She had washed all the sour milk down the sink.

  ‘So someone did take a jug of milk, after all,’ said Jenny. ‘And it was you, Elizabeth. What did you take it for? It had all gone sour. You hadn’t even drunk any!’

  Elizabeth just stared at the empty jug in dismay and said nothing.

  ‘Why didn’t you own up at the Meeting?’ asked Kathleen, looking upset.

  ‘We’ve stuck by you all this time, Elizabeth!’ exclaimed Belinda, who felt betrayed. ‘But is it true what some people have been saying? That you do things and don’t own up to them. That you can’t be bothered to be good now you’re not a monitor any more?’

  ‘Please explain,’ begged Kathleen.

  ‘I can’t explain, Kathleen!’ Elizabeth blurted out. ‘I just can’t.’

  Rosemary was standing in the doorway listening.

  ‘Arabella has been right about you all along!’ she said smugly.

  Elizabeth rushed past her and away down the corridor. She was feeling confused and upset.

  She had done something wrong. Now she had been found out.

  Even Belinda and Kathleen and Jenny were starting to turn against her.

  But she had only been trying to keep a secret.

  She was thankful that the weekend lay ahead and she would not have to face the whole class again before Monday. She would spend some time with Joan.

  First, in the morning, she would have a private talk with Julian.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A private letter arrives

  JULIAN WAS full of good advice the next morning.

  ‘You’re in a tight corner, Elizabeth, all because of this silly secret!’ he said. ‘Whatever is it? Has someone been asking you to make them some cheese? You can’t keep that secret for long, it makes such a pong!’

  His green eyes were laughing and full of mischief. Everything happened to Elizabeth!

  ‘Of course not,’ she replied. ‘And if they were, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. But it’s something much more important than that. And I’ve crossed my heart and sworn to die.’

  ‘I know that. And so you can’t go and confess to William and Rita, which is what the whole class expects you to do,’ smiled Julian, wryly. ‘Even if you could confess, it wouldn’t help much. The damage is done!’

  ‘I know,’ nodded Elizabeth. ‘Now everybody thinks that I played that trick on Patrick. That I hid his racket and was scared to own up about that, as well. That’s the thing I can’t bear!’

  ‘It’s known as giving a dog a bad name,’ said Julian. He patted her brown curly hair. ‘Oh, poor bad, bold girl. Woof! Woof!’

  ‘It’s not funny,’ protested Elizabeth. ‘I didn’t mind it when only two or three people sided with Patrick but now everyone does. And the way Patrick looked at me this morning! I don’t think he was really sure that I hid his racket, it was just Arabella winding him up. But now he’s convinced!’

  ‘Isn’t it about time we found out who really did?’ asked Julian quietly.

  ‘Yes!’ agreed Elizabeth. ‘And I’m sorry, Julian. I didn’t take it seriously before. I was proud and silly. I was just so cross, that’s all. To think I was the one who had gone to all that trouble and found his beastly racket for him! But now I see I do have to put myself in the clear over that. It might even be – well – nicer for Patrick, too,’ she admitted, ruefully. ‘Oh, poor Patrick.’

  Julian had very little time for his cousin but now he looked thoughtful.

  ‘Yes. I suppose so. He was pretty upset that you didn’t come and watch his tennis trial. Then he must have thought you really disliked him – enough to play a mean trick just before his first match. Not very nice for him. I hadn’t really thought about it much from Patrick’s point of view,’ he admi
tted, airily.

  ‘Nor me,’ agreed Elizabeth.

  She tried to concentrate hard. She thought of the crisp packet Julian had found, Southern Favorits.

  ‘Arabella’s parents are in America,’ she said, tentatively. ‘That’s why she’s come to Whyteleafe. You don’t think it’s possible they send her goodies, like crisps and things?’

  ‘She never hands them round, if they do,’ frowned Julian. ‘Besides, where’s the motive? We have to find a motive.’

  ‘Well, maybe to get me into trouble,’ suggested Elizabeth.

  ‘But she could never have planned it that you would find the racket!’

  ‘Maybe that was just a bonus?’ sighed Elizabeth.

  ‘The whole thing seems too imaginative for Arabella,’ Julian replied rather drily. ‘Still. Interesting about her parents being in America. I didn’t know that. Would you like to search her dormy?’

  ‘Yes. This afternoon!’ nodded Elizabeth. ‘While she’s safely at the match!’

  Elizabeth had already decided not to watch the match against St Faith’s this afternoon. She preferred to avoid her classmates at present. It was too horrid, the looks she was starting to get. She had arranged to go to the village with Joan, instead. But Arabella would be at the match, no doubt sitting in the front row.

  ‘The perfect opportunity!’ agreed Julian, as they walked back to school together.

  ‘I’ll look in her desk, as well,’ said Elizabeth, excitedly. ‘What will you do, Julian?’

  ‘I shall be at the tennis match,’ replied Julian, casually. ‘Watching points.’

  When she returned indoors, Elizabeth found an envelope in her pigeon-hole. It was firmly sealed and marked Elizabeth Allen PRIVATE.

  She ran along to the girl’s cloakroom and locked herself in a cubicle. Then she opened the envelope to see what was inside.

  It was a note from John Terry. He had smuggled it out of the san with the help of one of the school cleaners!

  Elizabeth carefully memorized the note. Then with trembling fingers, she tore it in into tiny pieces, dropped it down the lavatory pan and flushed it clean away.

  It was so exciting to have received a secret message from John. Now she could only feel grateful that all her efforts to help the plants along had come to nothing. No rules had been broken, after all. John would have been angry, if he had ever found out.

  But at last, with the lettuces almost ready to pull, he had given her a very important job to do. He was placing his trust in her to do it well. After that, he would soon be back in charge again, thank goodness. He would take his prize lettuces to the village show and win the cup and bring honour to the school! She took her place at dinner with her head held high.

  Patrick and Eileen won their match again, although it was a much closer result than against Woodville, the week before. As Patrick proudly handed round his chocolate crispy cakes to the visitors from St Faith’s, Miss Ranger and her class clapped and cheered loudly.

  ‘Oh, well done, Patrick!’ shouted Arabella. She turned to Julian. ‘Wasn’t your cousin marvellous?’

  ‘Was he?’ asked Julian.

  He had not been following the rallies closely.

  He had spent most of the time studying the spectators, watching one face in particular.

  Elizabeth, meanwhile, had found nothing of interest amongst Arabella’s things.

  She had been shocked to see how many clothes and pairs of shoes the spoilt little rich girl had smuggled back to school this term, even though it was against the rules. They were hidden under her bed. But of packets of American crisps, or indeed anything American, there was no sign.

  ‘I’d feel rather sorry for her, if I didn’t dislike her so much,’ thought Elizabeth, her searches completed. She felt guilty for prying, now. ‘It must be horrid being the oldest in the class and nearly always coming bottom and having your parents so far away.’

  She went off to meet Joan and go to the village. She was lucky to have such a real and special friend, she decided. Arabella’s friend Rosemary was very weak and just toadied to her.

  Later she said to Julian:

  ‘I’m afraid I drew a blank. How about you?’

  ‘I spent most of the match watching Roger Brown’s face,’ replied Julian. ‘And he looked pretty miserable, even when Patrick and Eileen were winning. It was written all over his face, even when his hands were clapping!’

  ‘Upset to see Patrick playing well again? But that would be only natural,’ mused Elizabeth. ‘He must be secretly hoping to get his place in the team back. It’s the big match next week against Hickling Green, when lots of parents come. He might have wanted to play in that and now it looks like being Patrick again.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Julian. ‘It certainly doesn’t prove he’s done anything wrong.’

  Neither of them wanted to think that about Roger.

  ‘All the same,’ sighed Julian, ‘I think we should try and keep an eye on him.’

  By Sunday night, Elizabeth remembered there was something else she would need to keep an eye on. This time, with John Terry’s permission.

  It had started to rain again.

  It rained all that night and when they trailed into French on Monday morning, it was still raining.

  ‘The lettuces have been doing so brilliantly,’ thought Elizabeth. ‘But there’s still time for them to be ruined. I may have to start pulling them by tomorrow. I’ll go down and have a look at them after tea today. Even if I have to take my umbrella with me!’

  But Elizabeth never got the chance.

  Something terrible happened in the French lesson that morning, something truly amazing.

  They were all sitting at their desks, their heads bent over their books as they copied down a passage from the blackboard. Mam’zelle quietly opened her biscuit tin and slid her hand inside to pull out her first biscuit of the week, then—

  ‘Aaaaagh!’

  She screamed, and dropped the tin.

  She had pulled out a handful of dead slugs.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Meeting decides to punish Elizabeth

  MAM’ZELLE LEAPT to her feet, flinging the slugs away in horror. One hit Arabella on the nose and she screamed as well. The tin had clattered noisily to the floor, scattering dead slugs everywhere and a few snails, too.

  The classroom door was flung open and Miss Belle appeared.

  ‘Whatever’s the matter—?’

  ‘This is the matter, very very very much the matter!’ cried Mam’zelle, picking a slug off her skirt and holding it at arm’s length, between thumb and forefinger, before letting it drop to the floor with the others. ‘Look what horrible things have been put in my tin. There are some very wicked children in this class. They think they make everybody laugh—’

  Some of the class were indeed stuffing their fists in their mouths. The way Arabella had screamed! And Mam’zelle had looked so funny, holding up the slug like that . . .

  One look from Miss Belle quelled their laughter. She was angry.

  ‘Martin, go and find a school cleaner to come and clear up this mess at once for Mam’zelle. The rest of the class sit in silence.’

  After Mam’zelle returned from washing her hands, Miss Belle gazed at the children for a few moments.

  ‘Whoever was responsible for that silly trick is to come and own up at dinner-time. That will be all.’

  The class was very subdued after that. Elizabeth frowned in deep puzzlement, wondering how the mound of slugs on John’s rubbish heap could have found their way into Mam’zelle’s biscuit tin.

  Was there a practical joker at work? Had the same person hidden Patrick’s tennis racket?

  ‘Well, Roger can’t have done this,’ she whispered to Julian, at dinner-time. ‘There’s no possible motive!’r />
  ‘And can you see Arabella dare even look at a slug? I can’t!’ Julian whispered back. He was as puzzled as Elizabeth.

  Miss Belle, Miss Best and Mr Johns were puzzled, too. Nobody from the first form came to own up, as requested. The culprit must be elsewhere.

  They asked the head boy and girl to call a special Meeting.

  It took place immediately after tea, the same day.

  ‘I hope the culprit owns up quickly,’ whispered Belinda, as they filed into the hall. ‘I want to play my new record in the common room.’

  ‘I was hoping for a game of tennis but it’s still raining,’ said Kathleen. ‘I wonder who managed to get into the kitchens and get their hands on Mam’zelle’s biscuit tin? At least it doesn’t seem to have been anybody in our class.’

  ‘Unless it was another of Elizabeth’s little jokes,’ said Jenny, unhappily. ‘And she’s refusing to own up again.’

  ‘Oh, I hope not,’ said Belinda, biting her lip.

  Of course, the rest of the form, especially Rosemary and Arabella, had been whispering about that possibility all day. Now they waited in keen anticipation to see what would happen at the Meeting.

  Elizabeth was already in the hall, seated next to Julian. Her head was held high. She well knew what some of them were thinking but she was confident that the truth would come out at the special Meeting. She was impatient for it to start. After that she would get on with the important job of examining John’s plants for him.

  The school monitors were seated on the platform, with the head boy and girl. They all looked very serious. So did Miss Belle and Miss Best and Mr Johns, observing from the back of the hall.

  The entire school was keyed up. A special Meeting was a rare event.

  William banged the little hammer.

  ‘I hope this matter can be dealt with quickly,’ he told the assembly.

  He explained, for the benefit of those who did not know (by now very few of them), exactly what had taken place during the first form French lesson.