by Anne Digby
'I saw Cassie Duncan!' announced Emmanuelle. 'She thought I was a ghost!'
'Yes, we know,' Rebecca replied. 'And that's someone else who'd be cross with you, if only he knew. Michael Deeping.'
'But we're not!' chortled Tish. She celebrated by doing several cartwheels across the sand.
'We think he's changed his mind,' explained Sue. 'About buying Mulberry.'
'Yes, Emmanuelle!' said Rebecca. 'It looks as though we've got our island back.'
And they had.
Miss Welbeck summoned Rebecca and Mara on the Saturday morning and told them the good news. There'd been some difficulty, she explained; there'd been the possibility of another bidder. But now he'd withdrawn! Ruddocks had telephoned Colonel Peters this morning and formally accepted Trebizon's offer.
'Oh, how wonderful, Miss Welbeck,' said Mara, innocently.
'I'm just sorry you weren't able to take your pen friends to these lovely places,' added the principal.
On the Monday morning, she announced it in assembly. The school was overjoyed. Holly and Harriet cheered and clapped loudly.
But by that time, the Fifths being allowed to break up early, Rebecca and her pen friend were back in London.
TWELVE
TISH COMMENTS ON THE FRENCH EXCHANGE
The following Friday evening, the night before Rebecca's sixteenth birthday, there came a ring on the front doorbell. Mrs Mason answered it. Rebecca and Emmanuelle were busy in the kitchen, making sausage rolls for the party.
To Rebecca's relief, Emmanuelle was quite her normal self again, just as she'd been in Paris. Not the way she'd been at Trebizon at all. She didn't even seem to miss her best friend Anne-Marie - the Brook-Hayes' house was far, far away.
It had been so different at Trebizon. Even on the Saturday, her behaviour had continued to be slightly mystifying and erratic. Just before lunch, Rebecca had found her in the room, looking tearful. She'd quickly stuffed a blue envelope in her pocket, but not before Rebecca had recognized it. She was crying over the letter from Ginge! Presumably it was just a nice good-bye. But if she'd liked Ginge, she'd had a funny way of showing it. Honestly!
Then, on Saturday afternoon, Rebecca's parents had come to collect them by car and Emmanuelle had been a real nuisance, insisting they stop by the phone box on the top road because she'd just remembered she must telephone her parents!
'But you can ring them from our house in London, Emmanuelle!'
'No, no, Rebecca. I must ring them now.'
After that, on the long drive back to London, Emmanuelle began to relax. The greater the distance between herself and Trebizon, the more relaxed she'd become. She'd linked an arm through Rebecca's, as they sat in the back seat together, and made a little speech.
'When we looked at the island again, when we were up in the castle, I knew I must go there!' she said. 'I could not leave Trebizon without going there. Also, do not be hurt, I think I would not like to go to boarding school. It crowds me in! Do you understand?'
All delivered in a low voice.
Rebecca didn't understand at all. She was mystified. There was something unconvincing about Emmanuelle's explanation.
Tish and Co thought the explanation simple. They really did think that Emmanuelle was, well, eccentric. Thoughtless. A bit of a nut-case! Rebecca was certain that wasn't true and she couldn't bear it that her friends regarded her pen friend thus.
But Emmanuelle was settling down happily in London. She'd said she'd been longing for it and that at least must have been true.
Rebecca, too, was calm again. It was such a joy to have her parents home from Saudi Arabia, for them to be spending the school holidays together, in their own house in Clapham. It only happened once a year! By the Friday evening, when the front doorbell rang, the week at Trebizon was beginning to seem unreal to Rebecca, like a bad dream fading from the mind.
'There's somebody to see you, Becky,' said her mother, coming into the kitchen. She was wreathed in smiles. 'He's standing on the doorstep. He refuses to come in!'
'Who, Mum?'
'An old boy friend of yours!'
Rebecca's heart seemed to turn a somersault.
Robbie!
Mum and Dad had always liked Robbie.
He'd know it was her birthday tomorrow, of course. He'd come to see her! To bring her a birthday present, perhaps? Why was this ridiculous feeling of excitement seizing hold of her? Why did she suddenly feel so happy - ?
She dusted the flour off her hands, removed her apron, and walked to the kitchen door. As she went through into the hall, towards the figure waiting on the front doorstep, she heard Emmanuelle give a gasp of alarm behind her then shut the kitchen door.
Only dimly conscious of this surprising reaction, Rebecca confronted the boy on the doorstep; suddenly aware that her own spirits were sinking like a lead balloon.
'Cliff!' She stared at his pale, subdued face. For a moment, so sure it would be Robbie, she'd hardly recognized him. Cliff was supposed to be in the west country! Caxton High hadn't even broken up yet! 'What on earth are you doing in London?' she asked, feebly.
'I decided to skip the last two days of term. No lessons anyway. We've got to talk, Rebecca. It's really, really important.' He jerked his head towards the garden gate. 'I don't want to come in. Can we walk down the road a bit?'
'Yes. Of course we can.'
Cliff had always been very sensible.
Rebecca had to admire him for it.
He told her now, in a perfectly straightforward manner, that he and Emmanuelle had fallen in love with one another on the night of the Commem Ball. It had happened surprisingly, overwhelmingly. Dancing together and afterwards laughing and talking together for hours, down on the beach. Emmanuelle had pretended to go back to Court House with the others but then slipped back secretly, wanting to spend more time with him.
He'd begged Emmanuelle to be allowed to tell Rebecca what had happened. But overcome with guilt, she'd refused. Instead, she'd avoided him all week. Had gone to extraordinary lengths to do so. The letter in the blue envelope wasn't from Ginge at all but from Cliff himself. A last, desperate, pleading letter that she must tell Rebecca what had happened, in the hope they'd be able to see each other in London. But once again, speaking to him from a phone box before she left the west country, Emmanuelle had refused, saying it was better that they never saw each other again.
Rebecca's head was reeling at all this. How was it she'd never guessed? Everyone's unpredictable sometimes, Cliff had told her. But he hadn't meant her. He'd meant himself.
'I've got to see her, Rebecca, I've never been in love before. I'd no idea it felt like this.'
'Same with Emmanuelle, I suspect,' Rebecca said, remembering with sudden vividness how she'd been weeping over Cliff's letter.
Oh, poor, poor Emmanuelle.
They'd reached the end of the street and turned the corner. Cliff sat down on somebody's low front wall and pulled Rebecca down next to him. He put an arm round her shoulders and looked into her face.
'And really, Becky, it's all been crazy, hasn't it? I mean we've always loved each other, you and I. Haven't we?'
'Yes.'
'And we always will love each other.'
'Yes.'
'But we're not in love, are we?'
Rebecca thought about it. She shook her head.
'No, I don't think we are, Cliff.'
She knew that, now.
Being in love with someone felt different altogether.
'You mean, you are not angry with me, Rebecca?'
After Cliff had departed, Rebecca found that her pen friend had gone upstairs and locked herself in her bedroom. Emmanuelle was shocked and shaken. What was he doing in London? Hadn't she told him? Oh! Just when she'd been getting over the whole thing, that he should pop up like a jack-in-the-box. This was a nightmare!
It had taken Rebecca some time to calm her down.
And now Emmanuelle was staring at Rebecca in astonishment. Cliff had told her! And she wa
sn't angry. She was smiling sweetly at her...
'Rebecca, I do not understand. You told me in your letter how much you loved Cliff. I thought - '
'Yes. I thought so, too,' said Rebecca, humbly. 'I really, really thought so. But I was wrong. I only realized it a few minutes ago.'
When it hadn't been the person she'd hoped for, standing on the doorstep.
She handed Emmanuelle a scrap of paper.
'Arnie's phone number. That's where Cliff's staying. Just round the corner from here. He says if you feel like seeing a film tonight, give him a ring.'
Emmanuelle took the scrap of paper, wondrously.
'You do not mind, Rebecca?'
Rebecca almost hesitated. It was going to be a bit strange, no longer imagining herself to be the most important person in Cliff's life.
'Of course I don't mind!' she said quickly.
'Should I - should I telephone him, do you think?'
'Of course, you idiot!' Rebecca smiled. She'd just realized something. 'Cliff in London! Isn't that great! He can come to my party tomorrow and bring Arnie. We're short of boys!'
When he came to collect Emmanuelle, after supper, Mrs Mason was intrigued, though totally unaware of any drama.
'You wrote and told us the Hayneses had moved to the west country, Becky!' she said.
'They have. But Cliff's come up to stay with Arnie. Just while Emmanuelle's here.'
'You've found her a nice boy friend, then!'
'Yes, Mum.' And Rebecca was thinking: The biggest challenge. Little did I know.
It suddenly occurred to Rebecca that her mother used to refer to Cliff as 'your boy friend', long ago, when they'd been little. That's why she'd called him 'an old boy friend of yours' earlier. She'd never have referred to Robbie like that. Mum and Dad were months behind with the news. As far as they were concerned, Robbie was in the present tense.
'I've got some phone calls to make, Dad,' she said, later. 'Is that okay?'
She was impatient to ring her friends.
She wanted to prepare them for what they'd discover at the party tomorrow night. But it was more than that. She couldn't bear them thinking for one minute longer that Emmanuelle was horribly unpredictable, a bit of a nut-case. That her behaviour had been thoughtless and unfeeling. It had been quite the reverse.
Thank goodness for Cliff's good sense. Otherwise she would never, ever have known the truth. And she wanted her friends to know it, too.
'Oh, Rebecca!' exclaimed Mara, the first to be rung. 'So all the time Emmanuelle has been the most wonderful and loyal friend, not wishing to be hurtful but to save you from the hurt! And you do not mind?' she added in wonder. She was staying on in England, with Aunty Papademas, while Christelle was here. And still missing Curly quite badly. 'Then you could not have been truly in love!'
'I wasn't, Mara. What Cliff and I feel is just...well, peaceful. You were right about it not being like that. You were right, after all! Can you phone Margot and Sue for me?'
They'd both be coming to the party with their pen friends. Elf and Marie-Laure were up in Scotland.
'I'll ring Tish myself.'
Tish was relaxing at home, luxuriating in the fact that Sandrine was staying at the London flat with Helen for a few days. having found the Hertfordshire countryside boring. And having a good time. thank goodness. At least you knew where you stood with Sandrine! Not like Emmanuelle...
'Good grief. Rebeck!' she exclaimed, when she heard the news.
Robbie was in the kitchen. He'd just got back from his supermarket job in Baldock and was searching for something to eat.
As he heard Tish say Rebecca's name, he froze. 'And you don't mind? But I thought you and Cliff...'
Robbie was ashamed of himself. He was eavesdropping. But he just couldn't stop himself. As he strained his ears, he heard Tish saying that somebody or other was really saintly. And then he heard his sister laugh.
'Well. after all. they do call it a French Exchange!' she said.
The next day, Rebecca's birthday party was a huge success. Her friends greeted Emmanuelle with great warmth and respect. And Cliff made the party go with a swing; he was a good party person.
Her parents were slightly surprised that Robbie didn't come.
Rebecca felt the estrangement was too complicated to explain so merely told them (as she'd gathered from Tish) that he was working all hours.
Later though, when Cliff and Emmanuelle and Mr Mason were in the kitchen, doing all the washing up as a birthday finale, Rebecca showed her mother his birthday present. He'd sent it along via Tish. It was a finely-bound edition of Emily Dickinson's poetry.
'He knows I've always liked her poems, Mum.'
But she didn't show anyone Robbie's birthday card. It had a few private lines scribbled in it.
Happy birthday, sweet sixteen. When are you going to write some more poems yourself! I've got a new car on the road and I'm stacking shelves at Tesco to help pay for it. The farmer who used to give me work has sold the land off for a golf course. England as we know it is fast disappearing, isn't it? I feel in limbo until I get my A-level results. I'm going to drive down to Garth on the day, to collect them in person. Dr Simpson wants to see me, to discuss my ''future''. (?) Might come and see you afterwards. By the way, I've joined the local Air Training Corps here. It's good. Fingers crossed for your GCSEs. I really meant it when I said I hope you get good grades. But maybe I'll see you before then.
Love Robbie X
She put it safely away in a box on her dressing table. Happy, as time passed, simply to know it was there.
THIRTEEN
AN UNFORGETTABLE YEAR
Somewhere around the middle of August, Robbie parked his car in the field above Mulberry Cove and walked out on to the headland. He was in a state of euphoria. He'd got the top A-level marks at Garth College this year. It was amazing. He'd heard the news in shocked disbelief.
Now it was evening.
He drank in deep breaths of sea air and surveyed the cove beneath him. Helen and Tish had demanded a progress report. Rebecca would want to know, too.
Well, there it was. Helen's hundred pounds had gone to the best of all causes. Everything as it always had been; as it should be; as he'd always remember it. Barbed wire fences gone. Sailing school back in business. There was Jock himself, checking over the boats.
Mulberry Castle up on the hill there. No eyesores would ever appear in front of it now. It looked fantastic in this light.
And out there, with the red-gold sea behind it, Mulberry Island.
The sale had gone through then. Everything was okay. The girls would be pleased. Everything was okay for him, too. So okay it was unbelievable.
He was going to make it as a member of the human race!
It had been decided that he'd have a gap year and then read for a maths degree. Dr Simpson said that anything else would be a total waste, the marks he'd got in the special papers!
They'd spent the afternoon filling in his Oxford application form and talking about other universities he should apply to, in October. And that wasn't even the end of it.
'If you do want to try again for the RAF, you should go for a University Cadetship this time. If you're accepted, you'll go up to university as an acting pilot officer and the RAF will sponsor you all the way through your maths degree. I think in your case, Robbie, particularly, they're looking for a bit more maturity.'
The headmaster had been making discreet enquiries and discovered that the invitation to Robbie to try again next year was, as he'd suspected, a rare compliment.
'It means they thought very highly of you as a candidate. It was probably felt that you'd decided to apply rather suddenly. They have to be convinced someone's commitment to a service career is total. It costs a great deal of money to train a pilot.'
'I think it's total, sir. Did I tell you I've joined my local ATC?'
Dr Simpson was pleased about that. He impressed on Robbie that it should be mentioned on his university applications, toget
her with the fact that he'd just had a successful trial with Hornets, an important rugby club.
'And of course these things must go down on your new application for the RAF, in due course. You can fill that in later, when you've had time to reflect. When you have a firm offer of a university place, I suggest. If you decide to go ahead, don't leave it too long. No last-minute-itis this time. I'm sure they will consider you an excellent candidate for a University Cadetship. Your A-level marks have surprised even me, Robbie.'
'And if I don't get into the RAF, sir?'
'You'll graduate in maths, no doubt with first class honours, and be eminently employable.' They both stood up. He shook Robbie warmly by the hand. 'We live in the computer age, Robert, after all.'
'Yes, sir. They even fly by computer.'
Now, as dusk fell, Robbie stood on the headland feeling happy. It hardly seemed possible that only a few, short weeks ago he'd felt so miserable. That awful day. His last day at Garth College. Drained and exhausted by A-levels. It had seemed the worst day of his life. Justin had been looking forward to Oxford; everybody seemed to know exactly where they were going; and all he had felt was a terrible blankness, and a sense of failure.
The way he'd tortured himself, going over to Trebizon to watch Rebecca's tennis match! What had he been hoping for? She wasn't even wearing the lucky brooch he'd given her, the silver one. And who could blame her?
These brilliant, incredible exam results made him feel quite differently about himself. What was it someone had written, about hearing the grass singing? He was sure he could hear it singing tonight!
He looked towards the big oak and for a moment had a memory of Rebecca there, in the distance, coming towards him through the lush green grass. Holding on to her hat in the breeze, skirt blowing, a bunch of celandines in her hand. He'd been waiting for her to catch him up, one day last year, when they'd been out on a walk together.
He returned to the car and drove back to Garth College.
Mr Slade, his former housemaster, had told him not to drive back to London tonight, after such a long day, but to sleep in his old bed at Syon.
