Visitors for the Chalet School Page 3

  (Juliet wondered for a moment why Patricia’s father apparently had no say in the matter; it was odd that she had never heard him mentioned.)

  ‘It isn’t even a question of money, either,’ Patricia went on with increasing bitterness. ‘Mother will be only too delighted to dish out far more on my doing a London season and going to boring dances and all that sort of rot. But she thinks I should get to know the “wrong sort of people” at the university; and of course that would be a real disaster. She even has all sorts of batty ideas about how standing around in hospitals would ruin the shape of my ankles, or some such drivel.’

  There was a wealth of scorn in the words. Juliet felt her sympathy go out to Patricia and wished she could do something to help. For the moment she couldn’t even think of anything helpful to say; but she resolved to write to her guardian about Patricia’s forthcoming visit to Briesau. Juliet had boundless faith in Madge Russell’s ability to help.

  Walking back to the hotel, Juliet was very thoughtful, and Miss Denny noticed she was quiet at dinner-time. Later in the evening Juliet confided something of the situation at Devonshire Close to Miss Denny, who was not at all surprised; Juliet was only confirming what Miss Bruce had already indicated.

  ‘Probably it will be the best thing in the world for Patricia to get right away for a time,’ Miss Denny said kindly. ‘We must just hope that this trip abroad is going to be helpful for her.’

  CHAPTER III.

  TERM BEGINS.

  THE September days slipped quickly past. A bevy of relations and envious school-friends waved goodbye as the Grange House party left Victoria Station for Paris. Juliet began to settle down in her new life. And the day arrived for the girls of the Chalet School to return from the many different countries where they had been scattered during the summer holidays.

  The school was situated at Briesau on the shores of the Tiernsee, a beautiful Tyrolean lake set high among the mountains above the Inn Valley. Briesau is usually a very peaceful place, but there was little peace anywhere near the Chalet School buildings and grounds on this first day of the Christmas term.

  By three o’clock in the afternoon most of the girls had arrived and everywhere there was bustle and chatter. Snatches of conversation echoed up and down the stairs. Excited groups of friends were exchanging holiday news in the big main class-room. The dormitories were thronged with girls busy unpacking under the eagle eye of the new matron, a small neat woman who, despite her air of instant authority, was making no attempt to quell the high spirits surrounding her.

  It was obvious that school rules must be in abeyance, as indeed they always were on the first day of term. The tremendous noise of talking and laughter would otherwise have earned severe reproof; as would the polyglot variety of languages being spoken with such vivacity; for it had been a rule, from the earliest days of the Chalet School, that only English might be spoken on weekdays.

  Of course, certain girls did prefer to speak English anyway, it being their mother tongue, and they had always found this particular rule very convenient. There was an unpleasant surprise in store for these people. Life was going to be far less easy for them in the future.

  It was a group of Middles who first discovered the news. They had finally completed their unpacking and tidying to Matron’s satisfaction and they came streaming noisily down to the front hall, where they gathered round the school notice board. And there they read the following announcement:

  English will continue to be the principal language of the Chalet School, but from the beginning of this Christmas term two days each week will be set aside for the speaking of French and German. Accordingly, only French will be spoken on Tuesdays, and only German on Thursdays.

  On Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, only English will be spoken. On Sundays everyone may, as formerly, speak in any language she chooses.

  All lessons will be given in the language of the day. This rule will be strictly enforced, although during the first four weeks of this term allowances will be made, especially for girls new to the school.

  ‘Well, I guess that’s going to be pretty grim!’ announced Evadne Lannis, a lively fair-haired girl of about thirteen, whose accent proclaimed her to be an American.

  ‘It’ll certainly make things hard for you on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Evvy,’ laughed Margia Stevens, one of her friends, who had an outstanding talent for music and was a leader among the Middles.

  ‘Perhaps you would do best to take a vow of silence on those days,’ suggested Suzanne Mercier, a French girl, another of their group.

  ‘It’s all very fine for you folks who are good at French and German,’ grumbled Evadne. ‘Now take Joey Bettany, it won’t make a mite of difference to her, she just enjoys chattering away in any silly old language.’

  ‘Come on, Evadne, you’ll just have to pull up your socks and make a bit more effort with your French and German.’ Grizel Cochrane, games prefect and one of the older girls, was passing on her way to the dormitories, and had caught the gist of Evadne’s complaint. ‘Anyway, it’s high time you were better at both; after all, you’ve been here for two years now, haven’t you?’ Grizel swept on, leaving Evadne and her friends highly indignant. Evadne’s lack of accomplishment in foreign languages was renowned, but they all felt it was unnecessary for Grizel Cochrane to make so free with her comments.

  Fortunately, at this moment there was a diversion as Joey Bettany, sister of the Chalet School’s founder, came dashing downstairs followed by two of her close friends, Frieda Mensch and Simone Lecoutier.

  ‘Hallo there, everybody! Have decent hols? I say, it’s absolutely topping to see you again.’ Joey beamed at them all. ‘Oh, yes, thanks, Evvy, we’d the most utterly gorgeous time. Innsbruck first, then Belsornia; got back two days ago. Look here, we’re just going out to inspect the new hall. Anybody want to come?’ And, brandishing a large key, Joey made for the door.

  The new hall had been built on to the school during the summer holidays, and no one except Joey had seen it yet. So they all followed her eagerly.

  In six weeks’ time Jo Bettany would be fifteen. She was slight and thin, with enormous dark eyes and straight black hair, cut with a fringe, framing her pointed face; while in no conventional sense pretty, it was a face full of life and character.

  ‘It’s thrilling to have our very own hall for the school,’ Joey was saying excitedly, as she led them down the path and into the new building. ‘It’ll be wonderful when we do our Christmas play, because it’s got a real stage; and we’re to use it for dancing and Guide meetings too and all sorts of things. Now — how d’you like that?’

  The hall was a plain wooden one-storey building in traditional Tyrolean style, similar to the two chalets which housed the school. Inside it was quite large, with a platform at one end and a staircase leading to a small room, which would serve as green-room. Everything was extremely simple but the girls were delighted.

  ‘Gosh — splendacious!’

  ‘Fabelhaft!’

  ‘Mais, c’est magnifique!’

  ‘Gee, it’s absolutely great!’

  There was a salvo of comments as Jo pointed out some of the features of the hall and indicated the proscenium arch, which would make it possible to have retractable curtains and some proper stage lighting.

  ‘Remember when we did our first Christmas play?’

  ‘But yes, my Jo,’ answered Simone. ‘You were the Youngest Shepherd and you sang . . . ’

  But here Jo interrupted hastily; Simone tended to idolise her in a rather sentimental fashion, which Jo found embarrassing. ‘I was only thinking of how those hefty screens had to heaved back and forth because there weren’t any curtains. Now this time everything can be really professional.’

  ‘Who will write the play this year, Joey?’ asked Frieda Mensch in her pretty, gentle voice.

  ‘Oh, my sister will arrange it all as usual,’ Joey assured her. ‘But I believe she’s got something a bit different up her sleeve for this year; partly to
make use of all this,’ she swept her hand round in a gesture indicating stage and hall, ‘and partly because she won’t have much time for writing now she’s got a home to look after.’ A frown crossed Jo’s face; she said abruptly: ‘Come on, then; better buck up and get back to the common-room or we’ll be late for Kaffee.’

  The girls were all looking very serious as they left the hall. Joey had reminded them that this term, for the first time since the school started, they would be without ‘Madame’, as they always called their popular young headmistress.

  Jo’s thoughts were running along similar lines, her lips pressed tightly together, as she locked the hall door with the key entrusted to her by Mademoiselle Lepâttre, now the Chalet School’s joint headmistress. Jo adored the elder sister who had brought her up, their parents having died when Jo was a small baby. Until the previous July, when Madge had married Dr James Russell, the two sisters had never been separated.

  It was now two and a half years since Madge Bettany had begun the Chalet School with only nine pupils: her sister Jo; Simone Lecoutier, who was Mademoiselle Lepâttre’s cousin; Grizel Cochrane; and six Tyrolean girls. From the start, the school had flourished; by the second term there were already thirty-three pupils, and numbers had continued to mount steadily ever since.

  Mrs Russell intended to continue to act, with Mademoiselle Lepâttre, as joint headmistress; but she would be able to visit the school only once or twice a week now, for her new home was a considerable distance away, high above the opposite shore of the Tiernsee. It was there, on the Sonnalpe, that her husband, known to the school as Dr Jem, was head of a rapidly expanding sanatorium established to give patients the benefits of the wonderful mountain air.

  Jo did genuinely want her sister to be happy and she was very fond of her brother-in-law. But, as the girls were making their way back to the house and her eyes lighted for a moment on the window of her sister’s former room, she thought rather miserably: ‘I do wish things never had to come to an end.’ Then, with a characteristically abrupt change of mood, she touched Margia Stevens on the arm, and exclaiming, ‘Race you to the splasheries!’ she darted off with none of the dignity that might have been expected of a Fifth Former. The others followed more sedately.

  After Kaffee und Kuchen (the name given at the Chalet School to the informal meal of bread twists, cakes and milky coffee, which they had at the end of the afternoon), the entire school gathered to hear the headmistress’s address of welcome. By tradition this was given on the first evening of each term. It was always attended by every member of the school, both staff and girls, including all the Juniors. The latter usually spent most of their time in their own special domain, known as Le Petit Chalet; this stood a short distance from the original school, near the high fence surrounding all the school’s premises and grounds.

  The girls seated themselves in three groups, consisting of Juniors, Middles and Seniors. Facing them were placed the chairs for the staff. There were also eight chairs at the side destined for the prefects, when these were named in a few moments’ time.

  There was a feeling of anticipation in the air and a murmur of subdued talk, hushed immediately when the door opened and Mademoiselle Lepâttre entered the room followed by all the staff.

  This was Mademoiselle’s first appearance as co-principal of the school. Beneath her calm and dignified manner she was feeling a touch of nervousness. But no one listening as she addressed the assembly, her kindly plain face beaming with welcome, would ever have guessed it. Speaking in excellent and only very slightly accented English, she welcomed them all most warmly at the beginning of this new school year; and spoke of the deep regret they all felt at the departure of their former headmistress. She assured them that she would always do everything in her power to continue steadfastly on the lines that ‘Madame’ had laid down. In this endeavour she knew that she could count on the loyal support of every single one of them.

  At this the girls broke into applause, which brought a faint tinge of pink to Mademoiselle’s face as she paused for a moment before continuing: ‘I am sure that you will be very happy, as I am, to learn that our dear Madame does not intend to withdraw altogether from the Chalet School. She will continue to act with me as joint headmistress and will visit us each week to give lessons in English literature.’

  Here delighted glances were exchanged among the Senior girls, for Madge Russell’s literature classes had been greatly appreciated by all those lucky enough to attend them.

  ‘I should like now on behalf of us all to extend an especially warm welcome to those who are joining our staff for the first time, Miss Annersley and Matron Lloyd, and also to all new girls. We hope they will be very happy among us. And now’ — Mademoiselle consulted a list in her hand — ‘I have pleasure in naming for you those girls who have been chosen to act as prefects in the school. First, our new Head Girl will be Bette Rincini — she has been with us since the earliest days of the Chalet School and has always shown herself a most loyal member of it.’

  There were enthusiastic cheers as pretty Bette went forward to receive her badge of office. Bette was justly popular and had already proved herself an excellent prefect, liked and respected throughout the school. Her appointment was no surprise, nor were the other names that Mademoiselle now announced: Grizel Cochrane, Rosalie Dene and Gertrud Steinbrücke had already been prefects last term and Luigia di Ferrara a sub-prefect; now Mary Burnett, Deira O’Hagan and Vanna di Ricci would join them, bringing the total up to the usual number of eight.

  ‘And now, my dear girls, I must draw your attention to a matter of the greatest importance. So important, indeed, that we have thought it well to forewarn you all. This is why we have taken the unusual step of placing a notice in the entrance hall; and this notice I am sure you have all read. As you will realise,’ she noted that in some quarters meaning, even rueful, glances were being exchanged, ‘I refer to our new rule, by which we shall dedicate two days each week, one to the French language, the other to German. Since our Chalet School embraces many nationalities, Madame and I have thought it wise that you should all strive for proficiency in speaking languages other than your own. And, in time, we may possibly extend the practice and have two days each of French and German. But do not look so apprehensive, mes enfants! If you will try with good will I am persuaded that you all, in time, can become trilingual. Let us all endeavour to do our best.’

  The headmistress then went on to read out the form lists, and to remind the girls that all regular activities, such as games, folk-dancing, Hobbies Club and Guide meetings, would resume immediately. Arrangements for the new Christmas play would be discussed towards the end of October.

  Then, taking up an envelope, Mademoiselle said: ‘Finally, mes enfants, I have here a letter from Juliet Carrick, our last Head Girl, who wishes us to know that a party of girls from Grange House School in London will be visiting the Tiernsee next month. They will be staying at the Stephanie Hotel, which is of course quite near us. Juliet has made the acquaintance of several of the girls and tells me that Miss Bruce, the mistress who will be in change of the group, has been very kind to her. Now I feel sure that you would all wish me to extend the hospitality of the Chalet School to these visitors from England, and so I have decided to invite them to an informal party here on the first Saturday after their arrival. This little party will be from 18.30 until 21 o’clock, and you will all,’ here she smiled in the direction of the Juniors and younger Middles, ‘be permitted to remain until the end.’

  This was a delightful surprise; it was only on a very few occasions that the Chalet girls were allowed to depart from their normal routine of early bed-times.

  Mademoiselle proceeded to dismiss the girls, telling them that they were now free until Abendessen, which would give them ‘ample opportunity to talk over all the news’.

  There was a positive explosion of talking as soon as the staff had departed. And, through the tumult, Evadne’s penetrating tones could be clearly heard: ‘Gee, you folk
s! I just figured it out: in only fourteen hours we’ll be sitting down to breakfast in FRENCH! I guess I’ll just have to begin, right now, and talk until I lose my voice entirely.’

  CHAPTER IV.

  JOEY’S HIKE.

  ‘ALL set for this afternoon, Margia?’ Joey Bettany was rushing towards the common-room after Saturday morning’s Guide meeting. ‘Did you check that list I gave you? And d’you know where Elisaveta’s got to? I’ve looked in the dorm and the class-room, and she’s not in either.’

  But there was no answer. Margia, who had dumped a large pile of music from her locker on to the floor, was kneeling beside it, searching frantically. Sheets of music lay round her like fallen leaves.

  ‘Look here, you’ve simply got to make sure everything’s ready before Mittagessen. A nice sort of idiot I’ll look if something gets forgotten . . . let alone failing the test.’

  Joey’s left foot beat an indignant tattoo on the wooden floor-boards. It meant a lot to her that the afternoon’s expedition should be a success. Provided that she passed this one test (that of escorting two younger Guides on an unsupervised half-day’s hike) she would have fulfilled all the requirements for the First-class badge. And Jo had been working hard for more than a year to gain this badge.

  ‘MARGIA! Have you gone deaf all of a sudden . . . or just dotty? I do wish you’d wake up. Did you check that list?’ Joey was almost shouting in her exasperation.

  ‘Sorry, Jo.’ Margia looked up, a distracted expression in her grey eyes. ‘I’m just trying to find that awful Moscheles piece Herr Anserl told me to begin learning. I can’t think where it’s gone to. Anyway you needn’t yell so hard — I did hear. Everything’s all right; I’ve got all the things you asked for ready, and Elisaveta’s collecting the food from the kitchen after Mittagessen. What time do you want us to start?’