Third Year at Malory Towers (13 page)

The girls thought nothing of it either. They were used to Mavis and her continual extra voice-training now. They hardly missed her. As they often said, Mavis was really nothing but a Voice and a lot of conceit.

Bill was very silent and worried, and ate hardly anything. Warm-hearted Darrell felt sorry for her. She knew she was worrying about Thunder and not being able to go to him. She whispered to Bill.

“Shall I go and have a look at him for you after supper?”

Bill shook her head. “No. I don't want to get you into trouble. Nobody's allowed in the stables when it's dark.”

No one said anything about Mavis not being in the common room after supper. Alicia switched on the wireless. Belinda began to do a ridiculous dance. Zerelda got up and joined her. Everyone laughed. Zerelda could be really funny when she forgot her airs and graces.

She was pleased at the girls' applause. “Shall I act a bit of
Romeo and Juliet
for you?” she asked, eagerly. “I'm tired of waiting for that rehearsal with Miss Hibbert!”

“Yes, do, Zerelda!” said Gwen, at once. The others were not so keen, but they sat back, prepared to be patient for a little while.

Zerelda began. She struck a pose, lifted up her voice and began to speak and act the part of Juliet, trying to talk in the

English way.

The result was so very comical that the girls roared with laughter. They thought that Zerelda was being funny on purpose. Zerelda stopped and looked at them, offended.

“What are you laughing at? This part is very tragic and sad.”

Still the girls thought that Zerelda was being funny, and they laughed again. “Go on, Zerelda! This is priceless!” said Darrell. “I never knew you could be so comical.”

“I'm not being comical,” said Zerelda.

“Do go on,” begged Irene. “Come on—I'll be Romeo. We'll rag the whole thing.”

Tin
not
ragging,” said Zerelda. “I was playing the part properly—as I thought it ought to be played.”

The girls looked at her in surprise. Did she really mean it? Did she honestly think that kind of acting was good? It was so bad that it was funny.

They didn't know what to say. They could, however, quite well imagine what Miss Hibbert would say. She had her own way of dealing with stage-struck people who thought they could act. Zerelda was appalling. She flung her hands about, made terrible faces which were supposed to be tragic, and was altogether too dramatic for words.

“She can't act for toffee!” whispered Alicia to Darrell. “What are we to say?”

Fortunately the door was opened at that moment and a fourth-former came in to borrow a gramophone record. Zerelda, offended with everyone, sat down in a chair and took up a book. She hated everyone in the school! Why had she ever come here? Not one of them thought anything of her—and she was worth the whole lot put together.

When the bell rang at nine o'clock Mavis was not back. Jean noticed it at once. “Where's Mavis? I haven't seen her all evening.”

“She said she had a singing-lesson,” said Darrell. “But what a long one it must have been! Well, she'll come along when Mr. Young's finished with her, I suppose.”

“He's never as late as this,” said Jean, puzzled. “I wonder if I ought to tell Miss Potts.”

“No, don't. She may be messing about somewhere, and you'll get her into trouble,” said Belinda. “She'll be up in the dormy probably.”

But she wasn't. The girls undressed and got into bed. Jean did not allow talking after lights out, so there was nothing said until Jean herself spoke.

“I say! You don't think, do you, that that idiot of a Mavis has gone off to that talent spotting affair? You know—the thing at Billington Grand Hall.”

There was a silence. Then Alicia spoke. “I shouldn't be a bit surprised! She's quite silly over her voice. She might think it was a wonderful chance to air it in public. She's always wanting to.”

“Well!” said Jean, angrily. “She'll just
have
to be reported then. Honestly, she's the limit.”

“We can't do much just now,” said Darrell. “She may be back at any minute. I forget what time the concert began. I expect she'd catch the half-past eight bus back and be here just after half-past nine. It must be nearly that now. You'll have to report her tomorrow morning. Jean—what a perfect idiot she must be, if she really
has
gone!”

“What I'm afraid of,” said Jean, “is that they might let her get up on the platform and sing—and, you know, she really has got such a wonderful voice that it would be bound to bring the house down—and that's just what Mavis would love—cheering and clapping and applause! She'll be worse than ever if that happens—and she won't care a bit about being reported and punished.”

“Leave it till tomorrow morning,” said Darrell, sleepily. “She'll be along soon. Tick her off then, Jean, and report her in the morning.”

Miss Potts heard the voices in the dormy and was surprised. She came to the door—but at she heard Jean's clear voice say “Now, no more talking girls”, at that moment, she did not open the door to scold. If she had, she would have switched on the light and noticed Mavis's empty bed. As it was, she went away at once.

The girls were tired. Jean tried to keep awake to tick off Mavis, but she couldn't. Her eyes closed and she fell fast asleep. So did everyone else—except Bill. Bill hadn't heard a word about Mavis. She was wrapped up in her own thoughts and they were very miserable ones. Thunder! How are you getting on? Have you missed me? Bill talked to Thunder in her thoughts, and heard nothing else at all.

Darrell too was asleep. She had meant to have a last comforting whisper with Bill, who slept next to her, but she fell asleep before she could say the words. Only Bill was awake.

Mavis didn't come. Ten o'clock struck, and eleven. No Mavis. All the girls were asleep except Bill, and she didn't think about Mavis. Twelve o'clock struck. Bill counted the strokes.

“I can't go to sleep! I simply can't! I shall lie awake till the morning. If only I knew how Thunder is getting on! If I knew he was all right, I'd be all right, too. But supposing he really has the colic?”

She lay and thought for a few minutes. She remembered a window that overlooked the stables. If she went to it and opened it and leaned out, she might perhaps hear if Thunder was all right. A horse with colic makes a noise. She would hear that.

Bill got out of bed and felt for her dressing gown and slippers. She put them on. She groped her way to the door, bumping against Darrell's bed as she did so. Darrell woke up at once.

She thought it was Mavis coining back. She sat up and whispered loudly. “Mavis!”

No answer. The door softly opened and shut. Somebody had gone out, not come in. Who was it?

Darrell got her torch and switched it on. The first thing she saw was Bill's empty bed. Was Bill ill? Or had she gone to the stables? Surely not, in the middle of a pouring wet night.

She went to the door and opened it. She thought she saw something a good distance down the corridor. She ran after the something.

Bill had gone to the window that overlooked the stables. She opened it, and Darrell heard her and went towards the sound. Bill leaned out of the window and listened.

Her heart went cold! From the stables came a groaning and a stamping. There was a horse in distress there, quite certainly. Bill knew it was Thunder. She felt sure it was. He had colic! He was in agony. He would die if somebody didn't help him!

She turned away from the window and jumped violently when Darrell put a hand on her shoulder. “Bill! What are you doing?” whispered Darrell.

“Oh, Darrell—I was listening to see if any noise came from the stables over there—and there's a horse in pain. I'm sure it's Thunder. I must go to him! Oh, Darrell, please come with me. I might want help. Do, do help me.”

“All right,” said Darrell, unhappy to hear Bill's tearful voice. “I'll come. Come back and get on something warmer. It's pouring with rain. We can't go out in dressing-gowns.”

Bill didn't want to stop to put anything on, but Darrell made her. The two girls put on cardigans and tunics and mackintoshes. Then they slipped down the back stairs, went through the little side-door and ran across in the pouring rain. Darrell could hear a horse groaning and stamping. Oh dear! It sounded awful. With trembling fingers Bill undid the stable door and went inside. There was a lantern standing in a corner, with a box of matches beside it. Her fingers trembled so much that she couldn't strike a match and Darrell had to light the lamp.

Both girls felt better when the light streamed out into the dark stable, that smelt of horses and hay. Bill made her way swiftly to Thunder's stall. Darrell followed with the lantern.

Thunder's eyes were big and frightened. He hung his head in misery. From his body came weird rumbling noises, like far-away thunder.

“Yes. He's got colic. He's bad Darrell. Oh, Darrell, we mustn't let him lie down. That would be fatal. We must walk him about all the time.”

“Walk him about? Where?” asked Darrell, in astonishment. “In the stables?”

“No. Outside. It's the only thing to do, keep him walking so that he can't lie down. Look, he's trying to lie now. Help me to stop him!”

But it is a very difficult thing to prevent a big horse from lying down if he wants to! Neither of the girls would have been able to stop him if Thunder had really made up his mind to lie down—but fortunately he decided to stand up a little longer and nuzzle against Bill. He was so very, very glad to see her!

Bill was crying bitterly. “Oh, Thunder! What can I do for you? Don't lie down, Thunder. Don't lie down!”

“You ought to have the vet, Bill, oughtn't you?” said Darrell, anxiously. “How can we get him?”

“Could you possibly ride over and fetch him?” said Bill, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You know where he lives—not far off, really.”

“No, I couldn't,” said Darrell.” I don't ride well enough to get a horse and gallop off on a dark night. You go, Bill, and I'll stay with Thunder.”

“I can't leave him even for a
minute
!”“ said Bill. She seemed quite unable to think what to do. Darrell thought hard.

An idea came into her head. She touched Bill on the shoulder. “Bill! Stay here and I'll get help somehow. Don't worry. I'll be back as soon as I can!”

DARRELL raced off into the rain. She had thought of something but she didn't want to tell Bill what it was. Bill wouldn't like it. But still, it was the only sensible thing Darrell could think of.

She was going to wake up Miss Peters and tell her about Thunder! She remembered how she had heard Miss Peters talking to the horse, sympathizing with him, and she remembered, too, how Thunder had nuzzled happily against her. Surely Miss Peters would understand and come to their help?

She went indoors. She made her way to Miss Peters' room, stumbling through the dark corridors. She wondered if she had come to the right room. Yes, this must be it. She rapped at the door.

There was no answer. She rapped again. Still no answer. Miss Peters must sleep very, very soundly! In desperation Darrell opened the door and looked in. The room was in darkness. She felt for the light switch and put it on.

Miss Peters was lying humped up in bed, fast asleep. She slept very soundly indeed, and even a thunderstorm did not usually awaken her. Darrell went to the bed and put her hand on Miss Peters” shoulder.

Miss Peters awoke at once then. She sat up and stared at Darrell in amazement. “What is it?” she said. “What have you come to me for?”

Darrell would have gone to Miss Potts or Matron in the usual way—but this was something so unusual that the girl felt only Miss Peters could deal with it properly. She began to tell Miss Peters all about the trouble.

“It's Thunder. He's got colic and Bill's afraid he'll die if he lies down. Can you get the vet, Miss Peters?”

“Good gracious! Have you and Bill been out to the stables at this time of night?” said Miss Peters, looking at her clock, which showed half-past twelve. She sprang out of bed. She pulled on riding breeches and jersey and riding-coat, for she had been riding that day with the school, and her things lay ready to hand.

“Yes,” said Darrell. “But don't be angry, Miss Peters— we simply had to go when we heard Thunder in pain.”

“I'm not angry,” said Miss Peters. “I was worried myself about Thunder today. I rang up the vet and he said he would come tomorrow. I'll come down with you and have a look at the horse myself

In a few minutes she was in the stables with Darrell. Bill was amazed to see her, but very comforted when she saw how capably Miss Peters handled the distressed horse. Thunder whinnied to her and nuzzled against her shoulder. Miss Peters spoke to him gently, and Bill's heart warmed to her.

“Oh, Miss Peters—can we get the vet to come now? I'm so afraid Thunder will lie down and we won't be able to get him up again.”

Thunder's insides gave a most alarming rumble just then and he groaned in pain and fright. He seemed about to lie down, but Miss Peters took him out of his stall at once, and began to walk him up and down the stables. The other horses looked round, mildly surprised at all these unusual happenings. One or two whinnied to Miss Peters. They were very fond of her.

“Darrell! Go quickly and get sou'westers for yourself and Bill. Then take the horse into the yard and walk him round and round. I'll go and phone the vet and come back at once.”

Darrell flew off. She came back with the sou'westers. She had to put Bill's on her, because Bill looked at the sou'wester as if she simply didn't know what it was!

“I'm going to phone now,” said Miss Peters. “Walk him out, Bill.”

She went. She telephoned the vet's house. The sleepy voice of his housekeeper answered her. “I'm sorry, Mam— but the vet has gone to Raglett's farm to a cow. He said he'd sleep there for the night. No, Mam—I'm afraid they're not on the telephone. You can't get the vet tonight. I'm sorry.”

Miss Peters put down the receiver. Couldn't get the vet! What was to be done? The horse needed medicine, and only the vet could bring it and make him drink it down. Miss Peters could see that Thunder's condition was serious. Something
must
be done!