Malory Towers: Sally/Mary-Lou
Gift for: versipellis
Fandom: Malory Towers
Pairing: Sally/Mary-Lou
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1500
“Sally! Sally, what’s wrong?”
Mary-Lou looked anxious as she saw Sally, her head buried in her arms, sitting in the shade of the broad-trunked tree. Sally looked up. She was not, as Mary-Lou had first thought, crying. Instead, her face was white and set.
“Nothing. Go away, Mary-Lou.”
Mary-Lou nibbled tentatively at her bottom lip, but instead of leaving, she sank down beside Sally, slipping an arm through the other girl’s.
“I can’t. Not when you’re looking like that.”
“I’m fine,” Sally said remotely.
“But you’re not.” She hesitated. “Have you had a fight with Darrell?”
“No.”
It was the truth. There had been no fight. Darrell didn’t understand. She would never understand, whatever Sally said. So Sally said nothing; said nothing and ran away from Darrell to pine alone, helplessly knowing that by doing so she was only driving Darrell further from her. Sally would have liked to push Mary-Lou away, clothing herself in solitary anguish; but no more than she could have kicked a puppy could she hurt Mary-Lou. Mary-Lou, who wasn’t interfering, but who actually, truly cared.
“I’m fine,” said Sally again.
“May I sit here with you?” asked Mary-Lou timidly.
A sharp answer hovered for a second, but then Sally shrugged.
“Why not?”
Mary-Lou rested her head on Sally’s shoulder in silent sympathy, and Sally hated herself for wishing so passionately that it was Darrell, not Mary-Lou, sitting beside her like this.
“Is Daphne busy?” she asked abruptly.
Mary-Lou nodded.
“She’s talking about sewing with Emily. I… I never even knew she was interested. She always used to get me to do her sewing: she said hers never came out right. But it seems that this Easter she was having lessons from a French lady, and now it’s become her hobby. I like sewing, but not - not that much. But Daphne… Well, you don’t want to listen to my worries.”
“No, no, I do,” Sally said, more gently. Wrapped up in her own problems, she hadn’t even realised that there was any sort of breach between Mary-Lou and Daphne. She felt guilty. Last term’s Sally would have noticed. This term’s didn’t seem to have the energy to bother about anything or anyone except Darrell - who… didn’t care as she did. “I’m sorry. I didn’t notice.”
Mary-Lou made a brave effort to smile.
“It’s not important. Daphne can have other friends. She doesn’t have to spend all her time with me. I’d only bore her.”
Sally thought of Darrell, whispering and giggling in corners with Alicia and Betty; going out on horseback with Bill, never thinking to ask Sally if she wanted to join in. Mary-Lou’s words touched a tender place. I’d only bore her. Was that it? Was that the trouble? Did she, Sally, bore Darrell? Sally thought about how miserable, how locked up in her emotions she’d been. She couldn’t blame Darrell if she were bored. She raised her head determinedly.
“Spend time with me, Mary-Lou,” she asked, her voice catching in her throat. “You won’t bore me.” (Or if you do, I will never tell you.)
“That’s nice of you,” her friend said humbly. “Thank you, Sally.”
Sally squeezed the arm which was still linked through hers.
“I mean it,” she said gently. “Daphne’s busy, Darrell’s busy - why shouldn’t we be busy? Why shouldn’t we be together?” She stood up and hauled Mary-Lou to her feet. “Come on. We can’t sit here all day. Let’s go and… I don’t know. Play a game of tennis? Go for a walk? We’ve got half an hour before lessons start. Let’s… let’s have fun,” she said, realising that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something just for the pleasure of it.
Mary-Lou was pink-cheeked with anticipation.
“That sounds… nice. Let’s go for a walk, Sally. The flowers are so beautiful at the moment.”
***
The friendship grew. Sally kept a covert eye on Darrell, subconsciously hoping that she would be able to detect signs of jealousy; but Darrell showed none. They still spent a lot of time together, but if Darrell was off with Alicia or Bill… Sally and Mary-Lou would often join up: special smiles kept just for the other; arms linked; heads bent together as they chatted.
When Sally first kissed Mary-Lou, Mary-Lou gasped with surprise.
“I’m sorry,” Sally said hastily, retreating. “I… I didn’t mean to…”
“No,” said Mary-Lou quickly. “No, I liked it. I just…”
“Did you?”
There was a wistful note in Sally’s voice to which Mary-Lou couldn’t help but respond. She nodded, and shyly pressed her lips against Sally’s.
“I… I l-liked it a lot,” she said, stammering in her nervousness.
“Thank you.” It was an odd reply; but Mary-Lou often found that she didn’t understand Sally, no matter how much time they spent together.
“I like you a lot,” she said, even more shyly.
“I know. You’re a dear friend, Mary-Lou.”
It wasn’t the declaration that Mary-Lou had hoped for, but it was a start. And Sally had kissed her, Mary-Lou reminded herself. There must be something in that. She would wait… and hope… and see.
And later Sally kissed her again. And again. Mary-Lou liked undoing Sally’s fair plaits from their moorings and running her fingers through Sally’s soft fine hair as they sat together, often under the branches of that first tree. Sally had been unsure the first time, but Mary-Lou had begged.
“I’ll be able to put it back before we go in,” she had said pleadingly; and Sally, knowing how much Mary-Lou gave with so little in return, agreed.
It became a custom: they would slip away, and as soon as they were alone, Mary-Lou’s hands would reach for Sally’s plaits. Sally became ‘hers’ then, in those lost moments together with her hair loose around her shoulders. She became a Sally that only Mary-Lou knew.
“You look beautiful,” Mary-Lou said once, adoringly; and Sally had smiled ruefully.
Beauty was in the eye of the beholder indeed. Mary-Lou’s friend Daphne was truly beautiful, with golden hair and a charming smile. Sally was… not plain, but nothing special: a reasonably pretty schoolgirl with thoughtful grey eyes. It was Mary-Lou’s love for her that made her see something more. And it was a love that Sally didn’t - couldn’t - reciprocate. Oh, if only you got to choose who you loved! Sweet, gentle, undemanding Mary-Lou would make a perfect lover. Tempestuous, unromantic Darrell… ah, she was more of a challenge. And the thing that hurt most was knowing that Darrell didn’t care for her love - didn’t need it, didn’t even want it. Whereas Mary-Lou…
Oh, what was the point? You couldn’t choose who you felt for. Sally was fond - very fond - of Mary-Lou but it wasn’t the same. However much she tried… it wasn’t the same.
“Let’s play tennis,” she said brusquely, running towards the court and leaving Mary-Lou to trail in her wake. “Let’s play tennis” - her only reply to something she could neither explain nor change.
***
Half-term came and went. Sally and Darrell went out together; Mary-Lou, Daphne and Emily made up a threesome. But when the girls returned at the end of the day, it was Sally who Mary-Lou looked out for; Mary-Lou who got the first of Sally’s looks, the first smile she shared. Darrell noticed, and teased Sally lightly about their friendship.
“You’re not throwing me over for Mary-Lou, I hope!” she laughed.
Sally forced a smile, and left all the words she longed to say unuttered.
“What do you think?” she asked quietly.
“I think Mary-Lou is a dear. And so are you.”
Darrell’s hearty sincerity was obvious. Sally felt another splinter grind through her heart. And another, when the following day Darrell trotted off with Bill, saying happily
“I know you’ll be all right. You’re probably happier when I’m gone, anyway.”
Sally looked after her for one long moment, and then sought out Mary-Lou.
“Daphne’s busy again.” These days Mary-Lou’s voice held a tinge of anticipation; a happy note within it. There was a brighter colour in her cheeks. “What about Darrell?”
“She’s riding with Bill.”
“Just you and me again, then?”
“Yes,” said Sally slowly. “Just you and me.” But as Mary-Lou leant in for the expected kiss, Sally drew away. Her eyes were sad - guilty and sad - as she said “I can’t. Mary-Lou, I’m sorry. I can’t do this any more.”
“It’s Darrell, isn’t it?” Mary-Lou asked.
Perhaps, somewhere deep inside, she had always guessed that it might come to this. Sally seemed to be looking not at her, but far away into a distant world that no one else could see.
“Yes,” she said quietly, hopelessly. “Yes. It’s always been Darrell.”
And there was nothing more that either girl could say.
Fandom: Malory Towers
Pairing: Sally/Mary-Lou
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1500
“Sally! Sally, what’s wrong?”
Mary-Lou looked anxious as she saw Sally, her head buried in her arms, sitting in the shade of the broad-trunked tree. Sally looked up. She was not, as Mary-Lou had first thought, crying. Instead, her face was white and set.
“Nothing. Go away, Mary-Lou.”
Mary-Lou nibbled tentatively at her bottom lip, but instead of leaving, she sank down beside Sally, slipping an arm through the other girl’s.
“I can’t. Not when you’re looking like that.”
“I’m fine,” Sally said remotely.
“But you’re not.” She hesitated. “Have you had a fight with Darrell?”
“No.”
It was the truth. There had been no fight. Darrell didn’t understand. She would never understand, whatever Sally said. So Sally said nothing; said nothing and ran away from Darrell to pine alone, helplessly knowing that by doing so she was only driving Darrell further from her. Sally would have liked to push Mary-Lou away, clothing herself in solitary anguish; but no more than she could have kicked a puppy could she hurt Mary-Lou. Mary-Lou, who wasn’t interfering, but who actually, truly cared.
“I’m fine,” said Sally again.
“May I sit here with you?” asked Mary-Lou timidly.
A sharp answer hovered for a second, but then Sally shrugged.
“Why not?”
Mary-Lou rested her head on Sally’s shoulder in silent sympathy, and Sally hated herself for wishing so passionately that it was Darrell, not Mary-Lou, sitting beside her like this.
“Is Daphne busy?” she asked abruptly.
Mary-Lou nodded.
“She’s talking about sewing with Emily. I… I never even knew she was interested. She always used to get me to do her sewing: she said hers never came out right. But it seems that this Easter she was having lessons from a French lady, and now it’s become her hobby. I like sewing, but not - not that much. But Daphne… Well, you don’t want to listen to my worries.”
“No, no, I do,” Sally said, more gently. Wrapped up in her own problems, she hadn’t even realised that there was any sort of breach between Mary-Lou and Daphne. She felt guilty. Last term’s Sally would have noticed. This term’s didn’t seem to have the energy to bother about anything or anyone except Darrell - who… didn’t care as she did. “I’m sorry. I didn’t notice.”
Mary-Lou made a brave effort to smile.
“It’s not important. Daphne can have other friends. She doesn’t have to spend all her time with me. I’d only bore her.”
Sally thought of Darrell, whispering and giggling in corners with Alicia and Betty; going out on horseback with Bill, never thinking to ask Sally if she wanted to join in. Mary-Lou’s words touched a tender place. I’d only bore her. Was that it? Was that the trouble? Did she, Sally, bore Darrell? Sally thought about how miserable, how locked up in her emotions she’d been. She couldn’t blame Darrell if she were bored. She raised her head determinedly.
“Spend time with me, Mary-Lou,” she asked, her voice catching in her throat. “You won’t bore me.” (Or if you do, I will never tell you.)
“That’s nice of you,” her friend said humbly. “Thank you, Sally.”
Sally squeezed the arm which was still linked through hers.
“I mean it,” she said gently. “Daphne’s busy, Darrell’s busy - why shouldn’t we be busy? Why shouldn’t we be together?” She stood up and hauled Mary-Lou to her feet. “Come on. We can’t sit here all day. Let’s go and… I don’t know. Play a game of tennis? Go for a walk? We’ve got half an hour before lessons start. Let’s… let’s have fun,” she said, realising that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something just for the pleasure of it.
Mary-Lou was pink-cheeked with anticipation.
“That sounds… nice. Let’s go for a walk, Sally. The flowers are so beautiful at the moment.”
***
The friendship grew. Sally kept a covert eye on Darrell, subconsciously hoping that she would be able to detect signs of jealousy; but Darrell showed none. They still spent a lot of time together, but if Darrell was off with Alicia or Bill… Sally and Mary-Lou would often join up: special smiles kept just for the other; arms linked; heads bent together as they chatted.
When Sally first kissed Mary-Lou, Mary-Lou gasped with surprise.
“I’m sorry,” Sally said hastily, retreating. “I… I didn’t mean to…”
“No,” said Mary-Lou quickly. “No, I liked it. I just…”
“Did you?”
There was a wistful note in Sally’s voice to which Mary-Lou couldn’t help but respond. She nodded, and shyly pressed her lips against Sally’s.
“I… I l-liked it a lot,” she said, stammering in her nervousness.
“Thank you.” It was an odd reply; but Mary-Lou often found that she didn’t understand Sally, no matter how much time they spent together.
“I like you a lot,” she said, even more shyly.
“I know. You’re a dear friend, Mary-Lou.”
It wasn’t the declaration that Mary-Lou had hoped for, but it was a start. And Sally had kissed her, Mary-Lou reminded herself. There must be something in that. She would wait… and hope… and see.
And later Sally kissed her again. And again. Mary-Lou liked undoing Sally’s fair plaits from their moorings and running her fingers through Sally’s soft fine hair as they sat together, often under the branches of that first tree. Sally had been unsure the first time, but Mary-Lou had begged.
“I’ll be able to put it back before we go in,” she had said pleadingly; and Sally, knowing how much Mary-Lou gave with so little in return, agreed.
It became a custom: they would slip away, and as soon as they were alone, Mary-Lou’s hands would reach for Sally’s plaits. Sally became ‘hers’ then, in those lost moments together with her hair loose around her shoulders. She became a Sally that only Mary-Lou knew.
“You look beautiful,” Mary-Lou said once, adoringly; and Sally had smiled ruefully.
Beauty was in the eye of the beholder indeed. Mary-Lou’s friend Daphne was truly beautiful, with golden hair and a charming smile. Sally was… not plain, but nothing special: a reasonably pretty schoolgirl with thoughtful grey eyes. It was Mary-Lou’s love for her that made her see something more. And it was a love that Sally didn’t - couldn’t - reciprocate. Oh, if only you got to choose who you loved! Sweet, gentle, undemanding Mary-Lou would make a perfect lover. Tempestuous, unromantic Darrell… ah, she was more of a challenge. And the thing that hurt most was knowing that Darrell didn’t care for her love - didn’t need it, didn’t even want it. Whereas Mary-Lou…
Oh, what was the point? You couldn’t choose who you felt for. Sally was fond - very fond - of Mary-Lou but it wasn’t the same. However much she tried… it wasn’t the same.
“Let’s play tennis,” she said brusquely, running towards the court and leaving Mary-Lou to trail in her wake. “Let’s play tennis” - her only reply to something she could neither explain nor change.
***
Half-term came and went. Sally and Darrell went out together; Mary-Lou, Daphne and Emily made up a threesome. But when the girls returned at the end of the day, it was Sally who Mary-Lou looked out for; Mary-Lou who got the first of Sally’s looks, the first smile she shared. Darrell noticed, and teased Sally lightly about their friendship.
“You’re not throwing me over for Mary-Lou, I hope!” she laughed.
Sally forced a smile, and left all the words she longed to say unuttered.
“What do you think?” she asked quietly.
“I think Mary-Lou is a dear. And so are you.”
Darrell’s hearty sincerity was obvious. Sally felt another splinter grind through her heart. And another, when the following day Darrell trotted off with Bill, saying happily
“I know you’ll be all right. You’re probably happier when I’m gone, anyway.”
Sally looked after her for one long moment, and then sought out Mary-Lou.
“Daphne’s busy again.” These days Mary-Lou’s voice held a tinge of anticipation; a happy note within it. There was a brighter colour in her cheeks. “What about Darrell?”
“She’s riding with Bill.”
“Just you and me again, then?”
“Yes,” said Sally slowly. “Just you and me.” But as Mary-Lou leant in for the expected kiss, Sally drew away. Her eyes were sad - guilty and sad - as she said “I can’t. Mary-Lou, I’m sorry. I can’t do this any more.”
“It’s Darrell, isn’t it?” Mary-Lou asked.
Perhaps, somewhere deep inside, she had always guessed that it might come to this. Sally seemed to be looking not at her, but far away into a distant world that no one else could see.
“Yes,” she said quietly, hopelessly. “Yes. It’s always been Darrell.”
And there was nothing more that either girl could say.