malory towers fic | complex | chapters 1 + 2
Title: Complex, Chapters 1 & 2
Fandom: Malory Towers
Pairing: Darrell/Sally, I think.
Rating: None
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Enid Blyton, or her estate or publishers or whatever, not me.
Words: 2700 each approx.
Spoilers: The whole Malory Towers series.
Notes: WIP Malory Towers post-fic, with Darrell, Sally, Alicia and Betty at St Andrews university.
Chapter 1, in which Darrell is confused.
"Did you know this was the first women's hall in Scotland?" Sally asked conversationally as she and Darrell climbed the large front steps of University Hall's 'Wardlaw Wing'. "Not this part, but the Old Wing where Alicia and Betty are."
Darrell smiled to herself as Sally almost bounced up the steps ahead of her. She didn't think she'd ever seen her friend so excited. At the top Sally turned, her eyes bright, and as though she'd read Darrell's mind, said.
"Oh, I'm so awfully excited, Darrell! I almost think I shall be sick from it!"
"Don't - particularly while I'm still down here!" Darrell exclaimed, laughing and taking the last few steps at a pace. "I shan't have you being sick all over me on our first day." Reaching Sally's side, she dropped her cases on the ground at either side of her, massaging one arm. "Phew, those cases are heavy! I found so much more to bring with me now that I have my own room."
"Our own room, Darrell," Sally corrected her, for they were to share this year - more for the companionship than to save money, although it was less expensive.
"Well, I suppose I shall have to keep all my things to my half, shan't I?" Darrell retorted, grinning broadly. To her complete surprise, she found herself suddenly wrapped in a tight hug.
"Oh, Darrell, won't it be wonderful? St Andrews University! Think of the lectures, the societies and clubs, the sea almost as close as ever - did you know they have a tidal pool here too? - all these grounds to explore, the golf course right there - we could learn to golf, you know - and there are tea-rooms and restaurants in town, and little cake shops, and... you and me, Darrell, just the two of us! Won't it be simply terrific?"
Sally released the other girl from the hug, and Darrell stared at her, almost shocked at this warmth and enthusiasm from sensible, calm, measured Sally Hope.
"What's come over you today, Sally? I fear you've gone quite mad." Darrell asked, looking a little bemused.
Sally just shook her head, still grinning, eyes twinkling with delight. "Everything is just as I'd always wanted, Darrell. Perfect."
Their room was on the second floor, at the back of the building, looking out to sea. The room was long and high-ceilinged, walls of a fresh cream colour with heavy oak woodwork throughout. The windows were open when they got there, and the room empty but for a few items of furniture and the two single beds.
"It's very bare," Darrell commented, "but we'll soon brighten it up!" Immediately she threw her case down on the nearest bed, and snapped it open. Under the first layer of clothes, carefully wrapped, was a framed sketch.
It had been Belinda's going-away present for Sally and Darrell: a portrait of the two of them, both in Malory Towers uniform, sitting on the front steps of North Tower. Darrell was grinning like a fool, resting her elbows on her knees in a most un-ladylike fashion, and Sally was leaning in towards Darrell, her head almost on the other girl's shoulder.
"That's you two to-a-tee, that is," Clarissa had commented, as Darrell exclaimed over the drawing, showing it around. "You looking pleased with yourself as usual, and Sally unable to keep her eyes off you!" Darrell had laughed at the idea that she was self-satisfied, knowing Clarissa was joking.
Sally had kept quiet, though, looking thoughtfully at the picture. "Thanks, Belinda. It's awfully good," she'd said quietly.
Later that evening - the very last before school ended for the year, the girls had met down by the pool for one last night-time swim. Sally and Clarissa somehow drifted away from the main party and were spotted sitting on the rocks nearby, deep in conversation. Sally in particular looked very solemn. Those who noticed them exchanged glances: What could quiet Sally and even quieter Clarissa have to talk about for so long? Only Bill seemed studiously disinterested, casually distracting Darrell from her best friend's preoccupation with in-depth descriptions of the stables she and Clarissa were opening together that Summer.
Darrell was pulled out of her reverie when she felt Sally by her side. "We should hang that right here," she said, pointing to an area of wall by the dresser. "There's already a hook. And we'll see it every morning as we get ready to go out. Out to university Darrell!"
* * *
The next few weeks simply flew by as the girls found themselves swept up in the flurry of activity that was university life. The girls had one course in common, as they were both studying English Literature. However, Sally balanced this off with History subjects, while Darrell chose to favour Philosophy and English Language. Alicia was in none of their classes, studying maths and sciences exclusively, and Betty only in Sally's British History lessons - although she was not always in attendance as Sally was, especially not on the sunnier days that they were having here and there in the early days of Autumn.
In actual fact, the only time Sally and Darrell regularly saw the other pair were at meetings of the Debating Society, and in The Tudor Inn most Friday evenings. The Inn was a lively but respectable pub, which a good number of Darrell's fellow English students frequented, so they often found themselves surrounded by her classmates, as the dark-haired girl had become quite popular, particularly with one or two of the boys in the year.
Alicia and Betty lapped-up this captive audience, keeping the students well-entertained with their comedic bickering and anecdotes, and indeed some became quite good friends with the two pranksters. Darrell was content with the company but sought deeper friendships with none of them, choosing instead to talk with Sally for the most part as usual. Sally, however, couldn't help but feel her old jealousies rising at her best friend's popularity, and often had to bite back nasty remarks when another girl - or worse, boy - was part of their conversations.
One evening in early November, more than half way through their first term at university, things came to something of a head. The four old girls were in The Tudor with a number of Darrell's classmates: two giggly girls named Molly and Katie, who were best friends themselves, and a charming, sincere young man named Thomas. Sally had commanded Darrell's company most of the evening, and Darrell, as usual, had been happy to give her undivided attention to her friend, for all she often thought it was a waste to come to the pub when they spoke only to each other. During a short trip to lavatory on Sally's part, though, Thomas took her seat.
"I'll move when Sally gets back of course, Darrell, but there was something I wanted to ask you," Tom began. Darrell nodded politely, looking bemused. "Look, I know this must sound awfully forward," he continued, "but I keep trying to talk to Sally, and she always seems distracted somehow. Can I... could you tell me, is she, er, walking out with anyone?"
Darrell continued to look confused for another second before her face split into an amused smile. "'Walking out'? Dear me, Tom, it's as well you didn't ask Sally that. How very old fashioned!"
Tom blushed a deep red. "You know what I mean, Darrell, do be a sport and tell me, I'm simply bursting with fascination but I can't seem to talk to her. You always hog her when we're here."
Darrell smiled. "Sally's not seeing anyone. Do you want me to speak to her for you? Find out what she thinks?"
"Oh, Darrell, would you? I'll do anything!" Tom said, his face lighting up. Then he looked slightly panicked. "Oh Lord, here she is!" he said, and slid back over to where the other four girls were talking.
Sally sat down and noted Darrell's amused expression. "Tell you a funny joke, did he? Anything you'd like to share?" she said coldly, furious that Tom had talked to Darrell while she was gone.
Darrell didn't seem to notice her sharp tone, however, only leaning forward conspiratorally, and asking in a low voice. "Ho, Sally... what d'you think to Tom? He's a nice young man, isn't he?" Her face was a study of innocent inquiry.
Sally, however, was not fooled. It was obvious to her than Darrell had caught Tom's eye, and that he had been flattering her - flirting with her while she, Sally, was in the lavatory. This probably hadn't been the first time either. Oh, how could she bear it if Darrell started spending all of her time with some boy?
"I think he's perfectly boring," she said shortly. Suddenly her head hurt terribly, and she felt a prickling behind her eyes. "Darrell, I have a headache. I'm going back to Halls. Do you have your own keys with you?"
Darrell sat up, her face switching from confusion to concern in a moment. "Sally, what's wrong? Was it the cider?" They had only had their usual half pint - surely that hadn't been enough to induce a headache?
"Yes. No. I don't know." Sally stood up, turning her face away. She thought about what Tom might say to Darrell while she was gone. She imagined him taking her hand, whispering in her ear. She thought she might be sick, but for all she wanted to prevent it she simply could not stay in the pub one more second. "Try not to wake me when you come in, Darrell; I'll see you tomorrow," she forced out, and hurried past the figures by the bar and out of the pub. She felt the tears prick her eyes before she even reached the door.
Darrell stood up to follow her friend, and heard Alicia's voice beside her, "What's up with her? Come sit here, Darrell, you've been simply ignoring us all night, you beast! She'll only be tired - didn't she have essays this week?"
Darrell nodded. Sally had been working hard. Flattered as usual by Alicia's eagreness for her company, she put her unsettled feelings to the back of her mind, and went to sit by Alicia.
"Well, how is university treating you, fair Darrell?" Alicia said, nudging her. "And don't tell me about your classical philosophers or New Historians again - I can't bear it! Have you been to any fun parties? Met any nice young men? Other than Tom, of course, who we all know is mad in love with Sally..." Alicia chuckled as Tom's blush returned full-force. Clearly he had not been as subtle as he'd have liked.
Darrell smiled and shook her head. "I'm not like you, Alicia. I can't go out to parties and still hand in my homework..."
"Nor can Alicia, these days, can you, Miss Johns?" Betty interjected, but was silenced with a scowl from her friend. Darrell frowned a little. Was Alicia's work suffering from her fondness for social activities? Had she finally found a level and volume of work that didn't come naturally to her?
"...and I haven't met any 'young men' either," she finished, more to break the awkward silence caused by Betty's jibe than anything else.
"Doubt you'd get a chance with Sally on your lap all the time," Alicia observed, her sharp, petty tongue surfacing in the face of her own embarrassment. She knew she shouldn't, but she kept going. "I promise you, Darrell, you'll never shake that girl off. Even supposing you do meet the man of your dreams one day, you'll walk up the aisle with her hanging round your ankles, and she'll lie between you and your husband in your honeymoon bed."
Stony silence met this outburst. Molly and Katie looked shocked, Tom completely dumbfounded, and Betty... Betty, curiously, looked close to tears. Alicia's own face was a study of self-control, though her hand was gripping her half-pint so tightly that her knuckles were white. She knew she'd said too much, but she could hardly take it back now.
"I'm sorry, Darrell," she said, not sounding sorry at all, "but you know she's obsessed with you. Frankly, I think it's rather sad."
"Alicia!" Betty choked. Alicia steadfastedly refused to look at her best friend. Instead, she stood up, and headed for the lavatory.
Darrell, more than anything else, was perplexed. Why was Alicia being so horrid? Why was Betty so upset by what she said? - she didn't think it was for her - Darrell's - sake. "I don't understand," she said quietly, to no one in particular.
Betty's mouth twisted into some kind of smile. "D'you know, I honestly believe that, Darrell," she said in a low voice. She bit her lip, then went on. "Alicia sometimes says things she shouldn't, things other people wouldn't say. And they aren't always nice, and she doesn't always say them for the right reasons..." she looked up at the dark haired young woman. "But maybe, sometimes, they need to be said."
Darrell frowned in confusion. Something was tugging at the back of her head, screaming at her for attention, almost, but it was as though it was round a corner and she just couldn't crane her neck enough to see it. Finally, she stood up. "I think perhaps I'll go home now. Say 'good night' to Alicia for me, would you?"
Tom was quickly standing by Darrell's side. "I'll walk you back to Hall," he said.
"I don't think-"
"It's a Friday night. You're not walking home alone." He was resolute.
They didn't speak at all for most of the way home. Tom seemed understandibly uncomfortable. Darrell was deep in thought. They arrived at Wardlaw Wing probably only fifteen minutes at most after Sally would have got there. Tom walked Darrell all the way up the front steps to the doorway, and there he paused.
"Good night, Tom. Thank you for seeing me home," Darrell said politely, trying to be her usual friendly self despite her preoccupation.
"Good night Darrell. Darrell?" Darrell nodded for him to continue. Tom collected his thoughts for a moment, knowing what he wanted to say, just not quite how to say it. "Sally's absolutely terrific."
"Yes, about that, Tom," Darrell began, "I spoke to her, and she said-"
"I know. I heard her," he cut her off. "But I wanted to tell you anyway. Just... in case you hadn't noticed. That's she's just a wonderful person."
Darrell laughed at this. "Well, I know that, Tom! We've been friends since we were twelve! She's always stood by me, and she's better at keeping me sensible than anyone else, ever."
Tom frowned. "No, Darrell. You always say that - 'sensible', like she's just a big ball of responsibility and tact, there for nothing other than to keep you at your studies." Darrell was quite taken aback. She'd never heard Tom sound this fierce. He went on without stopping, on a roll now - "Sally's smart, and pretty - beautiful - she's thoughtful and sweet, and she might not talk all the time like some girls, but she's very witty. She never speaks to me, but I used to listen to you two talking all the time..." He blushed again as he admitted this, though one couldn't see in the moonlight, "and no one makes you laugh the way she can. Sally's an actual, real, flesh-and-blood other person, believe it or not."
Darrell rubbed her nose furiously, mentally stifling the irritation bubbling up in her stomach. She'd had just about enough of this. "It seems everyone has something to tell me about Sally tonight," she said in a flat voice. "You'd think, what with my being her best friend and everything, that people would credit me with knowing her quite well already."
"You'd think..." Tom echoed, but unlike Alicia, he knew when to bite his tongue, and did. He only reached out a hand to tentatively squeeze her arm, then turned to go. "See you on Monday, Darrell. Sleep well."
Darrell stood on the terrace, watching him lope off, for a moment, thinking about what he'd said, and what Alicia had said earlier. What could it all mean?
After the moment, she turned to go inside.
Seconds later, Sally herself turned from the hall window that looked down onto the terrace and went back into their room, getting into bed, facing the wall. She pulled the covers tight up around herself, silent tears streaming across her cheeks.
Chapter 2, in which the plot is furthered.
"I don't mean to crowd her, you know," Sally said, shifting her weight on the rock. "I try not to follow her everywhere, I try not to stare at her in class." Her eyes searched Clarissa's face. "Am I really that transparent?"
Clarissa sighed. She wasn't very good at this sort of thing. "Um. Sally. It doesn't matter what anyone else sees - or thinks. The only people who should be concerned about you and Darrell are you and Darrell."
"I really 'can't take my eyes off of her'? That's what you said, isn't it?" Sally looked over at the gaggle of girls by the poolside, easily picking Darrell out, standing, dripping wet, shivering slightly in her bathing suit. She ran her fingers through her damp, curly black hair, shaking her head a little so that it fell about her face in short, loose ringlets. She was grinning broadly as usual, her white, even teeth glinting in the moonlight. She seemed engaged in some lively discussion with Bill. Sally dragged her eyes away quickly. "Clarissa, do you get jealous of Bill? When she's talking with other girls? Like she is with Darrell now?"
Clarissa cast her eyes in the direction of her friend. Bill was standing with her back to them, shifting her weight from one foot to the other to keep warm. She was also wearing her bathing suit, and had wrapped a towel around her waist. Her bare shoulders were covered with freckles, just like those on her face and arms, that stood out even in the half-light. Bill turned, suddenly, almost as though she felt the eyes upon her. She smiled warmly at Clarissa, and gave a little wave, before turning back to Darrell.
"Bill and I aren't quite like Darrell and you," Clarissa said carefully, not at all sure that she spoke the truth.
When Darrell opened her eyes and turned over on Saturday morning, she saw that Sally's bed was already empty, neatly made. They usually had breakfast together on a Saturday morning, but clearly, today, Sally didn't want company.
She rolled over onto her back, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the previous evening's events. She ran through them in her head backwards and forwards, trying in vain to unravel their meaning. It was almost as though she had all the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, but no sample picture to work from, and she was trying to put the puzzle together without knowing what the final picture was supposed to look like. If only people would just be straightforward with her, she thought, she'd know what was going on, and it would all fall into place.
She went through the night's events in order. First, there was Tom's confession, and Sally's response. Why would her reaction be so forceful? Was it possible he'd slighted her in some way he didn't know about? Or - and when thought back over this it made a certain amount of sense - perhaps Sally liked Tom, but thought that Darrell was interested in him, and that was why she'd been upset and left. Then again, Sally knew - or at least Darrell thought she knew - that Darrell wasn't interested in the young men in her class. Indeed, she'd often remarked with some frustration that she had yet to meet any boy who she felt anything more than friendship for. Or had Sally forgotten? Or perhaps she really did just have a headache, and had forgotten about breakfast this morning, and all this worry was for nothing?
Then there was Alicia's outburst. Darrell frowned at the ceiling, lifting an arm to scratch her nose as she remembered the sharp-tongued girl's cutting words. Why had she been so beastly about Sally? Surely Betty's teasing her couldn't have gotten to her that badly? Was she vying for Tom's affection perhaps? - no, that didn't make sense. Or had she perhaps had more than just a half of cider? Of the four Old Girls, Alicia was the only one who Darrell had seen inebriated, albeit just once, and that in the first week of term when everything was new and exciting and excesses of all kinds were tempting. But it was possible, was it not, that Alicia's tongue had been loosened by the cider and she'd said more than even she had meant to? Obsessed, indeed...
Of course, that didn't explain Betty's solemn reaction.
Nor Tom's. Tom hadn't had anything to drink, he knew exactly who liked whom (or didn't as the case may be), he knew his own feelings, and had always been a good, stable acquaintance. What had prompted him to admonish Darrell like that?
Darrell shook her head, as though trying to shake it clear of the myriad jumbled thoughts that crowded for space in it, and sat up. As far as she was concerned, there was only one way to solve these mysteries, and that was to talk to the people involved. Her first step would be to find Sally.
Sally Hope had skipped breakfast, and was by this time wandering along the St Andrews shoreline. She had crossed the links, ignoring the glares of the early-morning golfers, and was now walking barefoot along East Sands, half enjoying the abrasion as the coarse sand and pebbles scraped at her feet.
There were a couple of other people on the beach at that time of day. One woman was walking her dog, and passed Sally going in the opposite direction. The other was a small girl, who was picking her way through the seaweed at one of the tide-lines, collecting shells and worn bits of glass. The girl stopped and surveyed Sally as she approached.
"Hullo," she said in greeting.
"Hallo," Sally replied, forcing herself to be cheerful. This child didn't deserve to bear the brunt of her foul mood.
"What're ye daein'?" asked the girl in her local accent.
Sally stopped walking for the moment, resigned to a short conversation with the wee girl. She curled and uncurled her toes, feeling damp sand seeping around her feet as she stood. "I'm just going for a walk," she said.
"I'm collecting sea-shells for the boy Ah'm goin' tae marry," the little girl informed her matter-of-factly. "He doesnae, ken, but Ah'm goin' tae marry him. I told him yesterday at school and he belted me oan the arm an' ran awa'. So now I'm collecting sea-shells."
"That sounds very sensible," Sally agreed. Which it did.
"Do you huv a boy?" the girl asked.
"No."
"Yer affy pretty."
"Thank you."
"My maw says that the first time she saw ma daddy she kent she was goin' tae marry him, even though he was just oot the pit and hud coal-dust a' ower. She said she couldnae stop lookin' at him, an' she husnae stopped since, even though he's washed aff the coal-dust and he's no' much tae look at after aw'. She says ye cannae help who ye fall in love wi', and then she belts him roon' the heid and tells him tae get his muckle boots aff the clean carpet. An' he just laughs and does as he's telt."
The girl stooped to pick up another shell, and held it out to Sally.
By the time Darrell caught up with Sally, she'd doubled back along The Scores to the sea pool way off on the other side of the castle. Sally was sitting on the rocks near the pool, apprently so deep in thought that she didn't even hear the other girl's approach.
"Hallo," Darrell said, mostly to get her attention.
Sally jumped like she's been shot. "Darrell! You nearly gave me a heart-attack!"
"I brought breakfast?" Darrell said by way of apology. "Just bread and butter and a flask of tea, but..."
"That sounds perfect."
"I'm sorry I went off like that last night," Sally said finally, after they'd chewed in silence for a bit. "I just thought that... I don't know what I thought."
"Tom likes you. I said I'd ask you about him. That was all." Darrell wasn't sure why she was explaining herself.
"Oh. Oh..." Several things clicked into place in Sally's head. She still felt a burning jealousy at Darrell's having spoken with Tom, but suddenly the fires died somewhat. "I thought you liked him," she admitted finally.
Darrell nodded. "I thought perhaps there was something like that. Sally, I'm not interested in Tom, not even a little bit. If you like him, I won't mind if you want to see him." Darrell poured some tea into a little tin mug and passed it to Sally. "Only you mustn't desert me altogether, all right?"
Sally actually found herself holding back laughter. "Oh Darrell. You are funny." She took the tea, a little of it slopping over the side of the cup and splashing on the rocks. "I don't want to 'see' Tom, either. I was just worried that you did."
Darrell stared into her tea, then took a careful sip, wincing as it burned her lip a little. "Do you feel like I take our friendship for granted, Sally?" she asked suddenly. Best to get it out now.
Sally looked a bit startled, although she was of course used to Darrell's frankness. She considered the question. "I'm not sure what you mean," she said carefully.
"Last night, Tom said - well, more implied - no, pretty much said... that I just use you because you keep me steady, and sensible, and I don't see all the other wonderful things about you." Darrell pushed her hair out of her eyes to look at Sally, but the chill sea-breeze blew it right back over her face.
"Wonderful things? All I am is steady and sensible, Darrell, but I don't mind that."
Darrell frowned. "No, that's not fair. No wonder I didn't see it if you don't see it yourself. Sally, it's like Tom said, you're... well, you're terrific. You're smart, and funny, and sweet, and beautiful, and kind... and I just worry that I take all those things for granted, and I've been making you feel like you're just steady, responsible Sally because that's all I've been seeing. But it's not true."
Sally just stared at her friend. Darrell thinks I'm beautiful...
* * *
In Old Hall, Alicia and Betty had only just woken up, and a thoughtful Betty was making her own inspection of the ceiling. "You know," She commented, "It seems to me that you have an awful lot of cheek to criticise Sally's... 'thing' about Darrell, when you eat, breathe, sleep and think Darrell Rivers. What is it about that girl that everyone's so enamoured with her?"
Alicia scowled and pulled her bed covers further up around herself. "Do shut up, Betty."
When Betty got back from the showers Alicia was still in her pyjamas, sitting up in bed, reading a pulp victorian romance novel.
"I don't know why you read that rot, Alicia," Betty commented as she dressed.
Alicia didn't look up. "It's slushy, mindless and formulaic, which is exactly what I need on a Saturday morning."
Betty snorted, scraping her damp hair back into a ponytail and rifling through the textbooks and jotters scattered across their shared desk. "Well, I'm going to study," she said in a significant tone.
"Suit yourself."
Betty did try to study, but it was almost impossible with Alicia in the room. At first she was just reading her book, giggling from time to time at the particularly twee moments. Then she began breaking Betty's concentration occasionally, by insisting on reading out the more amusing sections.
"Here, listen to this one, Bet: His eyes were dark coals burning in the lamp-light, and she felt her heart-"
"Alicia, I'm trying to concentrate," Betty finally interrupted her. "Couldn't you keep your book to yourself?"
Alicia huffed and puffed, but said no more. With no one to share the book with, though, it lost its appeal, and she instead picked up a tennis ball from the bedside (goodness knows how it had gotten there), and began bouncing it off the wall in front of her. She aimed at all sorts of angles, snatching it deftly out of the air on every return. Betty bore this for a few minutes, as the ball began to bounce closer and closer to where she was sitting. Eventually she felt it whistle straight past her ear.
She whipped round in her seat with a growl of frustration.
"Alicia, would you stop that! Maybe you don't need - or want - to work, but I do, okay? I have a report to write."
Alicia smiled serenly. "It's my room too, you know."
"Fine," Betty snapped, and stood up, gathering a few books together and shoving them into her bag. "Then I'm going to the library. Bounce your damned ball all you want!"
Alicia pursed her lips, and Betty, without a final look at her, stalked out, closing the door firmly behind her. She heard the ball slam against the wall once more, and then silence followed her all the way down the corridor.
* * *
Darrell was so relieved that Sally seemed to be herself again that she had given no more thought to Alicia's behaviour the previous evening. She instead spent the day doting on her friend - they chattered all morning, and then went into town for lunch before heading back to Hall. The afternoon found them sitting in Wardlaw Wing's Common Room, playing chess and talking quietly.
A little before dinner, their academic mother came into the common room to see them. She was a plump, jolly fourth year named Mhairi.
"All right, girls?" she said, sitting on the couch by Sally. "Are you both well? Get that essay on the Reformation in all right in the end, Sal?"
The two grinned and nodded. Mhairi had really been an excellent help to them this term, sparing a fair bit of her precious time to help them adjust to university life. They'd been lucky in having her as a 'mother'.
"See, I told you there was nothing to worry about," she said, clapping Sally on the shoulder. "Okay, ladies, I've come to give you your invitations for Raisin Weekend."
Sally and Darrell glanced sideways at each other, eyes sparkling with anticipation. Raisin Weekend was one of the main social events of the term, and was always surrounded with a certain amount of ritual and japery. They opened the folded notes Mhairi had given them as soon as she was out of the room, giggling with excitement.
Dear Darrell,
You are cordially invited to participate in Raisin Weekend. Your appointments are as follows:
1. Saturday evening with your academic father, Stuart, at The Tudor Inn, 8pm;
2. Lunch, midday on Sunday, with your academic mother (that's me, girls!), in my flat on Market Street (please bring your costume* to change, and wine for your parents);
3. St Salvator's Quad, after lunch, with your raisin receipt (to be provided). Go there, and await further instruction!
* you are to dress as a character from Shakespeare
Sally's invitation said exactly the same thing, as they had the same academic parents. Stuart and Mhairi had met the girls at Debate Soc, and had decided that since they were obviously joined at the hip, it was only fair that they should be academic sisters, and so they were adopted as a pair.
"Shakespeare, hm, I wonder who we should dress as?" Sally mused.
"Well, we can't choose Juliet, or Ophelia, or Lady Macbeth for that matter," Darrell said matter-of-factly. "How clichéd that would be! I think I shall go as..." she hummed for a moment, then snapped her fingers. "Viola, from Twelfth Night! I shall dress as a soldier, complete with false moustache." She chuckled.
Sally thought. If not Juliet, or Ophelia, or Lacy Macbeth, then who? There weren't really that many memorable Shakespearean females... "I... I'm not sure who I should be," she said eventually, hoping Darrell would help her out.
Darrell tipped her head to one side, surveying Sally with narrowed eyes as she considered her. "Portia," she said finally. "From The Merchant of Venice."
"Portia?" Sally said curiously. Sensible, rule-abiding, calm, controlled Portia? She supposed that made sense.
"Yes. She follows the rules, and she's sensible and keeps her head," Darrell said, confirming Sally's fears, but she went on, "but she's also strong, and willful, and clever, and has a sense of humour. And she saves the day." Darrell smiled. "Portia is my absolutely favourite Shakespearean heroine," she said sincerely. "You should definitely be Portia."
Chapter 3
Fandom: Malory Towers
Pairing: Darrell/Sally, I think.
Rating: None
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Enid Blyton, or her estate or publishers or whatever, not me.
Words: 2700 each approx.
Spoilers: The whole Malory Towers series.
Notes: WIP Malory Towers post-fic, with Darrell, Sally, Alicia and Betty at St Andrews university.
Chapter 1, in which Darrell is confused.
"Did you know this was the first women's hall in Scotland?" Sally asked conversationally as she and Darrell climbed the large front steps of University Hall's 'Wardlaw Wing'. "Not this part, but the Old Wing where Alicia and Betty are."
Darrell smiled to herself as Sally almost bounced up the steps ahead of her. She didn't think she'd ever seen her friend so excited. At the top Sally turned, her eyes bright, and as though she'd read Darrell's mind, said.
"Oh, I'm so awfully excited, Darrell! I almost think I shall be sick from it!"
"Don't - particularly while I'm still down here!" Darrell exclaimed, laughing and taking the last few steps at a pace. "I shan't have you being sick all over me on our first day." Reaching Sally's side, she dropped her cases on the ground at either side of her, massaging one arm. "Phew, those cases are heavy! I found so much more to bring with me now that I have my own room."
"Our own room, Darrell," Sally corrected her, for they were to share this year - more for the companionship than to save money, although it was less expensive.
"Well, I suppose I shall have to keep all my things to my half, shan't I?" Darrell retorted, grinning broadly. To her complete surprise, she found herself suddenly wrapped in a tight hug.
"Oh, Darrell, won't it be wonderful? St Andrews University! Think of the lectures, the societies and clubs, the sea almost as close as ever - did you know they have a tidal pool here too? - all these grounds to explore, the golf course right there - we could learn to golf, you know - and there are tea-rooms and restaurants in town, and little cake shops, and... you and me, Darrell, just the two of us! Won't it be simply terrific?"
Sally released the other girl from the hug, and Darrell stared at her, almost shocked at this warmth and enthusiasm from sensible, calm, measured Sally Hope.
"What's come over you today, Sally? I fear you've gone quite mad." Darrell asked, looking a little bemused.
Sally just shook her head, still grinning, eyes twinkling with delight. "Everything is just as I'd always wanted, Darrell. Perfect."
Their room was on the second floor, at the back of the building, looking out to sea. The room was long and high-ceilinged, walls of a fresh cream colour with heavy oak woodwork throughout. The windows were open when they got there, and the room empty but for a few items of furniture and the two single beds.
"It's very bare," Darrell commented, "but we'll soon brighten it up!" Immediately she threw her case down on the nearest bed, and snapped it open. Under the first layer of clothes, carefully wrapped, was a framed sketch.
It had been Belinda's going-away present for Sally and Darrell: a portrait of the two of them, both in Malory Towers uniform, sitting on the front steps of North Tower. Darrell was grinning like a fool, resting her elbows on her knees in a most un-ladylike fashion, and Sally was leaning in towards Darrell, her head almost on the other girl's shoulder.
"That's you two to-a-tee, that is," Clarissa had commented, as Darrell exclaimed over the drawing, showing it around. "You looking pleased with yourself as usual, and Sally unable to keep her eyes off you!" Darrell had laughed at the idea that she was self-satisfied, knowing Clarissa was joking.
Sally had kept quiet, though, looking thoughtfully at the picture. "Thanks, Belinda. It's awfully good," she'd said quietly.
Later that evening - the very last before school ended for the year, the girls had met down by the pool for one last night-time swim. Sally and Clarissa somehow drifted away from the main party and were spotted sitting on the rocks nearby, deep in conversation. Sally in particular looked very solemn. Those who noticed them exchanged glances: What could quiet Sally and even quieter Clarissa have to talk about for so long? Only Bill seemed studiously disinterested, casually distracting Darrell from her best friend's preoccupation with in-depth descriptions of the stables she and Clarissa were opening together that Summer.
Darrell was pulled out of her reverie when she felt Sally by her side. "We should hang that right here," she said, pointing to an area of wall by the dresser. "There's already a hook. And we'll see it every morning as we get ready to go out. Out to university Darrell!"
* * *
The next few weeks simply flew by as the girls found themselves swept up in the flurry of activity that was university life. The girls had one course in common, as they were both studying English Literature. However, Sally balanced this off with History subjects, while Darrell chose to favour Philosophy and English Language. Alicia was in none of their classes, studying maths and sciences exclusively, and Betty only in Sally's British History lessons - although she was not always in attendance as Sally was, especially not on the sunnier days that they were having here and there in the early days of Autumn.
In actual fact, the only time Sally and Darrell regularly saw the other pair were at meetings of the Debating Society, and in The Tudor Inn most Friday evenings. The Inn was a lively but respectable pub, which a good number of Darrell's fellow English students frequented, so they often found themselves surrounded by her classmates, as the dark-haired girl had become quite popular, particularly with one or two of the boys in the year.
Alicia and Betty lapped-up this captive audience, keeping the students well-entertained with their comedic bickering and anecdotes, and indeed some became quite good friends with the two pranksters. Darrell was content with the company but sought deeper friendships with none of them, choosing instead to talk with Sally for the most part as usual. Sally, however, couldn't help but feel her old jealousies rising at her best friend's popularity, and often had to bite back nasty remarks when another girl - or worse, boy - was part of their conversations.
One evening in early November, more than half way through their first term at university, things came to something of a head. The four old girls were in The Tudor with a number of Darrell's classmates: two giggly girls named Molly and Katie, who were best friends themselves, and a charming, sincere young man named Thomas. Sally had commanded Darrell's company most of the evening, and Darrell, as usual, had been happy to give her undivided attention to her friend, for all she often thought it was a waste to come to the pub when they spoke only to each other. During a short trip to lavatory on Sally's part, though, Thomas took her seat.
"I'll move when Sally gets back of course, Darrell, but there was something I wanted to ask you," Tom began. Darrell nodded politely, looking bemused. "Look, I know this must sound awfully forward," he continued, "but I keep trying to talk to Sally, and she always seems distracted somehow. Can I... could you tell me, is she, er, walking out with anyone?"
Darrell continued to look confused for another second before her face split into an amused smile. "'Walking out'? Dear me, Tom, it's as well you didn't ask Sally that. How very old fashioned!"
Tom blushed a deep red. "You know what I mean, Darrell, do be a sport and tell me, I'm simply bursting with fascination but I can't seem to talk to her. You always hog her when we're here."
Darrell smiled. "Sally's not seeing anyone. Do you want me to speak to her for you? Find out what she thinks?"
"Oh, Darrell, would you? I'll do anything!" Tom said, his face lighting up. Then he looked slightly panicked. "Oh Lord, here she is!" he said, and slid back over to where the other four girls were talking.
Sally sat down and noted Darrell's amused expression. "Tell you a funny joke, did he? Anything you'd like to share?" she said coldly, furious that Tom had talked to Darrell while she was gone.
Darrell didn't seem to notice her sharp tone, however, only leaning forward conspiratorally, and asking in a low voice. "Ho, Sally... what d'you think to Tom? He's a nice young man, isn't he?" Her face was a study of innocent inquiry.
Sally, however, was not fooled. It was obvious to her than Darrell had caught Tom's eye, and that he had been flattering her - flirting with her while she, Sally, was in the lavatory. This probably hadn't been the first time either. Oh, how could she bear it if Darrell started spending all of her time with some boy?
"I think he's perfectly boring," she said shortly. Suddenly her head hurt terribly, and she felt a prickling behind her eyes. "Darrell, I have a headache. I'm going back to Halls. Do you have your own keys with you?"
Darrell sat up, her face switching from confusion to concern in a moment. "Sally, what's wrong? Was it the cider?" They had only had their usual half pint - surely that hadn't been enough to induce a headache?
"Yes. No. I don't know." Sally stood up, turning her face away. She thought about what Tom might say to Darrell while she was gone. She imagined him taking her hand, whispering in her ear. She thought she might be sick, but for all she wanted to prevent it she simply could not stay in the pub one more second. "Try not to wake me when you come in, Darrell; I'll see you tomorrow," she forced out, and hurried past the figures by the bar and out of the pub. She felt the tears prick her eyes before she even reached the door.
Darrell stood up to follow her friend, and heard Alicia's voice beside her, "What's up with her? Come sit here, Darrell, you've been simply ignoring us all night, you beast! She'll only be tired - didn't she have essays this week?"
Darrell nodded. Sally had been working hard. Flattered as usual by Alicia's eagreness for her company, she put her unsettled feelings to the back of her mind, and went to sit by Alicia.
"Well, how is university treating you, fair Darrell?" Alicia said, nudging her. "And don't tell me about your classical philosophers or New Historians again - I can't bear it! Have you been to any fun parties? Met any nice young men? Other than Tom, of course, who we all know is mad in love with Sally..." Alicia chuckled as Tom's blush returned full-force. Clearly he had not been as subtle as he'd have liked.
Darrell smiled and shook her head. "I'm not like you, Alicia. I can't go out to parties and still hand in my homework..."
"Nor can Alicia, these days, can you, Miss Johns?" Betty interjected, but was silenced with a scowl from her friend. Darrell frowned a little. Was Alicia's work suffering from her fondness for social activities? Had she finally found a level and volume of work that didn't come naturally to her?
"...and I haven't met any 'young men' either," she finished, more to break the awkward silence caused by Betty's jibe than anything else.
"Doubt you'd get a chance with Sally on your lap all the time," Alicia observed, her sharp, petty tongue surfacing in the face of her own embarrassment. She knew she shouldn't, but she kept going. "I promise you, Darrell, you'll never shake that girl off. Even supposing you do meet the man of your dreams one day, you'll walk up the aisle with her hanging round your ankles, and she'll lie between you and your husband in your honeymoon bed."
Stony silence met this outburst. Molly and Katie looked shocked, Tom completely dumbfounded, and Betty... Betty, curiously, looked close to tears. Alicia's own face was a study of self-control, though her hand was gripping her half-pint so tightly that her knuckles were white. She knew she'd said too much, but she could hardly take it back now.
"I'm sorry, Darrell," she said, not sounding sorry at all, "but you know she's obsessed with you. Frankly, I think it's rather sad."
"Alicia!" Betty choked. Alicia steadfastedly refused to look at her best friend. Instead, she stood up, and headed for the lavatory.
Darrell, more than anything else, was perplexed. Why was Alicia being so horrid? Why was Betty so upset by what she said? - she didn't think it was for her - Darrell's - sake. "I don't understand," she said quietly, to no one in particular.
Betty's mouth twisted into some kind of smile. "D'you know, I honestly believe that, Darrell," she said in a low voice. She bit her lip, then went on. "Alicia sometimes says things she shouldn't, things other people wouldn't say. And they aren't always nice, and she doesn't always say them for the right reasons..." she looked up at the dark haired young woman. "But maybe, sometimes, they need to be said."
Darrell frowned in confusion. Something was tugging at the back of her head, screaming at her for attention, almost, but it was as though it was round a corner and she just couldn't crane her neck enough to see it. Finally, she stood up. "I think perhaps I'll go home now. Say 'good night' to Alicia for me, would you?"
Tom was quickly standing by Darrell's side. "I'll walk you back to Hall," he said.
"I don't think-"
"It's a Friday night. You're not walking home alone." He was resolute.
They didn't speak at all for most of the way home. Tom seemed understandibly uncomfortable. Darrell was deep in thought. They arrived at Wardlaw Wing probably only fifteen minutes at most after Sally would have got there. Tom walked Darrell all the way up the front steps to the doorway, and there he paused.
"Good night, Tom. Thank you for seeing me home," Darrell said politely, trying to be her usual friendly self despite her preoccupation.
"Good night Darrell. Darrell?" Darrell nodded for him to continue. Tom collected his thoughts for a moment, knowing what he wanted to say, just not quite how to say it. "Sally's absolutely terrific."
"Yes, about that, Tom," Darrell began, "I spoke to her, and she said-"
"I know. I heard her," he cut her off. "But I wanted to tell you anyway. Just... in case you hadn't noticed. That's she's just a wonderful person."
Darrell laughed at this. "Well, I know that, Tom! We've been friends since we were twelve! She's always stood by me, and she's better at keeping me sensible than anyone else, ever."
Tom frowned. "No, Darrell. You always say that - 'sensible', like she's just a big ball of responsibility and tact, there for nothing other than to keep you at your studies." Darrell was quite taken aback. She'd never heard Tom sound this fierce. He went on without stopping, on a roll now - "Sally's smart, and pretty - beautiful - she's thoughtful and sweet, and she might not talk all the time like some girls, but she's very witty. She never speaks to me, but I used to listen to you two talking all the time..." He blushed again as he admitted this, though one couldn't see in the moonlight, "and no one makes you laugh the way she can. Sally's an actual, real, flesh-and-blood other person, believe it or not."
Darrell rubbed her nose furiously, mentally stifling the irritation bubbling up in her stomach. She'd had just about enough of this. "It seems everyone has something to tell me about Sally tonight," she said in a flat voice. "You'd think, what with my being her best friend and everything, that people would credit me with knowing her quite well already."
"You'd think..." Tom echoed, but unlike Alicia, he knew when to bite his tongue, and did. He only reached out a hand to tentatively squeeze her arm, then turned to go. "See you on Monday, Darrell. Sleep well."
Darrell stood on the terrace, watching him lope off, for a moment, thinking about what he'd said, and what Alicia had said earlier. What could it all mean?
After the moment, she turned to go inside.
Seconds later, Sally herself turned from the hall window that looked down onto the terrace and went back into their room, getting into bed, facing the wall. She pulled the covers tight up around herself, silent tears streaming across her cheeks.
Chapter 2, in which the plot is furthered.
"I don't mean to crowd her, you know," Sally said, shifting her weight on the rock. "I try not to follow her everywhere, I try not to stare at her in class." Her eyes searched Clarissa's face. "Am I really that transparent?"
Clarissa sighed. She wasn't very good at this sort of thing. "Um. Sally. It doesn't matter what anyone else sees - or thinks. The only people who should be concerned about you and Darrell are you and Darrell."
"I really 'can't take my eyes off of her'? That's what you said, isn't it?" Sally looked over at the gaggle of girls by the poolside, easily picking Darrell out, standing, dripping wet, shivering slightly in her bathing suit. She ran her fingers through her damp, curly black hair, shaking her head a little so that it fell about her face in short, loose ringlets. She was grinning broadly as usual, her white, even teeth glinting in the moonlight. She seemed engaged in some lively discussion with Bill. Sally dragged her eyes away quickly. "Clarissa, do you get jealous of Bill? When she's talking with other girls? Like she is with Darrell now?"
Clarissa cast her eyes in the direction of her friend. Bill was standing with her back to them, shifting her weight from one foot to the other to keep warm. She was also wearing her bathing suit, and had wrapped a towel around her waist. Her bare shoulders were covered with freckles, just like those on her face and arms, that stood out even in the half-light. Bill turned, suddenly, almost as though she felt the eyes upon her. She smiled warmly at Clarissa, and gave a little wave, before turning back to Darrell.
"Bill and I aren't quite like Darrell and you," Clarissa said carefully, not at all sure that she spoke the truth.
When Darrell opened her eyes and turned over on Saturday morning, she saw that Sally's bed was already empty, neatly made. They usually had breakfast together on a Saturday morning, but clearly, today, Sally didn't want company.
She rolled over onto her back, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the previous evening's events. She ran through them in her head backwards and forwards, trying in vain to unravel their meaning. It was almost as though she had all the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, but no sample picture to work from, and she was trying to put the puzzle together without knowing what the final picture was supposed to look like. If only people would just be straightforward with her, she thought, she'd know what was going on, and it would all fall into place.
She went through the night's events in order. First, there was Tom's confession, and Sally's response. Why would her reaction be so forceful? Was it possible he'd slighted her in some way he didn't know about? Or - and when thought back over this it made a certain amount of sense - perhaps Sally liked Tom, but thought that Darrell was interested in him, and that was why she'd been upset and left. Then again, Sally knew - or at least Darrell thought she knew - that Darrell wasn't interested in the young men in her class. Indeed, she'd often remarked with some frustration that she had yet to meet any boy who she felt anything more than friendship for. Or had Sally forgotten? Or perhaps she really did just have a headache, and had forgotten about breakfast this morning, and all this worry was for nothing?
Then there was Alicia's outburst. Darrell frowned at the ceiling, lifting an arm to scratch her nose as she remembered the sharp-tongued girl's cutting words. Why had she been so beastly about Sally? Surely Betty's teasing her couldn't have gotten to her that badly? Was she vying for Tom's affection perhaps? - no, that didn't make sense. Or had she perhaps had more than just a half of cider? Of the four Old Girls, Alicia was the only one who Darrell had seen inebriated, albeit just once, and that in the first week of term when everything was new and exciting and excesses of all kinds were tempting. But it was possible, was it not, that Alicia's tongue had been loosened by the cider and she'd said more than even she had meant to? Obsessed, indeed...
Of course, that didn't explain Betty's solemn reaction.
Nor Tom's. Tom hadn't had anything to drink, he knew exactly who liked whom (or didn't as the case may be), he knew his own feelings, and had always been a good, stable acquaintance. What had prompted him to admonish Darrell like that?
Darrell shook her head, as though trying to shake it clear of the myriad jumbled thoughts that crowded for space in it, and sat up. As far as she was concerned, there was only one way to solve these mysteries, and that was to talk to the people involved. Her first step would be to find Sally.
Sally Hope had skipped breakfast, and was by this time wandering along the St Andrews shoreline. She had crossed the links, ignoring the glares of the early-morning golfers, and was now walking barefoot along East Sands, half enjoying the abrasion as the coarse sand and pebbles scraped at her feet.
There were a couple of other people on the beach at that time of day. One woman was walking her dog, and passed Sally going in the opposite direction. The other was a small girl, who was picking her way through the seaweed at one of the tide-lines, collecting shells and worn bits of glass. The girl stopped and surveyed Sally as she approached.
"Hullo," she said in greeting.
"Hallo," Sally replied, forcing herself to be cheerful. This child didn't deserve to bear the brunt of her foul mood.
"What're ye daein'?" asked the girl in her local accent.
Sally stopped walking for the moment, resigned to a short conversation with the wee girl. She curled and uncurled her toes, feeling damp sand seeping around her feet as she stood. "I'm just going for a walk," she said.
"I'm collecting sea-shells for the boy Ah'm goin' tae marry," the little girl informed her matter-of-factly. "He doesnae, ken, but Ah'm goin' tae marry him. I told him yesterday at school and he belted me oan the arm an' ran awa'. So now I'm collecting sea-shells."
"That sounds very sensible," Sally agreed. Which it did.
"Do you huv a boy?" the girl asked.
"No."
"Yer affy pretty."
"Thank you."
"My maw says that the first time she saw ma daddy she kent she was goin' tae marry him, even though he was just oot the pit and hud coal-dust a' ower. She said she couldnae stop lookin' at him, an' she husnae stopped since, even though he's washed aff the coal-dust and he's no' much tae look at after aw'. She says ye cannae help who ye fall in love wi', and then she belts him roon' the heid and tells him tae get his muckle boots aff the clean carpet. An' he just laughs and does as he's telt."
The girl stooped to pick up another shell, and held it out to Sally.
By the time Darrell caught up with Sally, she'd doubled back along The Scores to the sea pool way off on the other side of the castle. Sally was sitting on the rocks near the pool, apprently so deep in thought that she didn't even hear the other girl's approach.
"Hallo," Darrell said, mostly to get her attention.
Sally jumped like she's been shot. "Darrell! You nearly gave me a heart-attack!"
"I brought breakfast?" Darrell said by way of apology. "Just bread and butter and a flask of tea, but..."
"That sounds perfect."
"I'm sorry I went off like that last night," Sally said finally, after they'd chewed in silence for a bit. "I just thought that... I don't know what I thought."
"Tom likes you. I said I'd ask you about him. That was all." Darrell wasn't sure why she was explaining herself.
"Oh. Oh..." Several things clicked into place in Sally's head. She still felt a burning jealousy at Darrell's having spoken with Tom, but suddenly the fires died somewhat. "I thought you liked him," she admitted finally.
Darrell nodded. "I thought perhaps there was something like that. Sally, I'm not interested in Tom, not even a little bit. If you like him, I won't mind if you want to see him." Darrell poured some tea into a little tin mug and passed it to Sally. "Only you mustn't desert me altogether, all right?"
Sally actually found herself holding back laughter. "Oh Darrell. You are funny." She took the tea, a little of it slopping over the side of the cup and splashing on the rocks. "I don't want to 'see' Tom, either. I was just worried that you did."
Darrell stared into her tea, then took a careful sip, wincing as it burned her lip a little. "Do you feel like I take our friendship for granted, Sally?" she asked suddenly. Best to get it out now.
Sally looked a bit startled, although she was of course used to Darrell's frankness. She considered the question. "I'm not sure what you mean," she said carefully.
"Last night, Tom said - well, more implied - no, pretty much said... that I just use you because you keep me steady, and sensible, and I don't see all the other wonderful things about you." Darrell pushed her hair out of her eyes to look at Sally, but the chill sea-breeze blew it right back over her face.
"Wonderful things? All I am is steady and sensible, Darrell, but I don't mind that."
Darrell frowned. "No, that's not fair. No wonder I didn't see it if you don't see it yourself. Sally, it's like Tom said, you're... well, you're terrific. You're smart, and funny, and sweet, and beautiful, and kind... and I just worry that I take all those things for granted, and I've been making you feel like you're just steady, responsible Sally because that's all I've been seeing. But it's not true."
Sally just stared at her friend. Darrell thinks I'm beautiful...
* * *
In Old Hall, Alicia and Betty had only just woken up, and a thoughtful Betty was making her own inspection of the ceiling. "You know," She commented, "It seems to me that you have an awful lot of cheek to criticise Sally's... 'thing' about Darrell, when you eat, breathe, sleep and think Darrell Rivers. What is it about that girl that everyone's so enamoured with her?"
Alicia scowled and pulled her bed covers further up around herself. "Do shut up, Betty."
When Betty got back from the showers Alicia was still in her pyjamas, sitting up in bed, reading a pulp victorian romance novel.
"I don't know why you read that rot, Alicia," Betty commented as she dressed.
Alicia didn't look up. "It's slushy, mindless and formulaic, which is exactly what I need on a Saturday morning."
Betty snorted, scraping her damp hair back into a ponytail and rifling through the textbooks and jotters scattered across their shared desk. "Well, I'm going to study," she said in a significant tone.
"Suit yourself."
Betty did try to study, but it was almost impossible with Alicia in the room. At first she was just reading her book, giggling from time to time at the particularly twee moments. Then she began breaking Betty's concentration occasionally, by insisting on reading out the more amusing sections.
"Here, listen to this one, Bet: His eyes were dark coals burning in the lamp-light, and she felt her heart-"
"Alicia, I'm trying to concentrate," Betty finally interrupted her. "Couldn't you keep your book to yourself?"
Alicia huffed and puffed, but said no more. With no one to share the book with, though, it lost its appeal, and she instead picked up a tennis ball from the bedside (goodness knows how it had gotten there), and began bouncing it off the wall in front of her. She aimed at all sorts of angles, snatching it deftly out of the air on every return. Betty bore this for a few minutes, as the ball began to bounce closer and closer to where she was sitting. Eventually she felt it whistle straight past her ear.
She whipped round in her seat with a growl of frustration.
"Alicia, would you stop that! Maybe you don't need - or want - to work, but I do, okay? I have a report to write."
Alicia smiled serenly. "It's my room too, you know."
"Fine," Betty snapped, and stood up, gathering a few books together and shoving them into her bag. "Then I'm going to the library. Bounce your damned ball all you want!"
Alicia pursed her lips, and Betty, without a final look at her, stalked out, closing the door firmly behind her. She heard the ball slam against the wall once more, and then silence followed her all the way down the corridor.
* * *
Darrell was so relieved that Sally seemed to be herself again that she had given no more thought to Alicia's behaviour the previous evening. She instead spent the day doting on her friend - they chattered all morning, and then went into town for lunch before heading back to Hall. The afternoon found them sitting in Wardlaw Wing's Common Room, playing chess and talking quietly.
A little before dinner, their academic mother came into the common room to see them. She was a plump, jolly fourth year named Mhairi.
"All right, girls?" she said, sitting on the couch by Sally. "Are you both well? Get that essay on the Reformation in all right in the end, Sal?"
The two grinned and nodded. Mhairi had really been an excellent help to them this term, sparing a fair bit of her precious time to help them adjust to university life. They'd been lucky in having her as a 'mother'.
"See, I told you there was nothing to worry about," she said, clapping Sally on the shoulder. "Okay, ladies, I've come to give you your invitations for Raisin Weekend."
Sally and Darrell glanced sideways at each other, eyes sparkling with anticipation. Raisin Weekend was one of the main social events of the term, and was always surrounded with a certain amount of ritual and japery. They opened the folded notes Mhairi had given them as soon as she was out of the room, giggling with excitement.
Dear Darrell,
You are cordially invited to participate in Raisin Weekend. Your appointments are as follows:
1. Saturday evening with your academic father, Stuart, at The Tudor Inn, 8pm;
2. Lunch, midday on Sunday, with your academic mother (that's me, girls!), in my flat on Market Street (please bring your costume* to change, and wine for your parents);
3. St Salvator's Quad, after lunch, with your raisin receipt (to be provided). Go there, and await further instruction!
* you are to dress as a character from Shakespeare
Sally's invitation said exactly the same thing, as they had the same academic parents. Stuart and Mhairi had met the girls at Debate Soc, and had decided that since they were obviously joined at the hip, it was only fair that they should be academic sisters, and so they were adopted as a pair.
"Shakespeare, hm, I wonder who we should dress as?" Sally mused.
"Well, we can't choose Juliet, or Ophelia, or Lady Macbeth for that matter," Darrell said matter-of-factly. "How clichéd that would be! I think I shall go as..." she hummed for a moment, then snapped her fingers. "Viola, from Twelfth Night! I shall dress as a soldier, complete with false moustache." She chuckled.
Sally thought. If not Juliet, or Ophelia, or Lacy Macbeth, then who? There weren't really that many memorable Shakespearean females... "I... I'm not sure who I should be," she said eventually, hoping Darrell would help her out.
Darrell tipped her head to one side, surveying Sally with narrowed eyes as she considered her. "Portia," she said finally. "From The Merchant of Venice."
"Portia?" Sally said curiously. Sensible, rule-abiding, calm, controlled Portia? She supposed that made sense.
"Yes. She follows the rules, and she's sensible and keeps her head," Darrell said, confirming Sally's fears, but she went on, "but she's also strong, and willful, and clever, and has a sense of humour. And she saves the day." Darrell smiled. "Portia is my absolutely favourite Shakespearean heroine," she said sincerely. "You should definitely be Portia."
Chapter 3