Naughtiest Girl 5: The Naughtiest Girl Keeps a Secret Read online

  ‘There’s more to life than being a monitor,’ Elizabeth decided. ‘I shall have more time to myself. I must try and get good at lots of things. I shall make myself learn to be a brilliant gardener and grow wonderful things.’

  She stared at the neat rows of broad beans that John and some of the younger boys had planted. How well they seemed to be doing. Although they did need weeding.

  Most of Elizabeth’s efforts to grow things so far had come to grief, usually because she had forgotten to look after them properly. But she knew that her lettuces were doing well. She closed the greenhouse door behind her and slowly walked round to have a look at them.

  ‘They’ve grown again!’ she exclaimed as she came round the corner.

  She had spent some of her own allowance on lettuce seeds. John had told her it was always worth getting the very best quality. She had planted the seeds out in neat rows, watched them grow into tiny lettuces, weeded them carefully once a week. Now she was beginning to get her reward.

  The lettuces had suddenly burgeoned. Some of them had formed proper hearts. They were beginning to look like real lettuces. At this rate, they would be ready before half-term. Her lettuces would be going into lots of school salads. That thought made Elizabeth feel very proud.

  ‘But they do need watering, poor things,’ she realized. ‘The ground all round them is quite parched looking. I’ll go and fill the watering cans.’

  The two watering cans were lined up by the garden tap. Before filling them, Elizabeth turned on the tap and cupped some water in her hands. She washed the chocolate off her hands then doused her face clean. Now nobody would be able to see that she had been crying.

  She filled the watering cans but, when she reached her lettuce rows, she stopped. Was there still some heat in the sun? John had once explained to her that watering should be done in the cool of the day, morning or evening.

  So Elizabeth set to work weeding between the rows of broad beans, instead. It was hard physical work and it had a wonderfully soothing effect on her. By the time she had finished she felt glowing with good health, and much more at peace with herself. She could face the world now.

  ‘I’m getting quite used to the idea of not being a monitor,’ she told herself. ‘I shan’t tell anyone yet. I’ll wait till it’s announced at the Meeting. That will give me a bit more time to get really calm and strong about it. I expect Julian will tease me. I hope Arabella doesn’t crow.’

  The sun was now much cooler. Elizabeth returned to her lettuces and carefully watered each row. She had just finished when John Terry appeared.

  There were other boys and girls arriving, too. She could hear their voices beyond the yew hedge.

  ‘That’s well done, Elizabeth. Just the right amount of water,’ he said. ‘You don’t want to drown them. They’re doing well, aren’t they?’

  ‘Do you think so, John?’

  ‘I’ll tell you something, though. This is the last time you’ll have to water them for a while.’ He looked up at the sky. ‘This is the end of the sunshine. There’s going to be heavy rain for two or three days.’

  Like any good gardener, John always took careful notes of the weather forecast.

  ‘Oh. Is there? But it will save me a job, then!’ said Elizabeth cheerfully.

  ‘Well, it will save you one job. But it could give you another. You see, Elizabeth—’

  ‘John!’ someone shouted.

  Before John could finish, a boy came marching over, carrying a garden fork.

  ‘Where exactly do you want this ground turned over?’ asked the boy.

  ‘I’ll show you in a minute. I just want to explain something to Elizabeth.’

  But Elizabeth was staring at the new arrival in dismay. He was a large, heavily-built boy, one of the oldest in the school. He often came and helped in the gardens. He had big feet and big red hands and a gentle face. Elizabeth noticed how pale he looked, as though he were unwell. He was still in his tennis shorts. It was Roger Brown, Patrick’s tennis opponent.

  The match must be over!

  Patrick’s tennis trial! It had gone right out of her mind!

  ‘It’s all right, John, I’ve got to dash now!’

  Elizabeth started running.

  ‘Tell me another time. I’ve realized I shouldn’t be here!’ she called back.

  She ran as fast as she could, all the way to the tennis-courts.

  Patrick was sitting on a bench near the courts with Julian, surrounded by first formers.

  Elizabeth raced towards them, panting for breath.

  ‘Did you win, Patrick?’ she shouted.

  ‘Of course he did!’ shrilled Arabella.

  ‘Elizabeth!’ exclaimed Julian. ‘What happened to you? Why didn’t you come?’

  Elizabeth went very red.

  ‘I forgot,’ she said.

  ‘Patrick won!’ cried Arabella triumphantly. ‘He’s going to be in the second team! It made all the difference to him having his friends here, cheering him on. Fancy you just forgetting to come, Elizabeth.’

  Elizabeth thought how horrible it sounded, put like that.

  She pushed past Arabella to get to Patrick, her hand outstretched. She wanted to shake his hand.

  ‘Congratulations, Patrick. You really deserve to be in the team after all your hard work! I truly meant to come and watch the match. I’m sorry. It’s just that, after I’d been to see William and Rita, I had such important things—’

  She broke off. She had been going to say ‘such important things to think about’. But that sounded bad, too, as though Patrick’s tennis trial was not important.

  In any case, Patrick was ignoring her outstretched hand. He was getting to his feet.

  ‘I’ve got important things to do as well,’ he said. ‘Now I’m in the second team, I’ve got to do some more work on my service action. I’m going to have a good go against the school wall. There’s a match on Saturday.’

  Without even glancing at Elizabeth, he strode away. There was a sulky expression on his face. He was overjoyed to have beaten Roger and to have won his place in the team. But he had been wondering what had happened to Elizabeth. He had even, in fact, been worrying about her. Whereas she, it seemed, had simply forgotten all about him!

  What were these important things, anyway?

  Later, he learnt from young Peter what Elizabeth had been doing while his match was in progress. She had been weeding some vegetable plot in the school gardens. Peter had seen her there.

  That was all. Weeding! Even Julian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise when Patrick passed on this information.

  ‘She’s good at heart though, Patrick,’ he shrugged. ‘You’ll find that out.’

  Elizabeth had no intention of confessing to Julian, far less to Patrick, that she had been crying like a baby in the greenhouse. But she would go out of her way to be nice to Patrick, she decided. Then he would soon forget her lapse.

  In fact, by cocoa-time that evening, Patrick was already in a mood to forgive Elizabeth and give her another chance. His serving practice had gone well and he was very excited about the match against Woodville on Saturday.

  ‘It’s a home match, so you’ll have to come and watch,’ he told Elizabeth. ‘Especially as you’re a monitor.’

  Elizabeth smiled wryly, thinking of the surprise in store for them all at the weekly Meeting. She chose her words with care.

  ‘Monitor or not,’ she said, ‘I’ll be there.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  Patrick makes a little joke

  IT WAS time for the weekly Meeting. The whole school was required to attend. The boys and girls looked forward to it. It was the day their money was given out. After that, there were always complaints to be heard and interesting things to discuss.

  It had been raining for two
days and outdoor hobbies had been cancelled, even riding. They were pleased to have the Meeting coming up after tea to liven things up. The weather was supposed to get better by the evening, much to Patrick’s relief. He was longing to get more practice before Saturday’s match.

  All the children trooped into the gym, which doubled as the school hall. In the Easter holidays, a platform had been built at one end for the school’s little plays and concerts. It made the Meetings much better, too. There was a long row of chairs up on the platform, facing into the hall. There sat the school’s twelve elected monitors, six each side of the head-boy and girl.

  William and Rita, in the centre, sat behind a small table. On the table was a Big Book, in which lots of things were written. By the Book lay a small hammer, which they used like a Judge’s gavel. They were rather like Judges, with their Jury alongside them, Elizabeth always thought. This was not only the school’s Parliament, where problems were discussed and rules made, it was also its Court. All complaints of bad behaviour or wrongdoing had to be brought to the Meeting. Problems were aired in public, punishments decided upon if necessary. Above all, boys and girls were made to face up honestly to their faults.

  Miss Belle and Miss Best, the joint headmistresses, sat right at the back of the hall, with Mr Johns, the senior master. They rarely took any part in the proceedings and only then if their advice was requested.

  Elizabeth had hated the Meetings when she first came to Whyteleafe School. She had thought them a perfectly silly idea. She had since changed her opinion.

  But where was she today?

  ‘That’s funny,’ said Julian, as he filed into the hall with the rest of the first form. He was staring towards the platform. ‘Why isn’t Elizabeth up there with the other monitors?’

  ‘She must be late,’ giggled Belinda.

  ‘But there’s no chair up there for her, either.’ Julian was always very quick to notice things. ‘It’s odd.’

  Elizabeth had still not told anybody. It had been too early to tell, she had reasoned. It would come out at the Meeting. She would be quite composed by then. That would be soon enough.

  ‘I wonder what’s going on?’ mused Julian now.

  He did not have to wait long to find out.

  All the benches in the hall had filled up. Some of the younger children sat cross-legged on the floor. They were in the junior class, which was below the first form. The babble of whispering and chattering was getting louder and louder.

  William stood up and banged the gavel.

  ‘Silence, please.’

  There was an instant hush.

  ‘Before the Meeting starts, I have something to say.’

  He smiled down at the person who was perched on the very end of a bench, in the front row.

  ‘Stand up, please, Elizabeth. Come up here, on to the platform.’

  As she stood up, for all her resolve, Elizabeth found her legs going wobbly. She felt butterflies in her tummy. The whole school was looking at her. She had so hoped that William or Rita would just make the announcement very quickly and quietly. This was awful.

  Determined to look dignified, she walked slowly up on to the platform.

  Julian and the others watched in surprise. It was their very own Elizabeth. The bold, bad girl. What was all this about?

  ‘For much of last term, Elizabeth was a monitor,’ William told the school. ‘This term, as a special dispensation, we asked her to stay on for a while – as an honorary monitor. We were so proud of her, weren’t we? Well, she has done a really good stint and the time’s come for Elizabeth to stand down now. I think we are all agreed that she has been a very fine monitor indeed. I want us all to show our appreciation.’

  He gave a brief nod. Rita rose from her chair. Then all twelve monitors on the platform did likewise. As William shook Elizabeth by the hand, the head girl and monitors gave her a standing ovation.

  The whole school joined in. With her head held high, Elizabeth came down from the platform. As she walked down the hall to join her own form’s benches, children on all sides started cheering loudly. After two days of being cooped up indoors it was good to have an excuse to shout and cheer!

  Elizabeth felt weak with relief. The experience had not been humiliating, after all. It had been just the reverse. How tactfully William and Rita had handled it. She felt buoyed up, almost cheerful.

  ‘You dark horse,’ whispered Julian, as she sat down beside him. Belinda, Kathleen, even Patrick, they all slapped her on the back. Patrick had reason to know how good a monitor she had been but was secretly relieved. He would never get used to the idea of girls being allowed to boss boys around. This would be better, he felt.

  Arabella was clapping politely, for quite the wrong reasons.

  Julian squeezed Elizabeth’s arm. ‘Brave girl!’ he hissed, green eyes twinkling. Alone amongst the first formers, he had continued to be curious to know why William and Rita had summoned her the other day. He had been mystified that Elizabeth, usually so talkative, had never referred to it. Now he understood.

  Elizabeth simply gave a huge sigh of relief. William was banging his gavel and calling for silence again; time to get on with the Meeting. Thank goodness that was all over!

  Thomas held up the big money-box now. All the children who had been sent money during the past week had to come forward and drop it inside. After that, every member of the school was handed two pounds from the box, as their spending money for the week.

  At Whyteleafe School they did not believe in some children having more money to spend than others. This was the way they shared it out fairly. If any pupil wanted extra money for a special purpose, they had to ask. The Meeting then decided if it was a proper reason.

  ‘Please, I left all my stamps out in the rain and now they’re useless,’ said Peter, standing up. ‘I need to write some letters this week. Can I have some extra money to buy more stamps?’

  No, the stamps getting all messy and stuck together was due to Peter’s own carelessness, the Meeting decided.

  ‘You’ll just have to go without a few sweets this week,’ Rita said kindly.

  Mary wanted the Florist Shop in the village to send some flowers to her aunt, who was very ill in hospital.

  ‘Request granted,’ said the head-boy. ‘Thomas, give Mary an extra five pounds from the box.’

  After that there were three complaints to be heard. Two were proper complaints and one was silly.

  ‘Arabella Buckley keeps making faces at me in class,’ said Daniel Carter. ‘She keeps trying to make me laugh. And if I do laugh, I’ll get into trouble.’

  ‘That is not a proper complaint,’ said William sternly. ‘That is just telling tales. Sit down at once, Daniel.’

  The first form were making spluttering sounds as they tried not to giggle.

  ‘Try looking the other way, Daniel!’ whispered Belinda.

  ‘Arabella’s not making faces!’ hissed Julian. ‘She always looks like that!’

  Arabella, who had been feeling so triumphant, turned bright pink. She prided herself on her prettiness.

  William banged the table again.

  ‘Before we close the Meeting, some congratulations are in order. Roger, stand up please.’

  The big senior boy shambled to his feet. He was embarrassed to be in the limelight. His gentle face, even at the best of times, wore a slightly anxious look. It was just his normal expression.

  ‘As we know,’ said William, ‘Roger is in the top class and in his last term at Whyteleafe. He has just heard recently that he has won a scholarship to Holyfield School. An academic scholarship. Well done, Roger. Can we give him a round of applause, please?’

  As everyone clapped, Roger Brown gave a shy nod then quickly sat down.

  ‘Isn’t Holyfield the sporty school?’ whispered a second former, to one o
f his classmates. ‘Will he get on all right there?’

  Everyone knew he’d lost his place in the second tennis team, to a mere first former.

  ‘They have other people as well,’ the friend whispered back. ‘People who are musical or just plain brainy, like Rog. He should be all right!’

  The first formers, as they trooped out of the hall, were much more interested in the news about Elizabeth.

  ‘You can be ordinary Elizabeth Allen now,’ said Belinda, kindly. ‘It will give you more time for riding and everything.’

  ‘Will it feel funny, not being a monitor any more?’ asked Kathleen.

  ‘Just for a while, I expect,’ replied Elizabeth calmly.

  The boys teased her a bit, especially Julian.

  ‘Now you can go straight back to being the naughtiest girl in the school again!’ he laughed.

  ‘Never!’ retorted Elizabeth. She was standing up to the teasing well.

  But then Patrick struck a discordant note.

  ‘Of course, there’s no need for you to come and watch me play in the school match now,’ he said. ‘I won’t want you there if you’re not an important monitor.’

  He was trying to make a joke. But Patrick’s jokes were always rather heavy-handed.

  His words really stung. For a moment, Arabella and some of the others noted the look of dismay on Elizabeth’s face.

  By the time the little girl realized that he was not being serious, the main doors had been opened and everybody was whooping and rushing outside. It had stopped raining at last! It was going to be a fine evening.

  ‘Hurray!’ cried Patrick. ‘I’ll go and get my racket and practise my strokes.’

  ‘I must go over to the stables and see the horses!’ exclaimed Robert.

  People were scattering in all directions.

  ‘My lettuces,’ thought Elizabeth. ‘I can go and look at them. I’m sure the rain won’t have washed them away. They weren’t little babies any more. I wonder if they’ve grown?’