ANNE DIGBY

14

THE UNFORGETTABLE

FIFTH AT

TREBIZON
The Trebizon series by Anne Digby
in reading order

1.FIRST TERM AT TREBIZON

2. SECOND TERM AT TREBIZON

3. SUMMER TERM AT TREBIZON

4. BOY TROUBLE AT TREBIZON

5. MORE TROUBLE AT TREBIZON

6. THE TENNIS TERM AT TREBIZON

7. SUMMER CAMP AT TREBIZON

8. INTO THE FOURTH AT TREBIZON

9. THE HOCKEY TERM AT TREBIZON

10. FOURTH YEAR TRIUMPHS AT TREBIZON

11. THE GHOSTLY TERM AT TREBIZON

12. FIFTH YEAR FRIENDSHIPS AT TREBIZON

13. SECRET LETTERS AT TREBIZON

14. THE UNFORGETTABLE FIFTH AT TREBIZON

PUFFIN BOOKS
 Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Books Ltd, 27 Wrights Lane, London W8 5TZ, England

Penguin Books USA Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

Penguin Books Australia Ltd Ringwood, Victoria, Australia

Penguin Books Canada Lid, 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2

Penguin Books (NZ) Ltd, 182—190 Wairau Road, Auckland 10, New Zealand

Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England

First published by Straw Hat 1994

Published in Puffin Books 1996

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

Copyright © Anne Digby, 1994

All rights reserved

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Made and printed in England by Clays Ltd, St Ives plc

Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it

shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise

circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other

than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this

condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

CONTENTS

ONE The Biggest Challenge

TWO Shock at Mulberry Cove

THREE Suspense Continues

FOUR Robbie’s Result

FIVE Old Trebizonians Get a Report

SIX A Mystery Recognized

SEVEN ...More Mystery to Come

EIGHT Emmanuelle’s Lovely Day

NINE Complications

TEN Anne-Marie’s Secret

ELEVEN The Phantom of the Island

TWELVE Tish Comments on the French

Exchange

THIRTEEN An Unforgettable Year

ONE

The Biggest Challenge

‘But is there still time?’ thought Rebecca Mason suddenly, as the boat was docking. ‘Is
there really?’

It was an unwelcome thought, rudely interrupting other, more pleasurable ones.

She’d been in a contented dream, standing up on deck in the darkness as the ship sailed into
port. The lights of Plymouth. The Devon hills some where beyond. The prospect of their coach
waiting and the warm, sleepy journey back to boarding school with her friends - Tish, Sue, Mara,
Margot and Elf; and all the rest of them from Five Alpha who’d been on the French Exchange.

And stretching ahead of them, the summer term. Some tennis, maybe: it was great playing on
grass. The sea. No longer wintry grey but blue and sparkling. Surfing and swimming in the bay.
The wild flowers out on the headland. Trebizon at its most beautiful. Summer term in the Fifth...

A summer term all set to reach a glorious conclusion with the return visit of the French girls at the
end of June. Exams would be over. They’d be arriving on the last Saturday - Commemoration
Day. Founder’s service in the morning; tennis cup in the afternoon; Commem Ball in the
evening. Followed by a full week of pleasurable activities at Trebizon before they broke up for the
summer holidays and each girl took her pen friend home.

Emmanuelle would be coming to Trebizon!

After the three vivid weeks just spent in Paris together, Rebecca was already starting to make
plans for the end of June. Never too early to start planning, was it? She’d need to make sure
that Emmanuelle’s time in England was every bit as memorable as her own had been in
France. She’d get a programme worked out, think about the details. She’d begin
planning right now. Starting with the Commem Ball...

Giving Emmanuelle a lovely time, that was the challenge. That was what Rebecca had been day
dreaming about.

Then, from nowhere, that sudden irritating little question had surfaced.

‘Will I even get into the Sixth Form now?’ she’d asked Miss Welbeck last term, just
before the mocks started. ‘I mean, don’t you have to have good grades?’

‘There’s still time, Rebecca,’ had replied the school’s principal.

But was there? After the results of her mocks, Rebecca couldn’t be quite sure. Hopeful, but
not sure. Certainly not as far as her favourite subject history was concerned. And if she
couldn’t do that, what was the point?

And now the GCSE term was almost upon her. Already started, in fact! They’d missed the
first three days because of the French Exchange. This was it! The real exams were coming up
now. This very term.

As the hawsers tightened and clamped the ship to shore, it was something that had to be faced.
Before Emmanuelle’s visit, she had a lot of work to do and a lot of exams to pass.

‘We’re here, Rebeck!’ yelled Tish Anderson in delight, coming along the deck. ‘Get
your luggage, dopey!’

The weight of Rebecca’s suitcase as she manoeuvred it ashore was another conscience-
pricker. She’d packed a whole array of school books including a couple of important history
books and not one of them had she opened in Paris. Right now they were making her suitcase
weigh a ton all for nothing!

‘What DO you have in there, Becky?’ asked Sue Murdoch, as Rebecca staggered up to
join the throng by the coach. The baggage compartment was open and everything piling in.

‘Brought the Arc de Triomphe back with you?’ asked Tish, laughing.
‘The Eiffel Tower, if you must know,’ retorted Rebecca.

Oh! Not even to have looked at her history!

‘It’s her books,’ explained Mara Leonodis, who’d seen her pack them before they
left.

‘Wish I’d taken my violin,’ said Sue. ‘I nearly did but they said I’d be able to
borrow one at the Lycée. It was really duff.’

‘I wish I’d taken some books,’ sighed Mara. The Greek girl gazed at Rebecca. ‘We
have missed three whole days of lessons and I will never catch up. Clever Rebecca, to have such
willpower!’

‘That’s the joke of the year, Mara. I didn’t even look at them.’

Quick to notice her anxious expression, Sally Elphinstone suddenly announced: ‘Your French
accent’s really good now, Rebecca! And orals are the first exam by miles. One thing at a
time! Bet you get an A for French Oral!’

It wasn’t just Elf trying to give her a boost. There were general murmurs of agreement.

‘Bet you do get an A, Rebecca,’ said Margot Lawrence. ‘I thought it was one of the
French girls asking a question in class at the Lycée. I looked round and it was you! You must
have been speaking French all the time, to get so good.’

‘She was,’ Jenny Brook-Hayes informed them. Because her pen friend Anne-Marie was
Emmanuelle’s best friend, they’d gone around in a foursome. ‘She and Emmanuelle
were gabbing to each other non-stop by the end!’

As the coach driver took charge of her suitcase and loaded it in, Rebecca felt a lightening of
mood. She got on board, found a window seat and settled down to think.

Yes, she’d been speaking French solidly for the past three weeks. A lot of them hadn’t
bothered! Emmanuelle had been the best tutor imaginable, never getting snappy or impatient with
her, giving her confidence. And it was the first exam - only three weeks away. No wonder she
hadn’t had time to read all the stuff in her suitcase! Elf was right; one thing at a time. And
anyway there was stilt time to get a good GCSE history grade. She’d worked hard since the
mocks and now she’d work even harder. She needed an A or B grade in history to be allowed
to take it in the Sixth! Miss Maggs had been encouraging about her chances, even though
she’d only managed a D in the mocks.

She just had more catching up to do. Previously, too much effort had gone into trying to make it to
the top in tennis. Miss Welbeck had helped her to see that this wasn’t the best thing at
present. And Rebecca’s mind was made up. It was school success she was working for now.
Robbie Anderson, Tish’s brother, simply hadn’t a clue how she felt. ‘Don’t know
why you didn’t just grab that tennis contract and run!’ he’d told her last term, when
she was having trouble with her mocks. It was so undermining. She hated him for that remark. It
had made her wonder if Robbie had ever really liked her for herself, or had simply been in love
with the idea of a girl friend who was maybe going to be a famous tennis star one day!

Cliff Haynes was far more understanding. He was so down-to-earth and easy to be with, not like
Robbie these days. Such a relief; such a contrast, You couldn’t help loving Cliff!

But how had Robbie got on at the RAF selection board these holidays? Had he passed? That
might make all the difference, turn him back into a reasonable human being again!

She watched the bright lights of the ferry boat in the harbour recede into the distance. As the
coach thrummed along, she began to indulge those pleasurable thoughts again...

The Commem Ball! The biggest challenge would be finding just the right partner for her French
pen friend! In spite of being so pretty, Emmanuelle badly needed a confidence boost as far as
boys were concerned. It was strange that; but Rebecca knew it to be true.

‘I’ve got to find her someone really nice,’ thought Rebecca.

She sighed. Robbie had always been her partner at Commem and if she’d been asking him
again this year, he could have brought a friend in the Upper Sixth at Garth College who’d
have been perfect. Ben Hartwell wasn’t attached to anybody and Rebecca just knew that
Emmanuelle and Ben would have got on like a house on fire! Wouldn’t that have been a nice
start to Emmanuelle’s visit?

Rebecca’s thoughts hastily turned to Cliff. She wondered if he could bring anyone who’d
be okay. The trouble was he’d only been at Caxton High two terms, his family having moved
to the west country from London. He seemed to be in with the soccer crowd but she couldn’t
pinpoint anyone special.

‘What you thinking about, Rebeck?’ asked Tish, in the next seat, giving her a nudge.
‘You look as though you’re planning something!’

‘I am.’

‘Oh! What?’

‘I’m planning for when they come back.’

‘When who comes back?’

‘The French girls, of course,’ replied Rebecca. ‘When they come to Trebizon.’
‘Oh. That all?’ Tish rubbed her eyes. It had, she decided, been an horrifically long day.
They seemed to have been travelling since breakfast time. Breakfast! Tea with a piece of lemon
in it and a small roll, that was all Sandrine’s mother had given her! ‘Who cares?’ She
yawned. ‘That’s months away yet.’

‘Go to sleep, Tish. You’re tired.’

Tish grinned sleepily.

‘Did you really take a stack of books to France?’

‘Yes.’ Rebecca laughed. ‘Wasn’t it silly of me.’

‘I could have done with something to read,’ grumbled Tish. ‘Sandrine wasn’t much
fun, was she?’

And to make further amends to Rebecca for being downbeat about the French Exchange, she
added:

‘Not like Emmanuelle!’

She liked Emmanuelle, from what she’d seen of her. They all did. In time they might be sorely
tempted to revise their opinion but that was something for the future.

After an hour’s refreshing sleep, Tish decided to enter into the spirit of things properly.

They were almost back. They’d climbed slowly from Trebizon town and were now cruising
along the top road, above Trebizon bay. Rebecca, who’d herself been dozing, opened her
eyes in time to see moonlight gleaming on the sweeping sands, its reflection catching the top of
the breaking waves so that they became shimmering little lines of light. Then she caught a brief
glimpse of Mulberry Island, beyond the headland, with its trees and its derelict cottage, standing
like a tiny fortress in the middle of the silver sea.

It was a beautiful sight and made her think, with sudden happiness, that it was lovely to be back
in England. And that having been abroad she was seeing it all afresh, as though for the first time.
Weren’t they lucky that their school stood on such a beautiful piece of coastline!

‘Hey,’ said Tish suddenly, feeling the same way, ‘let’s organize a picnic for the
Frenchies. The first weekend. We can fix it for the Sunday, the day after the ball! The
weather’s bound to be warm. We can take them down to Mulberry Cove. They’ll love it
down there -‘

‘That’s a good idea, Tish!’

‘- and we’ll take them to Mulberry Island! We’ll get Miss Welbeck’s permission and
get a proper boat hired and maybe finish up with a barbecue on the island. On the Sunday
evening!’

‘Brilliant!’ exclaimed Rebecca. Hurray! This was a good start. The programme for
Emmanuelle’s first two days was already falling into place...

‘We’ll get them some boys for the ball and we can invite them on the Sunday as well!’
Tish was saying:

...well, almost falling into place, decided Rebecca. But not quite.

Sitting on the other side of Tish, Mara was suddenly wide awake and clapping her hands with
enthusiasm.

‘That is the most beautiful idea, Tish! Christelle will adore to go to the cove and the island! She
is so romantic. Curly and I will take her to the ball and Curly will bring someone to make up the
foursome and then we shall do this on the Sunday!’ By the time the coach dropped them
outside their boarding house, all six of them were talking about it and wondering which boys to
invite.

‘Less noise PLEASE!’ scolded their French teacher, as they disembarked.

‘Upstairs in silence and unpack as quickly as you can,’ whispered Mrs Barrington, who
was waiting for them at the front of Court House. ‘Remember that other people are asleep.
Had a good time?’ added their housemistress.

‘Lovely, Mrs Barry!’

It was very late before they were ready for bed but that didn’t stop Tish suggesting one of
their early morning runs, over to Mulberry Cove. Nor did it stop Rebecca agreeing.

There was something she wanted to talk about. Not on her own account. Certainly not.

But perhaps for Emmanuelle’s sake.

It would be worth getting up early for that alone.

TWO

Shock at Mulberry Cove

It was worth it in any case. It was lovely racing across the bay and round into Mulberry Cove of an
early morning. Always the same routine. Out via the wicket gate at the back of Juniper, careful not
to wake the juniors. A quick scramble over the dunes then a mad dash across the sands to the
water’s edge. At low tide, jogging round the end of the headland by way of the shore and into
Mulberry Cove. At high tide, a steep climb up to the top of the headland along narrow tracks
almost hidden by vegetation, then a scramble down the other side, into the secretiveness of the
sheltered cove.

Rebecca enjoyed these runs, in all seasons.

On winter mornings, the dawn would just be breaking through the darkness over the sea. Today,
in late spring, the sun was well up, the sea already a sparkling blue.

‘And it’ll be midsummer by the time Emmanuelle comes to Trebizon!’ she thought, as
she surged ahead of Tish, towards the shore, her trainers making the first tracks of the day on the
newly- washed sands. ‘If we have a barbecue on the island, it’ll be light till bedtime!’

She and Tish and Sue had been going on these jogs to Mulberry Cove for as long as Rebecca
could remember, though Sue had gone for violin practice this morning. Tish was the most
dedicated. Not the other three, of course. Lazy lot! It would do Elf good, instead of talking about
dieting all the time! thought Rebecca.

Tish caught up with her at the water’s edge, puffing slightly.

‘Isn’t it glorious?’ exclaimed Rebecca, raising her arms. ‘All this vastness and
emptiness and it all belongs to us. Or at least it feels as if it does!’

‘Us and Jock!’ laughed Tish, referring to the man who owned the Mulberry Cove Sailing
School. He was usually the only person they saw. ‘Bet he’s round there already - working
on his boats.’

‘Yes, he’s always up and about!’ replied Rebecca. He’d be getting the boats ready
for the summer season. How was the tide? She squinted along the shoreline. The water
hadn’t yet come up to the end of the headland. ‘Tide’s coming in. Let’s get round
there. Ready?’

Tish was staring out to sea, taking a few deep breaths.

‘In a minute, Rebeck. Trying to break the world sprint record, were you?’

‘You’re out of condition, Tish!’

‘All that sitting around. Sandrine’s mother took us everywhere by car. Sandrine
insisted.’
‘You’ll soon get back into running once we’ve done GCSEs!’ Rebecca consoled
her.

‘Sooner the better!’ Tish looked pleased at the thought. ‘Some races again.
Competition.’ She was a distance runner and a good one.

Competition! Rebecca sighed, thinking of her tennis. She could do with some, too. This time last.
year she’d just been playing at Edgbaston. Then had worked all summer term to qualify for
Eastbourne. But at least she could enter for the school tennis cup. Miss Welbeck wouldn’t
mind that, surely? The Darling Cup was new this year, the trophy having been donated by Greta
Darling (‘the Dread’), Trebizon’s tennis coach. It would be good to have a crack at it.

‘Let’s go,’ said Tish. ‘Just a nice steady jog, okay?’

‘Don’t worry, I’m done for!’

They slip-slapped along the foreshore, side by side, making for the end of the headland. It would
be good to see the cove again and Jock painting the boats, perhaps.

‘Wonder if we’ll get any sailing this term?’ mused Tish.

‘Shouldn’t think so.’ Rebecca liked sailing in the cove. ‘At least, not till after
exams.’

‘Something else to amuse the Frenchies, then?’ suggested Tish.

‘Why, yes!’

Rebecca felt pleased. The timetable for Emmanuelle’s week at Trebizon was getting better
and better...

‘Can’t see it appealing to Sandrine,’ Tish was saying.

Getting better and better, except...There was the matter she most wanted to talk to Tish about.
And this was as good a moment as any.

‘So Robbie’s applied for the RAF?’ she remarked. ‘Must’ve been a shock when
you found out!’

‘Yes. Especially for him,’ grinned Tish. ‘Seeing it’s a state secret!’ She frowned.
‘I can see him as a pilot, in a way. But it’s all a bit sudden. He’s applied to go straight
in after A-levels. This summer! I don’t think Dad will be happy. He wants him to go to
university. But Robbie’s eighteen and so there’s nothing Dad can do about it!’
‘Wonder if he passed the selection board?’ asked Rebecca. ‘Will he have heard yet?
’

‘Should’ve done by now. Maybe I ought to go over to Garth at the weekend and find
out,’ replied Tish. She gave Rebecca a sidelong look. ‘I can’t tell him you’re
interested, can I, seeing I’m not sup posed to have told anyone!’

‘Well, that’s just as well,’ retorted Rebecca. Then she added, more calmly:
‘You’re his sister. Don’t you want to know?’

‘Not if he hasn’t got in!’ joked Tish. ‘Still. Might as well find out. I’ll go and see
him sometime.’

‘Justin might know,’ suggested Rebecca helpfully. ‘He might be able to tell Sue when
they ring each other tonight.’

‘If Rob’s got IN, he could’ve told Justy,’ mused Tish. ‘In which case, yes, Justy
might tell Sue.’

‘Can’t we ask Sue to ask -?‘

‘No,’ replied Tish crisply. ‘It’s a secret. I only told YOU, Rebeck, because... Well,
look, if Sue hears anything she’s bound to mention it. Otherwise I’ll bike over to Garth on
Saturday and see Robbie myself. I know it’s no use ringing him at Syon House. Too
public.’

As they passed round the end of the headland, Rebecca felt contented. She badly wanted to
know if Robbie had been successful. Sue might hear something from Justin, otherwise Tish was
planning to go over and see Robbie on Saturday.

Good.

And if he HAD been successful perhaps it would stop him being such a pain. And, in that case,
she could definitely think about inviting him and Ben to Commem as partners for Emmanuelle and
herself. Just as a favour. No more to it than that.

He’d be in a sunny mood for a change and be quite likely to agree. And that would be the
perfect beginning to Emmanuelle’s week at Trebizon, wouldn’t it, having Ben as her
partner at the ball? Cliff wouldn’t mind about Robbie. He wouldn’t be jealous. After all,
there was nothing much to be jealous about.

Wasn’t it funny, though, to think of Robbie going off into the blue - literally into the blue! - to
train as a pilot. He might be joining the RAF! At the end of this term. So soon.
That this was Robbie’s ‘brilliant plan’ had taken her by surprise. She’d stiffened
when Tish had first blurted it out, on the boat. But she’d soon get used to it.

The main thing now was to hope that he’d been successful, wasn’t it?

As they turned into Mulberry Cove, Tish was just in front of her. Rebecca was so deeply
immersed in various daydreams about the Commem Ball weekend that she hadn’t looked up.
Her eyes were fixed on the ground in front of her as she ran.

Until Tish stopped dead with such suddenness that Rebecca crashed into her.

‘Stupid!’ she said crossly. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Look for yourself!’ replied Tish.

Mulberry Cove seemed different.

There was something odd about it, something rather bleak. Whatever was it? wondered Rebecca.
Was it simply that they’d come out of the sun, round into the lee of the headland? The long
hump of land always cast its shadow across the cove in the early morning.

Blinking, she quickly took her bearings, looking first towards the caves at the top end of the cove.
Beyond, high on the hillside above, stood the old castle owned by the National Trust and rented
by the Willoughbys. All just the same as usual. Then she immediately turned her head to look the
other way, out to sea. Yes, there was Mulberry Island standing beyond the mouth of the cove, in
open sea. The view was just as it always had been. So what was wrong -?

Then she realized, even as Tish said it:

‘The sailing school’s disappeared!’

They gazed at one another in amazement.

‘But it’s always been here!” said Rebecca indignantly. ‘Where’s it all gone to?
’

No big wooden hut with brightly coloured sign

MULBERRY COVE SAILING SCHOOL

Proprietor: Jock Armstrong

No jolly little sailing dinghies, beached safely above high water mark. No Jock.

Just an empty beach, ringed by caves and -

‘A notice!’ exclaimed Rebecca. ‘Look, up the top there, on the grass.’

‘Let’s see what it says,’ replied Tish.

They walked slowly up to the top of the cove and climbed the grassy slope above the caves, until
they reached the signboard. It was staked into the ground. It said:

PRIVATE PROPERTY
No Trespassing

They stood and frowned at it in shock.

‘What on earth does it mean?’ asked Rebecca. ‘What it says, I suppose.’

‘But it’s NOT private property,’ protested Rebecca. ‘Is it? Who - why -?‘

‘Come on!’ Tish grabbed the back of her tracksuit top and tugged. ‘Let’s get back to
school and find out what’s happened! Quick! Over the headland -‘ They scrambled up one
of tracks, knee high in cow parsley, and were nearly at the top when - ‘Barbed wire!’
exclaimed Rebecca, in amazement. ‘We can’t get any further, Tish!’

The new fence ran all the way along the top, cutting off their route to Trebizon bay.

‘What a nerve!’ she added, furiously. ‘Look, there’s another sign along there,’
said Tish, grim faced. ‘A rotten nasty big one this time. Let’s see what it says.’

It was an Estate Agent’s noticeboard.

FOR SALE

By order of the executors of the estate

of the late Mr M.W. Ruggles.

A charming area of land known as The Headland together with small field abutting Mulberry Cove
(with the benefit of access to 300 metres of foreshore and sheltered water) and including a small
offshore island known as Mulberry Island with existing dwelling thereon, the whole totalling some
25 acres.

OFFERS INVITED FOR THE FREEHOLD

They read it carefully.

‘I’d no idea all this belonged to someone,’ said Rebecca, in a small voice.
‘Someone called Mr Ruggles by the look of it. And he didn’t mind us using it. Or Jock. He
must have been a nice man.’

‘And now he’s died,’ said Rebecca. ‘And it’s all got to be sold!’

‘Bang go early morning runs to the cove and picnics.. .and barbecues on Mulberry Island.. .and
all that stuff,’ said Tish. ‘And sailing, too.’

‘Oh, Tish!’ Rebecca felt tearful. It was so unexpected. ‘Nothing will ever be the same
now, will it?’

‘And we can’t get through this barbed wire, either, so we’ve got to go back the way we
came and the tide’s coming in!’ Tish pointed out, in her practical way.

After that they had to run like fury to avoid being cut off by the tide. The water was already licking
over the flat rocks at the far end of the headland. They scrambled down there, took off their shoes
and yanked up the legs of their tracksuit trousers as far as they’d go. Then they had to wade
back round into Trebizon bay. By the time they reached dry land the waves had done their worst
and they were soaked up to the waist.

They returned to the top floor of Court House with their tracksuit bottoms clinging to them wetly,
dripping little puddles everywhere.

‘Been for a paddle?’ asked Margot, in amazement. When they explained, Mara’s dark
brown eyes became even darker than usual, with annoyance. She’d just finished penning a
thank-you letter to Christelle, with news of the exciting plans for Commem weekend. It had had to
be written in French and now it would have to be done again. And when, when, WHEN was she
going to find the time...?

But it wasn’t just that.

‘All the land is private property and the island as well?’ she exclaimed. ‘It cannot be
true!’

‘Looks like it must be,’ said Sue, wryly. She’d just come back from violin practice and
was staring at her friends, all cold and wet and shivering. ‘Hadn’t you two better have hot
showers or something? Oh, isn’t this SICKENING!’

At assembly that morning, nobody could have looked more sickened about it than Miss Welbeck.

THREE

Suspense Continues
Rebecca could tell that at once.

‘A reminder about Mulberry Cove,’ the principal announced, at the end of assembly. She
looked rather paler than usual. ‘Especially for the benefit of those of you just back from the
French Exchange who may not have heard the bad news. But, everyone pay attention,
please.’

Near the back of the hall the six went on to full alert. Noticeably Mara…and Rebecca. And Elf,
who loved sailing and had made more use of the sailing school than any of them.

Rebecca had been sitting there in a blur, recovering from the rush and confusion of the past hour.
So much for her bright, early start. She’d been lucky not to be late for assembly! It had all
taken so long this morning. Waiting for the shower, trying to find her clean blouse and finish her
unpacking from the night before, trying to sort out which books she needed for lessons this
morning. While the whole floor gathered round asking questions... Then late for breakfast and
ending up with a mad dash for assembly.

So she’d been slumping, letting the rites of assembly wash over, checking mentally whether
she’d brought the right notebook for history and hoping that her maths revision sheet was in
her desk in the form room because it certainly wasn’t in her cubicle.

But now she at once sat up and took notice.

‘I cannot stress too strongly to you all that the headland and the field at the back of the cove
are now out of bounds. Mr Ruggles always most generously allowed unlimited access to these
areas so you may never have realized you were on private property. Now he’s died, the land
is being sold off. You must all get used to the new situation and not trespass.’

Rebecca could tell that Miss Welbeck was very upset. And because she was usually so calm
about everything, it was strangely unsettling.

‘The foreshore, of course, is open to all. So when the tide’s out and it’s safe for you to
do so, you’re free to walk round the headland and enjoy the excellent beach at Mulberry
Cove as always. But you are NOT to approach it by going over the top of the headland. Which
reminds me -‘

She looked down sternly at the rows of juniors.

‘I’ve had a phone call from Ruddocks - the estate agents - and it seems that two of our
younger girls were trespassing in the caves yesterday while Ruddocks were showing round a
prospective buyer. As the tide was well up, they could only have entered the cove by going over
the headland, presumably having found a way through the new fence. They also made some
cheeky remarks.’
A ripple of whispers and nervous giggles ran through the Second Years and Miss Welbeck waited
patiently for it to die away. Then -

‘Will the two girls concerned please come to my study after assembly and own up?’ she
said pleasantly.

And school was dismissed.

The culprits were Holly Thomas, Justin’s young sister, and her best friend Harriet. After
assembly Holly came up and tugged on Sue’s sleeve. Elf and Sue and Rebecca were talking
to one of the prefects at the time, just outside the main doors.

‘All I’ve heard is that Jock’s been evicted!’ Suky Morris was telling Elf. ‘He’s
had to dismantle his hut and clear all the boats out of Mulberry and start looking for somewhere
else.’

As the prefect hurried off, Sue turned round.

‘Hello, Holly!’

Holly, a Second Year, was standing there red-faced, with Harriet hovering behind her.

‘Did you have a good time in France, Sue? Listen, it was Harri and me!’ she hissed.

‘Oh, no!’ Sue pushed her spectacles up her nose a bit and stared at Holly. For Justin’s
sake she sometimes kept an eye on his kid sister. ‘That was stupid,’ she said.

‘You’d better go and own up then, hadn’t you?’ said Rebecca calmly.

‘We’re scared,’ said Harriet, coming forward. ‘Aren’t we Holly?’

‘Don’t be,’ said Elf, kindly.

‘Miss Welbeck won’t eat you,’ said Rebecca. ‘What were you cheeky about?’

‘We just said we’d as much right to be there as them.’

‘Who?’ asked Rebecca.

‘Mr and Mrs Tarkus.’

The three older girls exchanged disappointed looks. The Tarkuses weren’t exactly friends of
Trebizon. He was a local businessman with a finger in every pie and she was anti the school.
Always had been.
‘Anyway, you didn’t have as much right! You’d better go and see Miss Welbeck,’
said Sue. ‘Right now!’ She gave Holly a gentle push. ‘Off you go.’

‘Come and have tea with us at Court House this afternoon!’ Rebecca called out, as they
left. ‘After lessons. Then you can tell us how it went!’

‘I’ve brought some marron glacé back from France!’ added Elf.

‘Okay! We will!’

‘Thanks!’

Looking slightly more cheerful, they disappeared into the throng; heading for the confessional.

‘Glad you thought of that, Becky!’ said Sue. ‘I need to know if Holly’s going to be
okay. Justy will be ringing me up tonight.’

‘Oh, she’ll be okay!’ said Rebecca. ‘But did they manage to hear anything
yesterday? We can pump them! That’s the really interesting bit. Not what Miss Welbeck’s
going to say to them! Whatever would the Tarkuses want to buy the land for?’

‘Local paper says he’s always into money-making schemes,’ replied Elf, scowling.
‘Can’t see them ever letting Jock back on.’

‘Or us,’ pointed out Sue.

It didn’t even need saying.

‘If the Tarkuses aren’t just being nosEy and having a poke round, then…’ began Elf.

‘It’s bad news,’ finished Sue.

‘Yes.’ Rebecca could feel a sinking of the spirits.

‘We want somebody nice to buy it. Somebody who wants to keep everything just the same and
let people go there as they always have done. And to the island!’

Tish came bounding up at that moment and they told her.

‘Perhaps they won’t be able to afford it!’ she said cheerfully. ‘Come on, you lot.
We’re going to be late for registration.’

‘The school should buy the land!’ Mara stated firmly, at lunch time. ‘It is obvious, is it
not? Then we could be sure that everything would stay the same and the cove and the headland
and the island would never be spoiled.’
‘Yes, we’re nice, Rebecca,’ joked Sue. ‘We’re the nice people you were looking
for.’

‘Much nicer than the Tarkuses!’ agreed Margot.

‘Wonder how much the agents expect to get for it?’ commented Tish.

‘Would the school be able to afford it?’ asked Rebecca, dubiously.

The six were sitting at their usual table in the dining hall.

Rebecca had put in a hard morning’s work, concentrating keenly on her lessons. Geography
with Mrs Beal, maths with Miss Hort, history with Miss Maggs, then Latin with Pargie.

She’d asked Mr Pargiter for a vocabulary list. Pargie had photocopied a really useful one for
her and she intended learning it, in the library, this lunch hour. She wanted to study Latin in the
Sixth, with French and history, and she had to get a really good GCSE grade. The prospects were
much better than with the history, but she couldn’t afford to slacken off. There was no Latin
coursework. Everything was going to depend on the exam.

But she wanted to do well in all her subjects and this morning had reminded her how much work
lay ahead. She’d given up her tennis competitions. She wasn’t going to allow herself to
become too distracted by anything else, however important. Not even Emmanuelle’s visit!
Not even the fact of favourite places being snatched away from them... Places she’d been
planning to share with her.

Yet inevitably, at lunch time, they’d all promptly returned to the subject.

‘Let’s try and get an appointment with Miss Welbeck,’ Tish was saying. ‘Let’s
suggest things.’

‘We could help fund-raise!’ exclaimed Mara. ‘We could all write to our parents!’

‘Speak for yourself, Mara,’ grinned Margot.

‘My parents grumble enough about the school fees!’ sighed Elf.

‘Mine couldn’t pay them, if Dad’s firm didn’t,’ said Rebecca.

‘And Murdochs are bankrupt,’ Sue reminded them. It was a long story, that.

‘But there might be something we could do,’ insisted Tish. ‘Address envelopes and
things. Help with a Special Appeal or something.’
After lunch, they all trooped along to the school secretary’s office. They asked for an
appointment with Miss Welbeck.

‘She’s got a very busy week,’ said Mrs Devenshire, looking at the diary. ‘Is it
important? The first gap’s Friday. Four o’clock.’

They told her it was very important.

It seemed a long time to wait. But they came away feeling pleased with themselves.

‘It’ll give us time to come up with some fund raising ideas,’ said Rebecca.

‘Winning the pools, for example,’ said Tish.

Nevertheless, however bad the situation, no harm in sussing it out, they decided. No harm in
seeing if there was anything positive to be done.

‘Wonder how Holly and Harri got on with her this morning?’ Sue said to Rebecca.

They found out later.

‘She didn’t give us a hard time at all!’ said Holly.

‘We had delicious orange juice and loads of chocolate biscuits as well,’ added Harriet,
smugly. ‘Even though we’d just had breakfast!’

‘Oh?’ Rebecca and Sue exchanged puzzled looks. ‘You can go easy on the marron
glacé, then,’ Elf pointed out.

They were entertaining the two juniors to tea at Court House, after school, as promised.

‘Didn’t Miss Welbeck even tell you off?’

‘Well, yes,’ admitted Holly. ‘But she got it over with quick as possible. You see, we had
important information to give her. Didn’t we, Harri?’

‘She wanted to know exactly who the agents were showing round,’ explained Harriet.
‘Then, when we told her it was Mr and Mrs Tarkus, she got out the chocolate biscuits and
asked our opinion.’

‘Your opinion? What about?’ asked Sue.

‘Whether the Tarkuses looked serious about buying the land,’ interjected Holly, nettled at
Sue’s disbelieving tone. ‘All sorts of stuff like that.’
‘Okay,’ nodded Rebecca, looking suitably deferential. ‘So what did you tell her?’

By this stage, the other three had wandered over and were listening with interest.

They’d told Miss Welbeck, Holly said, that Mr Tarkus definitely was interested in buying the
land.

‘He said, given time and given planning permission, he could turn it into a wonderful tourist
attraction, to bring lots of money to the town -‘

‘Not to mention his pockets!’ interrupted Margot.

‘Ssh!’ said Elf.

‘ - but it was going to need tons of money spent on it and it was absolute rubbish as it stood,
not even good for agriculture or anything.’

‘The six friends digested this news.

‘Did he put a figure on it, by any chance?’ asked Tish with interest.

‘Yes, he said what his top offer was!’ replied Holly, brimming over with importance. ‘And
the agent said he should submit it in writing because it would definitely be considered.’

‘Goodness, you did hear a lot,’ said Elf, in admiration.

‘We were hiding in one of the caves, weren’t we Harri?’

‘Yes, but then they saw us.’

‘And you told Miss Welbeck all this?’ enquired Rebecca, thoughtfully.

‘Yes. She was pumping us. D’you know what we think, Rebecca? We think the school
must be planning to buy the land! Wouldn’t that be just great?’

Rebecca and Co had already reached the same conclusion.

‘It would be fantastic!’ agreed Mara.

‘But what was the figure Tarkus put on it?’ asked Tish, edgily.

‘Fifty!’ said Holly.

‘Fifty?’ asked Rebecca, puzzled. ‘Fifty what?’

‘50 K I should imagine,’ muttered Tish. ‘Fifty thousand.’

‘Yes,’ nodded Harriet. ‘That’s what Miss Welbeck thought. She didn’t seem that
worried. Well, just a little bit.’

‘I bet!’ commented Elf afterwards, when the younger girls had gone.

The amount of money needed to buy the land had brought them all down to earth with a bump.

Except for Mara.

‘You see, Rebecca?’ she said later, looking very determined. ‘Miss Welbeck thinks
exactly the same way as I. It is so obvious that Trebizon must buy the land, to protect the school.
Oh, isn’t it good that we are going to see her on Friday, to talk about it. We shall talk about
our fund-raising ideas!’

Rebecca glanced at Mara and smiled. It was fairly obvious what Mara’s fund-raising idea
was. Her father, the Greek shipowner, was fabulously wealthy. Lucky her! But even Mr Leonodis,
Rebecca decided, had his limits.

It wasn’t a matter of life and death, not like those operations for refugee children that he’d
been funding lately.

All the same, Mara’s optimism was infectious.

How Holly and Harriet had got on with Miss Welbeck had turned out to be extremely interesting!
They’d been grilled!

The school wanted to buy the land, that was obvious. It seemed that Miss Welbeck and
presumably the school governors were giving it serious thought. Now, finding out about Mr
Tarkus’s interest would surely galvanize them still further?

There was hope.

‘Mmm, yes, Becky. Justy and I had a good long that,’ yawned Sue sleepily, propped up
against the pillows, reading.

Rebecca, in pyjamas, had popped her head into the cubicle. It was bedtime. She was feeling
sleepy, too. She’d had a busy evening.

First, she’d rung her grandmother to say she was safely back from France. Then done a
heap of history revision. After that she’d written to her parents, followed by a quick note to
Cliff to tell him she was back. It would be lovely to see Cliff again! They’d probably meet on
Sunday.
She should have written to Emmanuelle but she was too tired and besides the time was not yet
ripe. But sleepy or not, there was one last thing...

She knew that Sue had taken a long call from Justin tonight. She’d heard Alice Burridge
come up from the ground floor to fetch her to the phone.

She’d hoped that Sue might come back with exciting news about Robbie. She’d probably
tell Tish first. Then the pair of them would come bursting into her cubicle and tell her.

But it hadn’t happened.

Rebecca nevertheless wanted to make quite sure.

‘Any gossip?’ she asked casually. ‘How are the rest of them at Garth? Suicidal about
their A- levels?’

‘I expect so,’ laughed Sue. She looked up from her book. ‘We talked about France
mainly and what Holly’s been up to, et cetera. Oh, yes! And Commem Ball. Justin’s going
to organize a partner for Ariane. So that’ll save me a job.’

‘What about David or Edward?’ enquired Rebecca, referring to Sue’s brothers at

Garth, and anxious that it shouldn’t be Ben.

‘Tish has bagged them both. For her and Sandrine. They’re all welcome to each other!
’ laughed Sue. ‘How about you, Rebecca? Will Cliff scrape someone up for Emmanuelle?
’

‘Everything under control!’ said Rebecca quickly.

Fibber.

She crossed the aisle, entered her cubicle and got into bed. It seemed she’d just have to he
patient. She’d have to wait till Tish had seen Robbie, on Saturday. The suspense continued.

But if he had had good news, surely he’d have told his good friend Justy?

FOUR

Robbie’s Resu1t

‘How good of you to come and see me,’ said Miss Welbeck. Mrs Devenshire had brought
in extra chairs and tea and biscuits for them, then left. It was after school, on the Friday
afternoon. ‘I must say, I’m very impressed.’
The six friends were sitting around her wood- panelled study, a large, sunny room at the front of
Trebizon’s main building (once a grand manor house). The windows overlooked rolling
parkland, dotted with oak trees, a view that had changed little over the centuries. The sunlight
was catching Miss Welbeck’s fair, upswept hair as she sat behind her desk, facing them,
generally adding to her aura of cheerfulness.

‘You - you don’t think it’s hopeless, then?’ asked Rebecca, shyly.

She’d expected the strained expression - so apparent in assembly the other morning - to
return to Miss Welbeck’s face, once they’d explained the reason for their visit. But it
hadn’t. The principal’s mood seemed quite different today.

‘Hopeless? Far from it.’ She looked around at their anxious faces and smiled.
‘We’re not going to give in without a fight, are we?’

‘We thought it’d be a good idea if the school could have a Special Appeal!’ explained
Tish, plunging in. ‘We could look up grant bodies and charitable trusts and things like that, in
the reference library in the town! Then we could help address envelopes or...anything.. .like
that…’

Tish, of all people, was becoming tongue-tied, her voice starting to fade away. The principal was
looking amused.

‘No need, Ishbel.’ Very amused. ‘Those trusts have hundreds of deserving people
writing to them every year, I’m afraid. It would take many months to get a decision out of
them and the situation is too urgent. Besides, it would be an enormous distraction. This is your
GCSE term!’

She gazed round at them again, her eyes lingering for a moment on Mara and then Rebecca.

‘Have you any idea how much I want success for you all? I expect to see you all in the Lower
Sixth next year - and with exam grades good enough to enable you to follow your chosen A-level
courses. That’s very important.’

‘But this is important, too!’ said Elf boldly. She was never much troubled by passing
exams. ‘It’d be awful if-’

‘If it all fell into unsympathetic hands? Yes, it would be quite devastating,’ agreed the
principal. ‘If something hideous were to happen to land right here on our doorstep...?’ She
closed her eyes briefly. ‘And then there’s the island. It’s always been so lovely, just
being there. Such a pleasing sight!’ She opened them again. ‘But because of its ruined
cottage it would be difficult to stop anyone building there had they a mind to do so.’
‘Some big posh house or something!’ said Rebecca, with feeling. She loved Mulberry
Island, small and mysterious. She’d always wanted to explore it properly. Above all, like Miss
Welbeck, she just loved the idea of its simply being there.

Mara had been bursting to speak.

‘Please, Miss Welbeck, can we not at least write letters to...’

‘Sssh, Mara. I want to think for a moment.’

The principal was resting her fingertips against her cheeks, surveying them thoughtfully. It was as
though she were trying to decide whether to tell them something. She dropped a hand and there
came the sound of a drawer in her desk opening. She took out a bundle of letters and held them
aloft.

‘It’s all in hand,’ she said simply. ‘And the first replies have been coming in.’

The six friends looked at the bundle of letters in surprise, followed by excitement and relief.

‘We’re trying to keep this matter as low-key as we possibly can, for the moment,’
explained Miss Welbeck. ‘Some of you will find out soon enough from your mothers. You will,
Sue. Or from your older sisters, as you will, Ishbel.’

Mrs Murdoch. Helen Anderson. Both of them ex-pupils, Rebecca realized. Old Trebizonians!

Margot put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh! We’ve made fools of ourselves!’

‘We’re sorry, Miss Welbeck,’ said Tish with that big grin of hers. ‘Didn’t
think.’

‘We have been very presumptuous,’ agreed Mara, solemnly.

‘Not at all!’ replied Miss Welbeck. ‘I’m delighted that you wanted to come and see
me. It shows initiative. But, even if the Appeal letter from the school governors hadn’t gone
out to all Old Trebizonians last weekend, I would never have agreed to your becoming involved.
As I say, you’ve other things to think about this term.’

She replaced the letters carefully in the drawer.

‘We had no success with the National Trust,’ she explained. ‘It owns the castle, as you
probably know. But its resources are far too stretched at the moment. Our friends, the
Willoughbys, their tenants there, are as alarmed as we are. But the NT has other calls on its
funds. As do we. The new science labs are at the top of our shopping list, I’m, afraid. An
urgent Appeal letter to all Old Girls of the school was our only hope!’
‘And?‘ asked Sue, thinking how little money her own mother had to spare.

Miss Welbeck smiled as she replied.

‘It’s been a nerve-wracking few days, it really has - such a lot of money to raise in such a
short time. And I know how busy with their careers and their families Old Trebizonians tend to be.
So many calls on their resources! But today’s post, at last, contained some very pleasant
surprises. One or two particularly generous pledges. We now have every reason to be
hopeful.’

As the principal rose to show them out, Rebecca and Co looked at each other in delight. The
school was going to buy the land! Miss Welbeck and the school governors had everything under
control!

‘Please don’t talk about it at this stage, girls,’ she warned them, as they left.
‘Remember, we have a long way to go yet. We mustn’t raise everyone’s hopes unduly.
We can’t yet be certain.’

‘We won’t!’ promised Margot.

‘Thank you for telling us about it, Miss Welbeck,’ said Mara.

It made them all feel very grown-up and sensible to have been put fully in the picture. They’d
keep quiet, all right. If the school were to be in a ‘bidding’ situation, then its interest should
be underplayed, not noised around. But amongst them selves they were exuberant. The school
had already received some generous pledges. And the appeal letters had gone out only a week
ago. There’d be lots more to come, surely!

‘Oh, isn’t it good, Tish,’ said Rebecca. ‘I’m really glad you suggested we go and
see her.’

‘Yes, it does set the mind at rest, doesn’t it?’ grinned Tish.

Later, at the boarding house, Mara. showed Rebecca a letter with an airmail sticker on it.

‘Now I shall go and buy a stamp and post my letter to Christelle!’ she said happily. ‘I can
leave the letter just as it was, with all the news of our plans for Commemoration weekend. There
is no need to tear it up and start again!’

Rebecca smiled. Mara looked so happy that she couldn’t be bothered to tell her how long it
took to buy property in England. Besides, one never knew, it might just go through in time.

‘Are you going to write to Emmanuelle, Rebecca?’

‘Soon, Mara. Maybe tomorrow night.’

By then she might know who their partners at Commem were likely to be.

‘You’ve been quick!’ said Rebecca, in surprise, when Tish looked into her cubie the
following afternoon. She hadn’t even finished the practice essay on Pride and Prejudice that
she’d started before Tish had left for Garth College to see Robbie. ‘Any news?’

‘Yes. Wish I hadn’t bothered,’ replied Tish. ‘Rejected.’

Rebecca drew in a quick breath.

‘Why?’ she asked, staring down hard at her essay. ‘Why didn’t they want him?’

‘Couldn’t get much out of him. Foul temper! Been asked to try again next year. You’re
allowed two chances and that’s it. But he can’t see the point. Says he’s seen his
marks and they were great and all the comments were great and he almost burst a blood vessel
anyway and he’d never, ever be able to do any better!’

‘But if they’re asking him to try again -‘

‘Says there’s no point. They can only take a tiny number. Didn’t like him enough this
year, so why should they next? I agree with that in a way. There’ll be a whole lot of new
people competing next year.’

‘Oh, poor Robbie - ‘ began Rebecca.

Tish glanced round as she heard Sue coming back from violin practice.

‘Better keep quiet about this, Rebeck,’ she whispered. ‘He’ll kill me if Justy or any of
the others find out. I’m going down to the track. Know some thing?’ - Admitting her
feelings for the very first time - ‘I thought it was great once, you and Robbie going round
together! But he’s hopeless lately. And much as I regret your going off with Cliff -,

‘It wasn’t quite like that, Tish -

‘- you were dead right!’

Rebecca didn’t know what she was.

She only knew that, once alone again, it was hopeless trying to finish her essay. She needed
some fresh air! She’d go and find her bicycle!

And now she didn’t really know where she was going, either.
Only that she’d left the school grounds behind and was racing along the top road, wheels
whirring, the breeze from the sea whipping her hair, stinging her cheeks. Then, turning off to the
right, around the back of the town... Pedalling mechanically... Racing, racing along...

Like her thoughts.

No hope of sorting out Commem with Robbie this weekend then.

No hope of asking him if he’d like to come and bring Ben along, too. It would have been so
nice for Emmanuelle!

No hope of that now.

But it wasn’t just that.

Robbie rejected. First Oxford. Now this.

Where was she going? She could see the main gates of Garth College ahead. They were wide
open.

Not like Robbie enough...not like him?

She wanted to see him and put her arms around him and tell him to try again...

She must see him!

She didn’t have to pedal any more. The bike was just taking her there. It glided silently in
through the gates and down the deserted school drive, on auto-pilot.

Syon House coming up, high beech hedge at the back, tennis court.

Voices on the tennis court.

Hiding her machine in the shrubbery, like a thief in the night. Tip-toeing over to the beech hedge.
Peering through the glossy young leaves...

He was standing up at the tennis net, talking to Edward. Back view.

Tall, strong. That disgustingly old striped rugby shirt over tennis shorts. Huge hole in the elbow!
Shoulders broader than she remembered. Calf muscles bulging over mismatched socks, one
blue, one green. Generally more muscular than remembered. RAF physical fitness tests? Weight
training for them? But otherwise, the same black curly hair, the same old rugby shirt... The same.

He turned round. ‘Okay, Ed, I’ll take it again,’ he said.

He came striding up the court, totally enwrapped, using his racket to bounce the ball along ahead
of him as he walked. He looked fine, as far as Rebecca could see.

What on earth am I doing HERE? she thought, in sudden horror.

Goose pimples were breaking out all over her as she crept back to the shrubbery and found her
bike. She had to get out of here. Quickly!

Nobody must see her! Certainly not Robbie!

Whatever had she been dreaming about?

How could she have said anything .to him about the RAF?

She wasn’t supposed to know.

He’d kept it a secret since last half-term. Not once had it occurred to him to take her into his
confidence. Not for a moment. He hadn’t been in touch with her for weeks. She wasn’t
important to him any more.

Of course, he really had been working hard last term. She was pleased that bit was true. He
really did have a ‘brilliant plan’ and had been preparing obsessively for those gruelling
selection tests. Weight-training, too, by the look of him.

But did that really explain anything?

As she scooted silently off down the drive, she heard the aggressive thwack of racket on ball.
Robbie, more than anyone, had taught her how to hit a big serve. He’d been so patient in the
early days, teaching her the right swing. Very involved. Very upset when she broke her wrist last
year. Definitely put out this year - to discover her no longer putting tennis above all else.

It had made him lose interest.

The same? Not the same at all. It was all over.

She returned to school.

Cliff rang the same evening, in response to her note. They caught up on all the news - France,
their GCSEs, general gossip. Rebecca told him what the Tarkuses were up to but not that the
school was planning to buy the land, much as she wanted to. She also demonstrated her newly-
acquired French accent. Then told him about the Commem Ball and how they’d have to find
a partner for Emmanuelle.

‘Tall, short, fat, thin?’ enquired Cliff.

‘Somebody really joli, Cliff, who doesn’t talk about soccer all the time!’

‘I’ll think.’

‘Where shall we meet tomorrow?’ asked Rebecca, before ringing off. Elizabeth Kendall
was hovering around impatiently, expecting a phone call!

‘I’ve thought of somebody already!’ said Cliff, unexpectedly. ‘I think we’ll have
to go and listen to the town band.’

‘What for?’

‘So you can have a squint at him first. Ginge. He plays in the town band. Good friend of
mine.’

When they met in the Jubilee Gardens on Sunday, Cliff gave her warm hug. ‘Love yer!’
they said to each other. Sure enough the Trebizon town band was playing. Over there, on the
circular bandstand with its pretty wrought ironwork and leaded roof.

‘They’ll be finished in a minute!’ said Cliff, taking Rebecca’s hand. ‘He’s the
one with ginger hair.’

‘What, the one on drums?’ asked Rebecca, in. dismay, staring towards a plump red-
headed youth with a sullen expression and piggy eyes.

‘No, that’s Matthew Tarkus!’ laughed Cliff. ‘Ginge is on trombone.’

‘Oh, that’s better!’ said Rebecca, in relief. ‘He looks okay.’

‘Yes, better looking than me, Rebecca!’ Cliff made a comical bucktooth face which
together with his sticking up spiky brown hair made him look like a rabbit. ‘You might even fall
for him yourself.’

Rebecca laughed. They were walking towards the bandstand across the grass that was new-
mown and smelt sweet. The flower beds were already a blaze of colour, tulips of yellow and dark
cherry red, intermingled with white double-daisies. She squeezed Cliffs hand.

‘Better looking than you? Impossible.’

It made her feel very peaceful, being with Cliff.

FIVE
 Old Trebizonians Get a Report

We’ve known each other since we were about five or six years old, or have I already told you
that? Rebecca wrote to Emmanuelle. It was in the course of the following week. The time was
now ripe. When we were little, we used to sit next to each other in class sometimes. His family
lived in the next street. We were especially thick in the top juniors. Cliff, myself and my two
London friends, Claire and Amanda. (You’ll meet those two when you come back to London
with me at the end of term - they’re really nice). Then we all moved up to the senior school
together. 1 was only there the one year because Mum and Dad went to Saudi and sent me here.
Then, last year, Cliff’s family moved down here because of Mr Haynes’ work situation!
Isn’t that amazing? Fate...?

It was an outpouring. One of Rebecca’s longer letters. How great it was to have a sister-
across-the-sea, someone kindred, yet out of day-to-day contact, making it easier to bare the
innermost feelings of the moment.

…I did toy with the idea of asking Robbie to Commem. He has quite a nice friend called Ben I
wanted you to meet. it was a silly idea. You see, it’s all over. My feelings about Robbie, his
about me. And I love Cliff more and more. He’s not the jealous type but even so he might
have been hurt if I’d asked someone else. I can’t be sure but I’m not going to risk it!
Remember how you said you envied me, having two boyfriends to choose from? Well, don’t
because I haven’t. There’s only Cliff. I love him very much!

It gave Rebecca a warm glow to write those last two sentences. She stared at them. They looked
particularly momentous in French. For emphasis she underlined them and drew a tiny heart
alongside. Then, looking up some more words in her French dictionary, she continued:

I was wrong about something, too. I thought Cliff’s friends looked rather boring, the boys at
his school, that is. But Ginge is quite different. They only met at Easter; they were on some
sponsored walk together. You’d think they’d been friends for life. His real name is Angus.
The Ginge is because he has red hair (also very good looking!). Loads of fun, like Cliff. A bit older
than us and has his OWN CAR! It was wonderful having Jacques’ car in Paris, wasn’t it?
It looks as though I’ve found us another one! He’s also very musical. I’ll finish this
letter tomorrow and tell you more then.

Rebecca took two or three days over the letter, updating it as she went. She wanted Emmanuelle
to have as full a picture as possible of the programme that awaited her when she arrived at
Trebizon. She wanted her to have lots of time to look forward to it.

Needless to say, both Cliff and Ginge are coming to Commem, in case you were wondering. And
on the Sunday a crowd of us are getting up a picnic somewhere and a barbecue in the evening.
Not sure where yet. And they’re coming to that, as well. Exams will he over and there’ll
be no proper lessons. It’s going to be a fabulous week! There’s a lovely old castle near
the school and. the Willoughbys are going to show us round. And there’ll be swimming and
surfing. Wait till you see Margot on a surf board (the tall, black girl). Oh, Emmanuelle, I’m
longing for you to get to know all my friends properly. it was difficult in Paris - we were so
scattered.

By the way, I’ve put my name down for the school tennis tournament. My teachers have said
okay about that. We’ve never had one before. If I get to the final you’ll see me play.
It’s your first afternoon - Commem day. Same day as the ball. You did say you enjoyed
watching tennis?

To return to Ginge. He’s a brilliant trombonist and he’s got through to the semi-finals of
the Wessex Young Musician of the Year competition. Just like Sue! (The one with glasses).
They’re at half-term and guess what. He says that if Sue gets through to the Finals, he’ll
drive us to Exonford to watch her, whether or not he gets through himself! (Though I’ve a
feeling he will). And that’s going to be during the week you’re at Trebizon. Cliff will have
finished exams like us, so he’ll come, too.

Oh, yes. And Cliff’s getting us tickets for his school’s summer disco. That’ll be the
Friday. Our last night in the west country. My parents come and collect us on the Saturday. My
house in London will be quite dull after Trebizon. Hope you like the programme so far!

‘Rebecca, are you coming or are you not?’ asked Mara, looking into the cubicle, Tish
beside her. They were all supposed to be going down to watch the Shakespeare video tonight.

‘Writing a blockbuster?’ asked Tish.

‘Just coming!’

I’ve written an extra long letter, so you’d better make the most of it Emmanuelle. There
aren’t going to be enough hours in the day from now on. See you! Love, Rebecca.

Rebecca sealed up the letter carefully, knowing that she’d indulged herself. Her letters to
Emmanuelle did wonders for her French vocabulary but that was the least of her problems at
present, unlike the history test this Friday, the maths test on Monday... She wouldn’t be able
to write at such length again!

But as she followed the others downstairs to the common room, she felt contented.

She was going to see to it that Emmanuelle had a lovely time at Trebizon. It would be so good
when the others got to know her better. And Cliff had turned up trumps, producing Ginge!

It would be the loveliest time of the year, midsummer. How she’d longed to tell Emmanuelle
about Mulberry Cove and their mysterious, romantic little island where they hoped to hold the
barbecue.

She’d been sorely tempted to do so but had resisted the temptation.

When, a fortnight later, she received a letter back from Emmanuelle, she was again sorely
tempted.

...it all sounds very wonderful, dear Rebecca. I am so impatient to come to Trebizon. I shall bring
my swimming things. Will it be hot? I am wishing the time to go by very, very fast. By the way, I
have decided I do not like French boys and I am very happy to meet some English boys instead! I
am sure that I will like Ginge very much. Anne-Marie is writing to Jenny to ask about a partner for
the ball. I am so happy that you and Cliff love each other. It is so romantic. Have you made the
plan now where the picnic and the barbecue will take place? I am also expecting you to win the
tennis cup so that Anne-Marie and I can cheer very loudly...

But again Rebecca resisted the temptation.

She had no knowledge of how the school Appeal was going, nor how long it would be before
everything was signed and sealed. Things might go wrong. Even if they didn’t, Miss Welbeck
might still not be in a position to allow them access to their favourite haunts in time for the French
girls’ visit. It was silly of Mara to have said anything!

So she simply told Emmanuelle that the venues hadn’t been decided yet.

She was relieved when she received a reply back from her pen friend, just before half-term, to
see that no further questions were asked, apart from an idle enquiry about windsurfing.

Which was just as well.

Because Sue went home for the holiday. And when she returned, and showed the other five the
confidential circular, hopes plummeted.

Most of the Fifth Years had stayed on over the half-term holiday in order to revise, Rebecca
included.

Her oral exams, French, then German, were safely behind her. She felt she’d acquitted
herself well, especially in the French. But only time would tell.

Now the great mountain of written exams lay immediately ahead. Starting the Thursday after half
term, with a maths paper; followed by a geography paper on the Friday. Then, all the other papers
looming up like baying wolves, packed closely together in the fortnight following, with just a
scattering to finish with in the last two weeks of June.

It was easier at school, all revising together. Minds focused, the top floor at Court House silent
save for the rustle of paper, the faint tinkle of walkmans, the occasional whir of the photocopy
machine. Rebecca knew that her grandmother would have wanted to chat and fuss and try to be
helpful. Most of them felt it was much better to stay on at school.
Sue was an exception. She’d been home. Mr and Mrs Murdoch had come down on the
Saturday to take her to the semi-finals of the music competition. Rebecca and Co, snatching a
little time off from their studies, had gone along later in the school minibus with Mr Barrington,
who was Trebizon’s director of music.

Rebecca had managed to wangle Cliff on board! He was longing to see how Ginge got on but
couldn’t spare the whole day. He’d go out there with Rebecca and back with Ginge.

They were treated to several hours of music-making of the highest standard and both Sue and
Ginge were winners of their sections.

Rebecca and Tish hugged one another. Sue had made it!

‘They’re through!’ Cliff shouted gleefully, dancing around, hands clasped above head.
‘They’re through to the Finals!’

It was all marvellously exciting.

Mr Barry was glowing as he stood and talked to the Murdochs by their car. Even Sue’s
brothers had been elated by it all.

Rebecca went across the car park to see Cliff off. He was opening the boot while Ginge loaded in
his trombone case and music.

‘You were brilliant, Ginge,’ she said. ‘Will it really be all right to give me and my pen
friend a lift to the Finals?’

‘And me!’ chirped Cliff.

‘As long as you don’t mind an early start!’ He, like Sue, was in a happy daze.

Of course they didn’t mind.

Sue had got through to the Finals. So had Ginge. It would be a great day out for Emmanuelle.
One of the highlights of her week at Trebizon! She’d tell her in the next letter...

Cliff had thrown his arms round Rebecca and kissed her cheeks. They wouldn’t be seeing
each other for a while.

‘Good luck with your exams, Beck,’ he said.

‘Good luck you.’

She’d waved the car out of the car park. Then waved again as Sue had driven off in the
bosom of her family - off home for half-term.
But Sue was back now. And looking upset.

‘This circular arrived for Mum in the post this morning. She left it lying around so I ran off a
copy on Dad’s copier, when nobody was looking.’

They could all see the words at the top:

TO ALL OLD TREBIZONIANS

PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL

‘Your face tells me,’ said Tish, ‘that it’s bad news.’

One or two heads popped out of cubicles. ‘What’s going on?’ asked Jenny.

‘We’re trying to work!’ complained Fiona. ‘Come on - outside!’ whispered

Rebecca. The six went through the fire escape door and sat huddled on the metal staircase in the
warm evening sun, reading the letter in silence.

Bad news it was. The school was reporting back to its Old Girls.

It seemed that the Appeal had almost certainly failed.

‘So those good pledges that came in, in the first week, were just...’ Elf’s voice trailed
away.

‘A false dawn?’ said Sue. ‘Apparently, yes.’

The six friends looked at each other in dismay.

The news from the governors was doubly bad.

On the one hand, pledges received up to date were only halfway to the target. On the other, the
target figure would have to be increased in any case.

It seemed the rival bidder was pressing the agents very hard for a decision and had upped his
offer to £60,000 to try and clinch things.

It was his last offer but unless the school could top it in the next four weeks, they. must admit
defeat. The position wasn’t looking hopeful. Sadly, the letter concluded, we may find that we
are not in a position to take up the many generous pledges you have given. We are urgently
exploring other possible fund-raising ideas but the outlook at present is far from encouraging.
Thank you again for your support. We shall keep you informed.

Mara suddenly grabbed it from Sue’s hand.

‘And now I shall make a copy, too!’ she whispered, eyes flashing crossly. ‘Miss Welbeck
would not listen to my fund-raising idea!’

She flounced inside, ran a copy of the letter off on the machine then took it to her cubicle.

They all gathered round her as she scribbled a letter to her father and put it in an envelope,
enclosing the copy of the circular.

‘Now we shall see what we shall see!’ she said anxiously, as she sealed the envelope.
‘Has anybody got a stamp, please?’

They all rushed to find her one. The situation was dire. This had to be worth a try!

And, one week into their big exams, Mr Leonodis telephoned his daughter from Athens.

Rebecca was lying on her rug, hands over ears, feverishly trying to memorize her history Time
Chart when Mara came bursting back up.

‘My father will be in England in two weeks’ time, for my brother’s graduation. He says
he will pop down afterwards and see what all the fuss is about. Now, Rebecca, we have hope
again!’

SIX

A Mystery Recognized

However, a storm blew up on the day he visited. It came without warning. Mr Leonodis could
hardly be expected to appreciate the joys of Mulberry Cove with the wind and the rain lashing full
in his face. The island he didn’t inspect at all. And that was only the half of it. But a
thunderstorm of all things! Fate, Rebecca decided, couldn’t possibly have been more
mockingly cruel.

Up to that moment, ever since the day he’d phoned Mara at Court, the weather had been
delightfully warm. Delicious for swimming in the sea. Not so good for sitting examinations. Room
5A, high up in the building, always a sun-trap and so cosy in winter, became unbearably hot at
times. ‘So this is what they mean by the greenhouse effect?’ joked Tish. The pollen count
was high, too. Both Nathan twins were afflicted with hay fever throughout the GCSE exams and
Deborah Rickard suffered headaches.

Rebecca simply concentrated on trying to keep calm, taking along her stuffed toy dog Bonzo
each day, bringing him back afterwards. Sometimes he looked hopeful, sometimes despairing.

Last term, Miss Welbeck had told her there was still time!
Rebecca longed for that to be true. How was she doing? Was she doing well enough? She’d
worked so hard this term, to make up lost ground.

She’d slogged and slogged and slogged.

They wouldn’t get their results till August. Late August! That was when the printouts would
arrive from the Wessex Board. What a horribly long time to be kept in suspense.

She envied Tish and Sue, Margot and Elf, taking it all in their stride. Even Mara wasn’t
throwing any scenes, not now the real exams were finally upon them. She was perhaps too busy
to worry; busy and purposeful and surprisingly calm. She was also looking forward to her
father’s visit. What a shame she’d have to miss Anestis’s graduation ceremony in
London! But her main preoccupation, apart from exams, was the fact that Curly Watson was
leaving Garth this term, after GCSEs. He was going to naval college in September.

‘We have vowed to keep in touch always,’ she confided to Rebecca when they were
drinking hot chocolate one evening. ‘I want Commem weekend to be just beautiful, don’t
you? Curly is bringing Mike Brown for Christelle now that Laura has asked Ben Hartwell. And did I
tell you he’s found partners for Jenny and Anne-Marie? Oh, Rebecca. He is so sweet. Will
you take photographs of us together, please? Do you think the weather will be hot? Do you think
it will be like this? We must be allowed to go to the cove. And then to have our barbecue on the
island! It will be the last evening here for Curly!’

Rebecca was still digesting the earlier remark. It had jolted her.

Laura Wilkins had invited Robbie’s friend Ben! What a nerve. He’d have been so nice for
Emmanuelle!

Rebecca was surprised at this train of thought and stopped it immediately.

‘Oh, will Curly have finished exams?’ she asked.

‘Yes! He leaves Garth on the Monday.’

Boys not coming back were allowed to leave straight after exams. For a moment, Rebecca’s
thoughts wandered to Robbie. How were his exams going - his A-levels? She’d heard
he’d been working very hard. And presumably they’d be finished soon and he, too, would
be leaving Garth College.

‘So you see, Rebecca, the night of the barbecue will be the last night he is here,’ Mara
was saying, looking quite tearful. ‘Do you think that as long as the school is going to buy, the
estate agents will allow us...’
‘Don’t know,’ said Rebecca, abstractedly, feeling unsettled. Then, seeing Mara’s
hurt expression, she quickly put an arm round her shoulders. ‘They might do, Mara! If the
school were going to. They might indeed.’

Mr Ruddock was pleased by Miss Welbeck’s phone call. Unfortunately he couldn’t

himself come to the cove on Friday afternoon, he told her, but he would arrange for both gates to
be left unlocked.

And the next time the wily old estate agent received an irritable phone call from Mr Tarkus,
demanding some progress, he told him that these things couldn’t be hurried.

‘I have a duty to my clients to seek the best offer, Mr Tarkus. The school is still very interested
in acquiring the land. I understand one of the girls will be showing her father round on Friday
afternoon. Mr Leonodis wants to help, I believe.’

‘Leonodis? The shipping magnate?’

‘I believe so.’

There was a moment’s silence.

‘Well, I wish them luck with him,’ Mr Tarkus snapped.

Mr Ruddock put the phone down, then smiled and rubbed his hands together.

It was always satisfactory when two parties were interested in acquiring the same thing. Price-
wise, so much more satisfactory.

***

Not only had the weather been fine for the past two weeks but it looked set to continue. It was
warm that morning. Miss Welbeck, gazing out over the parkland at deer distantly grazing in the
sunshine, noted the fact.

‘It’s a nice day for his visit, Evelyn. That’s something.’

‘Seems rather close to me. You’re not escorting him round the cove yourself then,
Madeleine?’ enquired the senior mistress.

‘No, I don’t wish to embarrass him. Mara has put him up to this and I hold out no great
hope. Luckily she’s not taking the top maths paper this afternoon. Nor is Rebecca Mason.
They will do the honours.’

‘I don’t call that lucky!’ grunted Miss Gates, who was head of the mathematics staff.
‘But afterwards Mr Leonodis is going to be my guest for tea,’ continued the principal.
‘I’ve invited the Willoughbys over. They’re bringing some old prints of the castle, which
show the cove as it was two hundred years ago. And some splendid old photographs of the
island.’

The senior mistress nodded approvingly and said:

‘I think he may have seen the island already.’

‘Oh?’

‘Two of the Sixth formers saw a luxury yacht cruising round it early this morning.’

‘It couldn’t have been his. He’s not due until this afternoon. A flying visit, I gather. Short
of time.’

‘Well, perhaps he’s made time. Nobody likes to be rushed into a decision. Perhaps
he’s decided to take a little more time.’

‘All things are possible,’ agreed Miss Welbeck.

‘Looks a little more hopeful?’ suggested Miss Gates.

‘Leave some of the cake for us!’ giggled Elf.

She’d made it specially for Mr Leonodis’s visit, a light sponge with jam and cream filling.
It stood on the big table now, alongside the floor’s three best coffee mugs.

‘My father will only eat a little piece!’ laughed Mara. ‘He’s having tea with Miss
Welbeck afterwards.’

Rebecca and Mara had emerged from the biology exam that morning, eaten lunch with the
others, then showered and changed into smart clothes. Rebecca had put on her soft cream shirt
and matching skirt and was wearing her favourite green necklace. Mara was in a dress that she
hated but her father loved.

‘You two look beautiful!’ exclaimed Margot. ‘Oh, you lucky things, going to the island!
’

Rebecca nodded eagerly. ‘Just a quick look!’ It was all arranged. Harry, the school’s
lifeguard, was taking them in his motorboat.

They wished the other four good luck as they went off to the maths exam. Less than half an hour
later, a hired car scrunched to a halt at the front of Court House.
‘Daddy!’ cried Mara, hanging out of Sue’s window. Then, with a squeal of excitement,
she raced off downstairs to welcome him.

‘It’s close,’ complained Mr Leonodis, as he stepped out of the car and embraced his
daughter with great fondness. He mopped his brow with a large white linen handkerchief. ‘It
was cool in London but for the past two hours I have sweltered! I think there is going to be a
storm. We must get this over with quickly.’

‘You are wearing your ridiculous coat, Daddy! hours and hours in a hot car. That is why!’
protested Mara. ‘Why do you always come to England dressed for bad weather? You must not
be in such a rush. You must come upstairs and see how I have my cubie, and Elf has made a
cake, and Rebecca is brewing up your favourite coffee. We bought it at the deli in town, just for
you!’

‘Yes, yes.’ He smiled indulgently. ‘Now tell the driver how to find your head
teacher’s house. He must collect me from there no later than half past five. I have to catch a
flight back to Athens tonight! I shall leave my case in the boot.’

After Mr Leonodis had sent the car away, Mara took her father’s hand and tugged him into
Court House, first to say hello to Mrs Barry and then to see where she lived, on the top floor.

‘Come on, Daddy, upstairs. I can smell the coffee from here! We have plenty of time. Of course
there is not going to be a storm!’

But she was wrong.

By the time the three of them let themselves out through the little gate into Trebizon bay, huge
black storm clouds had suddenly come rolling up over the sea.

There was a worried expression on Harry’s face as he came to greet them.

‘The boat’s all ready but I don’t think I can take you out, sir,’ said the school
lifeguard. ‘Not to the island. Very rough weather brewing up.’

‘I can see that,’ said Mara’s father, with a nod. He’d already insisted that Rebecca
and Mara bring their umbrellas. He gave Harry a generous tip. ‘I’m sorry you have had to
get the boat out for nothing.’

Rebecca’s heart sank with disappointment. Not go to the island! But all the time they’d
been indoors, telling Mr Leonodis about their GCSEs and hearing about Anestis’s graduation
and drinking coffee, it had looked so bright and sunny outside...

‘Come on, Daddy,’ said Mara, suddenly anxious herself for the first time. The sun had
gone! The sky looked so threatening! ‘If we hurry, we still have time to show you the headland,
and the caves and the lovely little field above the cove. It’s all included in the sale! As well as
the island! And you will have a fine view of the island from the top of the headland!’

It was too late.

As they reached the brow of the headland, the force of the wind almost blew them over. The black
clouds were gathering ever more threateningly.

‘Look, there is the island!’ shouted Mara against the wind.

Hut the island, Rebecca suddenly realized with foreboding, was almost invisible beneath a
blanket of rain, rapidly driving this way. Today it was just a dark little splodge against a black sky
and an angry grey sea. That didn’t look like a place you’d ever want to go to!

The cove below them looked equally bleak.

In the new barbed wire fence they found the gate that had been left unlocked for them. The
barbed wire everywhere somehow made the scene bleaker than ever. It was obvious from the
expression on Mr Leonodis’s face that he was not impressed.

‘Through here,’ called Rebecca, struggling to hold it open against the wind. She felt some
huge drops of rain on her face.

As they descended into the cove, the rain became torrential. They had to fight their way down,
the wind and rain driving straight at them, Rebecca and Mara trying to shield themselves by
holding their opened umbrellas in front of them. Mr Leonodis, well clad in his long flapping
waterproof coat, strode behind them -

‘The caves. Hurry. I must get you into shelter!’

He shepherded them to the back of the cove, Rebecca and Mara hardly able to keep hold of the
umbrellas, their thin clothes drenched. And into the nearest cave.

‘Ah. That is better,’ he said in relief.

They sat on boulders inside the gloomy cave, glad at first to have found shelter, to be out of the
weather. Beyond the mouth of the cave they could see the driving rain and the angry white-
topped waves crashing into the shore. The island was still just a dark little blur in the distance.

‘You must not take any notice of the weather, Daddy,’ Mara kept saying. ‘It is so
beautiful here. The island is so beautiful, too.’

But as time passed, they became silent and dejected. Mr Leonodis was starting to glance at his
watch. He’d soon be due at Miss Welbeck’s house. He was looking forward to discussing
Mara’s progress, her prospects for the Sixth Form. But he mustn’t miss his plane tonight!
He had meetings all the next day. Important ones.

At last the rain began to ease. Mara gave a nervous start as some stones rattled down past the
mouth of the cave, from the hillside above.

‘What was that?’

‘Just a few stones, Mara,’ said Rebecca. ‘The storm must have loosened them...’

‘Come. We must go,’ said Mr Leonodis, kindly.

Rebecca led the way to the mouth of the cave -

CRASH!

She leapt backwards. Mara screamed. Loose rocks and stones came slithering down helter-
skelter from the hill above, to land in front of the cave’s entrance, just a few steps ahead of
them.

‘A landslip!’ exclaimed Mara’s father, pulling both girls back.

They stood inside the cave, staring at the pile of rocks and stones on the ground outside. It had
all happened so suddenly. Now there was only silence. Mr Leonodis looked appalled.

‘This place is dangerous!’ he said.

As soon as it was safe to do so, he led them outside, over the little pile of debris half-blocking
their path, into the safety of the open cove. Then, face set rather grimly, he marched towards the
headland, Mara running along beside him.

Rebecca hung back for a few moments, standing out in the cove, staring up at the steep grassy
slope above the mouth of the cave. She was still shocked. But added to that was a sense of
bewilderment. She wondered what to do.

Halfway up the steep track that led back over the headland she dropped her umbrella in the long
grass.

When she reached the gate at the top, Mara was saying: ‘Look, Daddy, it has stopped raining!
There’s a rainbow over the island now! Look Rebecca. Isn’t it lovely.’

‘I’m not looking at anything!’ replied her father. ‘I’m going straight to Miss
Welbeck’s house and you and Rebecca must then go straight back to your boarding house
for hot baths and dry clothes!’
Rebecca wasn’t looking either. She was gazing back down towards that distant pile of rocks,
the apparent landslip. Her eyes scanned the field above.

‘Oh, silly me!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve dropped my umbrella, right down at the bottom
there! I’ll have to go back!’

‘Rebecca - ‘ began Mr Leonodis.

‘The tide will get it if I don’t!’ said Rebecca firmly, turning away. ‘You two go on
ahead! Please don’t wait for me. Don’t pinch all the hot water, Mara!’

She was already scrambling back down the path they’d just climbed.

‘She will get pneumonia,’ Mr Leonodis complained to his daughter. ‘The English are
crazy. Come along then, Mara. Show me how to find the principal’s house. I am late.’

When Rebecca glanced back, they’d disappeared over the top of the headland.

Which was just as well because as soon as she’d gathered up the umbrella, she just carried
on walking, eyes firmly fixed on the steep slope above the cave. It was all grassed over. There
weren’t any stones or rocks there, never had been! How could there have been a landslip?
Where had that sudden rush of debris come from?

Whenever the six of them had a mystery to solve, they called themselves the Action Committee.
Well this time, Rebecca realized, with the other four taking an exam and Mara tied up with her
father, action committee was down to a membership of one.

Because she certainly knew a mystery when she saw one.

For there now to be the faintest hope of Mara’s father helping the school, it needed to be
solved quickly.

SEVEN

More Mystery to Co me

Rebecca stared at the footprints in disbelief. She’d walked round into the field and was now
standing on the steep muddy slope above the cave where they’d been sheltering. Just as she
thought! There were no rocks and stones up here, nothing to slide down in bad weather
conditions, making Mulberry Cove dangerous. Just grass and lots of mud.

And here in the mud, the heavily patterned prints of men’s rubber soles. Two different kinds.
She hadn’t known quite what she might find here, but she hadn’t expected this. And there
were scuff marks in the mud, too, as though something heavy had been dragged here.

She looked around, shivering slightly, her thin cream shirt and skirt clinging damply to her body.

Who had done this? How had they got the rubble here?

‘Of course! They could have dragged it to the edge on a tarpaulin or something!’ she
realized.

She’d suddenly spotted a heap of rubble, further up the field, under the hedge bordering a
track. The track, which ran right up to the five-barred gate at the top of the field, was badly
potholed. Mr Ruggles must have been planning to repair it before he died.

As she cut into the field and ran to the pile of hardcore, she saw that the grass was flattened
along the way. She was now quite convinced. With the tip of her umbrella she prodded some of
the little rocks in the pile. They were the same as those that had showered down. And there were
cigarette butts! It was sheltered here; there was a big tree. They must have been caught out by
the storm, too, and taken shelter, waiting. Knowing there were people taking shelter in the cave
below...

They’d used a tarpaulin or groundsheet to drag rubble to the edge of the slope and tip it over.
Whoosh!

That’s how the ‘landslip’ had happened. What a vicious trick!

Pale with anger, Rebecca raced up the track to the top of the field. She stayed in the lee of the
hedge, keeping her head down. The five-barred gate had barbed wire along the top but like the
one on the headland was unlocked today. She went through it and slowed to a walk, recovering
her breath.

Mulberry Castle lay above. It directly overlooked the field and the cove. Were the Willoughbys at
home? Had they seen anything? She walked up to the castle’s boundary wall, staring at the
windows.

There was no sign of life there.

Then, on the far side of the castle, she found herself in the country lane that wended its way
down into Trebizon town. She turned the first corner to where the lane dipped down sharply in
front of her and stopped.

Two figures were climbing up out of the dip, walking at a leisurely pace with their backs to her.
One of them, the red-headed one, had a rucksack on his back.

The red-headed one - Ginge!

They were disappearing round the next bend now but Rebecca would have recognized that
brilliant yellow scarf anywhere! The Trebizon Tech scarf!

That day at the music competition she’d joked about it. She’d told him it clashed with his
hair.

‘Ginge!’ she shrieked, in excitement.

They’d vanished but she started running pell-mell in pursuit.

What a bit of luck! Been out for a ramble! Must have been up to the castle. Must have seen who
was lurking around in the field!

‘GINGE!’ she screamed out as she rounded the next bend in the lane. She waved her
furled umbrella. ‘WAIT FOR ME!’

They were well ahead but his friend heard and glanced back.

They didn’t wait for her. They broke into a run.

Rebecca chased them all the way back to the town. They were running fast but she could run
faster, hair flying, damp clothes sticking to her, waving the umbrella and crying Ginge! Wait! until
she hadn’t the breath to shout any more. Did they think she was some cranky person or
what?

She finally caught up with them at the top of Cheap Street, at the front door of a large house that
opened directly on to the pavement. They tried to get inside before she could speak to them but
as the red-headed one turned -

She saw his face for the first time. And then the groundsheet, sticking out of the rucksack.

‘You’re not Ginge!’ she gulped.

The same red hair! The same mistake she’d made that day in Jubilee Gardens. He even
went to the Tech, then. Same as Ginge. But such a different face!

‘You’re Matthew Tarkus!’ she exclaimed, as they slammed the door on her.

Rebecca leaned against it for a few moments, realising how stupid she’d been. Now she
knew who the culprit was and why.

Then, anger boiling over, she bent down and squinted through the letter box. She could see the
silhouettes of the two youths, standing cowering in the darkened hall.
‘You haven’t a hope!’ she shouted at them through the letter box. ‘Your tracks are
all over the field. And, anyway,’ - with sudden inspiration - ‘the Willoughbys saw you. They
were up in the castle and saw everything! Miss Welbeck’s reporting you to the police!’

A passer-by turned and stared in surprise at her bedraggled figure. ‘Can I help you?’

‘No, thanks!’ She bolted.

She wouldn’t go back the way she’d. come. She’d go back to school by way of the
top road.

She couldn’t phone without any money. But if she went by the top road, she’d catch Mr
Leonodis in his car as he left. Presuming he hadn’t already gone.

Mulberry Castle’s tenants, far from being witnesses, had been over at Trebizon having tea
with Miss Welbeck, of course. However, the Willoughbys didn’t stay long. When they left, Mr
Leonodis was about to start a private discussion with the principal.

They were under no illusions that he’d offer her a large sum of money for the Appeal. Over
tea he’d already made it obvious that he had little sympathy with the project. So much so that
the Willoughbys had decided against showing him their old prints and photographs. That would
simply have embarrassed him.

It was all very disappointing.

Now, his car had arrived and Mara’s father was himself about to leave.

‘Your coat’s completely dry!’ Miss Welbeck told him, as the maid brought it through.
‘Isn’t my Aga stove efficient?’

‘I am most grateful.’

‘I am most grateful to you, Mr Leonodis.’ Miss Welbeck gazed at him with her clear blue
eyes and smiled. ‘The donation towards the new science laboratories is quite marvellous for
us.’

‘You have a wonderful school. Mara has blossomed here.’ As Miss Welbeck helped him
into his coat he added: ‘I’m sorry about the land. That is why Mara brought me here. But it
is not essential. I could not justify it to my trustees. The school has very large grounds already
which afford it much protection.’ He was a forthright man.

‘I’m only sorry that Mara decided to involve you,’ came the tactful reply. ‘As for the
landslip, I’m quite baffled. In all the years we’ve used the cove, nothing like that’s
happened before. I will certainly want to have it made safe if...’ She broke off. She gave a
sad, ironic little shrug. ‘But that won’t be our problem, I’m afraid. It will be Mr
Tarkus’s.’

‘That’s just as well, I feel, Miss Welbeck.’ The telephone rang.

‘Mr Tarkus?’ said Miss Welbeck in surprise, as she took the call.

Mara’s father hovered in the doorway, puzzled that the rival bidder should be phoning her. He
noticed the astonished look on Miss Welbeck’s face as she listened to the man speak. Then
he heard her say in an angry, trembly way:

‘I can’t answer your question at present. This matter may be reported to the police, Mr
Tarkus, or it may not. I shall consider the situation when I have all the facts.’

As she put the phone down, Mr Leonodis came over to her side.

‘You look pale.’

‘I’ve just had a shock. It wasn’t a landslip at all,’ she told him. ‘The rocks were
tipped over by Mr Tarkus’s son and a friend. Just for a lark, meaning no harm, is how he
describes it,’ she added drily. ‘But apparently they were seen and now expect to be
reported to the police. I wonder who saw them?’

‘Rebecca must have seen something!’ exclaimed the Greek. ‘She went back to find her
umbrella. She must have seen them!’

The enormity of it began to sink in and his face darkened. The principal replied:

‘If so she appears to have handled the situation extremely well. Mr Tarkus sounds a worried
man. He’s begging the school not to go to the police.’

‘They could have hurt Mara!’ Mr Leonodis was suddenly beside himself with anger, pacing
up and down the sitting room. ‘They could have hurt her - all of us! Why should two boys do
that? The father must have put them up to it. He must want the land very badly!’

‘He does.’

Mr Leonodis stopped pacing and became calm.

‘You will go to the police? You will press charges?’

‘Difficult,’ said Miss Welbeck. She looked troubled. ‘It might not be easy to prove. Both
girls would have to appear in court. You, too, no doubt. All most unpleasant...’
Mr Leonodis nodded. He looked at his watch. He had to be away! He couldn’t miss that
plane.

‘And your Appeal. How short of the target are you?’

‘Quite short. Some more money has been pledged since we recirculated the Old Girls.. But we
still fall short.’

‘By how much?’ She told him.

‘I’ll arrange with my bank a promissory note,’ said Mr Leonodis. ‘The money will
have to come out of my personal funds. I do not care who gets the land as long as it is not that
man. I am prepared to spend just enough to ensure that he is thwarted. Not a penny more.’

‘Understood,’ replied Miss Welbeck, as they shook hands. She kept quite calm in the face
of this wonderful and totally unexpected development. ‘I shall see to it that your instructions are
followed to the letter, Mr Leonodis.’

Later, when she told the senior mistress of his generosity, Miss Gates nodded sagely.

‘He fell in love with Mulberry Island on sight? So it was his yacht the seniors saw!’

‘Not at all! Just people out on a cruise, one imagines.’

‘Oh. Rather early in the season.’

‘Mr Leonodis saw nothing of the island, Evelyn. It was hidden under a blanket of rain. His
reasons for wanting to help us are different again!’

She told the senior mistress what had happened. The same evening she reported events to her
dear friend Colonel Peters, a school governor. He was first outraged, then delighted.

‘A Greek drama, Madeleine! But without the tragic ending.’

‘Yes, George. Something fell out of the sky for us, literally. Deus ex machina.’

‘What a character the man is! Have you informed his daughter of the outcome?’

‘Yes, I told her at once - and Rebecca Mason, who spotted the culprits. The silly girl had gone
back to find her umbrella. She was absolutely wringing wet when I drove over to Court House to
speak to them! Now both girls are begging permission to have a picnic in the cove, followed by a
barbecue on the island. Over Commem weekend. When the French girls arrive. They’re quite
in love with the idea. Might it be possible?’
‘Perhaps. No chance of the sale being through by then. But if our offer’s been accepted
and the paperwork’s under way, Ruddocks might have a word with the executors and see
what they say.’ Before he left, Colonel Peters arranged a meeting of the Appeal sub-
committee for Sunday, with a view to submitting a formal offer for the land on Monday through
Silvers, the school’s solicitors.

‘What a pity it’s the weekend and Silver & Silver are closed!’ said Miss Welbeck
impatiently.

‘They can get the offer to Ruddocks first thing Monday,’ he assured her. Then he chuckled.
‘Remarkable. Leonodis doing this simply to punish Tarkus.’

‘He was extremely angry.’

‘Don’t blame him. Nevertheless it’s fortunate for us that there are no other bidders on
the horizon. One assumes that if there were - and one of them were to top Tarkus’s offer - we
couldn’t in all conscience accept Leonodis’s gift.’

‘In all conscience we could not. But we don’t even have to think about such a possibility,
George. We have a clear field. If anyone else were interested in the land, they’d have shown
their face by now.’

‘Quite.’

‘Oh, George!’ Miss Welbeck’s considerable delight suddenly overwhelmed her.

‘Isn’t this splendid! The Willoughbys are going to be so relieved and so is poor Jock
Armstrong. And it’s wonderful for the school. We must nurture the island and share it with
other people. We’ll plant some more trees. Perhaps we could introduce red squirrels there.
Wouldn’t that be fun?’ She smiled. ‘Oh, I do hope nothing goes wrong.’

That’s what Miss Gates was hoping, too.

***

‘I just wanted to keep my father the sweet!’ explained Mara, laughing with excitement.
‘That was the only thing I could think about!’

‘Not the sweet, Mara,’ said Fiona Freeman.

Mara was working so hard on her French at the moment that her almost flawless English was
slipping occasionally, especially when excited. She was certainly excited tonight. She and
Rebecca had taken the other four to Moffatt’s and over endless bottles of cola and bags of
crisps they discussed the day’s drama. Jenny and Fiona were in there, too, celebrating the
fact that they had no more exams till Wednesday; so had to be included.
‘Yes! Yes! I was trying to get him in a good mood, Fiona! That was all I could think about! I was
sure the landslip was real. Not for one minute did I think to look up there and see how it
happened. But Rebecca did! Oh, Rebecca. So clever! So brave!’

‘I wasn’t brave. I was lucky!’ laughed Rebecca. ‘And I wasn’t clever. I was
stupid. I was so dim it was unbelievable. I should have realized it might not be Ginge! And if I had
realized I’d have been much too scared to chase them.’

‘Lucky you didn’t then,’ said Elf.

‘And lucky you didn’t tell Miss Welbeck all the gory details,’ grinned Tish. ‘She’d
have had a fit.’

‘Miss Welbeck was in a wonderful mood. Wasn’t she, Rebecca?’ Mara clapped her
hands together.

‘And now it is all settled! The headland and Mulberry Island will belong to the school for ever
and ever. And the sweet little field, down to the cove. Mr Tarkus will not ever be allowed to build in
front of the castle his ugly holiday bungalows or.. .or...his...’

‘..fish and chip shop on the island?’ suggested Sue.

‘Chinese takeaway?’ added Margot.

They all laughed.

‘Fancy your remembering to ask Miss Welbeck about Commem weekend!’ said Jenny
then, looking pleased. ‘We all thought that plan was a dead duck! What did she say, again?
’

‘If it can possibly be managed, it will be,’ replied Rebecca. ‘She can’t promise,
because it’s so soon. But she’ll try.’

‘Yes, she will try her very best!’ agreed Mara. ‘Oh! Christelle thinks it is such a good
plan!’

‘All right if I tell Anne-Marie?’ asked Jenny, looking at Rebecca.

‘Why not? You can tell her we’re working on it!’ Rebecca paused. ‘Jen, you
couldn’t ask her to tell Emmanuelle, could you? I know I’m not going to have time to write
again.’

She was suddenly feeling very tired. Her next batch of exams lay ahead and she was going to
spend most of the weekend revising. Biology hadn’t gone too well this morning.
And the school tennis tournament was hotting up. Quarter-finals tomorrow. It was fun to be
playing some tennis again. She was surprised to find how well she was playing. Everybody was
saying it would be her against Alison Hissup in the Final.

I’d really like Emmanuelle to see me play, thought Rebecca. And if I get to the Final, then she
will.

She must find time to ring Cliff over the weekend, though. Find out how his GCSEs were going
and tell him what had happened today! How she’d mistaken Matthew Tarkus of all people for
Ginge again. And how brilliantly it had all turned out! She’d have to tell him the school was
going to be buying the land and to keep it confidential. Cliff would find it really, really amazing that
his friend Ginge had played such an important role in the whole drama! A role played in absentia.

But, as for Emmanuelle, there was no need to write.

They’d be seeing each other in two weeks’ time!

Emmanuelle would be coming to Trebizon.

As she lay in bed that night, Rebecca went through it all in her head. She closed her eyes’.
Her French pen friend’s programme for the week at school ‘was now beautifully planned.
From Commem on. All the things they would do together. Wasn’t it great, Sue getting to the
music Finals? Wasn’t it wonderful that Ginge had a car? And the disco at Caxton High on the
last night!

She was going to make sure Emmanuelle had a lovely time.

‘You look as though you’re about to fall asleep with the light on, Rebeck!’ exclaimed
Tish, popping into the cubicle to say good night. ‘Tired?’

‘Exhausted!’ replied Rebecca.

Tish perched on the end of the bed for a moment. ‘One-girl action committee while the rest of
us were sitting a boring old maths paper! You might have saved a bit of the mystery for us. I feel
deprived.’

‘Hard luck!’ laughed Rebecca. Then she made a face. ‘It wasn’t all that much fun! It
was the worst moment of my life when Mara’s father’s car shot straight past me. I
shouted and waved but I suppose the driver didn’t recognize me. I was all wet and
bedraggled. Horrible!’

‘It all turned out right in the end,’ grinned Tish.

Rebecca felt as though she might be getting a cold.

‘I’ve had my fill of mysteries for this term,’ she stated firmly.

But there was another mystery to come, much more complicated and much more difficult to solve.

It was to do with Emmanuelle.

EIGHT

Emmanuelle’s Lovely Day

‘Rebecca!’ shrieked Emmanuelle in delight, clutching carrier bags and elbowing her way
off the coach. ‘I am HERE!’

‘Emmanuelle!’

The two fair-haired girls threaded towards each other, through the throng, then embraced warmly.

‘Re-becc-a!’

‘Em-man-u-elle!’

It was early morning. Commemoration Day had dawned brightly. The west country was enjoying a
spell of perfect midsummer weather. The air was soft and balmy, birds twittering everywhere in
the school grounds.

‘Is this really where you all live? It is beautiful!’ exclaimed Emmanuelle, staring up at Court
House. ‘Will I be sleeping in this big house?’

‘You will!’ confirmed Rebecca. ‘Let’s get your luggage, I’ll give you a hand.
You’ve got the Fourth Year floor, just below ours. They’ve all cleared off to Wales to make
room for you!’ The Fourths had left the day before for a week’s Outdoor Activities.
‘We’ve bagged Jen’s old room for you, so you and Anne-Marie can share. It’s a
two-bedder. It’s in the front!’ She pointed up to a first floor window. ‘Look - that’s
your room - up there!’

‘But you’re not allowed to talk French to each other,’ said Jenny, coming up with Anne-
Marie. She was smiling. ‘English only.’

‘Some hopes!’ said Rebecca, and they all laughed.

There was a long and exciting day ahead. She was pleased to see that the French girls, looked
perfectly fresh, having slept on the overnight crossing from Roscoff, the coach from Plymouth
now dropping them off at the different boarding houses. Here, on the big gravelled forecourt in
front of Court House, all was bustle and din. Mrs Barrington was chatting to Madame Bouvier, the
French teacher in charge of the Court House group. She’d be sleeping in the
Barringtons’ private wing of the house. Mara and Christelle were talking volubly to each other.
Tish was dutifully humping Sandrine’s suitcase towards the front porch for her. Sue had
linked arms with Ariane; Margot and Elf were standing with Coralie and Marie-Laure in the queue
by the luggage compartment.

‘You look so well, Rebecca!’ said Emmanuelle, as they walked round the coach and joined
the queue themselves. ‘Your exams - they are all over, yes?’

‘Yes!’ replied Rebecca. ‘At long last.’

She’d done her best, her very best. She could do no more. Her GCSEs were behind her, the
results unknown; something for the future.

This was the present. Emmanuelie had arrived at Trebizon. She intended to enjoy every moment.

And to see to it that Emmanuelle did, too.

Commemoration Day had its ups and downs, was not as totally enjoyable as planned, as far as
Rebecca herself was concerned. No matter how carefully you planned things, she decided
ruefully, there was always the unexpected.

But to her great satisfaction, Emmanuelle seemed to take to Trebizon like a duck to water (which
made her subsequent behaviour all the more extraordinary). She appeared to have a marvellous
day.

She loved her room, she said. She was bowled over by Trebizon’s beautiful grounds. She
insisted that the long Founder’s service in the morning was Majestic, Rebecca! No, no, no!
Not boring at all! She thought the cold buffet lunch afterwards delectable, as the crowds thronged
round the laden tables on the dining hail terraces.

‘Am I allowed some more chocolate gâteau, Rebecca? Before the sunshine melts it all away!
’

And she was very excited about Commem Ball. After lunch they went up to her room and she
tried on her dress, twirling round in it. Would it do? she asked anxiously.

‘You look fabulous!’ said Rebecca.

Emmanuelle was also pleased and impressed that Rebecca had reached the final of the school
tennis cup. The match was to be played at four o’clock.

‘Will the boys be here in time to watch you? Cliff and Ginge?’
‘They’re hoping to see the end of it,’ said Rebecca. ‘The ball doesn’t start till
seven but Cliff says they’ll try and come really early, in time to see a bit of the match.’
She laughed. ‘He says there are strict limits to how long he’s prepared to be stuffed inside
a monkey suit!’

‘Monkey suit?’

‘Dinner suit! He’s hired one.’

‘Will Ginge wear a dinner suit, as well?’

‘No. Town band uniform. Wait till you see. Really impressive. Jenny will introduce you if I’m
still playing when they arrive.’

But it was when she was shown the sea that Emmanuelle’s enthusiasm for Trebizon reached
its peak. As they came through the dunes, out on to the sand, she caught her. breath.

‘Oh, Rebecca! You live in paradise here! You never told me.’

The sweeping bay looked magnificent today. The tide was far out and the pale yellow sands
stretched to the distant rim of blue water, sparkling in the sun. Some local children were building
sandcastles. A few First Years were paddling, silhouettes dancing in the spray, Harry keeping a
watchful eye as ever. The school malibu boards were piled by his shack, not in use. There were
no big rollers today. A few townspeople were out windsurfing in the bay, though, all the little sails -
red, purple, orange, blue - zigzagging across the water.

‘Windsurfers!’ exclaimed Emmanuelle, in delight. ‘But you told me the school does not
do that, Rebecca. Where have they come from?’

‘People hire the boards in Vennick Cove. Looks fun, doesn’t it.’

‘It is fun. Every year when we go to the Côte d’Azur I windsurf all the time! I have my own
sailboard. You do not know what fun you are missing, Rebecca!’

After that they walked right to the end of the headland and round the corner so that the cove, and
Mulberry Island, came full into view. Emmanuelle felt exactly the same way about the island as
Rebecca.

‘It is magical. The trees...and a little house! It looks so mysterious, Rebecca. I want to go there
right now! Why, we could almost walk there!’

At low tide only a narrow strip of water separated it from the mainland. Rebecca laughed and
explained that on very rare occasions, when there was a freak low tide, the sea rolled back and
you really could reach it on foot.
‘It happened last summer. We ran there, Tish and Sue and I. But then we got trapped. We had
to spend the night in the ruined cottage!’

‘Oh, what wonderful fun!’

‘Miss Welbeck didn’t think so!’

Emmanuelle turned to face her, bubbling over with anticipation.

She now asked the question that Rebecca had been dreading.

‘So that is where we shall have the barbecue tomorrow night? That is the place Jenny wrote
about to Anne-Marie?’

Rebecca’s face clouded over. And she broke the news.

It had been a bitter disappointment.

She and Mara had been along to see the school secretary every day this week, nagging for news.

How was it going, all the legal stuff? Had Miss Welbeck been able to get permission yet, in time
for the weekend?

Mrs Devenshire had simply stonewalled.

Then on Friday, yesterday, Miss Welbeck herself had summoned them.

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, girls. I’m afraid it’s out of the question. We’ve
tried to hurry things along but these things move slowly. Much more slowly than any of us would
wish. We are not in a position to pre-empt.’

There was something about the set of her face that blocked further questions. The girls left her
study feeling deeply frustrated. The school would own the land, sooner or later, but they
weren’t allowed to use it just when they most wanted to. Stupid! After they’d gone, Miss
Welbeck telephoned Colonel Peters.

‘Still no news, George? We’re quite sure that Tarkus has dropped out of the bidding?’

‘Without question, Madeleine. But still no word that our bid’s been accepted. Most
puzzling.’

‘Poor Jock Armstrong will miss the summer season, at this rate. He still can’t find
anywhere else and it’s the man’s livelihood. It’s terrible that we should all be held up
like this.’
‘Disgraceful. I don’t know what Ruddocks think they’re playing at.’

Emmanuelle gazed at the island wistfully, unable to hide her disappointment. Just for a moment.
But then she hurriedly put an arm round Rebecca’s shoulders.

‘Cheer up! What does it matter? Where shall we have the barbecue now?’

‘Just on the beach. It’s such a shame. Cliff and Ginge were really looking forward to
boating over to the island. We all were!’

The beach will be wonderful fun! And the picnic lunch? We can still go into the cove for the
picnic?’ Emmanuelle craned her neck, peering round into Mulberry Cove. It looked
interesting, with caves at the back. And the castle high above it! But Rebecca was shaking her
head.

‘Miss Welbeck says no. The tide comes up too quickly. Now they’ve fenced off the
headland, we can’t get back that way. She says better to cancel the picnic and have lunch at
school.’

Even as Emmanuelle was digesting this news, there came a happy distraction. A small flotilla of
sailboards appeared suddenly from behind the next headland along, from Vennick Cove. Some
more windsurfers, arching back gracefully from their sails, whipping along in the breeze.

The French girl clapped her hands in excitement. ‘Let us go to that place in the afternoon then!
What is it called -?‘

‘Vennick Cove.’

‘We can hire sailboards. I will teach you girls all to windsurf! In the shallow water, close by the
shore. It will not be dangerous. Surely our teachers will allow?’

What a fantastic idea, thought Rebecca. Would it be possible?

They walked back to school together. It was time Rebecca got ready for her big tennis match.
Emmanuelle was laughing and chattering all the way. What did it matter about the old island?
What did it matter that the sailing school had not yet reopened? Windsurfing was such fun.
Rebecca would see! Rebecca soon began to feel thoroughly cheerful again.

She was pleased she hadn’t written of those plans in her letters to Emmanuelle. Hadn’t
built it all up. She’d been right to resist the temptation. There had always been the danger
that things wouldn’t come together in time.

She only hoped that Christelle wasn’t too disappointed. Mara had been seething about it,
though she’d calmed down now.
Imagine Emmanuelle being an expert at windsurfing. She said it was even more fun than sailing!
Would Mrs Barry give them permission to go to Vennick tomorrow afternoon? Would Mme
Bouvier? If they got hold of some prefects to come along too? And there was always a lifeguard
down at Vennick Cove. Surely they’d say yes?

It was a shame about Jock, though. He’d miss out on his summer trade at this rate, lose
money, the length of time the solicitors were taking.

Pleased to see how much Emmanuelle enjoyed Commemoration Day, Rebecca tried to take her
own upset in her stride.

It was a shock, Robbie coming to watch the match.

It was totally unexpected though, oddly enough, she’d been thinking about him earlier. After
going upstairs and changing for tennis, she started thinking about Emmanuelle’s ball dress
and decided to take a peep at her own. Alone in her cubie, she opened her clothes cupboard and
ran her hands down the shimmering blue sleeves with their long white fringes. It was the dress
she’d worn to her very first Commem Ball, in the Third Year.

As she touched the material, memories of that first ball came flooding back. Robbie had bought
her a bunch of roses. What a wonderful evening that had been! And then last year, in the Fourth,
she’d worn it again - but with a different stole this time, and Robbie hadn’t recognized it!

She smiled as she remembered the comical expression on his face, when she’d told him it
was the same dress. It was as vivid as though he were standing in front of her now...

‘Rebecca!’

She gave a start as Mara looked into the cubicle.

‘You are having a day-dream?’ Then Mara stared towards the open cupboard. ‘You are
wearing your beautiful dress again tonight? The one my Aunty Papademas bought you.’

‘Yes. Third time in a row.’ Rebecca looked at Mara, slightly misty-eyed. ‘It is lovely,
isn’t it?’

‘It will be new for Cliff! Cliff will never have seen it before!’ said Mara.

‘That’s right. Lucky I’ve found a new partner, isn’t it?’ Rebecca replied, lightly.

‘Come on, Rebeck!’ hollered Tish, from the far end of the floor, by the door. ‘Are you
playing in a tennis match or aren’t you?’

It was a long match. Very tough. Very, very exhausting. It lasted two-and-a-half hours.
Rebecca had imagined that her hardest match would be against Joss Vining in the semis, but not
so. She’d won in two straight sets. It had lulled her into thinking that she was less seriously
out of practice than she was. Playing Alison was salutary.

The school’s head of games had given up county coaching because of A-levels but, unlike
Rebecca, had been allowed to play inter-school fixtures all term. Two years older than Rebecca
but nevertheless with a national rating well below the one that Rebecca had once had, she should
have been beatable. But Alison was about to leave the Upper Sixth, knew this was her only
chance ever to win the new cup. She wanted it badly, had practised hard. She had the edge.

Rebecca was glad that she didn’t know Robbie was watching, until the very end. It might
have affected her game. She might have been less narrowly defeated.

She was down 11 - 12 in the long, final set when she caught a glimpse of him in the throng near
the gate; a sudden glimpse of a tense, frowning face watching her.

As she came off the court he was the first to meet her. He blocked the way, tall and muscular in
faded blue jeans and a Garth College tee-shirt; and took light hold of her wrist. She glanced
quickly up at his face. How washed-out he looked! So it must be true what Justy had told Sue;
that he’d been overworking, hadn’t been sleeping properly.

‘That was bad luck, Rebeck,’ he said.

‘Didn’t know you were coming over,’ she replied, awkwardly. She felt hot and flustered,
still trying to come to terms with her defeat. Alison had just been presented with the Darling Cup
by the Dread in person. There was a babble of voices all around. Her friends hadn’t located
her yet.

‘Sentimental journey. I’m leaving Garth. Feels odd. I’m leaving tonight.’

‘Oh.’

‘Nothing to stay for. Took my last A-level paper yesterday.’

‘How did it all go, Robbie?’

‘Okay, I think. Don’t know. I’m still in a daze.’ He was gripping her wrist too tightly.
‘You should have won that match! You’re out of practice.’

‘That’s right.’

From the corner of her eye, Rebecca could see them all heading towards her now. Emmanuelle,
with Jenny and Anne-Marie. And Cliff and Ginge. Cliff was wearing his dinner suit. Even from this
distance, she could see that he was glancing towards her and Robbie. Behind them came Tish
and Co.
‘GCSEs. Remember?’ she added. She unprised Robbie’s fingers from around her
wrist. Emmanuelle was calling her. ‘My French pen friend’s here. Got to go and look alter
her.’

She turned away, in confusion.

‘Hope you get good grades, Rebecca,’ he said, with a brief glance in Cliff’s direction.
And walked away.

Emmanuelle was the first to reach her side.

‘What a long match, Rebecca! You played so well. Oh, it was such a shame! Now we must all
hurry and get changed for the ball!’

Cliff was hanging back slightly, an odd expression on his face. Rebecca walked over and kissed
him on the cheek. ‘Come on. You and Ginge can watch TV while we all make ourselves
beautiful. Cliff, I nearly didn’t recognize you in that dinner suit!’

And he grinned.

After leaving the boys downstairs in the common room at Court House, Emmanuelle whispered to
Rebecca on the way upstairs: ‘That was Robbie! I recognized him from the photo you sent.
Now I understand how you said he was moody. Cliff and Ginge are lovely. I am in love with them
already!’

Rebecca smiled. She was so lucky to have Cliff!

But for some reason she felt very, very tired at the ball.

She told herself it had nothing to do with the tense little encounter with Robbie. It was the tennis
match. It had taken its toll. In her warm bath afterwards she’d nearly fallen asleep! And Cliff,
tonight, just to be difficult, seemed to have even more energy than usual. They danced quite a lot
until halfway through the evening. But after the supper interval, Rebecca decided she
couldn’t dance another step. Her limbs felt like lead. They ached and ached.

‘Can you dance with Jenny, Cliff?’ she whispered. Poor Jenny! It was such a shame. Curly
Watson had brought Mike Brown along to partner Christelle but instead of bringing the two
partners he’d promised for Jenny and Anne-Marie, he’d only produced Chris Earl-Smith.
William Chan had been called out to an athletics meeting. Unfortunately Chris had been bowled
over by Anne-Marie at first sight! The three boys had danced dutifully with Jenny but had
gradually become more and more engrossed with Mara, Christelle and Anne-Marie respectively.
Rebecca could see that Jen was in serious danger of having a miserable evening. She was so
shy with boys, anyway!
Jenny couldn’t keep up with Cliff, either. In fact, being taller than him, found him difficult to
dance with. But fortunately Ginge couldn’t keep up with Emmanuelle, so it all worked out
beautifully. Leaving Cliff and Emmanuelle to dance themselves silly, Rebecca, Jenny and Ginge
sat around talking and joking. They laughed a lot and got on amazingly well.

Tish joined them at one stage and told them there was an amazing rumour going around.
Michael. Deeping had been seen in Cheap Street! The legendary film actor who’d won three
Oscars and was reputed to be a multi-millionaire! He’d just divorced his fourth wife and was
soon to marry a fifth. Apparently his luxury yacht was moored at Dennizon Point!

‘Sandrine and Ariane want to go and see it to morrow and try to get his autograph,’ grinned
Tish.

‘I expect the whole town will be there,’ said Jenny.

‘Except me,’ said Ginge, making a face. ‘I think he looks a real slob.’

‘And me!’ laughed Rebecca. ‘I know I’m going to be too tired!’

And when she’d danced the last waltz with Cliff, and a whole crowd of them decided to go
down to the beach and take guitars and have a singsong, Rebecca knew that she was going to
have to bow out.

‘I’m sorry, Cliff. You won’t forget the barbecue tomorrow evening?’

‘No fear!’

‘Rebeck, don’t be such a wet blanket!’ complained Tish. ‘You’re as bad as

Sandrine. She’s just gone back to the house as well.’ She glanced round, grinned,
lowered her voice. ‘Thank goodness! Now I can start to enjoy myself.’

‘The beach!’ sighed Emmanuelle, wistfully.

‘But you must go, Emmanuelle! Don’t worry about me!’ exclaimed Rebecca. Anne-
Marie had disappeared with Chris to look at the quadrangle gardens but Jenny, Ginge and Cliff
were standing nearby and she took Emmanuelle over to them.

‘Jenny will look after you, and Ginge and Cliff. Off you go! Shoo!’

‘Looks like we’ve all been given our marching orders!’ laughed Ginge, chivalrously
taking Emmanuelle by the arm. He looked very dashing in his bandsman’s uniform.
‘Let’s go.’
As she collapsed into bed that night, Rebecca wondered about herself. Was it really just the
tennis match that had so drained her? She hadn’t enjoyed the ball as much as she’d
hoped to.

But she must put it out of her mind. Emmanuelle had had a lovely day.

And she’d have another lovely day tomorrow. They’d find out about going to Vennick.
Windsurfing! And then there’d be the barbecue in the evening.

‘I expect I’m really going to enjoy myself tomorrow, too,’ Rebecca thought drowsily.
‘I expect it’ll be better than today.’

But it was the next day that everything began to go wrong. Starting with the piece in the
newspaper.

NINE

Complications

Early on the Sunday morning the telephone rang at the bottom of Court House. A sleepy Third
Year girl answered it then ran all the way upstairs to get an even sleepier Tish out of bed.

‘Phone!’

‘What, at this hour?’ grumbled Tish, staggering out of bed and groping around for her
dressing- gown. ‘Couldn’t you say I was asleep, Katy?’

‘It’s your sister. Says it’s urgent.’

Helen Anderson, Tish’s grown-up sister, was ringing from her flat in London.

‘Tish! It’s me. Guess what. I’m sitting up in bed, drinking a delicious cup of tea and
reading my Mail on Sunday...’

‘Well, lucky you!’ snorted Tish. ‘And I was lying in bed, having a delicious sleep. It was
the Commem Ball last night!’

‘But listen, have you read it? Today’s Mail -,

‘Of course I haven’t! What’s wrong?’

Her sister explained.

‘I don’t believe it!’

‘Well, go and get a copy yourself.’

‘On my way,’ said Tish. ‘What page again -?‘

‘The gossip page, of course. It’s the only one I read before breakfast. You can’t miss it.
Oh, Tish, what a shame! I’d offered to stump up another £50, too. When you told me about
Mara’s father, I thought everything was going to be okay.’

‘Didn’t we all.’

The other five were only just getting up when Tish burst back into Court House, having found a
copy of the paper over at Parkinson, still sticking out of the letter box. It was Virginia Slade’s
but no matter.

Rebecca, with a slight sigh, was hanging up her ball dress in the back of the clothes cupboard,
having left it in a heap on the floor. She wouldn’t be needing that again for a while! But she
felt so much fresher this morning. A sweet new morning, the sun shining. It was wonderful what a
good night’s sleep could do.

Then Mara’s scream of rage brought her rushing out of the cubicle.

Tish! This is terrible!

Soon they were all six crowding round the big table, avidly reading the paper spread out in front
of them, the rest of the floor drifting up to have a look as well.

It was the lead story on the gossip page.

MICHAEL TO BUY ISLAND FOR CASSIE

Much wed international megastar Michael Deeping, 48, who marries up-and-coming model
Cassie Duncan, 25, next month, blames too much media attention for the breakdown of his
previous four marriages and he’s been scouring the country for the perfect hideaway for
himself and Cassie. Now he appears to have found it. This weekend his luxury yacht Gazelle III is
moored at Dennizon Point in the far south west and I’ve been told that he will shortly put in a
formal offer for tiny Mulberry Island down there, where he will build a spectacular dream home for
himself and Cassie. included in the sale, a nice little chunk of mainland with access to an
unspoiled cove which should ensure the couple’s privacy. High walls will be built. A close
friend of the multi-millionaire star informs me that although there’s other interest in the land,
Deeping will pay whatever is needed to clinch the deal and as he has plans to use the cove to
harbour his valuable yachts, it will be patrolled by security men with guard dogs. Should be quite
some hideaway.
Alongside the story was a photograph of a beautiful but neurotic looking young woman displaying
a huge diamond ring on her left hand, with the caption: Cassie Duncan showing off her
spectacular engagement ring last month. it seems that as well as the rock Michael Deeping is
now buying her an island.

‘The school’s had it then!’ whispered Rebecca, in hitter dismay.

‘Oh, it is monstrous!’ said Mara, tears welling up in her eyes. ‘My father will back down
now. He will let Michael Deeping buy the land, I know he will.’

They all stared at each other miserably because they knew that Mara was right. Her father was
generous, but on this occasion he’d only stepped in to stop the horrible Mr Tarkus buying the
land. To punish him! Now the famous film star had popped up to do the job for him and was no
doubt willing to pay a crazy price for the land, if necessary. There were other projects closer to Mr
Leonodis’s heart.

‘What a rotten start to the day,’ said Sue, sadly.

Rebecca, Sue and Tish all looked at each other. They’d been on some early morning runs in
the past few days, Tish getting seriously back into training again. Each time they’d had to turn
back at the headland.

‘No more runs over there, then,’ Rebecca said. ‘Not ever. No sailing school. No chance
of going to the island. Ever.’

‘Security men! Guard dogs! It’s all going to change round here!’ complained Tish. ‘It
just won’t be unspoilt any more. Helen’s hopping mad about it.’

‘I expect all the Old Girls are,’ said Margot.

‘And Miss Welbeck!’ added Elf.

Rebecca and Mara glanced at each other. Miss Welbeck had been rather short with them on
Friday. Now they guessed why. The estate agents had been stalling, hadn’t even accepted
the school’s offer yet! Miss Welbeck must have been very worried, perhaps suspecting there
could be complications. What a shock this would be to her now!

Animated discussion followed. There wasn’t one girl on the top floor of Court House who
didn’t feel sad about it. Trebizon, surely, would never be quite the same again. They felt too
strongly about it to be impressed at the prospect of having such a very famous neighbour, though
several of them liked his films.

‘But I shall never go and see one again!’ vowed Aba Amori, to which Anne Finch, Ann
Ferguson and the rest all murmured their agreement.
‘Ginge thinks he’s a slob,’ commented Jenny. ‘Doesn’t he, Rebecca?’

‘Should I try and ring my father?’ Mara asked at last, in desperation.

‘No, Mara!’ said Sue.

‘Waste of time,’ added Tish.

She picked up the newspaper and rolled it up. She’d better get it back to Parkinson, before
Virginia missed it.

‘Come on. No use thinking about it any more. End of story, by the look of things. Time you lot
got dressed, isn’t it? We’re supposed to take our pen friends over to breakfast in a
minute.’

‘They’ve got to be at Mass by ten o’clock!’ remembered Rebecca. The Catholic

church was in the town.

She’d be going to church herself this morning, St Mary’s, in the school grounds. And
straight after that, there was work to do.

‘Don’t forget you promised to help me make shortbread for the barbecue tonight!’ she
reminded Mara. ‘That’ll be fun.’ Mrs Barry had given them permission to use her
kitchen. ‘Cooks get to eat some while it’s still warm. Delicious!’

‘Of course, Rebecca.’ Mara opened the fire exit door and gazed out at the blue sky. The
sight of it cheered her. ‘Look at the lovely weather again! It will be such fun, cooking our
sausages on the beach tonight and eating shortbread. Curly is looking forward to the barbecue so
much. And Mike is coming. Christelle likes him! And so is Chris - I think he and Anne-Marie have
fallen in love!’

Rebecca smiled to herself.

‘Cliff and Ginge are looking forward to it, as well,’ she said. ‘And Emmanuelle!’ It
would be overstating things to say that Emmanuelle and Ginge had fallen in love, too - but
they’d certainly got on wonderfully well. As a foursome, they’d all mixed together
beautifully. ‘Emmanuelle’s really, really looking forward to it. I do hope she likes my
shortbread! I don’t think they make it in France.’

‘She will love it, Rebecca!’

At that stage, everybody still felt warmly towards Emmanuelle.

‘You’ll never guess the good news, Rebeck,’ said Tish, down in Vennick Cove that
afternoon, as they sat lolling against a warm rock and dried off in the sunshine. They were
watching Emmanuelle, Ariane, Coralie and Marie-Laure fly backwards and forwards across the
water on their sailboards. Impressive!

Together with Margot and Elf, they’d spent the past hour falling off theirs, in the shallows.
Discovering that windsurfing was more difficult than it looked. Now they were taking a break and
watching the four expert French girls. Tish was looking after Ariane for Sue, who’d gone to
Garth College to say goodbye to Justin. He was leaving today, for good. Mara had gone with her,
to see Curly, taking Christelle and Anne-Marie. After the success of last night, Mike and Chris had
invited the two French girls to tea!

Tish’s own pen friend had wanted to stay back at the boarding house and watch TV. Jenny
had nobly offered to keep her company, so that Tish and Ariane could go windsurfing.

‘What good news is that?’ asked Rebecca.

‘Sandrine isn’t coming to the barbecue tonight! She and Ariane are going down to
Dennizon Point. They want to take photos of Michael Deeping’s yacht and hang around and
try and get his autograph.’

Rebecca snorted.

‘Groupies! Who’s taking them?’

‘Virginia Slade’s offered. in her car.’

‘Trust her! She probably wants his autograph, too.’

Although the Fifth Years in Court House had remained stony-faced about Michael Deeping, the
whole school had been agog with the news by Sunday lunch time. The juniors had been quite
excited and Virginia Slade had been showing her newspaper dizzily around the Upper Sixth.
Sensible people soon realized that it wasn’t exciting at all but very bad news for the school.
Holly and Harriet were deeply upset.

But a few of the French girls thought it thrilling. The star was quite a cult figure in France. That he
should be staying so near! Formidable!

‘I’m surprised at Ariane wanting to go,’ added Rebecca.

‘It’s all right. She asked first. Which is more than Sandrine did! And it suits Sue, as it
happens. Now she can leave the barbecue early if she wants to. She’s terribly behind with
her violin. And she’s in a bit of a turmoil about Justin leaving. But it’s practising her
pieces she’s most worried about. Just think, it’s the big day on Thursday!’

‘That’s going to be so exciting!’ Rebecca leaned back against the rock and felt eager
pleasure at the prospect. The Finals of the Wessex Young Musician of the Year competition! The
day in Exonford was going to be the high spot of the week. ‘I want her to come first and Ginge
to come second.’

‘He’s nice,’ agreed Tish.

‘Still, it was incredibly rude of Sandrine,’ added Rebecca. ‘Not even to ask if you
minded.’

‘Then it’s lucky that I don’t!’

Tish laughed and got to her feet. Emmanuelle was heading inshore, shouting to them.

‘Come on, Rebeck. Your pen friend wants to give us another lesson.’

As they dragged their sailboards down to the water’s edge, she added:

‘Good value, isn’t she? I’m glad she’s coming to the barbecue!’

But she wasn’t.

And, like Sandrine, she didn’t even ask her pen friend if she’d mind.

She just suddenly appeared in Rebecca’s cubicle that evening wearing a smartish skirt
instead of the pale stonewashed jeans they’d both planned to wear the previous day. ‘You
have the same? What fun! We shall be like sisters, Rebecca!’ she’d said then.

And her camera was slung over her shoulder.

‘I am going with Sandrine to Dennizon Point!’ she announced. ‘There is room for me in
the car. I will have to miss the barbecue, Rebecca!’

Rebecca had been brushing her hair. She stopped. In astonishment.

‘Emmanuelle...I...I...thought you were looking forward to it. It won’t be any fun if you
don’t come.’

‘This is too good a chance to miss!’ Emmanuelle was smiling brightly, at the same time not
quite daring to meet Rebecca’s eye. ‘Everybody in France loves Michael Deeping! They
will not believe I have seen him unless I can get his autograph.’

‘He’s buying our island, Emmanuelle. We hate him! I’m amazed…’ Rebecca
couldn’t go on.

Emmanuelle quickly turned away...

‘They are waiting for me. The car will go without me! We will have a lovely day together
tomorrow, Rebecca. Shall we do the windsurfing again?’

...and was gone.

As the six made their way to the beach, Rebecca carrying the tin of shortbread, the other five
could tell how hurt she was. But she wouldn’t hear a word against Emmanuelle.

‘She’s just got a bit carried away, that’s all,’ she said.

‘Extraordinary!’ muttered Tish. ‘The last thing you’d ever expect.’

‘Oh, do shut up about it Tish!’

When they reached the dunes, the boys had already got the fire going and the bay looked
beautiful. Empty now, except for one or two local people walking dogs along the shore. The
waves breaking and spuming, dogs barking. Woodsmoke drifting. A beautiful, beautiful
midsummer evening, all spoiled now.

‘Isn’t Emmanuelle coming?’ asked Ginge, when he arrived with Cliff.

‘No. Better things to do!’ Rebecca made light of it.

‘But she’s coming on Thursday, Ginge. We’re looking forward to it. Don’t you dare
forget to pick us up!’

‘You’re not allowed to cheer for him, only me!’ said Sue, to ease the tension.

Inside, Rebecca was churning. She and Emmanuelle had always been so perfectly in tune up to
now. This was preposterous. Going off with Sandrine, to hang around Michael Deeping’s
yacht. It was also rather humiliating.

Was Rebecca and Cliff’s company worth so little? Was Ginge’s?

Might things have been better if Robbie’s friend Ben had been Emmanuelle’s partner last
night? Rebecca kept wondering.

Apparently he and Laura Wilkins hadn’t hit it off, anyway. After all, Ben had been her very first
idea. And she knew now that Robbie would have liked to come to Commem. Nothing to stay for,
he’d said bitterly. Not much of a school-leaving for him, was it? Was all this somehow her
fault?

But Ginge was just as much fun as Ben, Rebecca told herself.
And as the evening wore on, she was relieved to re him laughing and joking with Jenny again,
making up a sort of foursome with Anne-Marie and Chris Earl-Smith. Chris played trumpet in the
Garth College jazz band now and he and Ginge found plenty to talk about. It was good to see that
Cliff’s friend wasn’t allowing himself to be perturbed by events.

But Rebecca was.

She didn’t even get on with Cliff as brilliantly as usual. She was too preoccupied.

At dusk, standing with him by the fire’s dying embers, a cloud of melancholy seemed to
descend on her. Some people had drifted away.

Tish and Jenny had gone for a walk with Ginge and Sue’s brother, David. Sue herself had
gone hack to Court House, to her violin. She was already missing Justin with a dull ache. Today
he’d left Garth for ever, together with Edward, the elder of her two brothers.

On the other side of the fire, Mara and Curly had their arms locked round each other’s waists
in soulful silence. This was their last evening together.

More summer goodbyes, thought Rebecca sadly.

The happy squeals of laughter in the far distance, as Garth Fifth Years kicked spray over French
visitors, seemed to belong to somebody else’s world.

‘I think I’ll go back in a minute, Cliff,’ she said.

‘Me too. As soon as Ginge shows up.’

Rebecca glanced at him. For the first time it dawned on her just how subdued he, too, was this
evening and that it was probably her fault.

‘I’m sorry, Cliff. I just can’t get over Emmanuelle, that’s all.’

He shrugged and said nothing.

‘Please don’t think too badly of her. Don’t let Ginge. She’ll come on Thursday.’

He returned her glance.

‘Everyone’s unpredictable sometimes,’ he said.

He didn’t even kiss her goodnight.

It was some kind of message, Rebecca decided. Was he telling her perhaps that she, too, was
unpredictable? In bed that night, she lay and thought about it.
Was he more hurt than he’d shown, when she hadn’t wanted to come to the beach last
night? When she’d been happy to let him dance with other people? Was he annoyed by her
unusual bout of fatigue and that highly-charged encounter with Robbie that had preceded it? Did
he think there was some connection between the two? Didn’t he realize what it was like to
play a tennis match like that when you were out of training - and then lose?

And she hadn’t been much fun tonight again. Surely he didn’t imagine she’d been
thinking about Robbie tonight?

Cliff had never been the jealous type before. He was so relaxed; that was the thing she most
loved about him.

Was Cliff changing, too? Was her dear, sunny old Cliff getting complicated?

Right now, that was the last thing she needed.

As for Emmanuelle, would it be difficult for them to get back on their old footing after tonight?

Difficult but not impossible, was Rebecca’s fervent hope.

TEN

Anne-Marie’s Secret

By Wednesday afternoon things between them were so very nearly all right again; Emmanuelle
was trying hard to make amends. That afternoon they came tantalisingly close to being back on
their old footing - almost there but not quite. It was when they went round Mulberry Castle
together. The Willoughbys had been showing two groups a day over the National Trust property
and it was their turn at last.

The panoramic view from the library window, of Mulberry Cove and its island, was quite breath
taking. Emmanuelle was very moved by it.

June had slipped into July without any break in the glorious weather. The French Exchange girls
were having a wonderful time. They had to be in school for assemblies, one or two English
lessons and some special showings of cultural films. But otherwise there was a varied
programme of outside activities for them to choose from.

M. Lafarge, Trebizon’s own head of French, and Mme Robert, his counterpart from the
lycée, had laid on a coach tour of Wessex for tomorrow and Friday. It was for the visitors only
and those going on it would be away two days, staying the night in a youth hostel in Dorset.
Sandrine, Ariane, Marie-Laure and Coralie had all signed up for it, together with a scattering of
French girls from Tavistock and Chambers but in fact Mme Robert was having difficulty filling the
coach. Most of her pupils were enjoying themselves too much around Trebizon.

‘You’re sure you don’t want to go, Emmanuelle?’ Rebecca had asked on the
Monday morning, defensively. Let there be no more mis-understandings. Better to know the
worst. ‘Don’t mind me, if you do.’

Emmanuelle had looked at the hurt expression on Rebecca’s face in dismay. Had suddenly
flung her arms round her.

‘Rebecca - please! Do not be silly! How could I want to spend two whole days away from you?
Sitting all the time on a stuffy coach! The weather, too, it is lovely. I want us to be together.’

Emmanuelle and Ariane had spent a lot of time on Monday and Tuesday windsurfing in Vennick
Cove; had been there again this morning. On Sunday, Rebecca’s pen friend had charmed the
windsurf man into hiring out his best board to her For the entire week, at a special rate! It had a
dark green sail and seemed to move more swiftly and slickly than the others, or was that simply
Emmanuelle’s skill?

Rebecca enjoyed being with them; swimming, gradually learning the arts of windsurfing, and
knowing that at the same time she was helping Sue. For this left Sue free to concentrate as never
before on preparing for Thursday’s music final.

Poor Tish was less fortunate. Sandrine’s sole interest centred on the clothes shops in the
town and Tish, the least fashion-conscious person in Court House if not the entire school, found
herself being endlessly dragged around them. She was counting the hours till Thursday morning,
when Sandrine would disappear off on her coach tour of Wessex. What a mis-match they were!
Emmanuelle on the other hand, by Wednesday afternoon, was at her most kindred.

‘It is so beautiful around here, Rebecca,’ she said, as they stood and looked through the
library’s mullioned windows. ‘Has this castle really been here since the Norman time?’

‘The back bit, yes. You Frenchies built it after you’d conquered us!’ replied Rebecca.
‘There was something else here before that, going right back into the mists of time! People
have lived on this site since the year dot!’

They gazed down to the steep little field and the cove below. She told Emmanuelle about the
Roman coins that had been found in the cove two summers before. Her pen friend listened in
wonder. Both girls were fascinated by the past.

‘The island has always been here, also!’ sighed Emmanuelle, staring towards the
shimmering hump of land in the glittering sea beyond both headlands.

How inviting it looked on this perfect afternoon.

‘Perhaps two thousand years ago Cabronius moored his boat there and walked around it!
Before he came across to the cove and buried the coins.’

‘Yes. Perhaps he did!’

‘Oh, Rebecca, it looks so mysterious again. I wish we could go there. I wish we could live in
that little cottage for a week and live off fish from the sea and sunbathe!’

‘There’s no glass in the windows and lots of tiles missing from the roof!’ laughed
Rebecca.

Then, remembering, a shadow crossed her face.

‘It’ll be pulled down now, anyway. And a smart house built. And no-one allowed near the
place.’ Wretched Michael Deeping! With the whole world to choose from why did he have to
go and fall in love with their island?

In assembly these past three mornings, Miss Welbeck had made no reference to the dramatic
news in the Sunday paper. But according to Suky Morris, the school had all but given up hope.
Their offer still hadn’t been accepted and the estate agents had informed them that a better
one was expected imminently.

Emmanuelle looked uncomfortable.

‘It is stupid, Michael Deeping wanting to buy the island. He is stupid.’ She lowered her
gaze, shame-faced. ‘I am stupid also, wanting to get his autograph. We did not even see the
yacht, did you know that, Rebecca?’ Rebecca did know. Sandrine had grumbled at length to
Tish about the failed expedition. The yacht had already left Dennizon Point and Virginia had
chased miles down the coast, trying to locate it, in vain. ‘And I missed the lovely
barbecue,’ finished Emmanuelle. ‘Please forgive me, Rebecca. Did you mind? Did Cliff
and Ginge?’

‘Only a little bit,’ lied Rebecca.

It was such a relief, Emmanuelle’s talking about it at last. She was sorry, then? Rebecca
suddenly felt that they were almost totally in tune again. If not completely. Why not completely?
She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. However, she decided that now was the moment to tell
her about tomorrow’s surprise.

‘Guess what Cliff’s done!’ she said, as they walked out of the library and descended
some stone steps to the armoury. There’d been much phoning to and fro about it. ‘All the
musicians get two hours’ break in the middle of the day tomorrow. Cliff’s booked a table
for four at the new French restaurant in Exonford. He says it’s right by the town hall anyway.
He and Ginge are going to treat us to lunch! You’ll have some proper French food for a
change. I hope you’re impressed?’
‘I am very impressed!’

So had Rebecca been. That Cliff should think of something so imaginative! Obviously he must
feel, like Rebecca, that Commem weekend hadn’t been an unqualified success. So he
wanted this outing to snake up for it. It was lovely of him. Now she linked arms with Emmanuelle
as they threaded their way through suits of armour, to join the others, their footsteps ringing on
the old flagged floor.

‘And then Friday’s the disco at Caxton High! Cliff says he’s got the tickets okay. Their
discos are the best for miles. You can do some more of your crazy dancing! Just think!’ She
sighed. ‘It’ll be our last night down here. Hope you won’t be bored when my parents
take us back to London and we stay in dull. old Clapham. I mean, supposing it rains?’

This was a private joke between them.

Emmanuelle gave a joyous laugh.

‘It can rain dogs and cats! I am longing for to go to London!’

On the Thursday morning, all was excitement on the top floor of Court House. Sue was the first to
leave. Her parents collected her by car, bringing with them her brother Edward - and Justin! All
the way from London. It was a wonderful surprise for her.

Mara, Margot and Elf kept apologizing and wishing her luck. They’d been so upset to
discover that the day at Exonford clashed with the Garth College/Trebizon Summer
Entertainment, all three girls being leading members of the schools’ joint choir. Christelle and
Anne-Marie would be going over to Garth with them.

Ariane, together with Sandrine, Coralie and Marie-Laure had gone on the Wessex tour. The
coach had left at eight o’clock! Tish, lying in bed, had heard the bus arrive for them earlier
and luxuriated in the prospect of two Sandrine-free days.

Jenny gave Sue a good luck card. She’d bought one for Ginge as well. She’d so much
rather have gone to Exonford today, to see them both compete. As it was she was going to have
to tag around with Anne-Marie and Chris Earl-Smith at Garth College this afternoon, feeling a
gooseberry. But Tish had been given the only spare seat in Mr and Mrs Barry’s car. They
were taking Mrs Borrelli - Sue’s violin teacher - and another member of the music staff as
well. It was a big day for them, one of Trebizon’s Hilary Camberwell Music Scholars reaching
the final of such an important competition.

‘Can you give this to Ginge?’ asked Jenny, after the Murdochs’ car had left. Rebecca
was in her cubie, wearing her cream outfit again, experimenting with a pale lipstick; Tish looking
on. ‘It’s a good luck card.’
‘You ought to give it to him yourself, Jen!’ smiled Rebecca, gazing at her face in the mirror
and wondering about the lipstick. ‘His car will be here in a minute. I’m just waiting for
Emmanuelle.’

‘Where is she anyway?’ frowned Tish, after Jenny had hurried off. ‘Cutting it fine,
isn’t she?’

‘I expect she’s been agonising about what to wear. You know, with the French restaurant
and everything! She’ll be here in a minute. I told her nine o’clock.’

But, just before nine, it was Anne-Marie who appeared in her place.

‘Rebecca, I have an important note for you, please,’ she said, looking embarrassed. She
quickly thrust an envelope into Rebecca’s hands and then shot away.

Rebecca turned the envelope over in her hands, glanced at Tish, then opened it.

The note inside said:

Dearest Rebecca

Please forgive. I have decided to go on the Wessex tour at the very last. There are many empty
seats on the coach and it is such a waste. Never again will I have the chance to see so many
interesting places! Please wish Ginge and Sue very great good luck in the Finals today. The
coach will get back at 21 hours tomorrow night and you will tell me all about it.

Always your loving friend

Emmanuelle

P.S. Please tell Cliff also I am sorry not to come to the disco tomorrow. If he cannot sell the ticket
please give him the money, Rebecca, and I will pay it to you. E. XXX

Tish, seeing Rebecca turn pale, came and stood beside her and read the note over her shoulder.

‘How totally foul of her!’ she exclaimed. Then quickly, to make amends, she tried to soften
it. ‘I mean; what a funny way to behave. Maybe she finds it a strain having to talk English all
the time? I know Sandrine does.’

‘In which case, she could have mentioned it before,’ said Rebecca coldly.

‘Yes.’

Tish ran a hand through her newly-washed dark curly hair. She was totally baffled.
It should have been a sensational day at Exonford. It was a thrilling contest. In the end, Ginge
and Sue dead-heated for second place, just a few points behind a brilliant fourteen-year-old
clarinettist who was duly named Wessex Young Musician of the Year.

It should have been totally enjoyable from start to finish but, for Rebecca, Emmanuelle had
spoiled everything.

As she outwardly smiled and clapped and cheered in the mounting excitement, the pain that the
French girl had caused her gnawed away inwardly and refused to go away.

Cliff was cheerful to a fault all day, as though to make up for the night of the barbecue. It was as
though he, too, were putting on an act. Rebecca felt this particularly at lunch time, in the French
restaurant, when he kept raising his glass sardonically “to absent friends†. It was obvious
that he felt a fool to have booked the table.

The only good thing to come out of it was Jenny’s quiet happiness.

She’d been standing by the car, giving Ginge the good luck card, when Rebecca had
appeared that morning and told the boys that Emmanuelle wasn’t coming.

‘Why don’t you come instead, Jenny?’ Ginge had asked.

Jenny had flown upstairs to find Anne-Marie who, far from minding, had given her a hug. Then
she’d grabbed her best jacket, changed into smart shoes and rushed down to join Rebecca in
the back of the car.

Glancing at the driving mirror, Rebecca noticed that Ginge looked rather pleased. What a
surprise!

Friday she enjoyed even less.

With Emmanuelle still away, she felt unsettled, not knowing quite what to do with herself.
Sympathetic looks from her friends didn’t help. It was obvious they’d all gone off her pen
friend in a big way.

And she’d so wanted them to like Emmanuelle! She’d been convinced that they would,
once they all got to know each other properly. That had been part of the grand design, the
wonderful plans she’d been making all term for the French Exchange. The best laid schemes
of mice and men... wrote Robert Burns. Too true! These had gone agley, all right.

She wasn’t even sure whether she liked Emmanuelle herself now. And as for her friends
getting to know her properly, what a joke. She no longer felt that she did.

And two long weeks together in London stretched ahead.

How would Emmanuelle behave in London? Did more little shocks and unpredictable happenings
lie in wait, to wound and upset?

It was Rebecca’s sixteenth birthday next Saturday. She’d organized a small party, mainly
because Emmanuelle was going to be there. Tish and some of the others were coming but they
didn’t like Emmanuelle now. Perhaps the party wasn’t such a good idea...

The tension inside her built up steadily all day.

Half-way through the disco at Caxton High that evening she reached cracking point.

She told Cliff that she wanted to leave early.

‘Emmanuelle’s coach will be getting back any minute now,’ she told him. ‘I’ve
got to see her! I’ve got to have it out with her. The rest of her stay’s going to be an
absolute nightmare, if I don’t. I can’t stand it any longer, Cliff.’

He was extraordinarily understanding about it. They hadn’t been having that much of a good
time, anyway. Ginge had cried off the disco.

And now Cliff handed Rebecca a sealed blue envelope.

‘Can you give her this? It’s private. From Ginge.’

Rebecca put the blue envelope in her pocket and, shook her head in despair. It could only be
saying goodbye. Ever since last term, she’d respected l secret; even though she thought it
was silly of Emmanuelle to worry and worry about her lack of boy friends. But what did she
expect, Rebecca wondered now, if this were the way she behaved? The way she’d treated
Ginge, for a start! At first being so friendly and then acting rudely, suggesting he wasn’t worth
spending time on. He most certainly was. Jenny thought so, too! At the very least, he could have
been a delightful friend and companion for Emmanuelle this week but she’d spurned him!

Rebecca no longer, felt regretful that she hadn’t been able to introduce Robbie’s friend
Ben Hartwell to her French pen friend. It could easily have turned out the same way. No, she felt
relieved about that now.

All too suddenly she and Cliff were saying goodbye. It would be quite a long time before she saw
him again. He couldn’t come to her birthday party next Saturday because Caxton High
didn’t break up till the following Monday. But he’d be coming to stay in London later on in
the summer holidays. He had a standing invitation from Arnie, who’d been his best friend at
his old school, and Arnie lived just round the corner from Rebecca.

‘And after that, we’ll be getting our GCSE results,’ said Cliff, as they stood outside,
waiting for Rebecca’s taxi to arrive. He had an arm round her shoulders. ‘You’d better
get that history grade, Becky. You’d better be coming back to Trebizon!’
He knew that she was in two minds about staying on in the Sixth Form if she hadn’t qualified
for the only A-level course that she really cared about.

‘I know you’ll get your grades all right, Cliff,’ she replied, quickly changing the subject.
The possibility of her not being successful didn’t even bear thinking about.

As the taxi pulled away, he shouted out Love yer. She shouted the same thing back. And they
blew each other a kiss. Then Rebecca leaned back and closed her eyes to enjoy the smooth ride,
for a few moments feeling deliciously peaceful.

For some days now Mara had been talking about love and how painful it was. Ever since
Curly’s departure. They’d even quarrelled before he left but then made it up again. ‘It
is not a peaceful state to be in, Rebecca,’ she’d said. ‘I do not know why we allow
ourselves to have such a terrible illness.’ And Tish, joining in, had laughed and said: ‘I
don’t allow myself!’ And Rebecca had argued with Mara. ‘It doesn’t have to be like
that, Mara. It can be quite peaceful.’

That’s how it was with Cliff. And that was how she preferred it, she told herself. She’d
feared he’d been showing signs of jealousy last weekend but that seemed to have passed.

As her taxi turned in through Trebizon’s main gates, they met the empty coach coming away.
So the French girls were back, then!

Settling up with the taxi-driver, outside Court House, the tension within her returned with full force.
She noticed Anne-Marie up at the window, peeping out. Her resolve began to weaken. She could
hardly say anything to Emmanuelle in front of Anne-Marie And what exactly was she going to say
to her, anyway?

How dare you...

Could she really say that? What was the point?

As she walked up the stairs, feeling confused and undecided, she suddenly felt the envelope in
her pocket. At least she could give her Ginge’s letter! And then perhaps they’d get
talking, and Emmanuelle would apologize to her and maybe even try to explain...

She turned left at the first floor landing and walked along to her pen friend’s room. Her knock
was answered by Anne-Marie and Rebecca could see at once that the room was empty.

‘She’s not back yet,’ said Anne-Marie, her face sickly pale beneath her tan.

‘But I’ve just seen the coach!’ said Rebecca.

Anne-Marie pulled her into the room and closed the door. She looked anxious.
‘She did not go on the coach!’ she whispered. ‘Oh, Rebecca, I am getting worried. She
said she would be sure to come back while it was still light but soon it will be dark. She must not
try to come back in the dark!’

Not go on the coach! Rebecca could hardly take this in.

‘Get back from where, Anne-Marie?’ she exclaimed.

Too worried to keep the secret any longer, Anne-Marie told her.

ELEVEN

The Phantom of the Island

Emmanuelle sat on the old iron bedstead upstairs in the ruined cottage, feeling close to despair.
The gentle evening breeze blew straight in through the window with no glass in it. She could hear
their voices quite clearly. If she peered round the edge of the paneless window she could see
them below, sitting on the grass near the moored yacht.

A linen cloth was spread there between them and the man had laid out delicacies for them to eat
and champagne to drink, all produced from a handsome picnic basket. She could hear the tinkling
of glasses. They’d left the crew aboard the yacht and were obviously going to. make a night
of it.

From up here, you could see the bald patch on top of Michael Deeping’s head. You never
saw that in his films!

Oh, would the lovebirds never leave?

As each minute passed, Emmanuelle grew more frantic. Dusk was falling fast. A bat had just
flitted past the window.

She was trapped. She daren’t show her face. She’d get into terrible trouble (and the
school into trouble too) and Mme Bouvier would almost certainly have her expelled from the
lycée. But it would soon be dark and Anne-Marie would start to panic and probably raise the
alarm! She’d think something had happened to her...

Everything had worked so well for Emmanuelle up till now.

Anne-Marie had given Rebecca the note while Emmanuelle hid in the room at Court House until
everyone had gone. (What a shock when Jenny had knocked on the door and she’d had to
dive under the bed. It was so nice that Jenny had a boy friend now. Ginge was such a lovely
person).
After that, she’d spent most of the day at Vennick Cove in shorts and tee-shirt, with her
beloved sailboard. And the little waterproof rucksack, packed with food and a book to read and a
thick jumper for bedtime, hidden behind a rock. Then, in the early evening, the tide at its lowest
point, she’d put the rucksack on her back and skimmed across the narrow stretch of water on
the sailboard. To Mulberry Island.

Oh, such a sense of freedom as she’d clambered ashore on the far side of the island, hidden
her sailboard in the undergrowth... The relief to be away from it all, to have escaped! Just to be
perfectly alone.

It had all been totally spur of the moment.

She hadn’t planned it. Not in her wildest dreams had she planned to do such a crazy thing.
She’d steeled herself to fall in with Rebecca’s programme for these two days. But at the
very last moment she simply hadn’t been able to face it. It would be intolerable. And
she’d suddenly remembered the island.

What an adventure it had been, too, sleeping on the old bedstead last night, the air balmy and full
of summer sounds. She had always wanted to come to the island, surely Rebecca would believe
that? And today had been quite pleasurable. Sunbathing, reading, picnicking, a dip or two in the
warm sea, on the far side of the island, out of sight of the mainland! Time had passed easily
enough...

20 hours.

Emmanuelle had looked at her watch. The time mid come to retrieve her sailboard, windsurf back
to Vennick Cove and reclaim her deposit. Thence by foot return to Court House around the same
time as the coach. Rebecca would have left for the disco. She might easily discover later that
there’d been no Wessex tour but Emmanuelle was planning carefully a full explanation.

Then, disaster! Upstairs in the cottage, packing she small rucksack, she’d heard the throb of
an engine and seen the yacht circling once round the island. Gazelle III. Michael Deeping had
arrived!

The yacht had tied up at the tiny jetty and he’d stepped ashore with a nervous-looking young
woman and a picnic basket. ‘This is it, Cassie,’ Emmanuelle had heard him say, in an
elated voice.

She’d found herself trapped upstairs in the cottage ever since, her rucksack packed, unable
to make her escape. Of course, if she hadn’t been so worried about the dire situation she
found herself in, Emmanuelle would have found this all totally fascinating. The famous star was
only now showing his fiancée the island where he planned to build their home! He’d been
waiting for the media attention to die down. Now they were alone there at last, he explained, and
he wanted to make this an evening they’d always remember.
‘Ain’t we going to find it a bit lonesome here?’ Cassie Duncan asked, looking less than
impressed.

‘I need the space, Cassie. I’ve got to have space. Just you and me and our little grey
home in the west.’ He pointed at the cottage. ‘Pity to have to pull it down in a way.’

Emmanuelle thought she heard the young woman make a shuddering sound. Then came another
shuddering sound and a little squeal. There was a spider running over her caviar!

‘When you’ve found paradise you expect to share it with a few spiders, Cassie!’ came
the tetchy response.

As the sun disappeared over the rosy horizon and dusk descended, the fashion model became
increasingly nervy and the couple seemed to be on the verge of quarrelling. ‘I keep hearing
weird creaks and noises, Mike. l there’s somebody else here. This place is spooky.’

‘Don’t be stupid, Cassie. There are no other boats here, are there? The agent’s got
strict instructions to let nobody come near here tonight. I want us to be alone.

‘Listen! I just heard a sort of cough!’

‘A frog, I expect.’

‘Gee! You mean there’s frogs here, too - ?‘ More alarm!

‘The sooner I fetch some blankets and we cosy down in our little grey home, the better,’ he
said, packing up the picnic basket and walking towards the boat with it. ‘You wait there,
Cassie.’

Cosy down...

Emmanuelle froze in alarm. She’d had some bad moments but this was by far the worst. And
then suddenly, the freewheeling bat decided to swoop low over Cassie’s head.

‘Mike!’ She screamed loudly. ‘Don’t leave me here alone!’

The sudden piercing scream brought Emmanuelle’s face fleetingly to the window - just as the
young model was glancing fearfully over her shoulder. At the cottage. For a split-second Cassie
saw through the dusk the pale phantasmagoric face at the window. And then it disappeared.

‘Mike!!’

She started sobbing hysterically

Crouched in the bedroom in horror, Emmanuelle heard the famous star come running - and then
heard him slapping his fiancée, telling her to calm down. And she was shouting at him.

‘Get me off this place! I think you’re crazy, Mike Deeping!’

‘Me crazy? You’re crazy, not me!’

In no time at all, Emmanuelle heard the yacht’s engine splutter to life. And soon they were
gone.

The couple were still screaming at each other when Rebecca and Co saw them. She from the
rowing boat in which a crew member was putting her ashore, in Trebizon bay. He from the deck of
Gazelle III. Apparently she’d just given him his ring back.

Action Committee, together with Anne-Marie and Jenny, had raced down to the beach in the
gathering gloom, hoping to sight Emmanuelle returning from the island before it became
necessary to raise the alarm.

Then a taxi had passed them, trundling slowly over the firm flat sands, so they knew that
something strange was going on. They’d followed it and almost immediately seen the luxury
yacht, heading towards them from Mulberry Island.

‘Michael Deeping’s been there!’ whispered Elf. ‘That’s why Emman-uelle’s

not back. I expect she had to hide from him, that’s all!’

‘Oh, thank goodness!’ thought Rebecca.

Now, crouched in the shadow of the headland, they witnessed the extraordinary scene...

The taxi waiting on the sands, its engine running; the yacht at anchor and a member of the crew
rowing Cassie Duncan ashore with her baggage. Michael Deeping on deck, leaning over the rail,
shouting good riddance to her!

‘Looks as though she’s leaving him!’ said Tish.

‘Understatement of the year, Tish,’ pointed out Sue.

‘He was much too old for her, anyway!’ sniffed Margot.

Now Michael Deeping was bellowing across the water that he wouldn’t want to marry her,
anyway. Not a neurotic baby who believed in ghosts!

Ghosts? Rebecca and Co exchanged wide-eyed looks. Tish was clapping hand to mouth, choking
back laughter.
Cassie Duncan had seen Emmanuelle on Mulberry Island and imagined her to be a phantom!

The taxi headed inland, bearing Cassie away with her luggage. The yacht headed out to sea,
bearing Michael Deeping away from Trebizon forever.

It had all been quite dreamlike.

And then a figure came gliding towards them on top of the water, her dark green sail indiscernible
against the dark green sea. They shouted and waved to guide her safely to the spot where they
stood waiting.

‘Emmanuelle!’ shrieked Anne-Marie, tearfully, running to the water’s edge to hug her
best friend.

Tish was hopping from one foot to the other, in delight.

‘I always knew your pen friend would be marvellous fun, Rebecca!’ she exclaimed.
‘Didn’t know she was a nut-case as well!’

‘She is mad!’ agreed Mara. But her eyes were shining. ‘Now the school will buy the land
after all and my father will help. And then - ‘ She clapped her hands, as a sudden thought
occurred to her:

‘Miss Welbeck will have to let me into the Sixth Form!’

‘Don’t be silly, Mara,’ said Margot. ‘She’s going to let you in, anyway.’

And Emmanuelle, wet with spray, rucksack on back, was walking towards Rebecca with her arms
outstretched. ‘Please do not be cross with me, Rebecca,’ she was saying, over and over
again.

‘I should think the windsurf man’s going to be cross with you,’ commented Rebecca,
coolly, as Jenny and Anne-Marie carried Emmanuelle’s sail-board up the beach for her, in the
near-darkness. ‘I expect you’ll lose your deposit after this!’

‘I saw Cassie Duncan!’ announced Emmanuelle. ‘She thought I was a ghost!’

‘Yes, we know,’ Rebecca replied. ‘And that’s someone else who’d be cross with
you, if only he knew. Michael Deeping.’

‘But we’re not!’ chortled Tish. She celebrated by doing several cartwheels across the
sand.

‘We think he’s changed his mind,’ explained Sue.

‘About buying Mulberry.’

‘Yes, Emmanuelle!’ said Rebecca. ‘It looks as though we’ve got our island
back.’

And they had.

Miss Welbeck summoned Rebecca and Mara on the Saturday morning and told them the good
news. There’d been some difficulty, she explained; there’d been the possibility of another
bidder. But now he’d withdrawn! Ruddocks had telephoned Colonel Peters this morning and
formally accepted Trebizon’s offer.

‘Oh, how wonderful, Miss Welbeck,’ said Mara,

innocently.

‘I’m just sorry you weren’t able to take your pen friends to these lovely places,’
added the principal;

On the Monday morning, she announced it in assembly. The school was overjoyed. Holly and
Harriet cheered and clapped loudly.

But by that time, the Fifths being allowed to break up early, Rebecca and her pen friend were
back in London.

TWELVE

Tish Comments on
the French Exchange

The following Friday evening, the night before Rebecca’s sixteenth birthday, there came a
ring on the front doorbell. Mrs Mason answered it. Rebecca and Emmanuelle were busy in the
kitchen, making sausage rolls for the party.

To Rebecca’s relief, Emmanuelle was quite her normal self again, just as she’d been in
Paris. Not the way she’d been at Trebizon at all. She didn’t even seem to miss her best
friend Anne-Marie - the Brook-Hayes’ house was far, far away.

It had been so different at Trebizon. Even on the Saturday, her behaviour had continued to be
slightly mystifying and erratic. Just before lunch, Rebecca had found her in the room, looking
tearful. She’d quickly stuffed a blue envelope in her pocket, but not before Rebecca had
recognized it. She was crying over the letter from Ginge! Presumably it was just a nice good-bye.
But if she’d liked Ginge, she’d had a funny way of showing it. Honestly!
Then, on Saturday afternoon, Rebecca’s parents had come to collect them by car and
Emmanuelle had been a real nuisance, insisting they stop by the phone box on the top road
because she’d just remembered she must telephone her parents!

‘But you can ring them from our house in London, Emmanuelle!’

‘No, no, Rebecca. I must ring them now.’

After that, on the long drive back to London, Emmanuelle began to relax. The greater the
distance between herself and Trebizon, the more relaxed she’d become. She’d linked an
arm through Rebecca’s, as they sat in the back seat together, and made a little speech.

‘When we looked at the island again, when we were up in the castle, I knew I must go there!
’ she said. ‘I could not leave Trebizon without going there. Also, do not be hurt, I think I
would not like to go to boarding school. It crowds me in! Do you understand?’

All delivered in a low voice.

Rebecca didn’t understand at all. She was mystified. There was something unconvincing
about Emmanuelle’s explanation.

Tish and Co thought the explanation simple. They really did think that Emmanuelle was, well,
eccentric. Thoughtless. A bit of a nut-case! Rebecca was certain that wasn’t true and she
couldn’t bear it that her friends regarded her pen friend thus.

But Emmanuelle was settling down happily in London. She’d said she’d been longing for
it and that at least must have been true.

Rebecca, too, was calm again. It was such a joy to have her parents home from Saudi Arabia, for
them to be spending the school holidays together, in their own house in Clapham. It only
happened once a year! By the Friday evening, when the front doorbell rang, the week at Trebizon
was beginning to seem unreal to Rebecca, like a bad dream fading from the mind.

‘There’s somebody to see you, Becky,’ said her mother, coming into the kitchen. She
was wreathed in smiles. ‘He’s standing on the doorstep. He refuses to come in!’

‘Who, Mum?’

‘An old boy friend of yours!’

Rebecca’s heart seemed to turn a somersault.

Robbie!

Mum and Dad had always liked Robbie.

He’d know it was her birthday tomorrow, of course. He’d come to see her! To bring her a
birthday present, perhaps? Why was this ridiculous feeling of excitement seizing hold of her?
Why did she suddenly feel so happy - ?

She dusted the flour off her hands, removed her apron, and walked to the kitchen door. As she
went through into the hail, towards the figure waiting on the front doorstep, she heard
Emmanuelle give a gasp of alarm behind her then shut the kitchen door. Only dimly conscious of
this surprising reaction, Rebecca confronted the boy on the doorstep; suddenly aware that her
own spirits were sinking like a lead balloon.

‘Cliff!’ She stared at his pale, subdued face. For a moment, so sure it would be Robbie,
she’d hardly recognized him. Cliff was supposed to be in the west country! Caxton High
hadn’t even broken up yet! ‘What on earth are you doing in London?’ she asked,
feebly.

‘I decided to skip the last two days of term. No lessons anyway. We’ve got to talk,
Rebecca. It’s really, really important.’ He jerked his head towards the garden gate. ‘I
don’t want to come in. Can we walk down the road a bit?’

‘Yes. Of course we can.’

Cliff had always been very sensible.

Rebecca had to admire him for it.

He told her now, in a perfectly straightforward manner, that he and Emmanuelle had fallen in love
with one another on the night of the Commem Ball. It had happened surprisingly, overwhelmingly.
Dancing together and afterwards laughing and talking together for hours, down on the beach.
Emmanuelle had pretended to go back to Court House with the others but then slipped back
secretly, wanting to spend more time with him.

He’d begged Emmanuelle to be allowed to tell Rebecca what had happened. But overcome
with guilt, she’d refused. Instead, she’d avoided him all week. Had gone to extraordinary
lengths to do so. The letter in the blue envelope wasn’t from Ginge at all but from Cliff
himself. A last, desperate, pleading letter that she must tell Rebecca what had happened, in the
hope they’d be able to see each other in London. But once again, speaking to him from a
phone box before she left the west country, Emmanuelle had refused, saying it was better that
they never saw each other again.

Rebecca’s head was reeling at all this. How was it she’d never guessed? Everyone’s
unpredictable sometimes, Cliff had told her. But he hadn’t meant her. He’d meant
himself!

‘I’ve got to see her, Rebecca, I’ve never been in love before. I’d no idea it felt like
this.’
‘Same with Emmanuelle, I suspect,’ Rebecca said, remembering with sudden vividness
how she’d been weeping over Cliff’s letter.

Oh, poor, poor Emmanuelle!

They’d reached the end of the street and turned the corner. Cliff sat down on somebody’s
low front wall and pulled Rebecca down next to him. He put an arm round her shoulders and
looked into her face.

‘And really, Becky, it’s all been crazy, hasn’t it? I mean we’ve always loved each
other, you and I. Haven’t we?’

‘Yes.’

‘And we always will love each other.’

‘Yes.’

‘But we’re not in love, are we?’

Rebecca thought about it. She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think we are, Cliff.’ She
knew that, now.

Being in love with someone felt different altogether.

‘You mean, you are not angry with me, Rebecca?’

After Cliff had departed, Rebecca found that her pen friend had gone upstairs and locked herself
in her bedroom. Emmanuelle was shocked and shaken. What was he doing in London?
Hadn’t she told him? Oh! Just when she’d been getting over the whole thing, that he
should pop up like a jack-in-the-box. This was a nightmare!

It had taken Rebecca some time to calm her down.

And now Emmanuelle was staring at Rebecca in astonishment. Cliff had told her! And she
wasn’t angry. She was smiling sweetly at her...

‘Rebecca, I do not understand. You told me in your letter how much you loved Cliff. I thought
-‘

‘Yes. I thought so too,’ said Rebecca, humbly. ‘I really, really thought so. But I was
wrong. I only realized it a few minutes ago.’

When it hadn’t been the person she’d hoped for, standing on the doorstep.
She handed Emmanuelle a scrap of paper. ‘Arnie’s phone number. That’s where
Cliff’s staying. Just round the corner from here. He says if you feel like seeing a film tonight,
give him a ring.’ Emmanuelle took the scrap of paper, wondrously. ‘You do not mind,
Rebecca?’

Rebecca almost hesitated. It was going to be a bit strange, no longer imagining herself to be the
most important person in Cliff’s life.

‘Of course I don’t mind!’ she said quickly.

‘Should I - should I telephone him, do you think?’

‘Of course, you idiot!’ Rebecca smiled. She’d just realized something. ‘Cliff in
London! Isn’t that great! He can come to my party tomorrow and bring Arnie. We’re short
of boys!’

When he came to collect Emmanuelle, after supper, Mrs Mason was intrigued, though totally
unaware of any drama.

‘You wrote and told us the Hayneses had moved to the west country, Becky!’ she said.

‘They have. But Cliff’s come up to stay with Arnie. Just while Emmanuelle’s here.’

‘You’ve found her a nice boy friend, then!’

‘Yes, Mum.’ And Rebecca was thinking: The biggest challenge. Little did I know.

It suddenly occurred to Rebecca that her mother used to refer to Cliff as ‘your boy friend’,
long ago, when they’d been little. That’s why she’d called him ‘an old boy friend of
yours’ earlier. She’d never have referred to Robbie like that. Mum and Dad were months
behind with the news. As far as they were concerned, Robbie was in the present tense.

‘I’ve got some phone calls to make, Dad,’ she said, later. ‘Is that okay?’

She was impatient to ring her friends.

She wanted to prepare them for what they’d discover at the party tomorrow night. But it was
more than that. She couldn’t bear them thinking for one minute longer that Emmanuelle was
horribly unpredictable, a bit of a nut-case. That her behaviour had been thoughtless and
unfeeling. It had been quite the reverse.

Thank goodness for Cliff’s good sense. Otherwise she would never, ever have known the
truth. And she wanted her friends to know it, too.
‘Oh, Rebecca!’ exclaimed Mara, the first to be rung. ‘So all the time Emmanuelle has
been the most wonderful and loyal friend, not wishing to be hurtful but to save you from the hurt!
And you do not mind?’ she added in wonder. She was staying on in England, with Aunty
Papademas, while Christelle was here. And still missing Curly quite badly. ‘Then you could not
have been truly in love!’

‘I wasn’t, Mara What Cliff and I feel is just...well, peaceful. You were right about it not being
like that. You were right, after all! Can you phone Margot and Sue for me?’

They’d both be coming to the party with their pen friends. Elf and Marie-Laure were up in
Scotland.

‘I’ll ring Tish myself.’

‘Fish was relaxing at home, luxuriating in the fact that Sandrine was staying at the London flat
with Helen for a few days, having found the Hertfordshire countryside boring. And having a good
time, thank goodness. At least you knew where you stood with Sandrine! Not like Emmanuelle...

‘Good grief, Rebeck!’ she exclaimed, when she heard the news.

Robbie was in the kitchen. He’d just got back from his supermarket job in Baldock and was
searching for something to eat.

As he heard Tish say Rebecca’s name, he froze.

‘And you don’t mind? But I thought you and Cliff...’

Robbie was ashamed of himself. He was eavesdropping. But he just couldn’t stop himself. As
he strained his ears, he heard Tish saying that somebody or other was really saintly. And then he
heard his sister laugh.

‘Well, after all, they do call it a French Exchange!’ she said.

The next day, Rebecca’s birthday party was a huge success. Her friends greeted
Emmanuelle with great warmth and respect. And Cliff made the party go with a swing; he was a
good party person.

Her parents were slightly surprised that Robbie didn’t come.

Rebecca felt the estrangement was too complicated to explain so merely told them (as she’d
gathered from Tish) that he was working all hours.

Later though, when Cliff and Emmanuelle and Mr Mason were in the kitchen, doing all the
washing up as a birthday finale, Rebecca showed her mother his birthday present. He’d sent
it along via Tish. It was a finely-bound edition of Emily Dickinson’s poetry.
‘He knows I’ve always liked her poems, Mum.’

But she didn’t show anyone Robbie’s birthday card. It had a few private lines scribbled in
it.

Happy birthday, sweet sixteen. When are you going to write some more poems yourself? I’ve
got a new car on the road and I’m stacking shelves at Tesco to help pay for it. The farmer
who used to give me work has sold the land off for a golf course. England as we know it is fast
disappearing, isn’t it? I feel in limbo until I get my A-level results. I’m going to drive down
to Garth on the day, to collect them in person. Dr Simpson wants to see me, to discuss my
“future”. (?) Might come and see you afterwards. By the way, I’ve joined the local Air
Training Corps here. It’s good. Fingers crossed for your GCSEs. I really meant it when I said
I hope you get good grades. But maybe I’ll see you before then.

Love Robbie X

She put it safely away in a box on her dressing table. Happy, as time passed, simply to know it
was there.

THIRTEEN

An Unforgettable Year

Somewhere around the middle of August, Robbie parked his car in the field above Mulberry Cove
and walked out on to the headland. He was in a state of euphoria. He’d got the top A-level
marks at Garth College this year. It was amazing. He’d heard the news in shocked disbelief.

Now it was evening.

He drank in deep breaths of sea air and surveyed the cove beneath him. Helen and Tish had
demanded a progress report. Rebecca would want to know, too.

Well, there it was. Helen’s hundred pounds had gone to the best of all causes. Everything as
it always had been; as it should be; as he’d always remember it. Barbed wire fences gone.
Sailing school back in business. There was Jock himself, checking over the boats.

Mulberry Castle up on the hill there. No eyesores would ever appear in front of it now. It looked
fantastic in this light.

And out there, with the red-gold sea behind it, Mulberry Island.

The sale had gone through then. Everything was okay. The girls would be pleased.
Everything was okay for him, too. So okay it was unbelievable.

He was going to make it as a member of the human race!

It had been decided that he’d have a gap year and then read for a maths degree. Dr Simpson
said that anything else would be a total waste, the marks he’d got in the special papers!

They’d spent the afternoon filling in his Oxford application form and talking about other
universities he should apply to, in October. And that wasn’t even the end of it.

‘If you do want to try again for the RAF, you should go for a University Cadetship this time. If
you’re accepted, you’ll go up to university as an acting pilot officer and the RAF will
sponsor you all the way through your maths degree. I think in your case, Robbie, particularly,
they’re looking for a hit more maturity.’

The headmaster had been making discreet enquiries and discovered that the invitation to Robbie
to try again next year was, as he’d suspected, a rare compliment.

‘It means they thought very highly of you as a candidate. It was probably felt that you’d
decided to apply rather suddenly. They have to be convinced someone’s commitment to a
service career is total. It costs a great deal of money to train a pilot!’

‘I think it’s total, sir. Did I tell you I’ve joined my local ATC?’

Dr Simpson was pleased about that. He impressed on Robbie that it should be mentioned on his
university applications, together with the fact that he’d just had a successful trial with Hornets,
an important rugby club.

‘And of course these things must go down on your new application for the RAF, in due course.
You can fill that in later, when you’ve had time to reflect. When you have a firm offer of a
university place, I suggest. If you decide to go ahead, don’t leave it too long. No last-minute-
itis this time. I’m sure they will consider you an excellent candidate for a University
Cadetship. Your A-level marks have surprised even me, Robbie!’

‘And if I don’t get into the RAF, sir?’

‘You’ll graduate in maths, no doubt with first class honours, and be eminently
employable.’ They both stood up. He shook Robbie warmly by the hand. ‘We live in the
computer age, Robert, after all.’

‘Yes, sir. They even fly by computer!’

Now, as dusk fell, Robbie stood on the headland feeling happy. It hardly seemed possible that
only a few, short weeks ago he’d felt so miserable. That awful day! His last day at Garth
College. Drained and exhausted by A-levels. It had seemed the worst day of his life. Justin had
been looking forward to Oxford; everybody seemed to know exactly where they were going; and
all he had felt was a terrible blankness, and a sense of failure.

The way he’d tortured himself, going over to Trebizon to watch Rebecca’s tennis match!
What had he been hoping for? She wasn’t even wearing the lucky brooch he’d given her,
the silver one. And who could blame her?

These brilliant, incredible exam results made him Feel quite differently about himself. What was it
someone had written, about hearing the grass singing? He was sure he could hear it singing
tonight!

He looked towards the big oak and for a moment had a memory of Rebecca there, in the
distance, coming towards him through the lush green grass. Holding on to her hat in the breeze,
skirt blowing, a hunch of celandines in her hand. He’d been waiting for her to catch him up,
one day last year, when they’d been out on a walk together.

He returned to the car and drove back to Garth College.

Mr Slade, his former housemaster, had told him not to drive back to London tonight, after such a
long day, but to sleep in his old bed at Syon.

Well, he’d snatch a few hours’ sleep there. But not too many.

He rose in the early hours and left a farewell note, saying he had to get back to Hertfordshire, to
his supermarket job.

Then he drove into the darkness but heading for south London. They were playing I drove all
night on Radio One and after that its urgent rhythm kept going through his head.

Rebecca woke early that morning to the sound of tiny stones rattling against the glass pane. She
climbed sleepily out of bed, looked out of the window and saw Robbie waiting below.

She tip-toed downstairs in her dressing gown, silently opened the front door to let him in and then
silently closed it after him.

‘My parents are asleep!’ she whispered.

He fluttered the computer printout under her nose. His A-level results! His dark curly hair stood up
wildly. He was unshaven, elated. She took the printout from him and gasped at his marks.

Robbie! Without thinking, seeing him so happy, she flung her arms round him. Congrat...

Suddenly he, too, was holding her very tightly and he was kissing her, trembling like a leaf. They
both were.
She made him coffee in the kitchen and for an hour they talked in low voices about all the trials
and tribulations of the last two terms and also how much they meant to each other.

‘I’m so pleased you’re going to try again, then, for the RAF,’ said Rebecca quietly.
It was such a relief that he’d told her everything at last. She didn’t have to pretend not to
know any longer! ‘And if you don’t make it -?‘

‘I’ll get over it.’ He grinned. ‘At least I think I’m going to make it as a human
being!’

He left the house shortly after, before her parents woke up.

He really did need to get back to his job at the supermarket.

Rebecca was glad that Robbie was going to make it and she only hoped that she was, too. It was
another ten days before the GCSE results were out. Miss Welbeck had told her there was still
time but was there?

On the fateful day that the results arrived, Rebecca snatched the envelope from the postman,
rushed past her parents in the hall and took it straight up to her bedroom.

Her hands were literally shaking as she tore it open and pulled out the contents. A computer
printout, headed Name...Candidate Number... Subject...Grade...

Quickly she worked out from the key her grades in each subject:

Biology, D. Mathematics, C. English, A. English literature, A. Geography, E. German, C. Latin, A.

French, A. History, B.

B, an unbelievable B, for history!

An A for both French and Latin!

Two As and a B for the three subjects she wanted to study at A-level!

‘Yippee!’ she shouted at the top of her voice. She took a flying leap on to her bed and
trampolined up and down on it. ‘Yippee...yippee...yippee!’

Her parents came rushing up the stairs.

‘Are you all right, Becky?’

‘All right? I’m delirious!’ She jumped off the bed and handed them the precious piece
of paper. ‘Look, Mum. Look, Dad. I’ve made it!’
Pleased, they took it downstairs to study. ‘We’ll put the kettle on and have breakfast,
Becky!’ Rebecca lay on her bed, flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling as a delicious
feeling of happiness suffused her whole being.

She’d be accepted for the A-level history now. Giving up that tennis contract hadn’t been
in vain, after all. She’d be going back to Trebizon! Of course, they’d have let her come
back to school to do other things but it was the history she wanted and now she’d be allowed
to do it! Now, at last, she knew where she was going.

Back for the Sixth. Two more years at Trebizon. First year in Willoughby, second year in
Parkinson. Lovely houses, both of them. Lots more privileges now!

She’d start playing tennis again, seriously. Have another go at the Darling Cup next summer.
Maybe some county coaching, too; nothing too stressful.

And she’d work in the lovely library and get brilliant A-levels and go to university, like the rest
of her friends. She’d start writing poetry again, as Robbie suggested. Maybe she’d be
editor of the Trebizon Journal one day!

And they’d all go to Mulberry Island. In September, when they got back. They’d get
permission and Harry would take them over there. Apparently Miss Welbeck had plans to make it
a kind of wild place, even wilder than it was now. More trees; vegetation; wild flowers. And maybe
red squirrels. They’d be safe from the grey ones there. The Old Trebizonians had all had a
letter about it.

And one day perhaps, when it really didn’t matter any more and wouldn’t get
Emmanuelle into trouble, they’d tell Miss Welbeck about the phantom of the island!

What an unforgettable year it had been.

She heard the faint burr of the telephone downstairs. Then her mother’s voice calling up to
her: ‘You’re wanted, Becky!’

She roused herself from her reverie, got off the bed and moved towards the door. It started to
race through her mind who it might be, making the first phone call of the day.

Was it Mara, ca1ling from Athens, hot from ringing the school for her own results? Or
Emmanuelle, ringing from Paris? And incidentally longing to talk about Cliff! Both of them had
promised to phone. Would Mara’s grades be okay? Oh, yes, surely!

Or would it be Tish? Or Sue...Margot...Elf...? All anxious to know how she’d done - and, as far
as those four themselves were concerned, nothing lower than a B grade to their names!

Cliff, ditto?
In the course of that wonderful and most thrilling of days, when the telephone never seemed to
stop ringing, Rebecca received each one of those calls, and they all proved to be satisfyingly as
predicted. There were others, too.... Roberta Jones had done very well, in the end, and so,
apparently, had Deborah Rickard.

But the person making that very first call of the day, who wasn’t even prepared to wait until
after breakfast to know her results, was Robbie.