03.5 Visitors for the Chalet School (19 page)

Joey, looking and feeling much happier, bounded off upstairs. And Madge first gave a moment to straightening the pretty chair-covers and then went to put through her call to the sanatorium.

Having once decided to cast care to the winds, Joey set out to enjoy the rest of the weekend holiday with almost too much enthusiasm. The quiet walk that Madge had planned came near to becoming a riot, for Jo was so full of energy that merely walking was far too dull for her. First of all, she run races with the Robin, giving her, of course, a giant start each time, and then catching her up in a great flurry of arms and legs.

Rufus added to the confusion by bounding round them in enormous circles, traveling at least ten yards to every one of theirs. Eventually, when the Robin panted that she had not “not one tiny little breath lift”, Joey offered her a “pick-a-back” ride, but at this Madge intervened: “Joey-Baba, do try to think occasionally”

You know quite well that Jem disapproves of your carrying the Robin; she’s getting too heavy for you now.”

So Jo was forced to curb her high spirits; and, to Madge’s relief, she walked sedately hand-in-hand with the little girl, telling her as they as they went a fascinating story about a water-nymph.

“Joey, did you really say she lived
under
a stream?” queried the Robin, wide-eyed.

“Yes, right underneath – water-nymphs do, you know. And this particular water-nymph was specially lucky;
her
home was under that gorgeous little waterfall in the Zillerthal, the one we saw last summer, remember?”

They collected Patricia from the sanatorium, but Dr Russell, having discovered various matters that needed his attention, announced that he must remain at the hospital and would rejoin them later.

Back at Die Rosen, Frieda and Elisaveta were impatiently awaiting them. We’ll have
Kaffee
right away, girls,” Mrs Russell decided. “So will you all go and wash and tidy now? After
Kaffee
I expect the Robin would like a game of Hide-and-Seek, wouldn’t you,
mein Vogelein?”

The Robin beamed and the idea met with general approval.

“I’m going to enjoy it, too,” Joey remarked as she took the stairs to the bathroom two at a time. “Will you play, Patricia?”

“Yes, indeed; unless you think I’m too old, of course,” Patricia retorted.

In the
Speisesal
they found a sumptuous feast prepared for them. Marie Pfeifen had made an extra-special chocolate
Torte
covered with whipped cream to celebrate Fraulein Joey’s birthday; and there were also some delicious little cakes that Madge had bought the previous day in Innsbruck.

Joey proceeded to entertain them with a spirited account of the pranks played by the Middles on “Mischief Monday”. She soon had the whole party laughing helplessly at her description of Matron descending, “like a wolf on the fold”, upon the hapless Evadne and her friends. Even Madge, torn between feeling scandalized and amused, could not help joining in the laughter. But eventually, noticing the Robin’s big brown eyes fixed on Joey in utter fascination, as the tales of wickedness unfolded, she pulled herself together and said severely: “Well, I think they were extremely lucky that Matron was not harder on them; they were really very childish and naughty. And I hope, Jo, that you did not join in any of this silliness.”

“Oh, Madge, of course not! As if I’d want to play a stupid game with needles.” No one could possibly have guessed, from Joey’s air of outraged virtue, how often she had been a ringleader in the most outrageous scrapes.

She kept up the pretence for a full half-minute; then she burst out laughing and confessed with a sheepish grin: “As a matter of fact I wasn’t even at mending that night. Matron thought I might be starting a cold ‘cos I was a little hoarse – sort of croaky, you know – and she shot me off to bed before
Abendessen
.”

Madge gave a quick apprehensive look at her sister. Jo had been very delicate as a small child, and even now, when two-and-a-half years in the Tiernsee air had done wonders for her, a careful watch still had to be kept over her health.

“Oh, I’m absolutely fine now, Madge,” Joey, seeing the look, reassured her. “It was only a sort of ‘safety first’, making me go to bed; no end of a bore though.”

At this point the Robin created a diversion. She had been looking puzzled during Joey’s recent remarks and now asked: “Joey,
why
did Matron send you to bed? You were not naughty, were you?”

“No, sweetheart; well, not this time, anyway. Matron just thought I might be getting a cold.”

“But Joey, it did sound so strange before when you said – how was it? – you
said
you were a little ‘horse’.

Qu’est-ce que cela veut dire, alors? Un petit cheval, non? Mais ce n’est pas possible.
“

No one would have dreamed of laughing at her. During the first six of her eight years the Robin had spoken mostly French; and although she now coped very well with English (and was making rapid progress with German), she still had trouble occasionally when she met a unfamiliar English expression.

While Joey explained the difference between “hoarse” and “horse”, Madge poured out more coffee. “And I think Patricia might like another cake,” she said. “Please pass the plate, Robin, dear.”

Elisaveta had been deep in discussion with Frieda. She now turned accusingly to Jo: “Do you mean to say, Joey, that you did not even
see
this duel between Evadne and Suzanne?” Her eyes were wide with astonishment.

And Frieda added, in tones of awe: “If I did not know you had gone to bed that night, Joey, I could not believe it. How then is it that you are able to tell the story like this, just as if really you would have been there, and would have seen it all?”

“Oh, that’s just my literary genius,” Jo assured her complacently. “Miss Annersley was telling us in English that it’s part of the writer’s craft to project themselves into other people’s situations – sort of like a periscope,” she added vaguely.

Madge pounced on her. “Joey Bettany! I don’t know anything about your ‘literary genius’, but that must be the fourth time recently you’ve said ‘sort of’, and it isn’t even good English. You really must try not to use the same expressions over and over again; at one time I remember it was ‘awfully’ in every sentence, and now it seems to be ‘sort of’.”

“And it gets ‘sort of awfully’ boring,” Joey agreed, not at all abashed. “Oh, sorry, Madge! I really will try to remember.”

“Would anyone like more cake?” Madge looked round the table. “Or another cup of coffee?”

Everyone declined politely, and she suggested they should go and sit quietly in the
salon
for five minutes before starting their game of Hide-and-Seek. They all set to work to clear the things from the table and take them through to the kitchen to Marie Pfeifen. Patricia and Frieda collected the pretty cups, saucers and plates that had been made in the Tiernkirch pottery. Jo fetched a large tray from the kitchen, and she and Elisaveta stacked the things on to it. Even the Robin helped: she insisted on carrying the large coffee jug, firmly rejecting Joey’s suggestion that the cake plates would be easier to manage.

“Anyway, the tray’s certainly a lot lighter without the jug,” Jo remarked as she carried the tray from the room. “Sort of – I mean,
like
the camel’s back without the last straw.”

In the
salon
they threw themselves in to comfortable chairs, and the Robin climbed on to Madge’s knee.

For a moment no one spoke. Then Elisavea gave a sudden gurgle of laughter and hastily apologized: “I beg pardon, Madame – I was just remembering something that happened with Evadne in our German lesson last week. It was so
very
funny.”

“I’m not sure I want to listen to any more of Evadne’s misdeeds,” Madge said repressively.

“Oh, but Madame, this was not anything naughty,” Elisaveta assured her. “It was just a mis¾” she hesitated.

“Mistake?” was Joey’s suggestion.

“Well, yes, it was a mistake; but I think I meant misunderstanding. You see, at our lesson we had each in turn to make up and say a short sentence in German, describing what someone was doing. And Margia said:

‘
Evadne isst ein Ei’;
and Evvy was cross and said that Margia was ‘real mean’ to call her an egg.”

Everyone laughed, except for the Robin, contentedly sitting on her Tante Marguérite’s lap and listening only from time to time, and Patricia, who had not got the point.

“But then, I still don’t see – I mean, how could she be an egg?”

Joey choked back her giggles at the picture this presented.

“You see, ‘
isst
‘ with a double ‘s’ comes from the verb ‘
essen
‘, which is ‘to eat’; it’s nothing to do with

‘is’; it means ‘eats’ or ‘is eating’. So of course Margia didn’t mean that Evvy was an egg; just that¾”

“¾she was eating an egg.” Patricia completed the sentence. “Yes, I see. It’s funny the words being so alike.” And she grinned appreciatively.

“Who’s going to be the first to ‘seek’?” Jo brought their thoughts back to the game. But Madge had recalled something.

“Gracious, Joey” I nearly forgot altogether – there’s a parcel for you. It arrived here yesterday.”

Joey looked at her in surprise.

“It’s probably a birthday present,” Madge went on, “and I think you’d better open it today in case it’s something you don’t want to take back to school; then you could leave it here.”

Madge went to get the parcel from the next room and Patricia asked: “What day is your birthday, Joey? It isn’t today, is it?”

“Oh, no, it’s not for several days,” Jo answered. “Goodness, Madge, what a monster of a parcel…

Whatever can it be?”

Her sister had returned carrying a large brown paper packet tied with mch string, and the knots sealed with red sealing wax. Madge handed the parcel to Jo, who all but dropped it in astonishment.

“But Madge, it’s so light. I thought it was going to weigh a ton. What on earth is inside it?” She peered at the name and address which were written in a large sloping hand, and remarked: “I don’t know the writing, do you? Jolly peculiar, I’d say; wouldn’t you?”

Madge also had thought the writing odd; indeed, had it not seemed so unlikely, she would have thought it a disguised hand.

“I do wish you’d hurry up and open it, and not stand looking at it any longer,” complained Elisaveta.

“Shall I help you undo the knots?”

And the Robin offered her assistance: “Me, I will help too, Joey. Miss Durrant has told us at Brownies that we should always keep the string from parcels, so I think you will not want to cut it.”

Joey had been considering doing just that: but she hastily changed her ideas and accepted their help.

Frieda collected the string as it came off the parcel and made it into a neat roll. Patricia sat on the sofa watching them all; there was a curious expression on her face, but the others were too occupied to notice.

At last the three got all the knots undone and Joey impatiently pulled off the paper. “Oh, bother it all, there’s more paper inside, and simply yards more string.”

“It must be something very precious.” Elisaveta began to tackle the inner layer. Two frenzied minutes later yet another layer was revealed.

“I bet anything it’s one of those ghastly trick parcels where you go on and on undoing the wrapping and in the end there’s nothing inside,” said Jo morosely. She stood for a moment sucking the top of her finger, which she had pinched in a particularly obstinate knot.

“Surely no one would do such an unkind thing,” said Frieda. “See, Joey, if you will take this” – she handed Jo the rapidly growing ball of string – “I will help the others with the untying.”

“Thanks, Frieda; and Robin darling, you and I could fold up the paper.” Jo had seen that eight-year-old was becoming a little daunted at the prospect of still more knots.

“Goodness me, Jo, you’re not still undoing that parcel?” An astonished Madge was standing in the doorway. After giving Joey the packet she had retired next door to her husband’s study in order to finish off the letter interrupted by the morning’s discussion with Patricia. “I thought you would have finished long ago; who can possibly have sent it?” Madge watched fascinated as yet another piece of brown wrapping was removed, revealing this time, to everyone’s relief, a large cardboard box.

“At least, Joey, there is something in the parcel, after all.” Elisaveta stood back to let Jo open the box for herself.

The others crowded round to watch. Even Patricia got up from her corner of the sofa and stood peering over Frida’s shoulder.

Joey whipped off the lid and gave a heartfelt, groan. The box appeared to be entirely filled with pieces of crumpled newspaper and tissue-paper.

“I’m not sure there is anything here, Veta.” Jo plunged her hands in among the paper. “¾Ah, now, wait a moment…” There was an agonizing interval. Then Joey, with a little smile, said: “Here, Robin, you come and search. I think perhaps you just might be able to find something.”

The Robin, her face full of expectation, went forward and rummaged in the box. Her little arms were immersed to the shoulders. Another long moment passed; then the Robin gave an exclamation and withdrew a small narrow rectangular package.

“Well, I don’t care a fig what anybody says, I’m jolly well going to cut the knots on this one.” And Joey, disregarding a half-hearted protest from Frieda, snatched a pair of scissors from her sister’s desk and began snipping through the string.

“Wait a minute, Jo!” Madge called. “What does that writing say?”

Jo stopped in the act of tearing off the last wrapping. There was something written in the same curious hand as the address had been.

“It just says, “Happy Birthday, Joey!” Not a word about who sent it,” and Jo continued ripping off the paper.

“Oh, Joey…but it is so lovely!” Frieda, standing nearest to JO, was the first to see the picture emerge. It was a watercolour painting, in a plain wooden frame: to the right of the foreground was the Chalet School, behind it the pine woods and the slopes of the Bärenkopf mountain; while to the left, the waters of the Tiernsee stretched into the far distance.