Виктория Холт - Time of the Hunter's Moon

It seemed that rehearsals were going on all the time and it was more like a theatre than a school.

"It pleases the parents and we'll do it the day before break-up," said Daisy. "However, we'll have a show two weeks earlier to make sure it is all right for Parents' Day."

Eugenie had another attack in the middle of the night. We didn't take much notice. We were used to those attacks now. It was just something that did not agree with her.

"We must find out what it is," said Daisy. "It seems the poor child has a weak stomach ... nothing serious. When we discover what is causing these upsets we shall be able to stop them."

Eugenie seemed to take the attacks lightly, for two days later she was playing Juliet with great verve.

There was an atmosphere of Christmas in the town. The shop windows displayed goods and invited people to shop early for Christmas. Mrs. Baddicombe had a special window full of cards and had white cotton wool on strings like beads hanging down to give an impression of falling snow.

When I went in, she said: "Do you like my window? Christmassy, don't 'ee think? And how is it up at the school now? Getting ready for the break. Mind you there's a whole month to go yet."

I said we were all well and I hoped it was the same with her.

"We're that busy," she said, "and likely to get more. How's that Miss Verringer? I heard she was very poorly. That maid up there ... she said the poor girl was very ill, and she wouldn't be surprised if she were sickening for something."

"That's nonsense. She just has a weak stomach, that's all."

"Weak stomachs can be a sign of something worse ... according to that maid of yours ..."

"What maid?"

"The foreign-looking one. Oh, she's not really foreign but there's something different about her. Elsa ... is it?"

"Oh I know. She talked about Miss Verringer, did she?"

Mrs. Baddicombe nodded. "If you want my opinion, she's upset about her sister going off like that. Nobody's ever heard where she be to, have they?"

"I daresay she'll be bringing her husband home in due course," I said.

"It's to be hoped she's got one."

"Mrs. Baddicombe, you shouldn't ..."

"But you know what men are. Or perhaps you don't. But you'll find out." Her eyes twinkled. "Soon, I shouldn't wonder."

I found all my resentment rising against her. I did not want her inventing illnesses for Eugenie so I hesitated and said: "Miss Verringer is quite well. We haven't any anxiety about her health."

"Well nobody could be more glad than me to hear that. If you ask me that girl ... what's her name ... Elsa? ... I reckon she's a bit of a gossip."

I couldn't help smiling and Mrs. Baddicombe went on: "She's not a bad-looking girl. I think she's got someone tucked away ... in foreign parts, I reckon."

"What do you mean ... tucked away?"

"I reckon she's over here saving up to get married. She's always writing to someone ... and it's a man. I've seen the name on the envelope when she's sticking on the stamp. A Mr. Somebody ... I couldn't quite see the name. Well, it's not easy upside-down. I said to her I said in fun like, "Oh, another love letter eh?" and she just smiled and wouldn't say a thing. When you think how she'll come in here and talk ... But some can be close about themselves though ready enough to talk of others. But I know there's somebody. She's always writing to him. And he seems to be on the move a bit ... sometimes it's one country, sometimes another. I have to look up the cost of the stamp. France ... Germany ... Austria ... Switzerland .. . all of them places. Last time it was Austria."

"Perhaps she has lovers in all those places," I said.

"No, it's the same one ... as far as I can see. Sometimes she'll get the stamps and don't put them on at the counter. Then I am in the dark."

"How perverse of her."

"Well, that's life, ain't it? You'll be going home soon I expect. Nice for you."

I bought my stamps and came out.

I always felt there was something sinister about that abnormal curiosity of hers. The idea of checking up on the stamps people bought and not only speculating about the recipients of the mail but discussing it with anyone who came into the shop!

Towards the end of November it started to snow.

"They boast in this part of the world that they only see snow once in seventeen years," commented Eileen. "This is two years running. We must be approaching another ice age."

The girls enjoyed it. It was fun for them to be cut off for several days. From our windows the ruins looked like something out of another world-ethereal and delicately beautiful.

"I wish the wind would drop," I said. "When it blows from the north it makes queer whining noises like souls in distress."

Eileen said: "It must be all those monks rising up in protest against old Henry who destroyed their Abbey."

"That's no reason why they should complain to us," I pointed out.

"They're complaining about the injustices of the world," retorted Eileen. "Mind you, we all feel like that sometimes."

"Oh, Eileen, you're contented enough."

"I shall be when we break up for Christmas. Just imagine the bliss. No more trying to make Constables out of people who can't draw a straight line. The only one here who has a modicum of talent is Eugenie Verringer, though Teresa Hurst is coming on nicely. No more lovers of Verona and that wretched pound of flesh. Clare Simpson sounds more like a pork butcher than a brilliant young lawyer. It was a great mistake to cast her as Portia."

"She has two young sisters, candidates for the Academy," I pointed out. "Don't forget parents will be coming to the perfected performance."

"Who knows, it might be enough to put them off forever. I must say Charlotte makes a fair Romeo. She's quite a good actress, that girl. I don't think Eugenie is right for Juliet, but then the poor girl lost her sister. I wonder how Sir Henry Irving would like to choose his actors for Daisy's reasons?"

"Oh, Eileen, it is only the school play!"

Eileen put on an air of mock despair. "How can I be expected to produce a masterpiece when you, my fellow conspirator in this impossible task, see it only as the school play!"

So it went on. The sessions in the calefactory were a great relief and Eileen was always amusing. There wasn't one who was not looking forward with anticipation to the Christmas holidays.

It was the beginning of December. The cold persisted although we were able to get out. Miss Hetherington allowed tobogganing down the gentle slope and the girls were enjoying it immensely. The gardeners had made extra toboggans so that several of the girls could indulge at the same time.

Then one night I was awakened. This time by Eugenie.

"Miss Grant. Miss Grant." She was shaking me. "Wake up. Charlotte. She's ill... just as I was."

I hastily put on my dressing gown and slippers and went to their room.

This was worse than Eugenie's attacks. Charlotte was writhing in pain; she was very sick and her face was the same colour as the sheets.

I said: "Get Miss Hetherington at once."

Daisy came and I could see that even she was alarmed. This was a different aspect of the case. Eugenie might have had a weakness, but when another girl was taken iii that was a serious matter.

"We'll get the doctor at once," she said. "Go down to the stables and see if you can find Tom Rolt. Send him off immediately. Better put something warm on first. We don't want you down with pneumonia."

I hastily put on boots and a cloak and dashed out, my steps crunching on the snow, the wind blowing my hair about my face. I found Tom Rolt, who lived over the stables. He was disgruntled at being called out and it took him a little time to get the trap ready. He took it because he said he would be able to bring the doctor back with him.