Chapter Four

 Sally and Mildred Play Chess

‘You have a letter from Felicity,’ Sally said, walking into Darrell’s bedroom and handing her the manila envelope. 

    ‘Have you opened it?’ 

    ‘Of course not,’ Sally replied. 

    ‘How do you know it’s from Felicity, then?’ 

    ‘Who else would be sending you letters?’ Sally had a point, but Darrell didn’t like to admit it. ‘Also, it’s from Cornwall, see.’ 

    Darrell noted the frosty silence in the room, but she did nothing to dispel it, in point of fact, she rather enjoyed it, for some strange reason. 

    Sally said something about liking Darrell’s room more than her own. Darrell agreed. She had nabbed the best room out of the four bedrooms the girls shared on their floor. Darrell’s room had a stone balcony. She hadn’t stepped out onto it yet. Through some vague reasoning, she had decided that it might be good to save the balcony for a special occasion. It may prove a useful thinking space. The balcony allowed a good view of the street, which twisted and turned like ancient streets should. You could also see the water’s edge from it. Darrell would discover these views later, when the time came for her to stand on her balcony and consider her situation. 

    Darrell opened the letter. 

    It was indeed from her sister. Felicity had made more of an effort with her handwriting this time, after Darrell berated her in her previous correspondence. But the meat of the letter was as predictable as ever. Darrell wondered if she had ever been as dull as her sister. Of course, it did not occur to Darrell that she may still be this dull. 

    ‘What does she say?’ 

    ‘Oh, the usual,’ Darrell sighed, sitting cross legged on her messy bed. Her hair was unbrushed, her eyes were puffy; she had just woken. ‘Malory Towers this, Malory Towers that.’ Darrell scanned the letter. ‘North Tower is being refurbished,’ Darrell read, impersonating her younger sister. ‘It’s made a jolly mess for us all, and we’ve been forced to sleep with the girls from South Tower for two weeks. Can you imagine, Darrell, a whole two weeks away from North Tower? It doesn’t do,’ Darrell continued reading aloud, ‘for a Malory Towers girl to be away from her place for too long, especially our lovely North Tower.’ Darrell put the letter to one side. ‘I don’t think I have the energy to read the rest, in all honesty.’ 

    ‘But she must have spent ages writing it.’ 

    Darrell lifted the letter toward Sally and told her she could read it. Sally sighed; she was accustomed to Darrell’s morning sarcasm. 

    ‘What’s your balcony like? I wish I had one.’ 

   ‘You’re in here enough,’ Darrell replied, moodily, ‘it might as well be your bedroom.’ 

   ‘You know that’s rot.’ 

    Sally straightened her shoulders. Darrell bit her nails and fixed her friend. 

   ‘I think I’ll go for a walk today,’ Darrell said, before yawning loudly. ‘It’s boring here and I don’t think much of those girls.’ 

   ‘What do you mean?’ 

    ‘Mildred and her friend.’ 

    ‘You know her name is Samantha. I think they’re fine.’ 

    ‘And who was that boy last night? Samantha kissed his cheek. Are we allowed boys here? I had not been informed of this rule change.’

    ‘That was Samantha’s brother,’ Sally said. ‘There is no rule. You know that Darrell Rivers. You can do as you please, as you so often do.’ 

    ‘What do you mean by that?’ 

    ‘I’m no simpleton. I know you couldn’t have been swimming from the afternoon to the dead of night. You saw him. You probably,’ but Sally couldn’t finish her sentence. 

   ‘I probably what?’ Darrell said, still cross legged but leaning forward. She watched Sally shift nervously on the spot. ‘I probably slept with him?’ 

    ‘That’s your business, Darrell, I’m not in every part of your life.’ 

    ‘That’s right, Sally Hope, you are not.’ 

    Darrell unraveled her legs and got from her bed. She went to leave the room, but before she did, she turned to Sally, unable to resist, and poked once more. ‘By the way, dear Sally, half-past eight is hardly the dead of night.’ 

Darrell returned from her walk around Fife before lunchtime. She had no appetite, but she was in the mood for a glass of milk. 

    When she walked into the living room, Sally and Mildred were sat at either side of a chess board, slowly moving their pieces, with serious expressions on their faces. They sat by the fire. ‘This is a cosy picture,’ Darrell thought. Samantha was in bed. She was usually in bed. Samantha was sickly by nature. It had been an achievement for her to come to university, let alone reach her second year. Her brother, Michael, who lived and worked nearby, was always on hand to help his sister in any way he could. When Darrell heard this, she was suspicious. Generosity in general made Darrell a little uneasy. 

    Darrell did not play chess. She had never learned. Someone may have taught her once, but all the moves went out of her head immediately. 

    If Sally was so happy with Mildred, playing chess, then Darrell wondered why she shouldn’t spend tonight with John. The answer was simple, though she did not realise it. John made her unhappy. It really was as simple as that. You may think Darrell was being stupid by even considering John as a friend and companion, but if you think back on parts of your life, you will probably discover instances when you failed to realise that your own actions were the cause of your unhappiness. 

    Darrell thought she’d leave the glass of milk for later and started to walk to her room. 

    ‘Darrell, is that you come home?’ Darrell turned and stepped back into the living room. 

    Sally turned her attention away from the chess board to Darrell. 

   ‘I believe so,’ Darrell said, widening her eyes in annoyance. Mildred furrowed her brow when she heard this sarcastic comment, but quickly went back to considering the positions of her castles and knights. 

   Darrell went to her bedroom. She was followed by Sally. 

  ‘Did you have a nice walk?’ 

  ‘If you’re asking whether I saw him,’ Darrell started, taking off her mackintosh, ‘you will be pleased to know that I didn’t. I walked alone.’ 

  ‘I didn’t mean to pry this morning,’ Sally said. ‘I am sorry. I’d hate for anything to come between us.’ 

    Darrell’s heart melted. At that moment, she saw Sally as the girl she had known since her first day of school. Sally Hope was her best friend. 

  ‘I am a cow sometimes,’ Darrell replied. 

 ‘Worse than Potty,’ Sally laughed. 

 ‘That’s a little strong.’ 

  Sally hugged her friend. Darrell’s eyes welled with tears. It was the sudden burst of affection from Sally that knocked Darrell for six. 

  ‘Do you like him, really, Darrell?’ Sally asked, her face pressed against Darrell’s bony shoulder. 

  ‘No,’ Darrell said. ‘He’s not up to much.’ 

  ‘I didn’t think so.’ 

  ‘I had a thought on my walk.’ Darrell felt safe in her bedroom with Sally. She felt almost alone. ‘I thought I had become sensible. I thought that was the singular lesson I learnt at Malory Towers. But apparently not. I am as hot-headed as ever. I miss those little school problems. They seem so easy to solve now. I never know quite what to do with myself nowadays.’ 

    Sally stayed quiet. 

   ‘What’s it like?’ 

  ‘What’s what like?’ 

  ‘You know what I’m getting at,’ Sally said. 

   Sally unlocked her arms from Darrell’s back. They sat on the edge of the bed together. Finally, Darrell understood what Sally had asked. 

  ‘Good,’ Darrell said. She thought this was the biggest understatement she’d made in her life. ‘When it’s good, it’s good. More often than not, it’s a waste of time.’ 

  ‘I can’t imagine I’d like it very much,’ Sally said, rather seriously.