Work Text:
There was a secluded spot on the grounds that Sally liked to visit, halfway from the school down the hill towards the seawater swimming pool. There were a couple of trees, a stretch of dense green grass and, sometimes in spring, a patch of bluebells would pop up, hopeful and sweet. Although they appeared every year, they still surprised and delighted her. She loved the never-ending renewal of the countryside, the grey rains of winter giving way to the lush growth of spring. It felt like everything could start over, that there was always another chance, another fresh season in which to grow and change.
She was propped in the shade against a tree, rereading a book she had to write about for her English class with Miss Oakes. She was discovering new things in the story that she hadn't noticed the first time through, subtle movements beneath the surface that weren't spelled out by the author but that were between the lines. She didn't have to reread the book, but she was glad now that she was. She jotted a note in her exercise book, and then, despite her interest, she found her mind wandering. It was a clear, sunny day and there was a cool, salty breeze drifting in from the Cornish sea below. Sally wondered if it was mild enough to go swimming. Perhaps she could persuade Darrell to join her, or at least, if it was too cold, Darrell would tell her she was crazy and that she needn't keep training now the swimming season was over. She laughed to herself. She liked it when Darrell called her 'crazy' or 'mad' – she, Sally Hope, the most-sensible, least-crazy girl at Malory Towers.
She thought about the tennis match she and Darrell had played that morning. It was meant to be just a casual, Saturday-morning game, but they had both taken it seriously, keeping note of the score, playfully competitive. She felt there had been a moment when the match had tilted, Darrell fighting against Sally's stronger game, and for just a second, Sally had contemplated letting Darrell win – simply so that she could see Darrell's face light up with that broad, triumphant grin. Darrell was the only one in the school who could beat Sally at tennis these days and even then it wasn't often. But it didn't seem fair – and what if Darrell twigged that she was 'throwing the game'?
As it was, Darrell was still happy enough that Sally won, hugging her across the net, their rackets forgotten on the ground. She'd patted Sally on the back and smiled, "Good win, old sport!" Then Darrell had carried both their rackets as they walked back to the school, their sweaty arms linked together.
Sally had only just returned to reading her book when Darrell herself flopped down on the grass next to her.
"I should have known you'd be here," said Darrell. "I've been looking all over for you. There's some meeting about helping out with the fifth formers' end of term concert. We're meant to go," she sighed. "But seeing as you're Games Captain and I'm Head Girl, I think we'd be excused as having enough on our plates." She lay back and closed her eyes, stretching out her limbs and exhaling. "Oh, it's so peaceful here," she murmured.
"Yes," agreed Sally. She closed her book and put it aside. "Sometimes you just need space to think. This is my favourite spot for it."
She watched as Darrell tried to look up at her, her eyelashes fluttering against the light. Darrell shielded her face with one arm and gazed at Sally. "What do you mean?" she asked. "What have you been thinking about?" She propped herself up on one elbow and looked at Sally, her face upturned and serious.
"Oh, this and that," said Sally. She paused, unsure of the words she was searching for. "I like this spot because not many of the others know about it. It's like my own little corner of Malory Towers."
Darrell nodded, shrewd enough to know that Sally was working towards something and to allow her to get there in her own time.
"But what will happen to us all when we finish school at the end of the year? When we have to leave Malory Towers?" Sally said. "Where will my quiet little corner be then?"
And, in thoughts, in the air between them: Will we still be friends?
Sally shook her head and exhaled. She looked away. Darrell's gaze was simply too much for her sometimes.
For a while, neither of them spoke. In the distance, they could hear some girls down by the pool, squealing and laughing. And beneath that, the gentle sound of the sea, the constant washing waves, like some great creature breathing and watching over Malory Towers.
"We'll always be friends, Sally," said Darrell quietly. She took hold of Sally's hand. "I know it."
Sally looked down at Darrell's face. Her eyes were bright and clear and focused straight on Sally.
"It won't just be ten year reunions for you and I," said Darrell, slowly smiling. "Although that might be the perfect amount of Gwendoline Mary – just enough for me to take!"
"Yes," Sally laughed, then slowly, softly added, "Yes . . . Thank you."
Darrell nodded and gave Sally's hand a little squeeze. Some of Darrell's hair had fallen out from behind her ear and with her free hand, Sally smoothed it away from Darrell's face. The hair was fine and soft, and Sally didn't remember ever having touched it before – though she must have, in all those years they'd been friends. But, for the first time, she paid attention to how it felt against the inside of her hand. She liked touching it, and – her hand so close to Darrell's face – Sally suddenly wanted to know what the skin of Darrell's cheek felt like too.
She paused and stopped herself. Darrell was still holding her hand, though she'd dropped her gaze. Sally felt breathless; all her nerves were suddenly alive. Darrell glanced up at her from beneath her dark lashes and Sally's breath caught in her throat. Darrell gave her a rueful smile.
Sally coughed, inadvertently freeing her hand to cover her mouth. Darrell gave a laugh. "Well . . ." Her voice was quiet.
"Are we too late to make a show at that meeting?" Sally asked.
"I don't know," replied Darrell. She was smoothing her hair behind her ear, her hand where Sally's had been.
Sally watched for a second, then looked away. She retrieved her book from where it had landed on the ground and held it to her chest, her arms crossed in front of her. "I guess we should be getting back anyway," she said.
"Yes," said Darrell, straightening up and stretching out her limbs, brushing grass from her elbows.
They wandered slowly back across the grounds. Sally felt like she was walking away from a dream; a soft, quiet feeling she didn't really like to leave behind. She wished Darrell would link arms with her, yet she didn't quite dare to do it herself.
There was something guarded and tentative and new between them. Sally felt her way around it, careful of unfamiliar corners and new fragility. Then she felt it fall away and become invisible as they approached the school, as girls called out greetings to them, as the noise of their everyday lives surrounded them once again. Darrell was drawn into a conversation with her younger sister Felicity, and Sally went to put her book back on the shelf in her dorm room. They parted at a doorway with a brief glance and no words.
It was a slow dawning realisation for Sally, the depth of her feelings for Darrell Rivers. She discovered herself in the habit of neglecting her books to instead gaze out the window at the sea below. The feeling crept up on her, sparking first from that afternoon beneath the tree and the strange, faltering weight that grew between them. It was a heaviness that she liked to push aside and out of her head, their real life awkwardness replaced by happy, solitary daydreams. And yet her feelings seemed to predate that afternoon. It felt like they were blossoming from her steadfast friendship with Darrell, as though they were the next logical step.
She was curled in the window seat in the Sixth Form's common room, a book open in her lap but her thoughts elsewhere: the roundness of Darrell's cheek, the pink of her lips, the two of them off somewhere alone together, under the green of the trees and away from the curious eyes of the school. She heard the door open and the room filled with Darrell and Alicia's chatter and laughter. She looked up and caught sight of Darrell's smiling face. They were in animated discussion about Alicia's young cousin June and the latest trick she'd pulled off in the second form. Darrell's eyes sought out Sally in the window seat and she waved to her, calling: "Hallo, Sally! Did you hear?"
And it was there, with bittersweet certainty, that Sally knew that what she was feeling was love. The sensation filled her and yet it felt as though it had always been there, beneath the surface. Only now, for the first time, she was seeing it plain for what it was. And she was afraid it was written all over her face. Perhaps, if Darrell reciprocated her feelings . . . But if the feelings had that name – that little, loaded word – she was unsure.
"Oh," she said, overwhelmed.
"Yes, I know," said Darrell, throwing herself down in a seat opposite Sally's. "I can't believe she was brave enough to pull it off!"
Darrell was still talking about June's prank. She kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on the corner of Sally's seat. Sally just gazed at Darrell, having lost the trail of conversation long since.
"Oh sorry, Sally," said Darrell, laughing. "Do my feet smell? I'll move them!"
"No, no," said Sally. "It's fine." She exhaled. Surely she was shaking. Surely Darrell would notice that she was different now.
But Darrell continued talking about June's prank, and Alicia joined them, and the moment passed and time went on. Sally was the only one who knew that her heart was quaking in her chest.
It was the last warm day before the weather turned. The nights had begun to get cooler and winter was just around the corner. The first coughs and sneezes were moving through the school, sending Matron into a spin, dishing out lozenges and cough medicine, and quarantining the worse cases in the Sanatorium.
Sally, Darrell and Mary-Lou were sitting in the Court. The clouds had cleared and the sun was shining, bright and warm. There were tulips peeping up from the garden beds and the air was still. They had gone outside to catch the sunshine and, though they were trying to study for a French test they had on Friday, the warmth made them feel lazy.
"Do you want to go swimming?" suggested Sally. She tried not to think about the patch of skin on her arm where Darrell's elbow was touching her.
Mary-Lou took a bite of her apple and looked thoughtful. "I should probably keep working on these horrid French verbs," she said. "Mam'zelle wasn't pleased with my last test results."
"Ah," said Sally. She held back from saying 'But the test isn't until Friday!' That was the kind of thing Alicia would say. And she wasn't Alicia – she was kind, sensible Sally Hope.
"And you, Darrell?" she said.
"It does sound tempting," said Darrell. "And this sunshine is glorious."
Sally watched out of the corner of her eye as Darrell turned her face upwards towards the sun and closed her eyes. Then Darrell shook herself, as though waking up. "But I've got the sniffles," she added. "And I don't want them to get any worse. Sniffles is all they'll be, thank-you-very-much." She blew her nose as though for effect.
"Oh," said Sally. "Fair enough." She fidgeted with her pencil. She was feeling restless.
"But I'll come and keep you company," said Darrell. "I might bring my French book and pretend to study. I might even try and stop the thing from accidentally falling in the water!"
Sally laughed. "All right!" she said. "I'll fetch my towel. I'll be right back. Sorry to leave you, Mary-Lou!"
They wandered down the hill to the swimming pool. There were a couple of younger girls splashing around at the shallow end. Sally suddenly felt bashful about stripping down to her bathing costume in front of Darrell, while Darrell remained fully clothed. She turned away to hide her blushing face and hurriedly dumped her clothes on a bench before plunging into the pool at the deep end.
The water was beautiful and cool, enveloping her and transporting her into a silent underwater world. She swam as far down as she could go, then pushed herself off the bottom and sprang back towards the surface.
"Ah!" she cried, blinking the water out of her eyes. She looked at Darrell, who was sitting on the bench beside her clothes, watching her and smiling. "Oh, Darrell," she called to her. "It's so beautiful. I wish you could join me!"
"I wish I could too," said Darrell. "But I don't have my cossie and it might scare the younger girls if I go swimming without it!" Darrell laughed. "I don't think that would set a very good example as a Sixth Former or as Head Girl."
"Otherwise you'd do it?"
"Otherwise I'd do it, for sure!"
Sally laughed and had to swim a few laps in order to shake the giddy feeling that had overtaken her. When she eventually looked back, Darrell was still watching her, a thoughtful look on her face.
After a while, and several laps later, Sally swam to the edge of the pool. Darrell picked up Sally's towel and stood up to wrap it around Sally as she climbed, dripping, from the water. Sally smiled, her heart fluttering.
"Want to go back?" asked Darrell.
"I might just sit in the sun for a bit," said Sally. "To dry off."
Darrell nodded and sat down next to her. "As long as you don't get cold." Darrell reached forward and gently pushed a wet strand of Sally's hair out of her face and back around her ear. Sally had to blink away the feeling that she was being subjected to some form of tender, unbearable scrutiny.
Sally returned to her secluded spot under the trees. She lay on the ground and looked up into the turning, autumn leaves and thought. It was a terrible thing, to be in love with your best friend, to be in love with a girl, to be in love with someone who didn't return the feeling. And yet it wasn't all terrible: her heart was light and sometimes she was simply, inexplicably happy. She still had Darrell for company – they were still best friends. And Sally was certain in the knowledge that she could never do anything about her feelings. She could never risk their friendship, could never risk Darrell looking at her with disgust and repulsion and rejecting her outright, friendship and all.
There was some tragic consolation in knowing she could do nothing. She was alone with her heart and for a moment that didn't seem all bad. She could entertain her feelings and, for a while, the real world couldn't get in the way.
"Sally?" asked Darrell late one afternoon when they were both at their desks in their study. "Are you avoiding me?"
"Er," said Sally. ". . . No. I'm right here, aren't I?"
"I don't mean that," said Darrell. "It's only – you seem distant lately. Is there something wrong?"
"No," said Sally quickly. "I'm fine." She swivelled in her chair to give Darrell what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Really, I am. Just busy studying, like everyone." She turned back to her desk.
"Yes, I suppose so," said Darrell. "It's just . . ." She trailed off and Sally waited, listening.
Darrell gave a small, almost inaudible sigh. "Do you want to go for a walk along the cliff-top later? Before it gets dark?"
Sally stared at her desk for a moment, feeling the floor beneath her feet quiver and tilt, ever so slightly. "All right," she said, carefully keeping her voice level. "That would be nice."
They walked out after dinner, drawing their overcoats around themselves against the cool evening wind. Sally listened to Darrell talk Mary-Lou out of joining them. She stood at the doorway, half turned away from them, her face stuck with a strange half-smile. She was nervous, though she didn't know exactly why. It wasn't like she and Darrell hadn't gone on a hundred country rambles together before.
They wandered down the hillside path, past the swimming pool, picking their way around the rocks to take the path that lead away from the village. Sally liked the feel of the wind on her face, fresh and almost harsh, sending her hair every which way, pulling at the ribbon that she'd used to tie it back. Darrell was laughing and walking unsteadily, lurching as though she was on a ship at sea. She held her arms out to the wind.
They found that talking was hard – the wind picked up their words and flew them away before they reached the other's ears. Sally didn't mind too much. She burrowed her hands into her pockets, wishing she'd brought gloves, and smiled at Darrell's strange dance with the air.
"Watch out for the edge of the cliff!" Sally called.
"What?"
Sally saw the shape Darrell's mouth made, rather than hearing the word.
"I said: watch – out – for . . . Oh, you're never going to hear me." She waved her hand as though to say never mind.
But Darrell was looking at her intently. After a moment, they walked on and every so often, Darrell would glance at her sideways, a strange playful look on her face. Then she paused and with a skip in her step, she moved towards Sally. Sally tried to pull away, surprised, but Darrell reached for her, cupping Sally's face in both her hands, holding Sally's hair out of her face. She stared straight into Sally's eyes and said, "What did you say?"
"Oh," said Sally, and relaxed. "I said, watch out for the edge of the cliff!"
"Oh yes," Darrell said, smiling. She kept her hands in place, her eyes fixed on Sally. She traced her thumb lightly over Sally's cheek, watching, curious, for Sally's reaction. Sally closed her eyes and exhaled, feeling the wind whisk the breath away from her.
And then Darrell's hands were gone and Sally's face felt cold where the warmth had been. She opened her eyes. Her hair was everywhere at once, fluttering in her eyes and making it difficult to see. She drew her hands up to pull it away from her face, so that she could look at Darrell.
Darrell was a short distance away, looking out at the sky above the sea, pointing. "Your ribbon!" she said.
Sally caught sight of a flash of yellow, a slim twisting thing, moving against the light of the setting sun.
Darrell said something that Sally couldn't hear.
"What was that?" called Sally.
Then Darrell was next to her once more, placing one hand at the back of Sally's neck and her lips to Sally's ear. Sally's heart skipped a beat.
"I tried to catch it," murmured Darrell. "But it got away."
Sally felt Darrell's warm breath against her skin. She felt Darrell shift her weight. Sally held her breath, waiting to see if Darrell would move away.