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“Cos it’s what people have!”
I couldn’t imagine where Rachel had got that idea from. I didn’t specially remember anyone having nicknames in Gran’s Enid Blyton books.
“Chantelle is sometimes called Ellie,” said Dodie, sounding rather doubtful. “And Tabitha’s Tabs. Is that what you mean?”
“No!” Rachel shook her head. “They’re just shortenings. I can’t believe you don’t have nicknames!”
“What sort of nicknames?” said Fawn.
“Well, like, you could be … Baby, for instance.”
“Baby?” Fawn was staring at her with a kind of horrified fascination. “Why ‘Baby’?”
Rachel gave one of her great swooping peals of laughter. “Cos a fawn’s a baby animal!”
Fawn said, “I see.”
“You have to be a bit inventive,” said Rachel. “It’s supposed to be fun!”
“So what’s her nickname?” Fawn nodded towards me.
“Oh, she’s Robin!”
I blinked. Why Robin? Chantelle asked the same question.
“Zoe Bird?” said Rachel.
“But why Robin? Why not Albatross?”
“Or Wood Pigeon,” said Dodie.
“Or Pelican.”
“Or Budgerigar.”
Rachel gave a happy hoot of laughter. “You can’t call someone Budgerigar.”
“You could call them Budgie,” said Fawn.
I could see that Rachel was turning this over in her mind. Earnestly, as we left the refectory, she said, “Which would you rather be? Robin, or Budgie?”
“Not sure I really want to be either,” I said.
“OK.” Rachel nodded. “I’ll try to think of something else.”
“What about you?” I said. “What’s your nickname?”
“Haven’t got one,” said Rachel.
“What were you at your old school?”
Her eyes slid away from me. “Just Rachel.”
“I was just Zoe,” I said. “We didn’t have nicknames.”
“That’s cos it wasn’t a boarding school.”
“Oh. Well! In that case,” I said, “you’ll have to invent one for yourself.”
“You can’t invent your own nickname!” She said it like I should have known. “Other people do it for you. If you’re popular enough.”
Fawn came up to me later. “Did you and Rachel already know each other?” she said. “Were you at the same school, or something?”
I told her that we’d only just met, that afternoon. She seemed surprised.
“We thought you must already know each other. She’s strange, isn’t she?”
She was a bit, but I did quite like her. And I had agreed that we’d be friends.
Hurriedly, Fawn said, “Not that there’s anything wrong with being strange! Last year we had this girl that used to keep bursting into song all the time. Like in the middle of class. It would suddenly come to her, and she’d just open her mouth and start singing. Now she’s got a scholarship to study music. Turns out she’s some kind of genius. Like Mozart, or something.”
I said, “You think Rachel might be a genius?”
“Might be,” said Fawn. “You never know. Anyway –” she slid her arm cosily through mine – “it’s fun having new people in the dorm. And if one of you did happen to be a genius it would be really cool! At least it would get us one up on those Buttercups. They think way too much of themselves.” She squeezed my arm. “I’m so glad you’re a Daisy! I’m sure you’re going to fit in perfectly.”
I beamed. I couldn’t help it! So much for Nat saying how everyone would be all snobby and look down on me.
“What about Rachel?” I said. I didn’t want to sound too anxious, but if she and I were going to be friends it was important we should both fit in. Not just me.
“Oh, she’ll be all right,” said Fawn. “We don’t mind if someone’s a bit odd. It’s better than being dull and boring!”
I certainly didn’t think Rachel was likely to be that.
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By Friday I was feeling so settled I almost didn’t want to have to pack my bag and go home. I’d found a new friend in Rachel, and Fawn and the others had gone out of their way to make us both feel welcome. Even when they’d discovered that Rachel had never played netball before, they didn’t roll their eyes or grow impatient when she messed up the game. Miss Simon, who took us for PE, said, “Don’t worry, Rachel, you’ll soon get the hang of it.” But even when she didn’t – when she kept trying to run with the ball or throw it madly in the wrong direction – they were all quite nice about it. Even Chantelle, who was sports crazy, and Fawn, who was so competitive. When two of the idiotic Buttercups started cackling, they turned on them quite savagely.
“Such bad manners,” said Fawn.
“Pathetic,” said Chantelle.
I was so glad they’d stuck up for Rachel! Especially Fawn. I’d already worked out that there was this massive rivalry between the two dorms, and that Fawn took it really seriously. She hated it when the Daisies were made to look ridiculous, so I thought it was specially good of her to leap to Rachel’s defence. In spite of sometimes being a bit full of her own importance, she obviously had a sense of fair play.
With everything working out so well it was quite a wrench to tear myself away. Of course, I was looking forward to seeing Mum and Dad again, even to seeing Nat, and to telling them all about it, but I couldn’t help feeling like I was missing out, going off and leaving everyone else behind to enjoy themselves. How could anybody bear to be a day girl? Not me!
Rachel was the only other one from Daisy dorm who wasn’t staying on. Fawn had gone home last weekend, but she said she only did it occasionally.
“Like, if my gran’s visiting, or something. It’s more fun being here with the others.”
A whole bunch of us was dropped off at the station. Dad had wanted to come and pick me up, but I’d begged to be allowed to use the train. It felt more independent, plus it meant I could be with Rachel. It turned out she lived just three stops further down the line from me.
“I’m really going to see if I can board full-time next term,” I said. “I think I’ll probably be able to talk Mum round, but Dad’s funny. He didn’t really want me to come to boarding school at all. He’d prefer it if I was just a Day.” I didn’t add that Dad would actually prefer it if I hadn’t gone to St With’s in the first place. One of my grans has always said that Dad has a chip on his shoulder. I wouldn’t have wanted Rachel thinking that.
“How about your dad?” I said. “Or is he the one that decided?”
I was hoping she might be prompted to tell me something about herself. I couldn’t help being curious. I still didn’t know who she lived with – whether it was her dad, or her gran, or her auntie that she sometimes talked about. I didn’t know where she’d been to school, or anything at all, really. She was eager to talk about most things – just not about herself.
So when I asked the question, thinking I was being very clever and cunning, I wasn’t terribly surprised when she gave one of her great cascades of giggles and said, “It was me that chose!” It wasn’t a proper answer, in fact it wasn’t really an answer at all, but I didn’t like to push. I know sometimes I can seem a bit nosy. A bit what Mum calls intrusive. But I did find it difficult! I think it is only natural to want to know things about people, especially if they are supposed to be your friend. Your best friend.
“Honestly,” I said, “my dad’s like a mother hen. He doesn’t even like me taking the train! He wanted to come and pick me up. Of course it might just be cos he’s got this new car and it’s any excuse to go for a drive. That’s what Mum says. How about yours?”
I couldn’t help trying! But Rachel just giggled and said, “I like being on the train.”
Again, it wasn’t an answer. I asked her if anyone was meeting her at the station, and she said her auntie. I didn’t even know her auntie’s name. It was always just “my auntie”.
“So what about when we go to the theatre?” I said.
In a fortnight’s time the whole of our year was being taken to see a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which was the play we were doing in class. The bus was going to bring us all back to school afterwards, which meant Dad could always drive over and collect me if he really wanted, but I reckoned Mum would stick up for me if I pleaded to stay overnight at school and come home on Saturday.
I said this to Rachel. “It would be fun if we could both stay over! Do you think they’d let you?”
Her eyes did that thing where they shifted away. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to come.”
Not come to the theatre? “Oh, but you’ve got to!” I said. “Everybody else is.”
She was silent. She was hardly ever silent. Normally she was just as much a chatterbox as I am. Sometimes even more so, especially in the dorm after lights out. You’d be lying there trying to sleep and Rachel would be propped on her elbow talking at you in the darkness. It was worse than Tabs’s snoring. The other night Fawn had yelled at her to “Just button it!” But then other times, like now, she’d totally clam up.
I wondered if it would be rude to ask her why she might not be able to come. Sometimes, at my old school, people hadn’t been able to go on school trips because their mums and dads couldn’t afford it. Once in Year Seven there’d been a weekend in France and it was mymum and dad that hadn’t been able to afford it. Maybe Rachel was on some kind of scholarship and her dad, or whoever it was, didn’t have enough money to pay for extras. In which case it would definitely be rude of me to ask.
I contented myself with reminding her that she would have to decide soon. She said, “Yes, I know, it’s just—”
Too late! We had already pulled into the station and I could see Dad and Nat waiting for me on the platform. If only Rachel had got off before me instead of after, I might have had a glimpse of her mysterious auntie.
“Ask!” I said, as I jumped off the train.
Rachel nodded. “I will. I really want to come!”
Dad and Nat had spotted me. “There she is!” cried Dad.
“Back from St Beef’s!” That, needless to say, was Nat.
“Enough with the Beef’s,” I said, giving her a shove.
Nat pulled a face. “So what’s it like? Is it like Enid Blyton? Are they all posh?”
“Hold your horses,” said Dad, “she’s only just got here! She can tell us all about it when we’re back home.”
“Mum’s made a special tea,” said Nat, “just for you! She’s done chocolate cake cos she knows it’s your favourite. And pizza! It’s not really healthy, chocolate cake and pizza all in the same meal, but Mum said just for once. I s’pose at St Beef’s you have caviar and stuff.”
“Yeah, that’s a favourite,” I said. “But then for tea we have bread and marge.”
“Marge? Ugh! Yuck!”
“Plain and wholesome,” said Mum, when Nat told her about it.
“You’d think they could come up with something a bit better,” grumbled Dad. “I’m not paying all that money for my daughter to eat bread and marge!”
“Oh, Dad, it’s bread and butter,” I said. “And we have—”
I was going to say that we had jordgubbe jam to put on it, but Nat got in ahead of me.
“They have caviar for dinner!”
“Believe that and you’ll believe anything,” said Mum.
“No,” said Nat. “She said!”
“She’s pulling your leg. Lottie, get down, there’s a good girl.”
“Lottie’s house-trained.” Nat announced it, proudly. “She hasn’t done anything indoors for ages.”
Lottie wagged her tail so hard her whole body shook. She was still all rubbery and puppyish. I have to admit, Nat is really good with animals. She just has this irritating habit of totally annoying me! Like now.
“Who was that girl?” she said. “The one you waved goodbye to?”
“That was Rachel,” I said. “She’s in my dorm.”
“She looks peculiar.”
You see what I mean? Just, like, totally annoying.
“How does she look peculiar?” said Mum, sounding a bit annoyed herself. She knew about Rachel, cos I’d told her on the phone. She’d been pleased to hear that I’d already made a friend. “What’s peculiar about her?”
“She’s got white hair,” said Nat.
“That’s because she’s Swedish!” I snapped.
Mum told me later that I shouldn’t let Nat wind me up.
“Truth to tell, she’s a bit resentful of you being at boarding school. I know it sounds silly, when it was her choice to have Lottie, and we’re buying her a pony, but I think she’s secretly scared you’ll … how can I put it? Decide we’re not good enough?”
I said, “Mum!” That was ridiculous.
“It’s your dad as well,” said Mum. “He’s a bit of a worryguts. Give them time, they’ll get over it. Tell me about Rachel! Does she live round here?”
I said that she lived just three stops further down the line.
“That’s nice! So you could always visit each other if you wanted? Like in the holidays?”
