Subdued laughter echoed around the hall and Miss Welbeck passed on to other notices. Rebecca hardly took them in; she was doing a swift calculation. Her parents were in Saudi Arabia now. She had some airmail forms in her bedside locker. If she wrote to them in the dinner hour, and caught today's post, they could get the letter and send a reply by airmail by the end of the month – easily.

  Rebecca wanted the magazine to go to at least ten people. Not just her parents, but her favourite uncles and aunts, and both her grandmothers would want a copy – and so would her friends in London, Claire and Amanda. It was such an honour getting into The Trebizon Journal! She had a whole mental list of people who would feel proud of her and want to have a copy to keep. But all those copies were going to cost her father a fortune!

  On second thoughts, she would ask her father to pay for just four copies – his and Mum's, the two grandmothers' and one for Great Aunt Ivy, who definitely couldn't afford to buy one herself. Uncle Bill, and Godmother Joan, and Claire and Amanda and the rest she would write to herself and ask them to send through the money to her if they wanted one. Good, that was settled.

  Rebecca dashed off the letter to her mother and father in the dinner hour, sealed up the airmail form and ran and dropped it in the school post box in the main entrance hall of old building. She tried to picture her parents' faces as they opened it and read it through. For a moment she felt an ache, missing them.

  She wrote all the other letters the same evening, as soon as she had finished her French prep. She wrote to Claire and Amanda jointly and begged them for news; in return she told them about Trebizon and, in ironic tones, about the disastrous Debbie Rickard.

  Not for a moment did Rebecca regret breaking up with Debbie, even though it meant she had no special friend to go around with at Trebizon. She would make her way as best she could, and try and get the most out of life at her new school, and perhaps friendships would follow. At least she was beginning to make her mark.

  The following weeks were a little lonely at times, but one thing made them less so. Her services were in demand in connection with The Juniper Journal.

  It had been decided to bring out the House publication once a week, and an editorial committee of three had been elected. This comprised Tish Anderson and Mara Leonodis from the Second Year and Susannah Skelhorn from the First Year. Mara and Susannah were assistant editors, collecting in news items and other contributions from girls in their year, and Tish was Editor-in-chief, laying out the two pages and then typing the stencils. It was decided to produce The Journal on a single sheet of duplicating paper, using front and back. This would keep the cost down to five pence.

  Everyone agreed that it was better to produce something cheap and simple once a week, full of up-to-date news, than a more ambitious publication that could only come out perhaps once a month.

  The excitement in Juniper House as the first issue was being prepared was infectious, and a steady stream of contributions came in, some of them quite silly. It had been decided to make Sundays the press day for The Jounal, as that was a day when Tish had plenty of free time to type out the stencils and run them off on the duplicator in the evening. The Journal would then be on sale every Monday morning.

  On the Saturday night before the first press day, Tish was sitting having cocoa with Sue Murdoch in the Common Room.

  'We've got stacks of news items,' she said. 'I mean Joss is announcing the Under-14 hockey team for a start. That's the lead story. We've also got a piece about the four items we've submitted to The Trebizon this term. That's a bit stale, but there are still some people who don't know. Also one of the First Years has come up with a gem of a story ...'

  She lapsed into silence.

  'What's the problem then?' asked Sue.

  'The balance seems wrong. We haven't got what they call feature material – quizzes, crosswords, anything like that.'

  At that moment the door opened and Rebecca and Sally Elphinstone came into the Common Room with cocoa and biscuits.

  'You'd better have my biscuits, Rebecca,' said the plump girl mournfully. 'I just get fatter and fatter. It's just not fair, I mean look at you. You eat like a horse and you're skinny.'

  'I burn it all up,' said Rebecca, taking the biscuits. 'You burn your food slowly, Elf, that's all. You'd have been the envy of all your friends if you'd lived in the Stone Age, when food was short. I mean they tried to be fat then. They really envied people who had an efficient system like yours, which could create energy from next to nothing.'

  Sally snorted, but Tish's face lit up. 'Hey, that's interesting, Rebecca,' she said. 'Know any more useless facts like that?'

  'She knows plenty,' giggled Sue, speaking from experience of sitting next to Rebecca in class. 'She's always churning them out. Tell Tish that one about lichen and pure air, Rebecca. Hey – I know what you're thinking, Tish!'

  'What's going on?' asked Rebecca with a smile. It was true that she had a mind that stored up off-beat information; her father often teased her about it. 'Going to write a book?'

  'No, you are!' said Tish. 'At least not a book. A regular piece for The Juniper Journal called "Did you know – ? by Rebecca Mason"! Hmm? I'm serious. I've just thought of it. How about it?'

  'Fine!' said Rebecca, trying to hide her delight.

  'Good. Then write out three useless facts for me by tomorrow dinner hour, the weirder the better. Our first issue goes to press tomorrow afternoon, as if you didn't know.'

  So Rebecca became a regular contributor to The Juniper Journal; she also helped to work the duplicator sometimes on a Sunday evening and was one of a team of girls selling copies around the school at five pence each.

  The news-letter came in for a lot of praise, especially from Miss Morgan, their House Mistress. She herself undertook to sell two dozen copies a week in the Staff Room. It was all good fun.

  But for Rebecca the high point of the next few weeks was the post. There was a long letter from her parents in Saudi Arabia, full of all their news, and scarcely concealing their happiness that she had made a good start at Trebizon School. They were immensely proud that her essay was going to appear in the school magazine and her father asked her to order eight copies, instead of the four she had suggested.

  The letters from her Godmother Joan, her Uncle Bill and her Uncle David were lovely – they all wanted copies of the magazine and sent postal orders, with some extra spending money thrown in. Claire and Amanda each wrote a super letter, in the same envelope, and asked her to order an extra copy – for Mr Goodfellow, the Headmaster at her old school in London.

  Rebecca was very excited, counting the days till half-term. The long-awaited Golden Jubilee edition of The Trebizon Journal was expected to arrive at the school from the printers' sometime over the half-term holiday. Rebecca was spending half-term with her grandmother in Gloucestershire, and the magazines would be there, at the school, when she got back.

  All through the half-term holiday at her grandmother's she felt a pleasurable sense of anticipation.

  'You're sure your father's paid for my copy?' asked her grandmother anxiously. 'I'm well able to pay for it, you know, Becky. I certainly don't want you paying for it out of your pocket money.'

  'Stop worrying, Gran,' laughed Rebecca. 'It's all ordered, and paid for, by Dad. I only wish it could have arrived from the printers in time for me to bring it with me. But it'll be posted to you in a few days, direct from school.'

  Later, reading through the first three stencilled issues of The Juniper Journal, her grandmother said, 'And why aren't you in the hockey team, my girl?'

  Rebecca was quite startled by the pang she felt. 'I'm – I'm just not,' she said.

  She thought ruefully of her ambitions at the start of the term. She was beginning to like hockey a lot now, and knew that she was playing reasonably well, although she had still not been given a chance to play in a forward position. There were too many good forwards around for that.

  She felt quite envious of the girls who were in the Under-14 team, going off in a mini-bus on Saturday afternoons to play matches against other schools. She still had no inkling that the game she had been asked to join during her first week at Trebizon had in fact been a trial game, and that Joss Vining had assumed that her interest was nil.

  'You can't get in everything at a school like Trebizon, Gran,' said Rebecca. She smiled. 'At least I'm going to be in the school magazine, and that's something, isn't it!'

  But Rebecca was wrong.

  She learnt the awful news as soon as she got back to school after the half-term holiday. She was late back because of the awkward journey from Gloucestershire, and went straight up to the dormitory with her denim bag to unpack her weekend things.

  Tish was waiting for her there, holding a copy of the magazine. It was fresh from the printers and had a lovely gold cover. Rebecca had eyes for nothing else. She did not see that Tish's face was white with rage.

  TEN

  TISH DECLARES WAR

  'You weren't on the London train,' said Tish.

  'I haven't been to London,' said Rebecca. She was staring at the magazine, mesmerized. It looked beautiful! 'I've been to my grand mother's and that meant a bus that went halfway round England –'

  'I've been waiting for you!'

  'Miss Morgan knew I'd be late,' said Rebecca. What on earth was Tish so angry about, so very, very angry? 'The magazine's arrived from the printers' then? It really looks something –'

  She reached out her hand eagerly. She had to see.

  To her surprise Tish took a step backwards and put the magazine behind her back. She had difficulty in speaking.

  'It's not in there. Your essay's not in.'

  'Not in?' said Rebecca, dully.

  'Nothing's in. Nothing from Juniper, almost nothing from any of the other Houses, a few Sixth Form things and that's all.'

  'But – it's quite thick – there must be a lot of stuff in it – are you sure?'

  'Of course I'm sure!' Tish produced the magazine and leafed over the pages in her hands. Rebecca caught a glimpse of beautifully laid out pages, some of them in full colour, thick and glossy. She recognized the exquisite bird pictures that Elizabeth had been carrying in her big black bag on the train, the very first time she had ever met her. 'It's thick all right and there's a lot of stuff in it, just nothing to do with Trebizon School, that's all!'

  All Tish's pent up disgust poured out. 'It's full of big names, Rebeck. Famous writers, famous artists – okay, one or two of them old girls of the school, but not all of them, by any means. Elizabeth Exton's been having a ball! That's how she spent the summer holidays, dashing around meeting famous people, asking them to do things for the Golden Jubilee issue, making herself out to be someone really important. Here, take a look.'

  Rebecca turned away.

  'No thanks, Tish. I – I don't think I can bear to.'

  'All right. But I'll just read what she says at the beginning, so you can have a really good vomit. Listen:

  It is a great honour and privilege to me to present this, our Golden Jubilee issue of The Trebizon Journal, marking its fifty years of continuous and unbroken production. This term contributions from the school were not quite up to the usual high standard, but no matter. The editorial committee and I decided to break with tradition and invite in outside contributors; how proud and honoured we are that such famous and illustrious names have agreed to grace our pages, a fitting birthday tribute to our famous Journal. Elizabeth Exton. Editor.'

  Rebecca sat down on the edge of her bed, feeling weepy.

  'I've got friends and relations who've ordered it,' she said dismally. 'They'll all be getting it. Do I feel a fool. I just didn't think that my essay wasn't up to standard for the magazine, after –'

  'It was up to standard!' snapped Tish. 'So was everything else, I expect – except a lot of stuff went in too late. Don't you see, that's just hot air? Elizabeth didn't want anything from the school! She'd got everything she needed before term even started – she had it on the train, remember? Talked about meeting super people.'

  'Yes,' nodded Rebecca. 'I remember.'

  'Being made Editor just went to her head. She raced around seeing all these big names in the holidays and getting them to do things. After that the committee hardly had any choice but to agree with her that they should be published in the magazine. I mean to say,' just for a moment a weaker version of Tish's usual grin appeared, 'imagine sending out a rejection slip to Nadine Rossiter.' The famous novelist had contributed a short story to The Trebizon Journal.

  'Yes, imagine.' Rebecca managed to raise a smile, but she felt very depressed. 'All the same, I guess the stuff from the school really wasn't up to standard. They could have found room for it, if it had been. Even added a couple of extra pages.'

  'Rubbish!' said Tish. 'Elizabeth just didn't want to find room for it. She didn't want anything that might spoil her grown-up looking magazine. I expect she's angling to get a good job somewhere on the strength of this,' she added darkly.

  Silently, Rebecca unpacked her things. She was beginning to feel worse and worse; utterly humiliated. Tish was pacing up and down the dormitory, deep in thought. When she finally stopped, Rebecca looked at her and said, 'There's nothing you can do about it, Tish.'

  'Oh, isn't there?' muttered Tish, and went out.

  Brave words, thought Rebecca. As if there were anything Tish could possibly do. As if a mere Second Year could challenge the mighty Sixth Former who was Editor of the school magazine! After all, she was the Editor, and her decision was final. She said the school contributions weren't up to standard, and she should know best.

  The more Rebecca thought about it, the more convinced she became that she had been conceited and overconfident about her essay. If it were a school tradition always to publish something with a gold star on it, then the Editor and her committee must have thought it very bad to reject it.

  She ate tea in silence, grateful for the sympathetic comments from the girls on her table, but relieved not to be expected to talk. She was dimly aware that Tish arrived for tea very late, looking puffed and dishevelled, and left the minute she had finished her pudding, without even waiting for a cup of tea.

  After tea, Rebecca didn't quite know what to do with herself. At a time like this she missed very much not having a special friend, someone to whom she could pour out her feelings. She felt such a failure! She would have liked Tish to talk to her again: somehow she did make it sound as though it was not a question of the essay being rubbish.

  Rebecca went over to old school, carefully avoiding the Office where she knew that her personal copy of The Trebizon Journal, ordered so eagerly a month ago, was waiting to be collected. She didn't want to collect it – not ever! She wondered if there were any way she could stop all the other copies being posted off that she had ordered and paid for. There probably wasn't.

  She borrowed a book from the library and went back across the quadrangle gardens to Juniper, having decided to find a quiet corner in the Second Year Common Room for the evening. There were too many people reading The Trebizon Journal in the library for her liking.

  But as soon as she peered through the open door of the Common Room, she saw what looked like a forest of gold-covered Journals, glinting and shining in the light of the reading lamps, as though to mock her. Every seat was taken, every space on the rugs was taken, and there were even girls perched on the tables. It appeared to Rebecca's jaundiced eye that every single one of them was reading the school magazine, hot from the press.

  'I think it's brilliant,' she heard Roberta Jones say smugly. 'Trust someone like Elizabeth Exton to do things in style. I'm not at all put out now that my poems weren't chosen to go forward.'

  'Tish Anderson's like a bear with a sore head.' That was Debbie Rickard's voice, and there was a definite snigger in it. 'Her stuff's been rejected. The Editor's dared to question her judgement –!'

  Rebecca didn't want to hear any more, and didn't want to be seen, either. She remembered how Debbie had come up and congratulated her, after the second magazine meeting. The hypocrite!

  Where to go and read her book? Rebecca remembered the form room. There was no prep tonight and so it was deserted. She sat at her desk and read until a bell began to ring. She saw by the clock that it was bedtime, so she lifted the lid of her desk to put the library book inside.

  'Who's been through my desk?' she wondered. 'What a mess.'

  She decided to give cocoa a miss, and went straight to bed. Tish and Sue were easily last in the dormitory, rushing in just before lights out.

  'What have you two been up to?' asked someone.

  'You'll see in the morning.'

  'Sssh!'

  'Shut up.'

  'Have a biscuit, Tish.'

  'Shut up, you lot!'

  It took Rebecca a long time to get to sleep that night. She felt that she had only slept for a couple of hours when somebody drew the curtain behind her bed and shook her awake. It was Tish, already up and dressed.

  'Here's your English exercise book, Rebecca,' she said, slamming it down on the locker. 'I borrowed it from your desk yesterday.'

  'Whatever for?' asked Rebecca rubbing her eyes.

  She stared at Tish, who seemed to be in a much better mood this morning. She seemed almost cheerful, and there was a strange light in her eyes. Rebecca also saw that she was holding some duplicated sheets in her hand.

  'I needed to copy something out on to a stencil,' said Tish airily. 'Here you are, you may as well be the first to have one J.J. – special issue – free of charge, hot off the press last night. Five of us are off to disseminate it around the school now. Bye. See you at breakfast!'

  Rebecca found herself sitting up in bed, the stencilled sheet in her hands. Tish had gone. So had Sue. So had Margot Lawrence, Sally Elphinstone and Mara Leonodis. Joanna Thompson and Jenny Brook-Hayes were still fast asleep.

  She stared at the sheet that had been thrust into her hands and, slowly at first, began to read it:

 

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