JUNIPER JOURNAL – Special Free Issue

  We challenge The Trebizon Journal, it said Elizabeth Exton should resign. She's not fit to be Editor.

  Rebecca gasped and started to read much, much more quickly. Key phrases leapt out of the page at her.

  For fifty years The Journal has been written by the school ...for the school... not by outsiders ... the Editor has no right to cast a slur on the school contributions ... some Magazine Officers were not given time ... As far as Juniper House goes, the slur is unfounded... We can prove it ...

  We throw open our editorial columns to all work that has been rejected by Elizabeth Exton. We will publish it for you! But first we start with Juniper's best –

  The next line of type danced in front of Rebecca's eyes.

  A WINTER'S MORNING – by REBECCA MASON, FORM II ALPHA

  In growing excitement she read her own essay, printed out in full, right down to the bottom of the page and over on to the back. Tish had copied it word for word from her English exercise book.

  At the bottom of the back page came a final exhortation:

  Don't forget – send your rejected material to The J.J. We will print it and prove that the remark in the official school magazine is a slur on us all. This issue published by Ishbel Anderson – Magazine Officer – Juniper House.

  Rebecca sank back weakly against her pillow. It was unbelievable. Tish had really done it. She had challenged no less mighty a person than Elizabeth Exton. Rebecca felt admiration for her courage, but it was mixed with dread.

  What would happen to Ishbel Anderson now?

  ELEVEN

  REBECCA SEES A 'GHOST'

  Rebecca got washed and dressed and kept out of everybody's way until breakfast time. She went and sat down by the lake, watched the ducks bobbing in and out of the reeds, and read the stencilled news-sheet over and over again.

  She was excited to see her essay in print and to know that the whole school would be reading it. At the same time she was ashamed of feeling excited. What an incredible thing for Tish to do. Clearly there were others backing her up, people like Sue and Margot and dear old Elf. But the full wrath of those in authority would surely fall on Tish's head, and hers alone.

  A group of Fourth Years went by, on their way to breakfast from their boarding house in the school grounds. They were crowding round the stencilled sheet as they walked along.

  'I agree with every word she says!'

  'So do I.'

  'Suky Morris did a marvellous drawing and it should have gone in. Elizabeth Exton's just a big show-off.'

  'But what's she going to do when she reads this? That's what I want to know ...'

  Their voices faded off into the distance. Rebecca got to her feet. She couldn't put off going to dining hall any longer, and besides, she wanted breakfast badly. It was an hour since Tish had shaken her awake. In that hour, Tish and Co. had certainly moved fast: the special issue of The J.J. had already been delivered to the boarding houses. People were already reading it.

  Rebecca could tell, as soon as she entered the dining hall, that the news had travelled like wildfire. The stencilled sheets were in evidence everywhere and there was a tremendous buzz of talking. Tish, trying to sit down to have her breakfast, was involved in a quarrel with someone – it looked as though it might turn into a physical fight. And as Rebecca walked in, a group of First Years on the table nearest the door clapped her.

  'Get your hands off me, Margaret Exton!' Tish was saying, as Rebecca approached. A tall girl with bony features, was gripping Tish's arm tightly and Tish was trying to tear her hand away. 'Get lost!'

  Rebecca remembered that Elizabeth Exton had a younger sister in the Third Year. This must be her – white with fury, too.

  'You'll pay for this, Tish Anderson,' she said threateningly.

  'Go and sit at your proper table, Margaret,' said a prefect.

  Margaret Exton walked across the hall to her table, where a group of Third Years banged their knives and forks and cheered her.

  Miss Gates, the mistress on duty, blew a whistle loudly.

  'Silence!' she said. 'Everyone will eat breakfast in silence!'

  And so they did. Immediately afterwards, Rebecca approached Tish before she could leave the dining hall.

  'Tish!'

  'Are you angry, Rebecca?'

  'No, I'm just scared for your sake.'

  'I'm not scared. I just had to do something – and I feel great to have got it all off my chest. Sorry it happens to be your essay that's involved. Means your name's dragged into the whole thing.'

  'I don't mind that at all!' said Rebecca, her eyes shining now. 'You've certainly got a lot of faith in that essay! Not only you, but the others who've helped you. I'd just about lost faith in it. But now, seeing it in print ...'

  'Six different people have already told me they think it's marvellous,' said Tish. 'I mean, older girls. Even a Sixth Former.'

  As if to prove the very point that Tish was making, two older girls walked over and clapped Rebecca on the back.

  'Good stuff that.'

  'Should have gone in.'

  But another girl, Lady Edwina Burton who was in the Fifth Year, came up to them and said quite angrily, 'Don't encourage these little berks. They're big-headed enough already. Who do they think they are, anyway?'

  'Hear, hear!' said somebody else.

  Fortunately, at that moment the bell went for Assembly.

  During the course of the day, Rebecca came to realize that the school was split right down the middle, taking sides in the quarrel between the puny Juniper Journal and the mighty Trebizon Journal.

  A lot of girls agreed with Tish's views, and were quietly pleased that she had expressed them. But there were others who admired the beautiful, lavish magazine that Elizabeth Exton and her committee had produced to mark the Golden Jubilee, and thought the whole thing was rudeness and cheek beyond belief.

  As for Elizabeth Exton, there was no doubt in her mind whatsoever. As soon as a copy of the offending sheet fell into her hands, at the end of a morning break, she went directly to see Miss Morgan, House Mistress of Juniper.

  'I think this insolent little rag should be banned,' she informed Miss Morgan. 'These girls aren't sensible enough to have the use of a duplicating machine. They should never be allowed to use it again. Especially that Anderson girl.'

  Miss Morgan read the news-sheet from start to finish.

  'I see,' she said at length. 'Thank you for drawing this to my attention, Elizabeth. Perhaps you could arrange for Ishbel to be extracted from old school and brought over here to my office at once.'

  'Yes, Miss Morgan,' said Elizabeth, with some satisfaction.

  In spite of her protests to Rebecca about not being scared, Tish was only human. Her knees began to knock when she found herself hauled out of the French lesson and deposited in Miss Morgan's office on the ground floor of Juniper House. The room was empty but she could see the stencilled sheet lying on the desk.

  Some time later, Miss Morgan walked in, sat down and picked up the sheet, fixing Tish with a stem eye.

  'You shouldn't have done this, Ishbel.'

  'But it wasn't fair!'

  'You do realize, don't you, that if it were not for the generosity of Elizabeth's father, there would be no magazine at all this term?'

  'Yes, but that shouldn't come into it –'

  'Of course not. Except it should make you doubly careful before you insult and vilify somebody without any possible justification, somebody much higher up the school than you who has worked extremely hard, in full and proper consultation with her editorial committee –'

  'But –'

  'Don't argue with me, Ishbel. That fact, I have just checked. And as you know, anybody elected to the high office of Editor of The Journal has, with her editorial committee, final responsibility for it. It's not up to any of us, least of all some insignificant members of the Second Year, to question her judgement in such personal terms.

  'Elizabeth has asked me to ban your journal. I am not going to ban it. Indeed, you're free to publish any material you wish that did not reach the necessary standard for this term's magazine. But first you'll publish a full apology and retraction for this –' She tapped the sheet lying on the table. 'Draft something out and bring it to my office this evening.'

  She got up and showed Tish to the door.

  'Ishbel, I'm surprised at you,' were Miss Morgan's last words.

  'Tish!' shouted Sue, hanging out of the form room window and waving. French had just ended and four of them, including Rebecca, were crowding round the window that looked down on to the quadrangle gardens, far below. At last Tish had emerged from Juniper House. 'Tish!'

  'She's coming back, but she's not looking up,' said Margot Lawrence apprehensively. 'I don't think she's even heard us.'

  'She looks really miserable,' said Elf. 'She's come into the building now. I wonder what the punishment is?'

  'Whatever it is, we share it with her,' said Margot. 'We were all in it together.'

  'I'll share it, too,' volunteered Rebecca.

  They rushed over as Tish entered the form room, her cheeks red and her grin noticeably absent. Debbie Rickard, sat in the front row, all ears, pretending to sort out her history books for the next lesson.

  'What happened?'

  'What is it – lines? Detention? What?'

  'Nothing like that,' began Tish. She was very subdued. 'Gosh, did I get an earful from Miss Morgan! She's backing up Elizabeth Exton completely. Won't hear a word against her.'

  Debbie Rickard glanced across the form room and caught the eye of Roberta Jones. They exchanged satisfied nods.

  'Look out!' shouted Judy Sharp, who was keeping watch in the corridor. 'Maggy's coming!'

  There was a mad scramble for desks and books as Miss Magg, the history mistress, entered the form room.

  'No whispering, please,' she said sternly.

  Sitting next to Sue at the back, Rebecca tried to concentrate as Miss Magg wrote some facts about Ancient Egypt on the blackboard. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tish pass Sue a note, across the gangway between their desks. Sue opened it out and let Rebecca read it with her. It said:

  Have to apologize to E.E. in the J.J. or else ...

  Sue wrote underneath:

  And will we?

  She passed it to Tish, who wrote something and passed it back:

  Horrible decision. I don't know.

  All Rebecca's thoughts were with Tish now. Poor Tish. No wonder she looked so unhappy! She respected Miss Morgan and was obviously shattered that she sided with Elizabeth. But what else could the House Mistress do? reflected Rebecca. No Second Year could insult an important School Officer and be allowed to get away with it. In her heart, she had guessed it would come to something like this.

  'The tomb, Rebecca!' said Miss Magg sharply. 'What did they put in the tomb?'

  'The – the body, I suppose,' said Rebecca weakly. There was laughter. Maggy had been asking her a question and she hadn't even heard it.

  'Oh, really? The body?'

  The mistress's voice was heavy with sarcasm and from then on Rebecca had to pay close attention to the lesson. At last the bell went. Morning lessons had ended; in fifteen minutes it would be dinner time.

  Tish and Co. immediately went into a huddle over by the window. Rebecca wondered if she could join them, but Sue signalled her away. They were discussing whether Tish should write the apology.

  'Action committee, Rebecca,' mouthed Tish. 'Clear off. We're mixed up in it, especially me, but you're not. Not fair to involve you.'

  Rebecca wandered downstairs, thinking she wouldn't mind being mixed up in it. The Secretary popped her head out of the School Office and called her name. She was holding The Trebizon Journal.

  'You've forgotten to collect your magazine, Rebecca.'

  Rebecca had no choice but to take it. After all, she had paid for it. And as she sat in the weak November sunshine outside the dining hall, waiting for the bell to go, curiosity got the better of her at last. Gingerly, she began to leaf through the pages.

  She was looking at the last page when Tish found her. The dinner bell had gone, but Rebecca hadn't even heard it. Tish was feeling extremely angry and upset at the idea of having to write a public apology to Elizabeth Exton, and so far nothing had been resolved. But she was not so upset that she couldn't see there was something wrong.

  'Reading that?' she asked. Then, 'What's the matter with you? You look as though you've seen a ghost.'

  'My poem!' said Rebecca, hoarsely, almost too shocked to speak. It really was like seeing a ghost. 'She didn't write it. I did.'

  TWELVE

  OUT OF THE FRYING PAN ...

  'Your poem?' asked Tish, bewildered. 'What on earth are you talking about, Rebecca? Who didn't write what?'

  'Elizabeth Exton didn't write my poem!' blurted out Rebecca. 'I wrote it! She's made up a title for it – "Solitude" – that's all. I called it "All Alone", but it's my poem. I wrote it! And she's put her name at the bottom of it!'

  'Are you serious?' Tish said.

  The last stragglers were going into the dining hall now and shortly a prefect would close the big glass doors. But neither Rebecca nor Tish were conscious of that. Tish snatched the gold-covered Trebizon Journal out of Rebecca's hands.

  'You mean here on the last page, the place that's always reserved for the Editor's own personal work –'

  Tish was speaking in a tremendous rush. She was outraged, but beneath the outrage there was a tinge of triumph and excitement in her voice.

  '"Solitude",' she read out. Then, '"There's a certain slant of light, on winter afternoons. It falls through the trees, lies heavy on the ..."'

  '"Dunes."' Rebecca finished the line, automatically. She kept pushing a hand through her hair, wondering if she were dreaming the whole thing. 'That's exactly what I wrote – the whole thing. I don't believe she's altered a single word. It was the first day I arrived here. I was feeling really miserable. I went down to the bay, and sat in the dunes, and wrote it –'

  'I remember!' said Tish. 'I looked for you. I was waiting for you when you came back and we were late for tea. And,' she ended triumphantly, 'you had biro on your face. You had to wash it off!'

  She stared at the poem, in mounting excitement. 'Of course!' she said under her breath. 'I hadn't even read this, but now I have – it's not her at all, is it? It's much more you, Rebecca. How could she be so daft? Surely she knows she's going to be found out!' Tish grabbed Rebecca's arm. 'How did she get hold of it? Where was it? Have you kept a copy? Have you got your rough working out –?'

  Rebecca just shook her head, the feeling of extreme unreality returning. That was what was so amazing about it all. 'I just wrote it on the beach,' she said dully. 'When I'd finished it, I felt a whole lot better. So I just ripped the page out of my notepad and put it in a litter basket.'

  'What?' Tish's face fell. 'You didn't!'

  Rebecca knew there was no need to reply. Tish believed her. She just shrugged her shoulders helplessly. And suddenly Tish saw the funny side of it.

  'How ridiculous!' she laughed. She felt slightly hysterical. 'Do you mean to say Elizabeth Exton was so desperate to find something to pass off as her own work that she went poking around all the litter baskets in Trebizon Bay!'

  'Looks like it!' Rebecca was beginning to feel hysterical herself. 'The latest craze – punk poetry!'

  'It's a wonder she didn't print the words off an ice-cream wrapper!' giggled Tish helplessly. 'Oh, Rebecca, this is all just too marvellous –'

  'Marvellous?' said Rebecca, suddenly sober.

  'Ishbel Anderson! Rebecca Mason! Come on – at once!'

  The duty prefect had come over to close the doors and had seen the two of them still outside.

  'Tish!' said Rebecca anxiously, as they hurried into the hall. 'Don't do anything silly. I know you believe me, but I don't think anybody else would. And there's not a hope of proving anything. You're in enough trouble already. I wish I hadn't told you. I'm not going to tell anybody else. I want to think it all over –'

  'Yes, so do I,' said Tish suddenly.

  'And you promise –?' began Rebecca. She was having to hurry to keep up with the dark-haired girl as they threaded their way through the crowded dining hall. 'You promise –?'

  'I promise to do nothing silly this time,' said Tish.

  As Rebecca and Tish sat down at opposite ends of the dinner table, Rebecca heaved a sigh of relief. Tish had given her promise not to do anything silly. Rebecca didn't want her getting into any more trouble on her account.

  Maybe she, Rebecca, would have to summon up courage and confront the mighty Elizabeth Exton about the poem, but it would need some careful thought. Maybe she could have a meeting this evening with what Tish called her 'Action Committee', and see if they believed her. And if they did ...

  Maybe, maybe, maybe ... All through the dinner hour Rebecca churned the problem round in her mind. She longed to talk it over with Tish. But Tish had gone off with Sue for a walk in the school grounds. Rebecca guessed that they would be talking over Tish's problem, whether or not to publish the apology to Elizabeth Exton in The Juniper Journal. What would Sue advise? She felt deeply envious of their close friendship.

  Rebecca also surmised that Tish would be telling Sue about her poem. Well, she didn't mind that. Would Sue believe it? As long as Tish didn't do anything reckless, that was the main thing! Rebecca felt fairly calm, because Tish had promised faithfully not to do anything silly. It never occurred to her that Tish had chosen her words with care. As far as Tish was concerned, what she had made up her mind to do was not silly at all – but perfectly sensible. And she certainly wasn't going to run the risk of Rebecca putting a stop to it.

  It was a games afternoon, and Tish did not turn up. Even then, Rebecca suspected nothing. Sue told Miss Willis that Tish had a bad headache, and had gone to lie down in the sick room – and Rebecca believed it! She thought of the awful decision Tish had to make about the apology. That was enough to give anyone a bad headache.

 

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