After church the following day, Ros and Mary went to visit Gloria and Jennifer after all, but were surprised to find them gone when they reached the infirmary. Matron explained that the girls had made a rapid recovery and had been allowed to go back to their dormitory as long as they did not exert themselves too much. Hockey was out of the question for a few days, as were all other forms of strenuous sport, and they were also excused lessons for Monday and Tuesday. Mary still showed no signs of coming down with the mysterious illness, and decided to go for a walk in the strong autumn sunshine before lunch. Down by the beach she could see some wading birds, and as ornithology was a keen hobby of hers, she took with her a sketchbook and a pencil and sat on an outcrop of rock drawing pictures of the long-legged birds. She felt really happy. On the first day she had been apprehensive about not making any friends because she was so much younger than the others in her year, but they had made her feel welcome and although Gloria and Jennifer had spent a large part of the first weeks of term in the sick bay, she and Ros had become firm friends.
From where she sat, Mary could see right across the bay, down the length of the causeway. The tide was in, so there was no chance of walking across to the town, and in any case it would take her over an hour and lunch would be ready quite soon. Finishing her sketch, she laid back on the smooth, cool rock and closed her eyes. Abruptly something flew overhead, blotting out the late September sun and waking her with a loud screech. It was a black-headed gull. Sitting up, Mary squinted towards the direction the bird took, and it was at that moment that she saw a lone figure hurrying along the causeway.
‘That’s strange,’ Mary thought. ‘I could have sworn the causeway was underwater!’
She stood up, shielding her eyes, and saw that she was right. Barely an inch of water covered the highest part, but mostly it was a foot deep in steel-grey water. But whoever she had seen was striding through the water, presumably in bare feet or else Wellington boots! The causeway passed within a hundred yards or so of where Mary stood, but she had a hunch she knew who the figure would be. Black clouds were gathering from the west, as the forecast had said, and within a couple of minutes drops of water started to fall on her. Five minutes later and the rain was torrential, and Mary decided to make a dash for the nearest building, which was a set of outhouses that had been used as stables when the old school was still a Manor house.
Throwing herself through an old, open wooden doorway, Mary found herself faced with a pile of wooden crates, and beyond them, some sacks. Without pausing to think where she might be, she peered through the rain to see the small figure hurrying towards her full pelt! Sure enough, it was Victoria Eggleton, and as Mary had surmised, she had bare feet. Her slacks were rolled up over her calves, but even so they appeared to be quite wet. She wore no coat, and her blouse was also drenched.
‘In here, Miss!’ Mary shouted, and the teacher must have heard her, for she made straight for the building. Mary took off her jumper and wrapped it around the teacher’s shoulders. It was then that she realised that Victoria Eggleton was sobbing, crying like a baby.
‘What on Earth is the matter, Miss Eggleton?’
But she only shook her head and sat down on one of the crates, shivering.
‘Shall I fetch someone?’
‘No!’ whispered Miss Eggleton so fiercely that Mary almost sat down. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the teacher that she knew all about her nighttime rendezvous in the Abbey, but she thought better of it. If she wanted it kept a secret, as she had hinted the very first time they had spoken, then Mary would respect her wishes – for now!
‘The refectory is open – all the girls will be in there for lunch. We could go up to the dormitories. They should be quite empty at this time of day,’ Mary suggested, and to her astonishment, Miss Eggleton agreed at once. They waited until the rain had subsided sufficiently for them to make the twenty-yard dash across to the main school building, then Mary charged up the old oak staircase to check that her dormitory was empty, leaving Miss Eggleton waiting at the bottom. As she raced past Linda and Angela’s dorm, she couldn’t help herself. She had to go in and look for Ros’s book! And there it was, still in the bright paper bag, on top of one of the bedside cabinets. Mary snatched it up and raced on to her own dormitory, and finding it completely empty, called down to Miss Eggleton. Within a matter of minutes the teacher had found a dressing gown of Gloria’s that fitted perfectly, and a pair of Ros’s slippers. Sitting on Mary’s bed, she stared out of the window, the tears gradually drying on her cheeks. She looked a sorry sight as Mary towelled her hair dry.
‘Can I make you a coffee?’
‘No thank you Mary, I’m fine. You have a particularly good view from this window. Is this your bed?’
Mary nodded. She wondered if Miss Eggleton would mention the midnight and early morning rendezvous. Surely she must know that Mary had seen her and the two men! But she said nothing. Then, after a few moments, she stood up.
‘Nothing to anyone, Mary. You must promise. Please?’
It was most unusual for a teacher to be so utterly dependent on a pupil. Mary knew that Victoria Eggleton must be really desperate to ask for Mary’s help. She must know that Mary had seen her. She must!
‘Of course I promise, Miss Eggleton, as long as you’re not in trouble, if you know what I mean.’
‘Mary, I can assure you that everything will be fine. You have my word that I am not in trouble.’
‘Is it your friend, Miss?’
‘My friend?’
‘The one we spoke about, that first time.’
Miss Eggleton frowned. For a moment Mary thought she was going to deny everything.
‘Oh, my friend! No, that has nothing to do with it. I must go now. I will return these things as soon as I can.’
Mary knew she was lying, but she had promised to say nothing, and by inference to trust Miss Eggleton, though she was beginning to wonder if she would ever get to the bottom of the mystery.
Later that day Ros and the others came in to the dormitory to find Mary lying on her bed, reading. She had placed the book on Ros’s bed so she couldn’t help but notice it as soon as she came in. ‘Mare, you found it! Good girl!’
‘It was on top of one of the bedside cabinets in Linda’s and Angela’s room. I just took it and ran,’ Mary told her, omitting to say that she had entertained Miss Eggleton following her strange trip across the causeway. The four girls spent the evening playing Monopoly and cards. There was no prep on Sundays. The following day the rain was still falling, only heavier, if such a thing were possible. There was no hockey practice as the pitch was waterlogged, and lessons were miserable and gloomy affairs, looking out onto an overcast, grey sky and puddles forming everywhere. After lunch, Mary decided to spend an hour in the library as she had a free period. She found a quiet table by the window and settled down with her history book in readiness for the next lesson, but found that she couldn’t concentrate. A whole load of questions were rattling around in her head, and they all had to do with the mysterious Miss Eggleton and her nighttime visitors. Who was she meeting in the Abbey in the dead of night? Who was the mysterious visitor in the car? And why had she returned from the town with no shoes or Wellingtons and no topcoat? Mary decided to make a list of all the possibilities that had occurred to her. Firstly, it was quite possible that the man in the Abbey was the one Miss Tibbs had spoken of in assembly, the man with the gun. If so, he had not attempted to harm Miss Eggleton, but that in itself meant nothing. Secondly, she had mentioned a friend about whom she was particularly worried, and when Mary had questioned her, she had denied that the person was at the school. This was not necessarily an untruth, as the person Mary had seen was in the Abbey, not in the school. Thirdly, she had met someone on the golf course in Haleton, but she had got to the bottom of the hill in a fraction of the time it should have taken her. There was only one explanation for that. Someone had a car and had driven her to where the two girls had met up with her before catching the bus back across the causeway. Mary’s head was spinning, and she was no further forward. A council of war was called for.
