The Belles Of The Chalet School (updated 4/9 p.7) Complete
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The CBB -> St Scholastika's House
#1: The Belles Of The Chalet School (updated 4/9 p.7) Complete Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Fri Jul 07, 2006 7:28 pm
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This is my first drabble, and I'm nervous about posting it, so please tell me if you think it's awful. I also hope it's in the right house. I was watching The Belles Of St Trinian's last night, and during the scene where the mistresses are introduced, I imagined it being the CS staff instead. So I rewrote the scene, putting in the CS mistresses. I had to do some time-shifting, though. Elisaveta is coming a few years later than she did in the books.



“This is where we mistresses relax in our free time,” said Miss Durrant, leading the new girls into the staff common room. The room was cramped and full of cigarette smoke as the staff made the most of their last minutes of freedom.
“Hello, everybody,” said Miss Durrant. Nobody answered. She raised her voice. “I said; hello, everybody. I’ve brought the new girls to meet you. This is Elisaveta, the Princess of Belsornia, you know.”
She led them over to a tall, comfortable woman with a paintbrush stuck behind her ear, who was mixing up some drinks at the beverage counter.
“This is Miss Denny,” said Miss Durrant. “She’ll be taking you in Arts and Handicrafts.”
“Like a toss, Marjorie?” asked Miss Denny, holding out a generous glass of vodka; her specialty.
“No, thank you,” said Miss Durrant, sounding scandalised. She led the girls over to a woman with smooth brown hair, who was taking practise swings with a golf club, with a cigarette in her mouth. “This is Miss Leslie. She teaches maths.”
“I say, would you mind getting the kids off the eye-line, old sport?” said the maths mistress, wielding her club alarmingly.
“Really, Kit,” said Miss Durrant in disgust. She gestured to a petite little woman who was sewing away, sitting on the edge of a table. “Mademoiselle de Lachenais, your French mistress.”
“Enchanté,” said Mademoiselle in a bored voice, not bothering to look up from her work. Miss Durrant rolled her eyes and moved the girls on to the next mistress, who was passed out cold in an armchair, clutching a glass of gin.
“And this is Miss Wilson. She’ll be taking you in Geography…er, some of the time. Come along, girls.”
The next mistress, with wavy brown hair and blue-grey eyes that had never yet needed glasses, was filing her nails as she sat on a table near Mademoiselle.
“This is Miss Annersley. She’ll be taking you in English Literature.”
“’Allo, ducks,” said Miss Annersley, in a low, lovely voice somewhat marred by the fact that she was dropping her H’s. “’Ow are you? I ‘ope you like it ‘ere.”
“Come along, girls!” called Miss Durrant. “Come along.”
“Like it here? Like it here?” snorted Miss Denny incredulously, as the girls filed out of the staff room. “He he, that’s a funny one.”
“Really, Denny,” said Miss Durrant reprovingly, her hand on the door handle. “You might at least wait until they’re out of earshot.” With which, she departed with her charges.

Last edited by Aquabird on Mon Sep 04, 2006 9:39 pm; edited 28 times in total
#2:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Fri Jul 07, 2006 7:34 pm
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You are wicked!!! That was hysterical Laughing Laughing Laughing Laughing Laughing

Poor Nell, drunk again - and as for Hilda! Shocked

Thanks Aquabird - wonderful! Laughing
#3:  Author: Alison H, Location: Manchester PostPosted: Fri Jul 07, 2006 7:38 pm
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Congratulations on your first drabble, Amanda Very Happy !
#4:  Author: Dawn, Location: Leeds, West Yorks PostPosted: Fri Jul 07, 2006 7:45 pm
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Brilliant Laughing

thanks Aquabird
#5:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Fri Jul 07, 2006 7:48 pm
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Thank you. Very Happy Here is the rest.

Miss Annersley raised her head.
“If old Lepâttre’d only pay me what she owes me I’d’ve been out of this dump like a shot.”
“You wouldn’t see me for dust,” said Miss Stewart, the history mistress. She was pinning a pin-up of a handsome boxer to the cupboard door.
Miss Nalder, who was standing by the window, gave a little shudder. “Oh, if only I had the courage to give myself up.”
“Why don’t you, dear?” suggested Miss Denny. “The food’d be better, and the company.”
“I’m not complaining,” said Miss Leslie, taking a drag of her cigarette. “I haven’t got a single jolly qualification.”
“Still,” said Miss Annersley, “if we’ve got to stick ‘ere I think we ought to make an effort to fry some dough out o’ the old witch.”
At this point the Headmistress, Mademoiselle Lepâttre, entered.
“Good morning all!” she said gaily. “I hope you enjoyed your holidays.” She glanced around. “Oh, this place. It always reminds me of a ladies’ powder room in Portside.” She crossed to the window where Miss Nalder was standing, saying; “But if I may interrupt you just for one moment, to tell you that I’ve had the usual communication from the Ministry, only this time, this time they’re threatening to close the school.”
“Thank heavens someone’s seen the light,” said Miss Nalder darkly. Mademoiselle smiled sweetly at her.
“Might I remind you, Miss Nalder, that if this school closes, it will be at least five years before you see the light.”
Miss Nalder glared at her as she moved into the middle of the room.
“But seriously, ladies, I really think that we ought to attempt to effect at least an appearance of improvement this term. I’m sure that if we all pull together, we can manage the odd School Certificate.”
“You realise we’ve none of us been paid since Easter?” snapped Miss Denny.
“I know that,” said Mademoiselle. “I know that. And believe me, it’s on my conscience.”
“Well, get it off your conscience!” snarled Miss Denny.
“I have the greatest hopes of doing so…shortly,” responded Mademoiselle smoothly. “We have several affluent new pupils this term, including the Crown Prince of Belsornia’s daughter.”
“He must be crazy to send her here,” snorted Miss Denny.
“Doubtless, doubtless, but the point is that we’ve got her. And it’s not merely what he’s prepared to spend. Oh, goodness knows, money appears to be no object. He’s given her one hundred pounds pocket money.”
“How much?” chorused the mistresses in amazement, as Mademoiselle walked back to the window and gazed out.
“One hundred pounds. But it’s what it may lead to that is important. I’m told that the Prince has at least seventeen other daughters. Of course, I don’t want to be too optimistic, ladies, but I really think that the tide has ceased to end, and is about to…” She turned, but the staff room was deserted, and the door was swinging in the draught.
#6:  Author: Liane, Location: Manchester PostPosted: Fri Jul 07, 2006 7:58 pm
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This is very funny. I hope there will be more!
#7:  Author: Chair, Location: Rochester, Kent PostPosted: Fri Jul 07, 2006 9:54 pm
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Thanks, Aquabird. This is really great! I am laughing as well.
#8:  Author: Ruth B, Location: Oxford, UK PostPosted: Fri Jul 07, 2006 10:04 pm
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Inspired! Thank you Aquabird.

BTW, love the sig.
#9:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Fri Jul 07, 2006 10:19 pm
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This is fabulous. Would love to see some more!
#10:  Author: KathrynW, Location: London PostPosted: Fri Jul 07, 2006 11:03 pm
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This is fabulous, thank you Very Happy
#11:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Sat Jul 08, 2006 7:34 am
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Should say I absolutely love this St Trinians film too!

Thanks Aquabird - hysterical. Laughing
#12:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Sat Jul 08, 2006 12:57 pm
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Thanks everyone! Very Happy
#13:  Author: Alice, Location: London, England PostPosted: Sat Jul 08, 2006 1:29 pm
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This is very funny. I've never seen any St Trinians but I've got a free DVD that came with a newspapewr at work. I'll have to get round to watching it.
#14:  Author: francesn, Location: away with the faeries PostPosted: Sat Jul 08, 2006 9:41 pm
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This is really fabulous Amanda!

Thanks for posting it - I hope there will be more
#15:  Author: LesleyAnn, Location: Perth, Scotland PostPosted: Sat Jul 08, 2006 9:48 pm
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Very very funny - I nearly choked on my wine Razz

*hopes there will be more*
#16:  Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire PostPosted: Sun Jul 09, 2006 12:00 pm
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Thanks, Aquabird.
#17:  Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England PostPosted: Mon Jul 10, 2006 9:16 am
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Fantastic! Laughing

Thanks, Aquabird
#18:  Author: Elle, Location: Peterborough PostPosted: Mon Jul 10, 2006 1:58 pm
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Hee hee! I'm glad I'm not the only one who gets Nell drunk on gin!

Thanks Aquabird.
#19:  Author: Lizzie, Location: A little village on the Essex/Suffolk border PostPosted: Mon Jul 10, 2006 6:25 pm
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BRILLIANT.

Best lines of that movie...

"Poor little Bessy. I did warn her to be careful of that nitroglycerin"

"Anybody else for the blimmin' Braarnie's campfire? Daaan that parf, back 'a them TREES!"

Please write more. Please.
#20:  Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire PostPosted: Mon Jul 10, 2006 7:35 pm
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Starting a chant for more.
#21:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Mon Jul 10, 2006 8:20 pm
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I wasn't planning to write any more, but here you are! Thanks for all the lovely comments! Laughing

There was a loud clattering of heels on wood as Miss Nalder, Miss Annersley, Miss Leslie, Miss Stewart and Mlle de Lachenais raced up the stairs like a herd of baby hippos (the result of a few cream cakes too many), to the dormitory which Elisaveta had been instilled in. (Miss Wilson was, alas, too intoxicated to make it past the staff room door.) Miss Denny, however, was craftier. As they raced past the fire escape, she slipped through and climbed up to the next floor, jumping in through the window. She swung herself over the nearest bed to where Elisaveta was sitting, unpacking. Smiling sweetly, Miss Denny said;
“I understand your father gave you one hundred pounds pocket money, my dear. That’s an awful lot of cash to carry around with you here. Almost fatal, in fact. Now, if you’ll give it to me I’ll look after it for you.” Her tone changed. “Hurry, come on! Cough up, where is it?”
As Elisaveta fished in her handbag and gave Miss Denny a piece of paper, the dormitory door opened and the rest of the staff poured in. They pounced on the piece of paper and there was a minor scrimmage before Miss Nalder got a hold of it and slapped their hands out of the way.
“Woss it say?” demanded Miss Annersley.
On the paper, in Mademoiselle’s pointed French script, was written; “To Princess Elisaveta; Received for safe keeping; £100. T. E. Lepâttre.”
“Well what do you know?” said Miss Stewart in indignation. “The old so-and-so!”

Meanwhile, as the residents of the Tiernsee hurriedly barricaded their doors and windows and ensured that their poultry and cattle were safe against the young delinquents that made up the school, a bus drew up outside the front door of the Chalet School from Spärtz with the latest arrivals for the school. They flooded past Miss Nalder, who, dressed in black and smoking a cigarette, looked like a cross between a vampire and a witch as she stood in the doorway watching, completely unmoved. The bus was shortly followed by a car, which drew up behind it. A tall, fair man got out of the back and spoke to the driver.
“I shouldn’t be more than five minutes, Gottfried. Hurry up now, Jo.”
“O-kay,” drawled the black-haired, pale-faced girl in the front passenger seat. She got out of the car, taking a drag on her cigarette as she did so. She picked up her case and followed the fair man over to the door, where he raised his hat to Miss Nalder.
“Good morning,” he said. “My name is Russell. Jem Russell. I’m Jo’s brother-in-law.”
“She knows,” drawled Jo. “How do, Grace.”
“Er, how d’you do?” said Jem, feeling rather at a loss at the woman’s continued silence as she gazed at him. “Er, actually, I’ve come to see my wife’s partner, Mademoiselle Lepâttre. She’s, er, she’s Head...”
Miss Nalder took a slow drag of her cigarette, then jerked her thumb at the interior of the building.
“Oh, er…thank you.”
He and Jo stepped into the school.
“What a very odd woman,” Jem remarked. “What does she teach?”
“Games,” Jo replied, as they came into the main hall.
“Oh, really?”
But at that moment there was a loud cry. Jo’s boon companions Simone Lecoutier, Frieda Mensch and Marie von Eschenau were in the hall, and there was a short, joyful reunion.
“Told you I’d be back!” cried Jo. Jem took her arm.
“We have yet heard, or that to cross, my girl,” he said firmly, dragging her over to Mademoiselle’s office. “Now you just behave yourself and let me do the talking.” And he knocked at the door.
“Come in,” trilled Mademoiselle’s voice.

Last edited by Aquabird on Wed Jul 19, 2006 1:00 pm; edited 1 time in total
#22:  Author: Liane, Location: Manchester PostPosted: Mon Jul 10, 2006 8:23 pm
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I'm really enjoying this, Aquabird, thank you.
#23:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Mon Jul 10, 2006 8:34 pm
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So Joey was expelled then??? Laughing Laughing Laughing

Love it!
#24:  Author: Chair, Location: Rochester, Kent PostPosted: Mon Jul 10, 2006 9:12 pm
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Thanks, Amanda. It's great to see more of this! I love the way that the staff speak to the girls.
#25:  Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 11:45 am
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Thanks, Aquabird.
#26:  Author: Fatima, Location: Sunny Qatar PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 11:53 am
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Laughing That was great, thanks, Aquabird Laughing
#27:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 3:04 pm
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So funny. Thanks!
#28:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 6:06 pm
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Here is the next bit. I have changed the drabble's name as I am no longer writing about the staff.

Jem and Jo entered the study. Mademoiselle was at her desk.
“Good morning, Thérèse,” said Jem. Mademoiselle looked through the pince-nez glasses she wore purely for fashion purposes.
“Hello, Mademoiselle,” said Jo.
“Jem,” Mademoiselle said. Then she looked over the top of the pince-nez as Jem and Jo strolled towards the desk. She got to her feet and removed her glasses. “Jem, I thought I had made it abundantly clear from my letter that I had expelled Josephine.”
“Yes, yes, I know Thérèse, I know,” said Jem, removing his hat and sitting down.
“Goodness knows, I’ve been lenient with her to the point of imbecility, Jem!” said Mademoiselle.
“Carla von Flügen wasn’t expelled when she burnt down the gymnasium,” said Jo, taking another drag of her fag. Mademoiselle turned.
“The gymnasium was insured!” she cried in consternation. “The sports pavilion was not.”
“I appreciate the distinction, Thérèse,” said Jem dryly. “I can no longer afford to have continual arson in my school,” said Mademoiselle forcefully. “I had to make an example.”
“Why pick on Josephine?” asked Jem. Mademoiselle straightened up.
“Jem,” she said, “when poor Madge and I started the school back in 1931, we vowed to keep it the smallest school in the whole of Austria. But then more people came, the Middles grew, and such things as good manners and good taste, were replaced by your black market values. What are you doing in that dreadful get-up?”
Jem glanced down at his loud checked suit. “I’m going to the Innsbruck Races.”
“Huh!” tutted Mademoiselle, sitting back down at her desk. “Still following those malicious animals. Really, Jem, you’re a disgrace to the Sonnalpe.”
“I’d hardly call you a credit to it, Thérèse,” Jem retorted. Mademoiselle tossed her pen back down.
“Then why are you so anxious for me to take Josephine back?”
“Business,” Jem replied briskly. “I hear that the Crown Prince of Belsornia is sending his daughter to school here.”
Mademoiselle sat back in her chair. “And what, pray, has that got to do with you, or Josephine?”
“The Crown Prince has a string of first-class race horses, Thérèse,” said Jem, with an air of one explaining that two and two made four.
“Do you mean,” began Mademoiselle, in shock, “do you mean to say that you wish to send Josephine back here simply to get you racing information?”
“But in my world, we live by information, Thérèse,” said Jem. “But Jem, Jem, this is a school!” cried Mademoiselle, getting up again. “Not Innsbruck Heath! No. No, nothing on earth will persuade me to take Josephine back.”
“Thérèse,” said Jem silkily, getting to his feet and strolling over to the fireplace, above which was a portrait of his wife, Madge, founder of the Chalet School. “You wouldn’t like it if I went to Madge and told her that you’d mortgaged the school up to the hilt, would you?”
Mademoiselle shrugged her shoulders. “Madge would never believe you.”
Jem chuckled evilly. “She’d cut you out of your share of the school’s profit in a trice and you know it.”
“But, but Jem!” cried Mademoiselle, deciding to ignore this. “You come here with a request like that without even offering to pay Josephine’s school fees!”
“Oh,” said Jem, sitting down on the edge of the desk and lazily drawing out his wallet. “I’ll give you something on account.”
“And supposing,” said Mademoiselle, sitting down once more at her desk, “just supposing I was insane enough to accept, how long do you expect this evil child to remain here?”
“Only for this term,” Jem replied.
“Yes, and I should think so, too!” said Mademoiselle. “She’s well over school age as it is!”
Jo shrugged. “Sophie Hamel’s older than me. So’s Vanna di Ricci. What’s more, Vanna’s married.”
Mademoiselle looked up from disentangling her pince-nez from her blouse. “Not officially.” She raised her pince-nez to her eyes. “Jem, I’ll take forty pounds in cash, and the balance by cheque.”
“I’m sorry, Thérèse,” said Jem, dropping a note in front of her. “A tenner’s the top.”
Mademoiselle looked disdainfully at the note before picking it up and holding it back out to Jem whilst glancing down at her papers. “Jem, I said twenty pounds in cash. Not a penny less.”
“I only wish I could spare it, Thérèse,” said Jem. He reached out for the note. “Of course, if you don’t-“ Mademoiselle jerked the note out of his reach.
“Oh, I suppose I’m just a foolish, weak woman,” she sighed. “You’re an unscrupulous rogue, Jem.”
#29:  Author: Fatima, Location: Sunny Qatar PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 6:28 pm
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Shocked Vanna's married?!

Thanks, Aquabird, this is hilarious!
#30:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 6:59 pm
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This really is a giggle!
#31:  Author: brie, Location: Glasgow PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 7:36 pm
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absolutely hysterical!!
#32:  Author: Lizzie, Location: A little village on the Essex/Suffolk border PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 7:50 pm
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MORE! I want explosions and illicit alcohol production and a suspicious man in the shrubbery...
#33:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 7:57 pm
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All in good time, Lizzie! Wink I still have to somehow get rid of Miss Nalder in order to allow an undercover cop to come in her place...
#34:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 8:01 pm
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Have her arrested! Laughing
#35:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 9:02 pm
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Good scheme, Lesley! Here you are. BTW I have now completely cast all time constraints to the wind. Nor do I know what Inspector Letton's first name is, so I've stuck to the original.

A few days passed, and Miss Nalder finally found the courage to give herself up, and found that a life inside was indeed Paradise (with a capital P) compared to life at the Chalet School.

Meanwhile, at the police station in Innsbruck, a Superintendent by the name of Letton decided it was high time he did something about the positive crime-wave in the area, which included arson, forged groschen and poison-pen letters. (”I’m surprised to hear the girls can write!” said the Ministry of Education official to whom he complained.) So he decided to send someone in the recently-apprehended Miss Nalder’s place…

“Sergeant Bubb to see you, sir,” said the bored desk sergeant via the intercom.
“Send her in,” said Letton. Sergeant Bubb entered with a salute.
“You sent for me?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Letton. “I’ve got a very important assignment for you, Sergeant.”
“Oh, good-o, Sammy,” said Sergeant Bubb happily. Letton frowned.
“How many times must I tell you not to call me Sammy in the office?” he besought her.
“Sorry Sammy.” She caught his eye. “Sorry.”
Letton decided to get on with it. “Before you joined the police, you taught in a girls’ school?”
“Yes. I was a games mistress.”
“Quite. And that’s the reason why I’ve chosen you for this job. I want you to go into a girls’ school, incognito, of course, and see what’s going on there.”
“It’s not the Chalet School?” said Sergeant Bubb hesitantly.
“The Chalet School,” said Letton heavily.
“No, Sammy,” said Sergeant Bubb, with a hint of a plea in her voice. “No! You of all people to send me there! There are limits, I won’t do it!” And she sat down defiantly in a chair.
“I shall regard a refusal as a dereliction of duty,” said Letton sternly.
“I can’t help it,” said Sergeant Bubb pathetically. “It’s not fair. You’re taking advantage of me!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Letton stiffly.
“Yes you are. After all we’ve meant to each other! It’s…it’s rotten!”
Letton crossed to her and put an arm around her shoulders. She stiffened.
“Now listen to me, Mabel,” he said firmly. “I didn’t mean to mention this, but…didn’t I give you promotion? Didn’t I take you off the beat?”
“I know,” wailed Mabel. “I know!”
He sat down on the desk in front of her. “Then surely you can do this one little thing in return?”
“But it’s not a little thing, it’s…it’s horrible!”
Letton scowled as he got to his feet.
“Mabel, dear, please don’t be so…so unpolicewomanly.”
“I-I can’t help it, it’s a terrible place.”
“Why do you suppose I want you to go there? Don’t you see that we must work together to stamp out this…this canker?” He sat down at his desk.
“But we shan’t be together,” protested Mabel. “You’ll be here and I’ll be there. We shan’t even get to the pictures together.”
“It won’t be forever,” said Letton, in a fair attempt at tenderness. He picked up a letter on his desk. “I wrote to the school on your behalf, applying for the post of games mistress.”
“You didn’t!” said Mabel in horror.
“They’ve accepted you.”
“Who’s Chloe Crawley?” she demanded, reading the letter.
“That’s you, dear. I couldn’t use your real name.”
“But Chloe! That’s a terrible name! And Crawley…they’ll call me Creepy Crawley!” She passed the letter back. “Why couldn’t you have thought of something like…Mavis?”
“You don’t look like a Mavis to me, dear.”
“Well, I hope I don’t look like a Chloe, either!”
“No, of course you don’t, dear.” He got up and went round the desk to her, holding her by the shoulders. “To me you’ll always be just plain Mabel. Don’t you see, dear, how much this means to us? And you will do it? For both our sakes?”
“All right,” Mabel agreed reluctantly. “I’ll have to polish up my hockey before I bully off!”
And she blew her nose loudly.
#36:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 9:20 pm
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Dear old Joyce Grenfell (sp?) Laughing

Thanks Aquabird
#37:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 9:34 pm
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Next bit...

Two days later, Miss Crawley duly joined the Chalet School, and after an interview with Mademoiselle emerged from her study with her to see the Fourth Form, waving hockey sticks like swords above their heads, racing past the study in the direction of the hockey pitch. She stared in horror, then asked Mademoiselle, who was locking the door; “What sort of a record have you got in hockey?”
“Oh, my dear Miss Crawley, the trouble has been to get a fixture list. Owing to the spirit of defeatism that even our littlest girls seem to have instilled into their opponents, we have won practically every cup in the county.”
“Oh, well done.”
“Yes, with the exception of the Tiernsee trophy, and we’re playing St Scholastika’s for that very shortly. Not quite the same class of school, perhaps, Miss Crawley-” she wrapped her shawl around her and they set off towards the stairs, “-but then we’ll never lay the spectacle of juvenile delinquency by cold shouldering, oh, careful!” And she drew up short as she saw a cord trailing across the floor, leading to the axe of a suit of armour. With a little giggle, she hopped over it. Her eyes wide with horror, Miss Crawley followed suit, and the disappointed Middles slunk off.
As they passed the trophy cabinet, sadly devoid of the cups themselves, but with their plinths still there, Miss Crawley remarked; “School cups, I suppose?”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” said Mademoiselle airily. “They’ve, er, they’ve gone to be polished.”
They walked up the stairs and around the corner, Mademoiselle saying; “I’m sorry we can’t show you the gym, but it’s temporarily out of action.”
At that moment, they passed a Fourth former hanging out of the window. She whistled piercingly.
“What on earth are you doing, Cornelia?” asked Mademoiselle.
“Nothing, Mademoiselle!” cried the girl, before darting off in the direction of the lab. Mademoiselle smiled indulgently as Miss Crawley looked out of the window. A fair-haired man dressed in a long overcoat, with a dilapidated hat on his head, emerged from the bushes.
“Who is that man?” asked Miss Crawley. Mademoiselle looked.
“Oh…you know, I’m not absolutely sure. He could be Jack; a boot boy I engaged in 1931.” At this point the suspicious man walked across the grounds, hands deep in the pockets of his overcoat. “Of course, he was only twelve, and was a good deal smaller then, but…but apart from that I see no reason why it shouldn’t be Jack.”
They walked on down the corridor and stopped outside the lab door.
“The Fourth Form are really quite advanced in their chemistry,” said Mademoiselle. “Shall we see what they’re up to?” And, whipping out her handkerchief to cover her mouth, she opened the door. A great roll of smoke poured out, and they made their way inside.
#38:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 9:35 pm
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I am absolutely loving this! I think it's even funnier now you're bringing in characters from across the series. I especially like Miss Bubb as a policewoman!
#39:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 9:40 pm
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I can picture the film - but when I transpose the cs characters it's even funnier! Laughing
#40:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 10:01 pm
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Last bit for tonight...

The lab was full of smoke and bursting with activity. Mademoiselle paused before a girl who was busy with a pestle. “Evadne? You will be careful with that nitro-glycerine, won’t you?
“Yes, Mademoiselle,” sighed Evadne, rolling her eyes before continuing with her work. Mademoiselle and Miss Crawley moved on, and paused before a table at which a lot of complicated apparatus was set up.
“I told you, they’re frightfully advanced,” said Mademoiselle gaily, as Miss Crawley looked on in shock.
From the tubes at the other side, fine gin was pouring into bottles. As Mademoiselle and Miss Crawley moved round, Miss Leslie strolled up.
“Ah, there you are, Miss Leslie,” said Mademoiselle. “Lots of activity, as usual.”
“Oh, rather!” agreed Miss Leslie. “But I haven’t a clue what they’re making.”
“Really?” said Mademoiselle, picking up a bottle to examine it.
“Gangway,” a girl snapped at Miss Crawley, shoving her out of the way. “Do you mind?”
As Mademoiselle tipped some gin into a beaker, some girls were lowering a box of the gin out of the window by a rope.
“Hold it steady, Elsie!” someone yelled. “Here it comes, Flash!”
Underneath the window, the mysterious man from the bushes was sitting at a fold-up table, sticking labels onto the bottles. As the box came down, he undid the rope and tipped his hat to the girls. Miss Crawley watched this little episode in horror. Meanwhile Mademoiselle, having tasted the gin, commented to Miss Leslie;
“Yes, well, it’s got something. I don’t quite know what, but send a few bottles up to my room. Whatever it is, it’ll do for the Old Girls’ Reunion.”
“Right-o,” said Miss Leslie cheerfully.
“Come along now, Miss Crawley!” cried Mademoiselle. “You must tear yourself away, there’s lots more to see, you know.”
And, coughing, they exited the lab.
“Well,” said Mademoiselle, as they walked down the corridor, “practical things like chemistry always prove such a natural outlet I always think."
An enormous explosion from the lab behind them caused the whole building to shake and a shower of dust to fall. Miss Crawley jumped a mile.
“Oh, dear,” sighed Mademoiselle. “Poor little Evadne. I warned her to be careful of that nitro-glycerine.” She paused outside a door marked “Life Class”. With a little smile, she said; “I think, perhaps, we’ll leave that until you’re more used to our ways, Miss Crawley.” And she strolled over to another door. She smiled fondly. “Geography.” And she opened the door. Bianca di Ferrara was at the board with a pointer, reciting; “Bordeaux, Rhone, Burgundy, Puis…”
“Quite right, dear!” cried Miss Wilson, whose lesson it was. “And now I want you to write down the six best vintage years of champagne since 1928.”
At this point, Anne Seymour ran in.
“Hey, Joey, Dr Jem wants you on the phone.”
Joey, who was at her desk, reading a magazine, got up. “Okay.” As she strolled past Mademoiselle, she said; “Oh, I’ll give your love to the old man.”
“Well, Miss Crawley,” said Mademoiselle, “I think that gives you a fair picture of the school.”
“Quite,” said Miss Crawley weakly.
#41:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 10:05 pm
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Razz And what a school! Thanks, Aquabird.
#42:  Author: Chair, Location: Rochester, Kent PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 11:18 pm
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Thanks, Amanda. This is absolutely brilliant!
#43:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 3:21 am
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This is great....I feel inspired to revisit the films....
#44:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 4:24 am
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Wonderful! Laughing
#45:  Author: Elle, Location: Peterborough PostPosted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 8:44 am
    —
*splutters hysterically*


Thanks Aquabird this is fab!
#46:  Author: alicat, Location: Wiltshire PostPosted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 9:17 am
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Aquabird this is great. Am sending huge carrots for your bunnies (or would they prefer alcohol or illegal substances?)
I had forgotton st trinians until I read this...
perhaps we could lobby for a re-showing of the films on the BBC
#47:  Author: Caty, Location: New Zealand PostPosted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 12:23 pm
    —
This is fabulous Amanda. Can't wait to read more.
#48:  Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire PostPosted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 12:39 pm
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Fabulous, miraculous, and all the other adjectives that mean superb.
#49:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 4:56 pm
    —
alicat wrote:
Aquabird this is great. Am sending huge carrots for your bunnies (or would they prefer alcohol or illegal substances?)
I had forgotton st trinians until I read this...
perhaps we could lobby for a re-showing of the films on the BBC


I have them all on video.... Laughing
#50:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 5:43 pm
    —
The carrots are gratefully accepted, alicat! (Though the bunnies certainly wouldn't say no to a touch of St T's Finest Dry Gin!) Small update here. Will try to post some more later.

Down in the main hall, Jo sprawled herself across the table holding the phone and telephone directories and picked up the phone.
“Hi, Jem!” she screeched in clarion tones.
“Hello, kid,” came Jem’s cautious tones down the line. “How are you getting on with the little princess?”
“O-kay! Why?”
“Well, it’s just that we may need the little lady sooner than I expected. You know the horse, Blue Prince, that Gottfried and I have entered for the Gold Cup? Well, we’ve backed it to win the fortune.”
“Ah, well, let me tell you. The Crown Prince has got a horse he got from France called Arab Boy entered in the same race, and you want the Princess to take me over to the stables to find out the form. Is that it?”
“Yes,” said Jem. “But not so loud, Jo. Arab Boy doesn’t stand an earthly in the book, but, well, we’d like to be on an absolute certainty, and they’re running it in a trial tomorrow morning.”
“What time?” asked Jo.
“Nine o’clock.”
“Nine,” repeated Jo, for clarification.
“Now, you know what we want; the time, the distance, and the weight he carries."
“Well, you leave that to me,” said Jo airily. “I’ll take a few of the gang along.”
On the landing above the phone, Thekla von Stift knelt down and listened, peering down between the banisters.
“O-kay,” drawled Jo, as Miss Crawley crept down the stairs to Thekla. Thekla saw her, leapt up and fled. Miss Crawley took up the position previously occupied by Thekla. “O-kay. Don’t worry, Jem, we’ll get the dope!”
Miss Crawley's jaw dropped and she felt in her blazer pocket for her notebook, which was already three-quarters full, even though she had only been in the school for a couple of hours.
#51:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 5:47 pm
    —
Laughing Laughing Laughing Laughing Laughing

I can just see all this!
#52:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 5:58 pm
    —
I'm feeling generous, so here's another little bit. I might even do the next bit tonight!

Meanwhile, Thekla had raced off to the hall, where she found the Middles busily arguing over their next exploit.
“Margia!” she yelled over the din. Everyone fell silent and looked up at her. “What’ll you give me if I tell you what I’ve just heard?”
“What have you heard?” demanded Margia Stevens, the Leader of the Middles. Thekla leaned closer.
“Something you’d like to know,” she said tantalisingly.
“Grab her, kids!”
Thekla was at once accosted by small hands that dragged her to the floor and pinned her down.
“Let me go!” she shrieked. “Stop it! Let go my arm!”
“What is it, now?” demanded Margia.
“Stop twisting my arm first, you pigs!” snapped Thekla. “It’s not fair. I’m making my – ow!” This last, as Suzanne Mercier twisted her arm.
“Come on, spill it!” ordered Margia. Thekla submitted reluctantly.
“Well, you know Jo’s brother in law’s got a horse in the Gold Cup?”
“We know!” groaned the Middles disappointedly.
“Well, he’s just rung her up to tell her to find out the form of a horse the Crown Prince has got in the same race.”
“Arab Boy!” exclaimed Maria Marani.
“That’s right,” said Thekla. “They’re running it in a trial tomorrow.”
“What’s that?” questioned Ilonka Barcokz.
“I don’t know,” said Margia. “But whatever it is, I think we ought to know about it.”
“It might be a chance for us to make some money!” cried Cornelia Flower.
“Ohhh!” exclaimed the others gleefully.
#53:  Author: Chair, Location: Rochester, Kent PostPosted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 6:48 pm
    —
Thanks, Amanda. I wonder if Miss Crawley will saboage the plans. It was great to see Thekla talking loudly!
#54:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 6:59 pm
    —
Thanks for all the updates. This is such a funny drabble!
#55:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 7:31 pm
    —
Thank you for all the lovely comments!

Early the next morning, four horses lined up near the stables. To the side stood Elisaveta, with two advisors to her father, who were to time the trial. Behind them stood Joey, Simone, Frieda and Marie. Hidden in the bushes were the naughty Middles. All three groups had stopwatches.
The horses took off, and Arab Boy pulled effortlessly in front to come first. The two advisors examined the time on the stopwatch, then congratulated each other. Margia, having also examined the time, said; “Well, it looks all right on paper, but it doesn’t mean much unless we know the weight.”
“Where do they put the weight?” asked Ilonka.
“In the saddle, of course!” said Margia. “Lumps of lead.”
“How’re we going to find that out?” asked Suzanne.
Meanwhile, Simone, having noted the time, said; “Okay. What about the weight?”
Jo looked round, then grinned. “Leave that to Marie. That baby’s giving him the full treatment.”
Marie was indeed batting her eyelashes and smiling beatifically at the stable hand riding Arab Boy, who was beaming back gooily as he trotted past.
Half an hour later, Jo, Simone and Frieda went to their horses, and Marie emerged from the stables, patting her hair as she called in; “Coin exchange, then. Nine o’clock, Thursday.” And with a last pat of her hair, she went to join the others as the stable boy emerged with a dazed expression and an enormous lipstick mark across his cheek.
Whilst the Seniors had had an easy time discovering the weight, the Middles had resorted to using lumps of lead and scales.
“Hurry up, Margia!” moaned Cornelia, who was holding the scales. “As quick as you can!”
“I am hurrying!” snapped Margia, who was loading the lead onto the scales.
“What does it say?” demanded Suzanne.

Later, the Middles had all crowded into their dormitory. Suzanne had the trial results in front of her.
“Listen, rabble!” she yelled. Everyone quietened down. “According to my reckoning, Arab Boy ran that trial ten seconds faster than the horse that won the Gold Cup last year!”
“That’s why we’ve got to get our money in before the news leaks out!” said Maria excitedly.
“Why?” asked Ilonka.
“Because the price will drop like a stone when it does,” said Margia. “Don’t you know anything about racing?”
“Not much,” said Ilonka sadly.
“Well, it’s time you did at your age,” said Margia. She looked round at the others. “Come on, kids! Get your lolly together, and we’ll shove it on to Arab Boy! Okay?”
With loud cheers, the Middles leapt up.
“I’ll waken up Flash Jack!” cried Paula von Rothenfels, racing for the window. She leaned out and whistled piercingly. Mademoiselle, passing under the window at that moment, looked up and saw her. Paula whistled again, and this time Flash Jack emerged from the shrubbery. Paula gestured frantically for him to come in, and he set off across the grounds towards the school, his hat tipped over his face, his hands in his pockets. He stopped as he saw Mademoiselle, who was watching with amazement, then pulled his hat down further and pulled up his collar. Miss Crawley, peeping through the curtains, watched open-mouthed as Flash Jack walked as nonchalantly as he could up to the front door, tipping his hat to Mademoiselle shiftily as he passed.
“How do, lady?”
“How d’you do?” said Mademoiselle in some surprise, even as he slunk through the front doors. He hurried up the stairs, followed on tiptoe by Miss Crawley.
#56:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 8:11 pm
    —
Loving this Very Happy .
#57:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 9:24 pm
    —
Wonderful! Laughing

Love Marie and the stable lad!
#58:  Author: Chair, Location: Rochester, Kent PostPosted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 9:54 pm
    —
Thanks, Amanda. I love the way that Marie distracted the stable lad.
#59:  Author: Elle, Location: Peterborough PostPosted: Thu Jul 13, 2006 6:32 am
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Aquabird wrote:
[color=blue]“That’s why we’ve got to get our money in before the news leaks out!” said Maria excitedly.
“Why?” asked Ilonka.
“Because the price will drop like a stone when it does,” said Margia. “Don’t you know anything about racing?”
“Not much,” said Ilonka sadly.
“Well, it’s time you did at your age,” said Margia.


Brilliant! I know nothing about racing, although a previous Head of Dept did, and his memos always used to include racing tips!
#60:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Thu Jul 13, 2006 6:57 am
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Flash Jack!!!! Laughing Laughing Laughing
#61:  Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire PostPosted: Thu Jul 13, 2006 11:32 am
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This is wonderful.
#62:  Author: francesn, Location: away with the faeries PostPosted: Thu Jul 13, 2006 12:34 pm
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Oh this is absolutely brilliant - I ache from laughing now!

*wonders where she can find the films....*
#63:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Thu Jul 13, 2006 1:37 pm
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francesn wrote:
*wonders where she can find the films....*


The first four are out as a DVD boxset. I have them, so that's why I can do this!
#64:  Author: Lyanne, Location: Ipswich, England PostPosted: Fri Jul 14, 2006 9:25 pm
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Worryingly, I can easily imagine Marie or Simone as St Trinian's seniors Smile , I'm having a harder job picturing Jo & Freida in the uniform though!
#65:  Author: francesn, Location: away with the faeries PostPosted: Sun Jul 16, 2006 10:41 pm
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Aquabird wrote:
francesn wrote:
*wonders where she can find the films....*


The first four are out as a DVD boxset. I have them, so that's why I can do this!


*toddles off to look*

You don't want to write more of this to sustain me while I do, do you?
#66:  Author: LL, Location: North London PostPosted: Wed Jul 19, 2006 11:27 am
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ooh something for my Amazon wishlist! Thanks Amanda, this is wonderful!
#67:  Author: MaryR, Location: Cheshire PostPosted: Wed Jul 19, 2006 11:46 am
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Laughing Laughing Laughing Laughing Laughing Laughing Laughing

What else is there to say?

I don't know how I've missed it till now.Shocked
#68:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Wed Jul 19, 2006 12:56 pm
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Sorry I haven't posted in a few days. After a really boring first two weeks, the holidays suddenly got very exciting! I was in Edinburgh on Friday and got 9 shiny new EBD books! Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Also, a shopping trip in Glasgow, and a visit to the theme park and the theatre took up some time...anyway, here is another little bit.

Flash Jack was beckoned into the dormitory by Elsie Carr.
“Come on, Flash!”
They hurried in, and the door closed behind them. As Miss Crawley tiptoed around the corner Thekla erupted from a nearby cupboard door and scurried to the keyhole, to which she put her eye. Annoyed, Miss Crawley straightened up and marched up to her.
“What on earth are you doing there?” she demanded. Thekla got up sulkily.
“Listening.”
“Well, go away at once, you disgusting child!” said Miss Crawley severely.
“You don’t know what goes on here if you don’t keep your ear to the ground,” said Thekla sullenly.
“Now hurry up or I’ll give you a hundred lines,” said Miss Crawley severely.
“A hundred lines!” snorted Thekla derisively, stomping away. “We’ve got a machine for doing them!”
Tutting, Miss Crawley watched her go out of sight around the corner, then eagerly dived for the keyhole. She saw the Middles handing Flash Jack money.
“It’s all we have,” said Margia.
“Free knicka?” said Flash Jack, with a command of the English language that even Miss Annersley would have been proud of. “Well, you ain’t gonna make a fortune on that, are ya?”
“How about our gin money, Jack?” asked Maria.
“How about-oh, no, no, I ‘aven’t flogged it yet,” protested Flash Jack. “I mean, it ain’t everybody that likes ‘omemade gin. Besides, there’s a lotta good stuff on the market nowadays.”
“I’ve just thought of something,” said Suzanne suddenly. “What about the hundred quid Elisaveta’s got?”
“I haven’t got it, Mademoiselle has,” said Elisaveta.
“Well, supposing we go and get it off her?” said Suzanne. “Would you lend it to us?”
“It’s in a good cause, ‘Veta,” wheedled Margia.
“She’d never part with it,” said Elisaveta doubtfully.
“Why not?” demanded Flash Jack. “It’s your lard, innit? Why don’t you gang up an’ go an’ put the screws on the old custard?”
“Yes!” cheered the Middles. Outside the door, Miss Crawley hurried off around the corner.
#69:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Wed Jul 19, 2006 4:37 pm
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Good to see more of this - love the way the characters are slotted into this! Laughing
#70:  Author: francesn, Location: away with the faeries PostPosted: Wed Jul 19, 2006 11:30 pm
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This is absolutely inspired!

Thank you Amanda. Congratulations on the EBD haul.
#71:  Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire PostPosted: Thu Jul 20, 2006 10:10 am
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I do love this, it's so true to St Trinian's.
#72:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Sun Jul 30, 2006 2:24 pm
    —
Meanwhile, trouble was brewing for Mademoiselle. She entered her study to find Miss Dene, the school secretary, sitting at her desk trying to balance the accounts.
“So there you are at last,” she said, as Mademoiselle closed the door behind her. “Just because I was able to ward off the tradespeople with something on account you think you can forget all about it.”
Mademoiselle crossed the room.
“Miss Dene,” she said impressively, “I pay you to attend to my accounts. Would you kindly get up out of my chair?”
Miss Dene rolled her eyes and got up. Mademoiselle tutted as she removed her fur stole from her shoulders.
“One really can’t call anything one’s own in this place.”
“You’re right there,” said Miss Dene grimly. “We’ve got four hundred pounds in the bank and we owe four thousand.”
Mademoiselle dropped her stole on a chair. “What? Four thousand? Oh dear. Oh, are you…are you quite sure?”
“Of course I’m sure!” said Miss Dene in indignation. She dropped the book on the desk. “Look for yourself!”
Mademoiselle sank into her chair. “I…I don’t want to look. Figures mean nothing to me.”
“They will when the bailiffs arrive,” Miss Dene snapped back. “And while I’m here I’d like to take this opportunity of giving you my fortnight’s notice. I’m taking a job with the pools. It’ll be heaven to be in the money again.” She departed, and Mademoiselle stared helplessly at the accounts book through her pince-nez before getting up and wandering slowly over to the window, playing with her beads. It was then that she saw Flash Jack disappearing shiftily into the shrubbery.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” said Mademoiselle absently.
Margia entered, flanked by Elisaveta, Suzanne, Ilonka and Cornelia.
“Can we see you for a moment, Mademoiselle, please?” she said beseechingly.
“Hm? Oh, yes, yes, yes, I suppose so, if you…if you must.”
Elisaveta steeled herself, then said; “Can I have my pocket money, please?”
Mademoiselle froze, then turned round. “Why, whatever for, Elisaveta?”
“Because it’s hers,” said Ilonka.
“Do you have to bring your friends with you, to ask for your pocket money?”
“But they want to borrow some, don’t you?” The Princess looked at them for support, and they nodded.
“But borrowing is against the rules,” simpered Mademoiselle.
“But we’ll pay it back on Thursday when the gee wins!” piped up Ilonka. Margia nudged her sharply, but it was too late.
“The gee?” repeated Mademoiselle in horror. “You mean that you want to borrow Elisaveta’s money to put upon a horse?”
“It’s her dad’s horse,” Suzanne interjected.
“The very idea,” said Mademoiselle, scandalised, “of asking me for money to gamble upon racehorses!”
“T’isn’t gambling!” Margia cried. “Arab Boy’s a stone-cold certainty. It can’t lose!”
“We watched the trial this morning!” Cornelia supplied.
“It did the Gold Cup distance in six minutes twelve seconds!” Suzanne added.
“Carrying twelve an’ something!” Ilonka cried. “That’s a record!”
“And the price is ten to one if we get on now!”
“If we can rake up fifty quid, we’ll get five hundred back on Thursday!” Suzanne pressed eagerly. Mademoiselle turned away, covering her ears delicately.
“Girls, girls, girls!” she cried. “You’re making me blanch! Off to your rooms at once!”
“But Mademoiselle, it’s an investment!” persisted Margia. Mademoiselle paused for a fraction of an instant.
“At once, at once, do you hear?”
Grumbling, the Middles trailed out.

Last edited by Aquabird on Sun Jul 30, 2006 6:53 pm; edited 1 time in total
#73:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Sun Jul 30, 2006 6:09 pm
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The girls cannot possibly have a bet - but Mademoiselle... Laughing

Thanks Aquabird.
#74:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Sun Jul 30, 2006 7:18 pm
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Really great to see this back!
#75:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Fri Aug 11, 2006 2:13 pm
    —
Mademoiselle jingled back to her desk, thinking hard.
“Ten to one,” she murmured aloud. “Four hundred pounds at ten to one.” She shrugged a little. “Must be about four thousand.”
She glanced over at the window, and an idea struck her. She went over to it and peered out. The shrubbery in which Flash Jack dwelt was blowing in the breeze, but there was no sign of the inhabitant.
Mademoiselle considered for a moment, then made up her mind. She raised her right hand, contemplated her fingers, then, deciding on her index finger and pinky, whistled loudly, startling herself considerably. She grinned, just as Flash Jack emerged from the bushes, looking to see who had whistled. Mademoiselle was about to whistle again when she saw him. Moving right up to the glass, she beckoned him slowly with her whistling fingers. Flash Jack looked around, confused, then back at Mademoiselle. She beckoned him fiercely, and, feeling very suspicious, Flash Jack tilted his hat over his eyes, dug his hands into his overcoat pockets and set off for the front doors.
Miss Crawley, walking down the main staircase as she filled out her fifth notebook, saw him entering and shrank against the wall. Flash entered the study, and Miss Crawley crept up to the door, which opened almost at once. Mademoiselle beamed sweetly at her.
“Miss Crawley, if you are practising for your Tenderfoot badge, do you mind doing it elsewhere?”
“Yes, Mademoiselle.”
“Thank you, Miss Crawley.”
Miss Crawley went away reluctantly, and Mademoiselle went back into her study to see Flash Jack ensconced in one of the best armchairs, about to put his feet up on one of the arms. He caught her glare and thought better of it. He got up slowly, taking his hat off. Mademoiselle decided to open the conversation.
“My name is Lepâttre,” she said. “Thérèse Lepâttre. I am Headmistress here.”
“I know, lady,” said Flash Jack shiftily, putting his hat under his arm and digging his hands back into his pockets.
“Oh, you do?” said Mademoiselle. “Well, I’m afraid I don’t know you. Er, do you mind telling me your name?”
“Jack,” said the owner of the name, leaning forward as he said it, as though he were confiding a closely-guarded secret.
“Jack?” repeated Mademoiselle. “Jack was the name of the boot boy I engaged in 1931.”
“Tha’s me,” said Jack.
“Oh? I was right. And tell me…are you still…polishing?”
“No.”
Mademoiselle stared, intrigued. “Well, of course, I don’t wish to pry, but do you mind telling me what you do do?”
“I trade,” replied Jack. “Gin. Nylons. Anyfink.”
“Oh, really?” said Mademoiselle, strolling over to the fireplace. “Well, I suppose in that case you know something about the workings of the racing world.”
“Racing?” said Jack, alert at once. “Brought up on it! My dad sold race cards. Heh, funny, innit, beginnin’ like that an’ endin’ up in a public school?”
“Yes, quite,” said Mademoiselle, who was not in the least interested in this peculiar man’s early years. “But what I want from you now is some racing information.”
Jack stared in amazement, then toddled up to her, leaned close and said confidentially; “D’you want a winna?”
Mademoiselle put out a hand and forced him away from her. “No, no, I already have the winner. No, what I want to know is how to…to invest money on it.”
“’Ere, it’s not this stone ginga that’s bin floatin’ about, is it?” asked Jack. “You know, the Sultan’s ‘orse?”
Mademoiselle hesitated for a moment, then said; “It is the Sultan’s horse.”
“No, no trouble at all,” said Flash Jack amiably. “You slip me the mazuma, I’ll nip down to Alf. Same as I do for the girls.”
“Girls?” repeated Mademoiselle, scarcely believing her ears. Jack nodded. “Are you telling me that you take betting money from my girls?”
“What?” repeated Jack in amazement. “If it weren’t for this place, lady, how’d you think old Alf’d go nippin’ off wif ‘is wife an’ kids to the Riviera every year, eh? Eh?” He leaned in close to Mademoiselle again and she recoiled in disgust. “How much d’you want on?”
Mademoiselle drew back. “I’m not sure that I want anything on.” She shrugged. “But if I…if I were to put something on, it would be, ah, four hundred pounds.”
Flash Jack stared, robbed of speech. “Come again?”
“Four hundred pounds,” repeated Mademoiselle, pleased to have finally silenced this young man. “And I should want ten to one.”
“Cor!” breathed Jack in awe, stepping back to look Mademoiselle up and down. “Cor, what a dame, eh? What a dame!” He swooped in on her suddenly, and she drew back in alarm. “It just shows ya how ya can be wrong abou’ people, dunnit, eh? It just shows ya!” He began to pace about. “Cor! Four hundred smackers, eh? Four hundred smackers! Anti-post, I suppose?”
“Anti-who?”
“Anti-post. Packet in hand before the day of the race. Oh, that’s gonna take a lot a placin’. Especially if you want call over odds.”
“Must you keep pacing about like this?” demanded Mademoiselle nervously.
“Oh, yes, I must pace,” said Jack earnestly. “I must pace. If I don’t pace, I can’t concentrate. If I can’t concentrate, I can’t think.” He swooped in on her again. “Now, if you wan’ ten to one you’ll have to get on quick. An’ in a foldin’ money job this size they’ll wan’ to know the stuff’s good! You’ll have to come alonga me. Now.”
“What?” said Mademoiselle incredulously. “Me? Go with you?”
“Yeah.” He turned to look at the portrait of Madge above the fireplace as Mademoiselle considered.
“Well…well, I suppose this is one occasion in life when one must sacrifice one’s finer instincts.”
“’Ere!” said Jack suddenly, who had been looking between Mademoiselle and the portrait. “That Mrs Russell?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Cor, yeah, there couldn’ be no mistake there, eh? What a couple a dames, eh?”
“Look, I’ll call a taxi,” said Mademoiselle hastily, going to her desk and picking up her address book. “And meet you outside the school gates in ten minutes.”
“Okey-doke. ‘Ere!” He jogged over to them. “Cor, you know, funny, innit, you an’ me, meetin’ again after all these years, eh?” He put his hand on her shoulder. Mademoiselle shrugged him off and picked up the phone.
“Extraordinarily amusing, but never mind that now.”
“Right, right,” said Jack, holding up his hands. He put his hat on. “We’ll chew it over in the taxi, eh? Outside the gates. Ten minutes.” He started towards the door.
“Yes, and try not be too conspicuous,” said Mademoiselle distastefully.
“Me? Conspicuous?” repeated Jack, affronted. “Lady, I’m the Invisible Man.” With which, he tilted his hat down, pulled up his collar and departed.
#76:  Author: Lizzie, Location: A little village on the Essex/Suffolk border PostPosted: Fri Aug 11, 2006 2:28 pm
    —
Aquabird wrote:
“No, no trouble at all,” said Flash Jack amiably. “You slip me the mazuma, I’ll nip down to Alf. Same as I do for the girls.”


Aquabird wrote:
“Me? Conspicuous?” repeated Jack, affronted. “Lady, I’m the Invisible Man.” With which, he tilted his hat down, pulled up his collar and departed.


Hee hee hee...

Thanks Aquabird! Looking forward to the Brownies campfire!
#77:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Fri Aug 11, 2006 4:15 pm
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Thanks, Aquabird. This is such a great drabble!
#78:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Fri Aug 11, 2006 6:31 pm
    —
Wonderful Jack! Laughing
#79:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Sat Aug 12, 2006 7:43 am
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ROFL!! Laughing Laughing Laughing
#80:  Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire PostPosted: Sun Aug 13, 2006 2:33 pm
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Thanks, Aquabird, I was missing this.
#81:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Sun Aug 13, 2006 7:26 pm
    —
Thank you for all the lovely comments! Smile

Meanwhile, up at the Sonnalpe Sanatorium (which was really just a cover for Jem’s many dirty dealings, as he had never set foot in medical school), Jem had a visitor. His current secretary (he got through at least two a week) knocked at the door of his office and opened it.
“Your sister-in-law, sir.”
Jem, who was on the phone to Gottfried, put his hand over the mouthpiece as Jo stumped in.
“Jo? You haven’t been expelled again, have you?”
“No, Jem, it’s about the trial. I didn’t think it was safe to phone.”
Jem spoke into the phone. “Hold on a minute, Gottfried. Jo’s here. She’s got news.”
He put the phone down, laughing, and sat down at his desk. “Gottfried’s scared because the price of Arab Boy has dropped.”
“No wonder,” said Jo, sitting down on his desk, putting a cigarette in her mouth and lighting it. “He did the Gold Cup distance in six minutes twelve seconds, carrying twelve three.”
“Twelve three?” repeated Jem absently. “Twelve three…er…” He paused, trying to work it out. Then he sat up with a bang. “Twelve three? That’s impossible!”
Jo blew out some smoke and shook her head. “No mistake, Jem.”
“Are you absolutely sure?”
“Absolutely.
Jem began to gibber. “No, no. It can’t, it can’t be, no, no, I mean, th-that’d be Arab Boy ten pounds better than the Prince! What on earth am I going to do, I’ve got a fortune on the Prince!”
“Can’t you lay it off, Jem?”
“What? With the price of Arab Boy dropping every day and every single penny I’ve got on the Prince, don’t be a fool! Prince has just got-got-got to win!” He picked up the phone. “Hello, Gottfried? Come down at once, I’ve got news. No, no, no, not bad news. Disastrous!” He slammed the phone down and gestured madly at it. “Why on earth have I gone into partnership with such a…such a nervous wreck?” He turned to the fireplace and scratched his head nervously.
“Couldn’t we nobble Arab Boy, Jem?” suggested Jo.
Jem paused in the act of wiping sweat off his forehead with his handkerchief, then turned, his eyes bulging slightly, to face Jo.
“Don’t you dare talk like that here,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. Jo didn’t appear to notice.
“Well, we’ve got Arab Boy’s stable lad eating out of our hands. We could fix him with a hundred knicker easy as falling off a log.”
Jem was silent for an instant. “I’m not listening! Fancy you suggesting schemes like that to your poor, distracted brother-in-law. Go on, go on back school where you belong, you wicked girl.”
Jo, looking supremely unconcerned, shrugged and said; “O-kay. But think it over, Jem. You’re in a spot. And we’ve got the contact and the organisation.” She got up. “Talk it over with Gottfried.”
Jem hesitated again. “Leave this office at once!”
Jo went to the door, fag in hand, and opened it.
“Well, if you change your mind, slip down tomorrow. There’ll be some parents down for the hockey match.” She nodded jovially. “So long!”
The door banged behind her, leaving Jem looking thoughtful.
#82:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Sun Aug 13, 2006 8:31 pm
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What's worrying is that I can see Joey in this role! Laughing

Thanks Aquabird.
#83:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Mon Aug 14, 2006 2:32 pm
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Thanks for the update, Aquabird! Cool
#84:  Author: francesn, Location: away with the faeries PostPosted: Wed Aug 16, 2006 7:11 pm
    —
Lesley wrote:
What's worrying is that I can see Joey in this role! Laughing



Oh me too!!!

Thanks Aquabird
#85:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Fri Aug 18, 2006 5:44 pm
    —
Despite having an A in Higher French, I didn't quite catch what the French dish is called, so please excuse that part. Embarassed

The next morning dawned crisp and bright. Miss Crawley jogged out of the games shed, followed by the scantily-clad Chalet School hockey team, who made no effort to keep up with her. They carried the goal net over their shoulders.
Miss Crawley stopped and looked back at them.
“Come on, girls!” she called in annoyance. “At the double, for goodness’ sake! Come on, the match starts in half an hour!”
“O-kay,” drawled Anne Seymour, bored.
Miss Crawley stopped by the goal and gestured to them in exasperation.
“Come on, girls. You really are the laziest lot I ever saw. Matron mended the net, you might at least show some keenness about getting it up.”
“Listen, we don’ wanna know,” said Simone, as they began shaking the net out.
“Oh, really!” tutted Miss Crawley, hanging up one corner of the net. “At my other school…” She paused and looked round at the opposite goal. “D’you know, it’s a funny thing, surely this goal is smaller than that one?”
“Only two feet,” said Simone.
“It’s our goal,” drawled Anne.
“But I don’t understand,” protested Miss Crawley. “How do you know it’s our goal? We haven’t won the toss yet.”
“We always win the toss,” said Simone.
“How?” demanded Miss Crawley. Anne removed her cigarette from her mouth.
“Hold this.”
Miss Crawley took it, and Anne produced a coin and showed the undercover cop the two sides.
“Two heads?” exclaimed Miss Crawley. “That’s cheating!”
“Nark it,” snorted Anne, taking her cigarette back and strolling off.
“No, I refuse to nark it,” said Miss Crawley stubbornly. “And anyway, what’s the advantage? You’ve got to change over for the second half.”
“Never is a second half,” said Simone, still holding the net.
“Oh, give it to me,” said Miss Crawley in exasperation. Simone obligingly handed the net over and followed Anne. Marie, who had been standing at the back, also followed. “Gracious me, I thought hockey was a game, but with you girls it’s more like jungle warfare. Simone, hold this thing taut at the back.”
Nobody answered, and she looked round to see the girls climbing over a log and out of sight.
“Girls!” she yelled in dismay. “Girls! Marie! Come back!”
Marie looked round wickedly, then hurriedly climbed over the log.
“I never saw such girls! Come back this minute!” The irate games mistress dropped the net and raced after the girls. “Come back! Marie! Come back! Girls!”
The girls raced around the summerhouse, followed by Miss Crawley.
“You really are a crummy lot! Girls! Where are you?”
She stopped short as she came round the summerhouse and saw the hockey team settling themselves beside two men reclining in deckchairs.
“Hello, darling,” drawled one to the girls. Then he sat up as he saw Miss Crawley. “I say, who’s this?”
“It’s Creepy, our new games mistress,” explained Simone unconcernedly.
“Well, come on in,” said the other man. “Make yourself at home.”
Miss Crawley strode in, just as Mademoiselle de Lachenais and some other girls appeared with some trays.
“Mademoiselle, would you care to explain what’s going on here?” demanded Miss Crawley.
“Lunch!” cried Mlle gaily, putting her tray down and spreading her arms as though she were embracing the world. She whipped the lid off one dish and shot something out in French that Miss Crawley [i.e. I] could not catch.
“I never saw anything so disgusting in my life,” said Miss Crawley stiffly. She looked around. “At a girls’ school, too! I shall go and tell Mademoiselle Lepâttre at once!”
She stormed off.
#86:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Fri Aug 18, 2006 6:48 pm
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I always loved the match scene - should be good! Laughing

Thanks Aquabird
#87:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Fri Aug 18, 2006 9:37 pm
    —
Mademoiselle was absorbed in The Sporting Life when there came a furious knocking at the study door. She calmly folded up the paper and stuffed it down beside her armchair before she got up and called; “Come in!”
The door opened and Miss Crawley hurried in.
“Mademoiselle, I just had to see you. You’ve no idea what’s going on in the summerhouse! There are two strange men in there, and it’s practically an orgy!”
“Why, what are you saying, Miss Crawley?” asked Mademoiselle mildly. “What are they doing?”
Miss Crawley took a deep breath. “They’re having a French lunch.”
“Ah,” said Mademoiselle. She gave a little laugh. “The lotus eaters.”
“The what?”
“The lotus eaters. They meet and discuss things, I believe. There’s Herr Anserl –he’s our music master, and Herr Laubach; he’s our art master. They used to be with the Austrian Ministry of Education, so you see, there’s nothing to worry about, Miss Crawley.”
“You mean they’re Ministry of Education inspectors?” asked Miss Crawley, aghast.
“Well, they were,” said Mademoiselle. “But they seem to like it better here, and, well…short of staff, you know, somehow it all fitted in...” She beamed at Miss Crawley. “The girls adore them!”
Miss Crawley gestured helplessly.
“The whole situation leaves me bereft of words. I can only say…what can I say?”
“But if you like, Miss Crawley-“ At that moment a loud booing was to be heard from outside, and she beamed again. “Ah, that must be our girls giving a rousing welcome to their opponents.” They went over to the window.
A bus was coming up the drive, on either side of which were crowds of Middles brandishing hockey sticks, booing at the full pitch of healthy lungs, and shoving each other out of the way in order to get a good position at the front of the crowd. One girl threw her stick and it crashed through the window as the bus passed. Mademoiselle grinned as Miss Crawley stared in horrified amazement.
“Well now, Miss Crawley, your place is on the hockey field!”
“Yes, Mademoiselle,” said poor Miss Crawley, exiting the study.
#88:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Sat Aug 19, 2006 2:18 pm
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I think Poor Miss Crawley is about right!
#89:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Sat Aug 19, 2006 4:05 pm
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I'm trying to get this finished, or at least nearly finished, as school starts again on Monday. Crying or Very sad It started out as one scene, and now I'm doing the whole film! Rolling Eyes Wink

As the unfortunate games mistress passed the suit of armour outside the study door a fair head with a hat pulled down over the eyes looked out from behind it. When the coast was clear, he stepped out from behind the armour and opened the study door.
“Psst!” he hissed loudly. Mademoiselle looked round.
“What on earth are you doing here?” she demanded. “And will you please knock before entering?”
Flash Jack came right into the study and closed the door.
“No!” he said in agitation. “I don’ wan’ nobody a see me!” He crossed to her and took his hat off. “’Ere, there’s somefink goin’ on in this joint you ought a know about.”
“Isn’t there always?” drawled Mademoiselle, as he produced a letter from inside his hat.
“It’s this letta. I opened it this afternoon. Posted in the school box by one of your mistresses.”
“Tell me,” said Mademoiselle dryly, as he unfolded the letter, “do you always open the school correspondence?”
“Well, not all of it,” said Flash Jack defensively. Mademoiselle took the letter from him.
“Give me that letter at once.” She held her pince-nez up to her eyes and peered at it. “What’s this; “To Superintendent Letton, Innsbruck Constabulary, Innsbruck”?”
“Iss from Miss Crawley,” Flash Jack supplied. Mademoiselle looked at the signature.
“But it’s signed “Sergeant Bubb”!”
“That’s her, see?”
Mademoiselle looked at the letter again and read aloud; “”re the Chalet School, I have to report…”” She lowered her glasses and looked at Flash Jack. “Do you mean that this woman is a detective?”
“Copper’s nark,” Flash Jack said, nodding. “In skirts.”
“Oh dear,” said Mademoiselle faintly, looking back at the letter. “But this is terrible.” She read aloud; “”re the Chalet School, I have to report the following; that there is an illicit still on the premises!””
“It ain’t a still,” said Flash Jack in exasperation, following her to the desk. “Iss a homemade gadget for makin’ baftub gin.”
Mademoiselle continued reading. “”There is a man here called Flash Jack, who…”” She trailed off and looked at Jack. “Is that…?”
“Yeah!” beamed Jack. He gestured to the letter. “But she’s got no right callin’ me that in official documents.”
Mademoiselle went on reading; “”…who acts as a contact man.””
“Tha’s a lie,” said Jack in annoyance, bending his head to look at the letter. “I’m a go-between.”
They both read aloud; “”Gambling is rife in the school…”” Mademoiselle trailed off as she caught a whiff of Flash Jack’s hair and was nearly knocked out. Not noticing, that gentleman went on; ““…and there is a complete racing service.””
He looked up and saw Mademoiselle still reeling.
“What have you got in your hair?” she demanded. Flash Jack blushed modestly.
“’oney an’ flowers.”
Looking pained, Mademoiselle said; “Do you mind putting on your hat?”
Flash Jack, looking rather surprised, put his hat back on as Mademoiselle sat down at her desk and turned to the letter again. ““…I cannot stand it much longer. No woman has suffered so much for love. Signed Mabel.” And it’s followed by five crosses!”
“Now it’s my deduction,” said Flash Jack, “tha’ that’s a private signal between ‘im an’ ‘er.”
“But really,” said Mademoiselle in indignation, getting up, “the sheer affrontery of sending a private detective here!”
“Blimmin’ nerve,” said Flash Jack. “There ain’t been no murders ‘ere. Not so far.” He looked at Mademoiselle, who was pacing up and down nervously. “What you gonna do abou’ it, eh?”
“I don’t know,” said Mademoiselle distractedly. “I really don’t know.”
“Wan’ me a fix ‘er?”
“Certainly not!” said Mademoiselle at once. Then she stopped. “What do you mean, fix her?”
“Chuck ‘er out.”
“Oh, is that all? No, I think on the whole that would only precipitate trouble.” She resumed her pacing. “I think the best thing to do is simply ignore her. Tear up that letter, get rid of that contraption in the laboratory, and you must take a holiday in Oberammergau.”
Flash Jack held up his hands. “I don’ like Oberammergau.”
“Oh, well, wherever you wish to go,” said Mademoiselle dismissively. “And meanwhile, while I strongly disapprove of your opening letters, I’m prepared to make an exception in the case of Miss Crawley.”
“Leave it to Flash,” said that gentleman confidently. He tipped his hat over his eyes and shiftily left the study.
#90:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Sat Aug 19, 2006 4:24 pm
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Oh dear! What's Miss Crawley in for now?
#91:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Sat Aug 19, 2006 4:45 pm
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Just love Flash Jack! Laughing

Thanks Aquabird
#92:  Author: francesn, Location: away with the faeries PostPosted: Sat Aug 19, 2006 8:40 pm
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He is really quite brilliant!

Thank you Aquabird
#93:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Sun Aug 20, 2006 7:54 pm
    —
Against his better judgement, Jem came down to the school with Gottfried, and were received by Jo and the gang. Thekla peered around the edge of the first aid tent, but it was not a good vantage point, so she slipped round and climbed a large tree instead.
“Sit down, Jem,” said Jo, leading him over to a bench. Glancing round nervously, Jem and Gottfried sat down. The gang crowded round. “I figured when I got your message you’d come round to my way of thinking so I got the gang together.”
“Oh, you did?” said Jem uneasily.
“Well, we’ve got it all laid out on the line. Marie here takes Jockel, the stable boy, to the flicks tonight, and then she swings it on him. A hundred pounds now and another hundred when the Prince wins.”
“Two hundred quid?” said Gottfried, disgruntled. He looked at Jem, who said;
“What are you proposing that this, er, Jockel, should do?”
Jo glanced round conspiratorially. “Can you get hold of a horsebox?”
“Why?”
“Well, send it to the school riding stables outside Briesau at four tomorrow. Arab Boy’ll be in Number One box.”
Up in the tree, Thekla listened with bated breath.
“Are you…are you suggesting that we should steal the horse?”
“No,” said Jo in exasperation. “Borrow it!”
“Borrow it?”
“Just for a couple of days. You only want the Prince to win.” A whistle blew loudly on the field, and Jo looked round at the gang. “Get cracking, sisters, we’ve got to win this cup. Stick around, Jem, and see some hot hockey!” With which parting shot, she tipped Jem’s hat over his eyes and ran off. Gottfried grinned.
“Real chip off the old block, she is. What a girl!”
“Don’t say that, Gottfried, don’t say that,” said Jem, shuddering as he tipped his hat back. “It makes my blood run cold.”
#94:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Sun Aug 20, 2006 8:30 pm
    —
The opposing team, St Scholastika’s, was jogging onto the pitch to loud boos from the Chalet School. On the sidelines, Mademoiselle, attired in a rich fur coat, sat down at a table beside Miss Browne, the Head of St Scholastika’s. Miss Stewart, Miss Wilson and Miss Annersley reclined in their deckchairs beside them, also wrapped in furs, fags in hand.
Miss Crawley jogged onto the field, then looked back at the Chalet School team, who were strolling behind.
“Come on, girls!” she cried in frustration.
The team sauntered on, led by Jo, to loud cheers. Jo tossed the two-headed coin.
“Heads,” she said, turning away before it had even hit the ground. The captain of the Saints, one Gypsy Carson, looked at her suspiciously, and bent down to pick the coin up, but Sophie Hamel stood firmly on her hand.
At the entrance to the field, Amy Stevens and Robin Humphries were taking bets as to the outcome to the match.
“Ten to one against St Scholastika’s!” called Robin. “Place your bets now!”
On the field, the teams took up their positions, and Miss Crawley blew the whistle. At once the Chalet School girls rushed upon the opposing team, waving their sticks like swords above their heads. Miss Crawley blew desperately on her whistle, but was hit over the head with a mallet by some unknown person and keeled over, unconscious.
Over at the teachers’ table, Miss Browne stood up indignantly as Mademoiselle cheered happily.
“Did you see that?” demanded the justly incensed Head of St Scholastika’s. “Did you see what that girl did to the referee?”
“Yes, yes indeed,” trilled Mademoiselle. “Oh, goal! Goal!”
“But there’s no referee!” cried Miss Browne. She tapped the applauding Mademoiselle on the shoulder. “There’s no referee!”
As the school cheered heartily, some Guides ran onto the pitch with a stretcher. Meanwhile, Miss Browne continued her tirade.
“But you can’t conceivably allow that goal! The referee isn’t conscious!”
Mademoiselle took a sip of chemistry lab gin from a bottle with two straws, then said, with a little laugh; “Well, we don’t usually worry.”
“I demand that another referee be appointed at once!”
The unfortunate Miss Crawley was born off on the stretcher to more resounding cheers. They passed Robin and Amy.
“Ten to one against St Scholastika’s!” Robin was calling. Then she saw the stretcher with its load and cried gleefully; “Fifteen to one against St Scholastika’s!”
On the pitch, the match had turned into a free-for-all as the poor Saints tried to defend themselves against the onslaught.
“Look what’s going on over there!” shrieked Miss Browne. “Look at that girl with the croquet mallet!” She turned to Mademoiselle. “If you don’t appoint another referee at once, I shall stop the game!”
Mademoiselle simply gave her a Look, and folded her hands. On the pitch, Gypsy Carson fell over and was promptly beaten mercilessly with hockey sticks. The ball lay forgotten on the turf.
“I’ve never seen such an exhibition of…savagery!” screeched Miss Browne, quite beside herself with rage. “I shall stop it at once!” And, whistle in hand, she ran onto the pitch to loud boos.
Alas for the well-meaning Miss Browne! As she blew hard on her whistle, she too was destined to feel the cruel blow of the croquet mallet, and she toppled over, out for the count. The school cheered its approval as Mademoiselle murmured to her staff; “I did warn her.”
The pile of stretchers by the first aid tent went down rapidly as the Saints and their Head were borne off on them by the Guides. They were followed by the triumphant Chalet School team. The school shouted its delight, even the mistresses (yes, even the intoxicated Miss Wilson) standing and clapping.
The team lined up in front of the table, at which stood the shiny silver cup.
“I really must congratulate you, on a really sterling performance!” beamed Mademoiselle. “And now, Josephine, as captain, I am delighted to present you with the Tiernsee Challenge Trophy.” Then, as Jo made to grab it, she pulled it away. “Ah, ah, a token presentation of course, Josephine, as I shall be putting this into safe custody.”

The “safe custody” turned out to be the pawnbroker’s in Spärtz, where the rest of the school’s cups were being “polished”.
#95:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Sun Aug 20, 2006 8:38 pm
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Is anyone else actually seeing all of this taking place? Laughing Laughing Laughing Laughing Laughing Laughing

Hysterical - thanks Aquaburd.
#96:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Sun Aug 20, 2006 8:40 pm
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It's genius! Thanks, Aquabird.
#97:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Mon Aug 21, 2006 4:23 pm
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Thekla was captured by the Middles and put on their version of the rack. She screamed loudly.
“All right, all right, I’ll tell!” she wailed. “Let me off this thing!”
“Put it down, Suzanne,” ordered Margia. Suzanne obligingly swung the wheel back and Thekla sat up.
“Jo and her gang are going to steal Arab Boy.” There were gasps of dismay and outrage from the Middles. “They’ve gone out to the riding stables. The stable boy’s helping them.”
“We can’t let them get away with this!” said Margia desperately. “If Arab Boy doesn’t run we’ll lose our money!”

Meanwhile, Jockel, taking Arab Boy for his daily exercise, made him fall back from the other horses, and then stealthily rode him over to where Joey and Co. were waiting.
“We’ll ‘ave to ‘urry up,” he said, dismounting. “Got the rope? They’ll miss me any minute.”
Simone, who was holding the rope, pushed him down on the ground.
“Don’t panic, lie down,” she hissed, binding his arms.
“You got your story right?” demanded Jo, tying up his legs.
“Yes. Thugs. I never saw them before. They tripped me with a wire.”
“Got the mallet, Marie?” asked Jo.
“Yes!” said Marie eagerly.
“Mallet? What d’you want a mallet for?” asked Jockel in a panic.
“Well, we want to make it look good for your sake, don’t we?” grinned Jo cheerfully.
“But…you’re not going to hit me! No!”
“It’s okay,” soothed Jo. “Marie’s doing it. Go on, Marie.”
Marie gave Jockel a sound knock on the head with the mallet and he stopped wriggling.
“Is he out?” asked Jo. Marie bent over him, then nodded.

Bruno von Ahlen, another of Jem’s cronies, took the phone call in the phone box a little later. The horse box was parked outside.
“Mmhm. Yup. Okay, Jo, be there in twenty minutes.”

That evening in his office, Jem looked at the small article in the evening paper, announcing that Arab Boy had gone missing. Gottfried was with him.
“It’s stop press now,” said Jem worriedly, laying the paper down. “It’ll be headlines in the morning. I’m nervous, Gottfried.”
“We’ll get sixty thousand if it come off,” said Gottfried.
“Three years if it doesn’t,” said Jem darkly.
“D’you have to make jokes like that?”
“I wasn’t joking! I wish Bruno would ring!” He got up restlessly.
“It must ‘ave taken him a couple of hours to get the ‘orse to ‘is place,” said Gottfried reasonably, picking up the paper and looking at it. Suddenly, the door banged open.
“Bruno! I thought I told you not to come near the office!” said Jem sharply, as Bruno and his accomplices Dr di Bersetti and Captain Humphries hurried in.
“Something’s gone wrong, guv,” Bruno began, “we went to-“
Jem dived for the hat stand and grabbed his hat and coat, seized his briefcase, shoved a flask under his arm, and said urgently to Gottfried; “Come on! I’ve got a couple of tickets on the eight o’clock train to Paris!”
As Gottfried hurried to grab his coat, Bruno said amiably; “No! Nothing like that, guv’nor! We ‘aven’t got the ‘orse. When we got to the ridin’ stables it wasn’t there!”
“That’s right,” said Captain Humphries. “We looked in the right box and all the other boxes. But there weren’t no such animal.”
There was a puzzled silence. Then Jem picked up the newspaper and looked at the article again in bewilderment.
#98:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Mon Aug 21, 2006 4:43 pm
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Love them hitting Jockel with a mallet! Laughing

Thanks Aquabird.
#99:  Author: francesn, Location: away with the faeries PostPosted: Mon Aug 21, 2006 6:35 pm
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This is so so scarily plausible.

Thanks Aquabird.
#100:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Tue Aug 22, 2006 4:54 pm
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Down in the police station at Innsbruck, Superintendent Letton was questioning Jockel, whose head was heavily bandaged. Herr Braun, who owned the Chalet buildings, stables and the land they were built on, and Dr Erckhardt, a doctor from Spärtz, were also there.
“And you didn’t see anything when you were dragged from the horse?” Letton asked, pacing up and down.
“Well, I just caught a glimpse of a man’s mackintosh, that’s all, sir,” said Jockel meekly.
“I see. What kind of a mackintosh?”
“A-an old grey one, sir. I don’t remember any more.”
“All right, that’ll do for now,” said Letton, sitting down at his desk. “I shall want to see you again later.”
Jockel was led out.
“Bring in Eigen Pfeiffen, will you, Constable?” said Letton.
“Hey, Pfeiffen!” called the constable.
“How long has that lad been with you?” Letton asked of Herr Braun.
“About a year,” that gentleman replied. “He handles the horses well enough.”
“What do you make of him, Doctor?” asked Letton.
“Nothing fake about the way he was knocked out,” Erckhardt said. “Looked like a blow with a…mallet or something. He certainly didn’t do it himself.”
The door opened and Eigen Pfeiffen, Jockel’s overlord, entered. He stood rather nervously before the desk.
“I just want to ask you one question, Pfeiffen,” said Letton. “You were out on the water-meadows with Jockel. Did you see anyone around?”
“Nobody, sir,” Eigen replied. “Jockel dropped back on Arab Boy, and when I looked around there was no sign of them or anyone else there. Except a bunch of girls in the distance. Out riding from some school called the Chalet School.”
Letton looked up in horror. “Oh, no.”

That night, Miss Crawley, alias Sergeant Bubb, phoned Letton in secret from the San.
“Sammy? It’s me. But I was in bed…of course I’m working! I’m in the San, Sammy. I got hit on the head with a mallet.”
“You too?” demanded Letton. “What happened?”
“At the hockey match,” said Sergeant Bubb in surprise. “Haven’t you had my report?”
“I haven’t had a line from you,” Letton said, equably surprised. “Now look, I’m on a whale of a case. A racehorse has been stolen. The Crown Prince of Belsornia’s Arab Boy, entered for the Gold Cup tomorrow. Now listen to this carefully; some of the Chalet School girls were seen riding near the spot where the horse disappeared. I want you to find out who they were and what they were doing.”
“Oh, I say!” said Sergeant Bubb gleefully. “How jolly pulse-throbbing...yes, of course I’m going to try and find out what they’re up to. There’s no need to be so beastly. I say, Sammy? I know this is a frightfully important job, you know, for you and for me, and I sort of…you know, if I did pull it off…could it be wedding bells?”
“If you don’t, it’ll be curtains!” snapped Letton, slamming the phone down.
“Oh, Sammy," said Sergeant Bubb in dismay.
#101:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Tue Aug 22, 2006 5:29 pm
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Sargeant Bubb is great!
#102:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Wed Aug 23, 2006 6:48 pm
    —
He's not worthy Sergeant Bubb! Laughing

Thanks Aquabird.
#103:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Wed Aug 23, 2006 7:41 pm
    —
Meanwhile, in the dark grounds outside, Mlle de Lachenais and Herr Anserl were taking a stroll.
“You know, Jeanne,” said Herr Anserl, “if any one had said this would happen to me – I mean, a jolly old school inspector strolling around with a smashing little French mistress.”
Mlle laughed. “You make me laugh, Karl.”
“Do I? I suppose I do seem rather Austrian to you at times, Jeanne, old scout.” They turned in by the summerhouse.
“Only funny Austrian, Karl,” said Mlle softly.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” said Herr Anserl regretfully. “It’s the Ministry of Ed, you know. It’s difficult to get the old blood pounding after fourteen years at a desk, with only the odd trip to Boulogne to give a chap a whiff of the joie-de-vive.”
“I love you for it, Karl,” said Mlle, smiling.
“By Jove!” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Do you really?” He jerked his head at the summerhouse. “Come in here and…have a Guinness.”
They went into the summerhouse, which was in darkness. Herr Anserl closed the door.
“The, er, drinks are over here.” He made his way over to the corner. Mlle followed him.
“Aren’t you going to turn on the lights?” she asked.
“Well, do you want me to?” asked Herr Anserl.
“Not if you don’t want to,” she responded, putting her wrap down on the sofa nearby. Herr Anserl laughed.
“Well, I thought we might have a couple of boissons on a…sofa.” They sat down on the sofa.
“Do you love me, Karl?” asked Mlle softly, as he rubbed her hand.
“Eh? Come on…”
There was a loud snort of a horse from behind them. Mlle sat up like a shot.
“What was that?” she cried.
“What was what?” asked Herr Anserl, rather annoyed at having his kiss interrupted.
“Karl! Something’s breathing down my neck!”
Herr Anserl turned on the lamp beside him to reveal Arab Boy standing there. Mlle shrieked.
“By Jove, it’s a horse!” said Herr Anserl in surprise. The Middles, who had been hiding in various places around the room, showed themselves reluctantly. “In here? Ridiculous!” Margia came up reluctantly. “What the blazes is all this?”
The door opened and Flash Jack entered shiftily.
“Psst!” he hissed. “Old Woodley’s coming out of the woods with Marie! Get that nag out of ‘ere sharpish! If she gets her peepers on it Jo’ll know in a flash!”
“But where are we going to take him?” demanded Hilda Bhaer.
“Never mind that now!” said Margia hurriedly. “Let’s get him out first!” As Hilda and the rest of the Middles fled with Arab Boy, she turned to Mlle and Herr Anserl. “Don’t say a word to Marie about this, will you?”
“Why not?” demanded Mlle.
“Because it’s got to win tomorrow!” she said desperately.
“I don’t get the hang of this,” protested Herr Anserl. “Why should we keep quiet?”
“Shall I fix him?” Flash demanded of Margia.
“Okay, Flash!” she said. She ran after the others, and Flash withdrew a wad of cash from the inside pocket of his overcoat.
“But I…what…you…” protested Herr Anserl feebly, as Flash hurriedly counted out some notes. He gave him the lot, tipped his hat, and ran.
“Well, I’m hanged!” said Herr Anserl in stupefaction.
#104:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Thu Aug 24, 2006 4:07 pm
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Thanks, Aquabird!
#105:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Fri Aug 25, 2006 6:36 pm
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Gold Cup Horse Disappears, screamed the headlines of the Evening Standard residing in Mademoiselle’s office as she telephoned Mr Alf Baker, the bookie in Spärtz.
“Hello? Mr Baker? The bookmaker? This is Mademoiselle Lepâttre of the Chalet School speaking. I’ve just read in the paper that Arab Boy has disappeared…bad luck is not the word for it, Mr Baker. I was positively counting on collecting four thousand pounds from you…yes…well, now, look Mr Baker, if the horse doesn’t turn up, would you please be good enough to return me my four hundred pounds, to reach me by Friday morning. You see, I…what?...I don’t quite follow you, Mr Baker. I don’t get what back?...” She laughed incredulously. “Now please, please, don’t be absurd, my good man. If I go into a telephone booth and make a call, and the horse or the person I’m calling is not there, well, I simply press button “B”, and I get…”
“’aven’t you read our rules?” demanded Mr Baker, who was lying in bed, having been rudely awakened from sleep at the phone call.
“Rules?” said Mademoiselle dismissively. “Rules? I’m not interested in your rules. I want my money back!”
“Well, in that case, you’d better start looking for the horse yourself,” said Mr Baker irritably.
“Now, why do you expect me to go looking for a horse?” asked Mademoiselle, with a martyr-like sigh.
Mr Baker hung up with a snort of disgust. Mademoiselle was shocked.
“Mr Baker?” She tutted, and began jiggling the button on the telephone. “Operator? Operator!”
No answer. Mademoiselle put the receiver back in its cradle soberly. She left the study, and saw Hilda Bhaer riding an enormous horse up the main staircase. She tutted disapprovingly, took one step, and then lights dawned. She took a few steps up the stairs, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Miss Crawley.
“May I speak to you, Mademoiselle?”
Mademoiselle pulled her fur stole about her irritably. “Not just now, Miss Crawley.”
“I must!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well, there’s something I’ve got to ask you,” said Miss Crawley, steeling herself. “Could you tell me, please, which girls went riding this morning?”
“Miss Crawley, this is neither the place nor the time,” said Mademoiselle imperiously. “If-“
She stopped short as she realised. “Why?”
“Well, some of the girls were on the water meadows this morning when a race horse disappeared.”
There was a short silence.
“Well?” asked Mademoiselle.
“Well, I…I thought they might have seen something.”
“And if they did?”
“Well, I thought they might like to help the police. I mean, Guides’ Honour. We’re all Girl Guides, aren’t we?”
“Are we?” asked Mademoiselle coolly. “Some of us might have aspired beyond that happy state, Miss Crawley. The girls are in bed, and I’m certainly not going to disturb them in order to satisfy your morbid curiosity.”
“Yes, but I-“
“Will you kindly return to the Sanatorium and attend to what concerns you?”
“But it does concern-“ She stopped, realising she had nearly blown her cover.
“Yes, Miss Crawley?” asked Mademoiselle.
“Nothing, Mademoiselle.” She went away reluctantly. Mademoiselle made sure she was well out of the way before she hurried up the stairs.

Last edited by Aquabird on Fri Sep 01, 2006 4:01 pm; edited 2 times in total
#106:  Author: Elle, Location: Peterborough PostPosted: Fri Aug 25, 2006 6:44 pm
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Fantastic! thank you.

Laughing Laughing Laughing
#107:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Fri Aug 25, 2006 6:59 pm
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Well done Meademoiselle!

Thanks
#108:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Sat Aug 26, 2006 2:40 pm
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Great! Thanks!
#109:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Sun Aug 27, 2006 5:46 pm
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Round the corner she went, and was attracted by the loud chattering coming from the Fourth Form dormitory. Then there came the dead giveaway of a horse whinnying loudly. Mademoiselle hesitated for a moment, then yanked the door open and went in. The entire Middle School was squashed inside, along with Flash Jack and, right at the back, Arab Boy, who was eating some of the hay scattered all over the floor.
Silence fell as Mademoiselle was spotted, and she moved into the room incredulously to inspect.
“Girls, girls!” she cried in consternation, “you know perfectly well that pets are not allowed in dormitories! And under the same rule, Mr Jack, I doubt if you should be here either.”
Flash, who had been standing furtively in the corner with his hat pulled over his eyes, tilted it up again as he realised he had been caught. Mademoiselle went on.
“Am I right in thinking that this animal here,” she pointed at the horse, “is Arab Boy?”
“Yes, Mademoiselle,” said Margia miserably. Mademoiselle looked at Flash.
“Jack,” she said, going over to him and waggling a finger in his face. “Now, look me in the eyes and tell me the truth, Jack. Have you had anything to do with this?”
“Me?” said Jack indignantly. “Oh, lady!”
“I’m glad, Jack,” said Mademoiselle calmly.
“Joey pinched him,” Margia piped up, “because she wants her brother-in-law’s horse to win.”
“But we nipped in and swiped him from her, didn’t we?” said Joyce Linton animatedly.
“Yes!” cried the Middles eagerly.
“Then why didn’t you take the animal back to the stables?” asked Mademoiselle. “Why bring him here?”
“Because if we took him back now, they’d nobble him!” said Margia at once.
“One of the stable boys is in their pay!” chimed in Suzanne.
“Then surely the most sensible thing would have been to have phoned the police and told them about that?” Mademoiselle was in turmoil.
“Just what I told ‘em,” said Flash Jack triumphantly. “You can’t go flaggin’ a repu’able racehorse like ‘him from the post!”
“Certainly not,” said Mademoiselle disapprovingly. She went to inspect the horse, holding her pince-nez up to her eyes. “How do you propose to get him back?”
“Elisaveta’s father arrives in Innsbruck at six in the morning,” said Margia. “She’s going to phone him.”
“What? And tell him the horse is here? And have half the school appearing in the Juvenile Courts?”
“Oh, she’s right, you know,” said Flash disappointedly. “We don’ want our good name dragged through the mud.”
“Of course not,” said Mademoiselle. “Now, there is only one thing to do. The animal must be taken out of here secretly at dawn. Elisaveta can ride him back to the stables, and say that she found him straying.”
“That’s a wizard idea!” said Margia eagerly.
“Yes!” agreed the Middles in a resounding chorus.
“Meanwhile,” went on Mademoiselle, “I shall telephone to the police – anonymously Jack – and tell them about that stable boy.”
“Cor, what a dame, eh?” beamed Jack in admiration.
“Now, set your alarms, girls!” Mademoiselle commanded, “for six o’clock!”
“Yes, Mademoiselle!” cried the Middles.
“And I want every girl here to promise, on her Guide’s Honour, not to breathe a word about this.”
“We promise, Mademoiselle!” was the answer.
“Remember, it’s Parents’ Day tomorrow,” said Mademoiselle, lifting her skirts and picking her way over the hay on the floor. “So I want every single shred of evidence that the horse has been here removed.”
“Yes, Mademoiselle!”
“And now, off to your beds at once, girls!” The Middles scattered. “As quickly as you can! And remember, that the Chalet School expects that every Fourth Form girl tomorrow morning will do her duty.”
“Yes, Mademoiselle!”
“Goodnight, girls!” she said gaily.
“Goodnight, Mademoiselle!” shouted the Middles.
“Goodnight, lady,” said Jack casually, as though he were staying, too. “Goodnight!”
“Jack, this way!” said Mademoiselle silkily, making for the door.
“Oh, ‘course!” said Jack confusedly, hurrying after her.
#110:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Sun Aug 27, 2006 6:08 pm
    —
The next morning, Thekla was raiding the larder when she heard the sound a horse whinnying. She looked out of the window and saw Arab Boy’s head sticking out of the window of the Fourth Form dormitory.
Thekla stared in amazement, then raced off to the Sixth Form dormitory.
“Joey!” she shouted, jumping over Frieda’s and Marie’s beds to Joey’s and shaking her. “Joey! Wake up!”
“Oh, I’ll brain you!” grunted Joey, rudely awoken from sleep.
“Got something to tell you,” said Thekla. “The Fourth Form have got a horse in their dormitory!”
“You’re crazy!” shouted Joey, nevertheless scrambling out from her blankets.
“See for yourself. It’s looking out of the window. D’you think it’s Arab Boy?”
Joey dived for the window. She saw the horse, and froze in horror.

Meanwhile, alarm clocks went off in the Fourth Form dormitory, and Luise Rotheim, who was nearest the window, sat up with a start when she saw Arab Boy’s head sticking out of it.
“I say, look at Arab Boy!” she cried. “He’s got his head out the window!”
“Get him back, quickly!” shouted Cornelia from the next bed. Arab Boy was pulled back from the window by the Middles, but the damage was done.

Downstairs, Joey was making a phone call.
“Ah, don’t worry, Jem, he’s in that dormitory to stay,” she said confidently. “But we’re going to need help when things hot up…well how long will you be?...oh, well, you’d better warn the boys it’s Parents’ Day today, Jem, we can’t have the police dragged into this…okay, we’ll hold the fort till then. So long!” She hung up and raced up the stairs. She didn’t see Flash Jack peeking out from near the front doors. He followed her up the stairs curiously and was just in time to see Joey scrambling over a huge barricade of furniture in the middle of the corridor.
“Okay, they’re on the way!” she said. Flash scurried away. “Where’s Frieda?”
“Working on the dormitory door,” said Louise Redfield, pointing.

In the dormitory, the Middles were ready to go.
“Luise, go down and see if the coast is clear,” ordered Margia. Luise ran to the door and tried to open it.
“It’s locked!” she cried in consternation.
“It can’t be!” cried Margia.
“Who’s done that?” demanded Cornelia.
“Blimey!” exclaimed Maria.

“How’s it going, kids?” asked Jo, having gone to have a scout downstairs.
“Okay,” said Anne. “It’ll take a tank to get out of there!”

The Middles charged at the door with a bed, but to no avail. The door was locked fast.
#111:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Sun Aug 27, 2006 6:10 pm
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That scene was so right!

Thanks Aquabird - I really must hunt out my copy of the St Trinians film - it'll never be the same again! Laughing
#112:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Sun Aug 27, 2006 6:59 pm
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The bunnies are active tonight! Smile

Mademoiselle had called an informal Staff meeting in her study. Flash Jack was also present.
“Ladies,” she said. “And gentlemen. We are faced with open rebellion. The Sixth Form have imprisoned the Fourth Form in their dormitory, and, I regret to say, a racehorse.”
“Not this Arab Boy?” demanded Miss Denny.
“It is Arab Boy,” confirmed Mademoiselle. “It is absolutely imperative that it runs today, for all our sakes.”
“Owr sakes?” demanded Miss Annersley.
“Yes. You see, I put the school funds on it.”
“What?” exclaimed Miss Leslie in horror.
“So, you see, if you want to collect your salaries, you must help to release it.”
“It’s come to this!” snapped Miss Leslie. “The jolly old snipe end on a long runner!” She turned away to the fireplace.
“I propose to storm the barricades,” said Mademoiselle. “I’m sure that if we make one concerted charge, we shall carry the day. So come along, arm yourselves and follow me. There is not one moment to lose!”
Grimly the Staff and Flash Jack armed themselves, and assembled at the bottom of the main staircase.
“I think the men should go first,” said Mademoiselle. “They did last time when the Bishop came, you remember.” Herr Anserl and Herr Laubach were pushed to the front of the little procession.
“Oh, I say, look here, must we?” protested Herr Anserl.
“I say,” piped up Miss Leslie, who was getting into the spirit of things. “Shall we utter frightful war cries?”
“That, I feel, is optional,” said Mademoiselle. “But remember Napoleon’s precept; that the essence of attack is surprise. Come along now, quietly. Quickly!”
They crept up to the top of the stairs and paused.
“Are we ready?” asked Mademoiselle.
“Yes,” replied Miss Denny.
“Advance!”
The Staff charged upon the barricade, brandishing their weapons and yelling, but were assailed by flour bombs and other projectiles, as the Sixth Form protected their fort, beating back the attackers with hockey sticks. Defeated, the Staff were forced to retreat back to the stairs. Miss Crawley, entering upon the scene at that moment, was treated to the sight of Mademoiselle being supported down the stairs by Herr Anserl and Herr Laubach.
“D’you think you’ll make it, Mademoiselle?” demanded Herr Anserl.
“I’ve got to!” panted Mademoiselle. “I’ve got to!”
“What on earth is happening?” demanded Miss Crawley. “Is anything wrong?”
“The natives have risen, old sport!” panted Herr Anserl.
Mademoiselle seized the front of Miss Crawley’s tunic.
“Miss Crawley,” she gasped. “Do you still wish to question the girls about that racehorse?”
“Well, I only thought-“
“It’s the Sixth Form you want, Miss Crawley! They’re upstairs now! Go, quickly, quickly!”
“Perhaps I should,” said Miss Crawley uncertainly.
“Yes,” said Mademoiselle. “Believe me, you should!”
Miss Crawley scrambled up the stairs, and Mademoiselle said; “Collect her in thirty seconds!” Outside, there was the sound of a horn. “Who’s that?” She looked at Jack, who was the only one relatively unhurt. “Jack?”
Jack went to the front door and peeked through the letterbox. Several cars were drawing up outside.
“’Ere!” he said. “It’s people!”
“What?” said Mademoiselle in surprise. “Parents already? We can’t possible let them see us like this! Miss Durrant, get the Brownies’ campfire going at once!”
“Yes, Mademoiselle,” said Miss Durrant. She went off, just as there was the sound of shouts and yells from upstairs.
“Come on, Laubach!” groaned Herr Anserl. He and Herr Laubach went upstairs.
“’Ere,” said Miss Annersley. “What’re we gonna do about that mob upstairs?”
“Well, when the parents are safely around the Brownies’ campfire,” said Mademoiselle, trying to repin her hair, “we’ll renew the attack. But this time, we’ll be properly armed.” She pointed to where several spears were suspended on the wall by a brass plate.
“Great Scott!” exclaimed Miss Leslie. “The Zulu War!”
“Gangway!” cried the two masters, as they returned with Miss Crawley, who was unconscious.
“Knocked cold,” said Herr Anserl to Mademoiselle. “What’ll we do with her?”
“Put her in my bathroom, and lock the door,” ordered Mademoiselle.
“Lock the door?” repeated Herr Laubach in amazement.
“Yes. Miss Crawley is a police officer in disguise.”
“By George, we’re for it now!” groaned Herr Anserl. He and Herr Laubach bore Miss Crawley off to Mademoiselle’s bathroom as Miss Edwards, an accomplice of Miss Nalder’s, wailed; “This means Holloway for me!”
“You may not be the only one, Miss Edwards,” said Mademoiselle. “Now, let me see. Jack, you appear to be the only one unscathed. Keep the parents at bay until the rest of us get cleaned up.”
“Okay, lady,” said Jack. He went off.
“And I am sure that if we keep our heads, complete disaster may yet be averted,” she said to the rest of the Staff.
They hurried off to clean up, and Flash went to the front door. He took his hat off and opened the door.
“Hi, I’m very sorry sir, gentlemen,” he began, “But you-“ He stopped as the men pushed in. “’Ere, you can’t come in ‘ere!”
“That’s okay, son,” said Captain Humphries smoothly, pushing him backwards into the entrance hall.
“No, no, no, not now! Not now!”
“No, you don’t want to worry about that!” said Captain Humphries, looking round with interest.
“But there ain’t anything interestin’ ere to you parents!” protested Jack. “It’s outside!”
“What is?”
“The Braarnie’s campfire!”
“’Ere, are you takin’ the rise out of us?” demanded Dr di Bersetti.
“No! Straight up! An’ they’re burnin’ all good stuff! No rubbish!”
“Hold it, boys,” came Jem’s smooth tones from the back. The men parted to let him through. He came up to Jack. “Do you know where my sister-in-law is?”
“Upstairs, Dr Russell,” said Jack politely.
“Wait here, Gottfried,” instructed Jem, going up the stairs. Gottfried, puffing on a cigar, strolled up to Jack.
“You a teacher?” he inquired with interest.
“I-In a way,” stuttered Jack, smiling nervously. Gottfried stared around with interest as Jack hurried over to the study, whence came Herr Anserl and Herr Laubach, dusting themselves down.
“I never bargained for this sort of caper, Laubach,” grunted Herr Anserl.
“No,” Herr Laubach grunted back.
Jack dashed into the study and closed the door behind him.
#113:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Tue Aug 29, 2006 2:29 pm
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Thanks, Aquabird. Keep those bunnies happy!
#114:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Wed Aug 30, 2006 7:50 pm
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“’Ere,” he said to Mademoiselle, who was tidying her hair in the mirror. “Them people outside. They ain’t parents. Dr Russell’s wiv em! He’s out there with a mob of ‘is ‘oppos!”
Mademoiselle stared. “What on earth is he doing here?”
Flash shrugged. “Search me.”
The door opened and Jem strode in.
“Good morning, Thérèse,” he said. “I’d like a few words with you.”
Mademoiselle glared at him. “And I’d like more than a few with you.”
Jem advanced on them, and Mademoiselle said; “Leave us, Jack. I wish to speak with Dr Russell alone.”
Flash left.
In the bathroom next door, Miss Crawley groaned, then sat up. She suddenly heard Mademoiselle’s voice coming from the study, and listened, alert at once.
“How you have the audacity, Jem, to show your face in here today after all you have done to me I do not know. You put Joey up to this because you wanted your horse to win today. You don’t give a fig what happens to my school.”
Miss Crawley pressed her ear against the door eagerly.
“If this comes out my girls will be dragged through the police courts.”
“Why should it come out?” drawled Jem casually.
“How can it be prevented? With a horse upstairs in the Fourth Form dorm? Barricaded by Joey and all her friends.”
Miss Crawley whipped out a black marker from her pocket and began to scribble hastily on the floor tiles of the bathroom. This was all fine evidence!
“Jem, you’ll order them to stop this criminal lunacy at once!”
“Thérèse, I stand to lose a fortune if Arab Boy gets there and wins this afternoon!”
“I am concerned with the reputation of my school!” cried Mademoiselle. Miss Crawley raised her head in disbelief. “Oh, I shall never, never forgive you, Jem, that you should do this to me on Parents’ Day of all days.”
“Well, I’ve brought the boys down suitably dressed!” said Jem with a dismissive shrug. “They can mix with your parents!”
“Why did you bring them here at all?” demanded Mademoiselle.
“To make sure that that horse stays here until after the race!” said Jem smoothly.
“Humph! It is leaving here in time for the race!” retorted Mademoiselle. “I shall see to that!”
“And I’ll see that it doesn’t.”
“Humph!” Mademoiselle picked up the phone.
“I’m sorry you’re so unreasonable, Thérèse! And I don’t know who you’re trying to phone, but I’m afraid you’ll find you’ve been cut off.” He left. In the bathroom, Miss Crawley, having already filled up half the tiles with notes, crawled to the door to listen eagerly for more.
#115:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Wed Aug 30, 2006 8:09 pm
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Looking forward to the next bits!

Wonderful. Laughing
#116:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Wed Aug 30, 2006 8:19 pm
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Lizzie's favourite bit! Wink

Jem returned to his men waiting in the hall.
“Von Ahlen, Humphries, di Bersetti, three more of you. Come with me, will you?”
The six men followed him out, leaving Gottfried with the remaining men.

In the bathroom, Miss Crawley was still scribbling on the floor tiles.

Outside, Thekla was climbing up the creeper to the Fourth Form dorm.
“What’s happening, Thekla?” demanded Margia.
“The Sixth are holding the corridors, and Jo’s brother-in-law has brought a gang to help them!” reported Thekla. There were gasps of dismay from the Middles.
“Look! There’s some of them now!” cried Luise, pointing.
They saw three of the men walking below, looking around uneasily.

Miss Crawley rolled up the linoleum she had been writing on.

Two of Jem’s cronies were posted at the gates, stopping cars as they drove up.
“Are you parents?” one demanded, peering in at the window.
“That’s right,” the man inside replied.
“Okay.” Jem’s crony nodded for the driver to drive on.

Miss Crawley tied up the lino with a school tie she had found, and then tried the door. To her dismay, it was locked!

Flash Jack was standing outside the front doors, waiting to welcome the parents now beginning to alight from their cars. He raised his hat politely to the first couple that came up.
“Morning!” he said cheerfully. “Braarnie’s campfire’s first on the cards. Straight down that parf, back ‘a them trees, you can’t miss it!”
Puzzled, the first couple moved on, and another came up.
“Braarnie’s campfire, straight down that parf, back ‘a them trees!”
“Oh, but can’t we-“ protested the mother, trying to go inside. Jack grabbed her arm.
“You mustn’t miss the Braarnie’s campfire!”
“Oh, but surely we can see Mademoiselle Lepâttre-”
There was no time for manners. Jack gave the woman an impatient shove down the path towards the campfire.
“Braarnie’s campfire, straight down that parf, back ‘a them trees!” He raised his hat apologetically as the miffed couple walked off. “You can’t miss it!”

Using a toothbrush and a pair of scissors, Miss Crawley was slowly but surely managing to scrape the door away around the lock.

The milk cart drew up with the morning delivery just below the Fourth Form dormitory, and the Middles paused in their activities with catapults.
“I say, Elsie,” said Margia thoughtfully. “Supposing we could rope all those blankets together!”
“What on earth for?” demanded Elsie.
“I bet we could do it! If we could flip a message through to Mademoiselle to create a diversion, and draw those men off-“ she turned to gesture to some of the others behind them, “-hi, Suzanne! Smoke bombs forward!” She turned back to Elsie. “We’ll make a smokescreen, and then drop Thekla over with a message!”
Elsie nodded her agreement to this plan.
“Thekla!”

An expensive car pulled up outside the gates.
“Parent?” demanded Jem’s man.
“Mercifully, no,” replied the posh-talking man inside the car. “I am from the Ministry of Education.”
“Well, what business you got ‘ere?”
“I am instructed on higher authority to inspect the school,” answered the man stiffly.
“Well, you picked a nice day for it!” snorted the man. He gestured to the driver. “Okay.”
The car drove inside.

“Open fire!” cried Margia.
Smoke bombs descended on Jem’s men who were standing guard near the milk cart below the dormitory. They gathered together in alarm at the attack.
“’Ere, what’re them kids up to chuckin’ them things?” asked one of them.

Flash Jack was very weary now.
“This way for the Braarnie’s campfire!” he cried weakly, pointing yet more parents on. “’urry along please! Pass along!” He raised his voice and shouted to a couple who had got rather lost. “Pass right down the parf there! Get in them TREES! Any more for the Braarnie’s campfire?” The Ministry of Education car drew up behind the parents’. “Show’s just about to start! Roll up for the Braarnie’s campfire!” Flash leant weakly against the wall. “ANY MORE for the blimmin Braarnie’s campfire?”
#117:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Fri Sep 01, 2006 3:44 pm
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Thanks, Aquabird Very Happy Laughing !
#118:  Author: francesn, Location: away with the faeries PostPosted: Fri Sep 01, 2006 8:14 pm
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This is fantastic - such a treat to read so much at once!

Thanks Aquabird
#119:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Sat Sep 02, 2006 12:21 pm
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The Ministry of Education inspector came up to the front door.
“This way to the Braarnie’s campfire,” whimpered Jack. He put out a hand to stop the inspector from walking through the front doors. “This way to the Braarnie’s campfire.”
“Thank you, I have no wish to see the Brownie’s campfire,” said the inspector snootily. He looked Flash Jack up and down. “I haven’t the remotest idea who you are, but I am from the Ministry of Education.”
“Oh!” Flash stood up straight and tipped his hat. “Oh! In that case, it’s straight down that parf you want for your mates.” He pointed down a different path, leading to the summerhouse.
“Mates?” inquired the man coldly.
“Ya! Karl Anserl, and old Laubach! In the summerhouse, down by the lake. You can’t miss it.”
The man looked uncertain.
“I’d like to,” he said doubtfully. “But under the circumstances, I think I’d better not.” Flash Jack Looked at him, and he changed his mind.
“Thank you,” he said, starting off down the path.
“You’re welcome,” said Flash suspiciously, raising his hat. Then he leant back against the wall again. “This way for the Braarnie’s campfire. All the fun of the fair!”

Back in the study, the Staff were having another meeting.
“At all costs we must keep our heads and reconsider our strategy,” said Mademoiselle. “It’d be useless to attempt another attack now; a handful of mere women! Against a gang of hooligans!”
The door opened, and Thekla tore in.
“Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle! I’ve got a message from the Beleaguered Forces! Margia Stevens says she’s got a plan to get the horse away, if you can create a diversion and draw the men off.”
“What plan? What diversion?” asked Mademoiselle agitatedly.
“Apart from Hilda doing a fan dance I can’t think of anything!” said Miss Denny.
From outside, there came the sound of war whoops.
“Wait!” cried Mademoiselle in delight. “I fancy I can! They’re here!”
“The Old Girls!” shrieked Miss Leslie in delight.
“The Old Girls!” The Staff rushed to the window.
Sure enough, a minibus containing the Chalet School’s most beloved Old Girls, including Gisela Mensch, Bernhilda von Eschenau, Wanda von Glück, Gertrud Steinbrücke, Juliet Carrick, Bette di Bersetti and Grizel Cochrane. Onto the roof of the minibus were strapped crates of the Chalet School’s Finest Dry Gin!
“And all in primed condition!” cried Mademoiselle happily.
Poor Flash Jack didn’t stand a chance. The Old Girls charged at the front doors like a tank, leaving him lying for dead on the doorstep.

In the entrance hall, Jem and his coterie suddenly heard Miss Leslie’s voice.
“This way, the Old Girls! Rally round! There’s a frightful emergency!”
“We need every man we can spare to deal with this,” said Jem in a panic. He raced off, and found the three men pacing outside the Fourth Form dormitory.
“Von Ahlen, Humphries, all of you! Come with me, quickly!”
The men raced off, and the Middles, watching eagerly from above, saw their chance.
“Come on, girls!” cried Margia. “Let’s get the blankets, quick!”

Flash Jack slowly sat up and tipped his hat back. He felt as though he had been beaten all over.

Miss Crawley, working away on the door in the bathroom, suddenly saw, to her amazement, the shadow of a horse on the wall. She ran to the window looked out. She saw Arab Boy being lowered out of the window of the dormitory above on a blanket rope. Elisaveta had shinned down after him and untied it. She waved the all clear, and the rope was drawn up. By the milk cart, Margia and Amy were bribing the milkman with money to swap Arab Boy with his own horse, and smuggle him out that way.

Jem had gone to recruit more allies. He ran to the gates.
“Come on, quickly, man!” he cried to one of them. The other started to follow. “No, no, you stay there, Morris! Come on, now!”

Quickly, the milkman unhooked the shaft of the cart from his own horse and led him out.
“Come on, Arab Boy!” cried Margia eagerly, as Arab Boy was backed into the shaft. “We’ve got to get you to the race!”
#120:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Sat Sep 02, 2006 1:10 pm
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Still loving every installment! Thanks, Aquabird Very Happy
#121:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Sat Sep 02, 2006 1:12 pm
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Aquabird wrote:
“What plan? What diversion?” asked Mademoiselle agitatedly.
“Apart from Hilda doing a fan dance I can’t think of anything!” said Miss Denny.


Wants to see this too! Wink

Thanks Aquabird. Laughing
#122:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Sat Sep 02, 2006 2:31 pm
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Lol! Thanks, Aquabird!
#123:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Mon Sep 04, 2006 5:33 pm
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“…of course, it’s not Roedean or Cheltenham, my dear, but it has its points,” one parent was saying to another as they made their way up the front steps, having enjoyed the “Braarnie’s” campfire. Jem flew past them with his men, almost knocking them off balance.
The men skidded into the entrance hall, and then Miss Leslie’s voice cried; “This way, the Old Girls!”
The Old Girls, armed with shields and spears, and uttering war cries, advanced on the main staircase where the men stood, frozen in horror.
“Don’t let them up!” cried Jem, finding his voice. “Block the stairs!”
“Halt!” roared Gisela Mensch, who was leading the rabble. “Spears to the ready!...Charge!”
The men fled up the stairs to where the Sixth Form were at the ready with their ammunition, but this time it was no use. The Old Girls had not forgotten what their years at the Chalet School had taught them, and Jo and the gang were no match for them. The men hid under hall tables and refused to come out. The girls were pelted with flour bombs, eggs, water, coal… anything that came to the hand of the Old Girls.

Jem Russell was to be seen climbing over a gate leading to the path up to the Tiern Pass, gasping for air, and cursing his sister-in-law freely in his heart for ever dreaming up such a plan as nobbling Arab Boy.

Miss Crawley escaped at long last from the bathroom with her precious linoleum roll of notes.

Arab Boy was driven out of the school grounds in the milk cart, and the man on guard at the gate did not for one moment suspect that it was the racehorse, not the milk cart horse.

Miss Crawley, finding the real milk cart horse standing under the Fourth Form dormitory window, thought it was Arab Boy and mounted him. She kicked him, and he took off, carrying her out of the grounds, past the astonished man on the gate, and out to freedom.
#124:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Mon Sep 04, 2006 6:30 pm
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Love the idea of Gisela leading a rabble!
#125:  Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland PostPosted: Mon Sep 04, 2006 6:47 pm
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Finished! I hope you enjoyed it! Wink

The television in the summerhouse had been tuned to the Gold Cup, and the atmosphere was one of excited expectation, both in the Chalet School and at the race itself.
“…the horses are just leaving the paddock now,” the commentator was saying. “But whatever thrills this great race may provide, they can’t compare with the excitement we’ve experienced here in the last few minutes. The Crown Prince of Belsornia’s Arab Boy, for whom a nationwide search has been going on over the past twenty four hours, made a sensational appearance on the course ten minutes ago. Here he is leaving the paddock now. I’ve just asked Superintendent Letton of the Innsbruck Constabulary how he managed to trace the missing animal, but he told me he’s not yet in a position to make a statement.”

The milk cart horse was taking Miss Crawley down the mountain path, and into Spärtz.

“And they’re off!” announced the commentator. “It’s a first class start for this, our most coveted of all our national hunt racing. Moldonia’s well away, so is Blue Prince, they’re coming up to the first fence…oh, Moldonia jumped that well.”
“He jumped it like a dream!” cried Herr Anserl, who was sitting on a pouffe in the summerhouse, watching the race eagerly. He glanced over to the sofa, where the posh Ministry of Education inspector was being “entertained” by Miss Stewart and Mlle de Lachenais, as Herr Laubach filled up the drinks.
“I think you chaps are batting on a pretty good wicket!” said the inspector happily.
“Well, any time you’d care to join us, old man,” said Herr Laubach amiably. “It only means getting in another bed.”
“Sorely tempted, old man,” replied the inspector, as Mlle put a lit cigarette into his mouth. “Sorely tempted.”
“He’s moving up!” cried Herr Anserl, who was still watching the race. “Come on, Arab Boy!”
“…Arab Boy’s going into third place now as they come to the next fence!” said the commentator. “There are three horses out in front; Moldonia, Blue Prince, and Arab Boy. Nothing else in it. It looks to me like a three horse race…now Moldonia’s falling back. Blue Prince is moving into first place, followed by Arab Boy as they come round the bend...”

The milk cart horse finally slowed to a halt outside the dairy in Spärtz, with Miss Crawley hanging onto him and her notes for dear life.

“…into the home stretch. They’re heading for home now, and it’s Arab Boy showing the way…Blue Prince is drawing level again as they come up to the last fence…they jumped that neck in neck…there are only two horses in it now…Arab Boy’s taking the lead…with only fifty yards to go…it’s Arab Boy and Blue Prince…Arab Boy has won the Gold Cup!”
The Middles, clustered around the wireless in their dormitory with bated breath, cheered and screamed fit to burst as Flash Jack clutched at his hat and tore out and down to Mademoiselle’s study.

That lady was sadly closeted in with the parents who had witnessed Jem and his gang rushing inside, and the spectacle of the Old Girls and the Sixth Form at war.
“…after this I wouldn’t dream of her staying here another hour!” one father was saying heatedly.
“I should think not, after what we’ve witnessed today!” cried a mother. “I was horrified! Quite horrified!”
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself!” piped up another mother.
“I shudder when I think of what poor Cyrilla has suffered!” said Cyrilla’s mother.
The door flew open and Flash Jack burst in.
“’Ere!” he cried. “It’s won! Arab Boy! It’s won!”
“Really, Jack?” trilled Mademoiselle, all smiles again. She got up. “Oh, in that case, ladies and gentlemen, courtesy forbids me to tell you exactly where you can send your daughters! Will you excuse me?” She went to the coat stand, which her fur coat was hanging from. “Come with me, Jack. I think we have an appointment with Mr Baker.”
“Yeah!” beamed Jack, helping her on with her coat. “No Riviera for ‘im this year, eh?”
He escorted her to the door and held it open for her, raising his hat with a smile a mile wide.

The pawnbroker’s in Spärtz was descended upon, and the precious cups retrieved from the shelves. That evening saw the Chalet School celebrating its prizegiving, with a special guest; Elisaveta’s father. He beamed round at the girls as they applauded him politely.
“Thank you. I was more than happy to accept your Headmistress’s invitation to come here tonight to present your annual awards. But for the resource of your Fourth Form, I would not have won the race today.”
The school cheered.
“It is therefore, with the greatest pleasure, that I begin these proceedings by presenting this cup–“ he picked up the biggest silver cup on the table, “-for good conduct –which, I understand, has not been presented since 1932– to Margia Stevens.”
The lights went out, and the school cheered again.
“Miss Leslie!” called Mademoiselle. “Miss Leslie!” She banged on the table with her gavel. “Miss Leslie! Put on those lights!”
Miss Leslie at last found the switch and light flooded the room, but the Crown Prince was holding empty air, for the cup had disappeared! The school laughed as Mademoiselle stared in consternation, then banged the gavel again.
“Girls, girls, girls!” she cried severely. “This really is too much! Goodness knows, the honour of the school has suffered enough for one day! And don’t imagine for one moment that I don’t know who did it. But in view of the occasion, I’m going to appeal to your sporting instincts to return that cup. And in order that the girls may suffer no ignominy, I’m going to have the lights put out for thirty seconds, so that they may return it unseen. Right, Miss Leslie.” She nodded to that lady.
“Righto!” Miss Leslie put the lights out, and the school cheered again.
“Right, Miss Leslie, lights please!” trilled Mademoiselle happily, after thirty seconds.
The lights came on again, but this time all the cups on the table had vanished from their plinths.
Three naughty Juniors, crouching down beside the dais, pulled on a cord, and the whole platform collapsed, spilling the Crown Prince and the Staff onto the floor. Mademoiselle, left alone in her chair, sighed and leaned on one elbow. This was just another day at the Chalet School!
#126:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Mon Sep 04, 2006 8:26 pm
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Oh wonderful!!!!

Aquabird - please, please, please adapt the other St Trinian's films?

Pretty please?

Laughing Laughing Laughing Laughing Laughing
#127:  Author: francesn, Location: away with the faeries PostPosted: Mon Sep 04, 2006 10:17 pm
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*echoes Lesley*

This has been absolutely brilliant! Thank you so much for doing it.
#128:  Author: ElKel, Location: Miles away PostPosted: Tue Sep 05, 2006 12:38 pm
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Aquabird wrote:
[color=blue]
.
“ this cup–“ he picked up the biggest silver cup on the table, “-for good conduct –which, I understand, has not been presented since 1932. . . ”


Laughing Laughing Laughing

Wonder who got it in 1932, and why? (And how long did this delicate flower last in the challenging greenhouse of the CS? Very Happy )


Aquabird, this was brilliant! Thank you very much, although I've had to laugh quietly so my workmates don't worry too much about my sanity! Smile
#129:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock PostPosted: Tue Sep 05, 2006 3:17 pm
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Thanks Aquabird. This has been brilliant, and if you have time for another one, that would be great!
The CBB -> St Scholastika's House


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