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Title: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Nov 19th, 2003, 9:05pm Right, here we go. This is my first ever attempt at a drabble, so I would really appreciate your honest comments! I'm worried that I'll mess up important details about locations and characters (but I can claim they're EBDisms!) I'm also concerned that I'll regurgitate bits of other plots! This is quite strongly inspired by my recent re-reading of Drina! Please be kind, but honest!! “Well then, I’ll – I’ll live alone in London!” Mrs Bartram-Jones eyed her daughter wearily. She had hoped that Amelia had grown out of these passionate outbursts, but since her late husband’s disappearance and subsequent reported death, Amelia had reverted to the temperamental child she had been four years ago. “Don’t be absurd, Amelia. The decision has been made, and you knew this was a strong possibility all along. Your passage is arranged and you are enrolled to start at the Chalet School on the 10th September.” For a moment, mother faced daughter in a mute contest of wills. “Millie,” began her mother, her heart softening as she saw the anguish in her daughter’s eyes, “you know that …” “Don’t call me that!” gasped out Amelia, rising so suddenly that she pulled the lace tablecloth askew, her animated green eyes flashing in her stark white face. “That was D-Daddy’s name for me!” She appeared to be about to say more but loss of control threatened and with a gulp she turned on her heel and bolted from the room. Left alone, Meryl Bartram-Jones sighed heavily and kneaded the flesh between her eyes to try and ward off an ever- worsening headache. She heard her daughter’s usually light footed steps pounding up the stairs, and a muffled crash reverberated throughout the house as a bedroom door was slammed. Raising herself to her feet, Meryl idly straightened the lace cloth, before turning to the framed photograph on the mantelpiece. “You always understood her more than I,” she murmured softly, wiping a smear off the frame with her handkerchief. Meryl took a deep breath and reprimanded herself for her self pity. There was so much to do in the next three weeks, lists to make, name tapes to sew, and her own convalescence to organise. With a feeling akin to relief, she turned her mind from her loss and became absorbed in the business of being practical. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by catherine on Nov 19th, 2003, 9:08pm More please, Lisa! This looks like being good! |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by KB on Nov 19th, 2003, 9:12pm This is going to be another tear-jerker, I can tell. It sounds like it has a great deal of potential and I can't wait to see where you take it, Lisa. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Chloe on Nov 19th, 2003, 9:13pm This a great start all it needs now is to have more added ;) |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Vikki on Nov 19th, 2003, 9:51pm This is great Lisa! Looking forward to the next bit!! :) |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Nov 19th, 2003, 10:06pm Gee, thanks! :) Upstairs in the shabby but well-loved room that had been Amelia’s for all of her fourteen years, the troubled child wept bitterly into her pillow. In the past few months, she had experienced more than she felt her small frame could bear. First, the sudden and unexplained disappearance of her beloved father, Daddy, who was always smiling and kind. Although, thinking it over, Amelia recollected, he hadn’t been smiling much for the last year or so. Amelia never concerned herself with grown ups’ problems, but she knew there had been harsh words between her parents, restrained but raised voices in the night. For a moment a violent flame of anger consumed her soul and unconsciously she clenched her fists – her mother had driven him away! Daddy had been the only one who understood her passion and talent for the thing that really mattered in her life - her dancing. But Mummy had never shared his perception. She saw it as a hobby; at best something Amelia was good at and did prettily, but at worst a distraction from a ‘well-rounded education’. Then came that dreadful day when her mother was visited by two men in sober attire and the three remained closeted in the parlour for almost an hour. Abandoning all thoughts of decency and honour, Amelia had crouched at the bottom of the stairs and strained her ears to listen, but she had only caught fragments of the conversation. She heard a low murmuring, her mother’s sudden wild little cry, and then a long silence. Fear gripped her and she waited impatiently, trying to quench a nameless rising terror as the interview continued on and on. At length, the door knob had turned and Amelia, making no effort to conceal her eavesdropping, beheld her mother’s pale and strained face. She saw her lips moving and felt rather than heard the words: “your father’s been taken from us, child.” The ensuing weeks had been a jumble of wrecked dreams. Mrs Bartram-Jones seemed to wrestle with an ever increasing pile of correspondence and appeared distant to the small frightened child. Child as she was, Amelia observed her mother’s behaviour with increasing unease, and even her regular exercises at the barre failed to grant the respite she so desperately craved. Finally, she had been summoned to the kitchen table, as had been the pattern of their family meetings for as long as Amelia could remember. She was always to remember her mother’s words. “You must go away to school, Amelia. It’s high time you had a more rounded and full education. Your – your father and I allowed you to indulge in this ballet business for too long. Great Auntie has kindly offered to fund your education and I am determined you should have only the best.” Amelia recalled her reactions, at first bemused, then incredulous and finally angry. That white hot emotion had seized her and kept the tears at bay. To leave her home and friends and precious ballet school, of which she had been a member for three years! Even Madame said she showed real potential, but only practising and hard, hard work would ever allow that potential to come to fruition. Calming herself a little, with a shuddering sigh she lowered herself off the side of the bed with unconscious grace and knelt on the worn rug. Ducking her head she squirmed underneath the sagging bedstead and groped about in the dust and darkness. Finally her fingers fastened on the object of her search, a cloth covered object. Drawing a box out, Amelia settled back on her haunches and lifted the lid almost reverently. Inside lay her treasures – memories in the form of photos and letters, clippings and programmes. She spread out the various bits and pieces in front of her and looked over them lovingly. These were her dreams. They may as well be left in the box, she thought bitterly and scooped them up, shoving them unceremoniously back in the box. What was the point? She’d never be a dancer now. Never! How could she be when she was being sent away to another country, for a ‘well-rounded’ education? |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by catherine on Nov 19th, 2003, 10:10pm Oh poor Amelia! Hope things get better for her. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Vikki on Nov 19th, 2003, 10:18pm Awwww! Poor Amelia!! Please let things get better soon! |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by KB on Nov 19th, 2003, 10:19pm *wonders if fictional characters can be directed to the Tissues Box* Poor Amelia. But is her father really dead or just missing? And what will her attitude at the school be? Will she resent them, or just her mother? All these questions that can only be answered with MORE!!! |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Carolyn P on Nov 19th, 2003, 10:45pm This is good stuff. Is her Dad in prision, a la Railway Children, or is he really presumed dead? What period of the school is it set in, will she be a contemporay of Felicity? |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lesley on Nov 19th, 2003, 10:51pm This is really good Lisa - more please! |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Nov 19th, 2003, 10:53pm So many questions! Patience is a virtue ... :P There will be some tears in store, but you will have to wait and see what the truth is about her father! I hadn't thought of the similarity with the Railway Children! Oh no, I haven't read Felicity! Maybe I'll find a summary to read in case I repeat ideas! I already know an outline of what I want Amelia to go through (that sounds evil!) but I don't want to be predictable! A bit more for tonight, then I need to go to bed! Thanks for all your kind interest and support! :) Downstairs, Meryl heard the cessation of noise with relief. She really had too much to deal with at the moment. The words of Doctor Grant, an old family friend, had been serious and contained a ring of truth. “Listen, Meryl. You have been putting your heart under too much strain for too long. You must have a break. It will do you good, and give Amelia the chance for some independence. Perhaps it will channel her somewhat wild spirit! I told you that my sister has a large house in Cornwall. She is getting on in years and needs someone to help out a bit. I took the liberty of speaking to her, and she’d be delighted to have you as a companion. You need the soft climate, my dear, and a less taxing pace of life. Or before long, Amelia may be without both parents.” Meryl paused in the action of folding blouses, and held the cloth to her cheek for a moment. Letting go of Amelia was the hardest thing she had to do. So soon after losing her husband, her own health was in jeopardy, and then the worry of losing the house. The last had been a blow, even though it was an anticipated one. Certainly, it must be hidden from Amelia at all costs; if she knew that her last secure rock was being washed away, Meryl had no doubt it would break her heart. She breathed a prayer of thankfulness that Frederick’s Aunt had brought up the subject of Amelia’s education – Meryl was too proud to beg and many barbed words had passed between her and her husband’s relative, but at least Amelia would be taken care of with the trust fund. When Aunt Dorothy insisted on the Chalet School, Meryl demurred after little protestation. A clean break, that’s what was needed, a fresh start for Amelia. Away from – from, well everything that may follow her husband’s death, especially the financial scandal. Above all, resolved Meryl, her daughter should never know the truth about Frederick and his passing. It was much to bear. Placing the last blouse on the neat pile, she turned and climbed the stairs slowly. When Meryl gently pushed Amelia’s door open, a pathetic sight greeted her eyes. Her little daughter lay asleep; worn out by her storm of sobbing, although at least the tears had come at last, she reflected ruefully. Her mother crept over to the bed, straightening out the sheets, and stood looking down at Amelia’s face. Despite her temperament, no one could deny that Amelia resembled her mother in her looks. That striking, sometimes almost ethereal pale beauty and grace, with the vivid green eyes, inherited from an Irish ancestor. The elfin face was swollen now; the remnants of tears staining the slightly flushed cheeks. Meryl bent over the girl, and smoothed the long tangled tresses out of her eyes. Such blonde hair, that occasionally appeared white in the summer. She planted a light kiss on Amelia’s forehead and backed silently out of the room. Through long, half-closed lashes Amelia watched Meryl leave. She felt a pang for a moment, aware that her mother had become painfully thin, and looked much older with the creases on her hitherto unlined face. She knew also that health reasons were prompting the move from London to Cornwall. ‘I suppose the house will be let’ she thought to herself, ‘and then where will I go in the holidays?’ She turned over in her bed, exhausted from the emotions she’d experienced that day, and finally drifted off into a heavy dreamless sleep from which she was not to emerge for more than ten hours. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Carolyn P on Nov 19th, 2003, 11:21pm Don't worry, there is no story about Felicity, she is one of Joey's children and it is mentioned a few times that she was keen on Ballet that is all. Or am I confusing her with Cecil? I don't think anything EBD said about it will affect your story. So the father is definatly dead, but in mysterious circs. And does the aunt have any connection to the school, can't think of a Dorothy off hand. Looking forward to more. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Nov 19th, 2003, 11:50pm Quote:
A-ha! That remains to be seen ... (don't want to give too much away!) ;) Only a tenuous link with Dorothy (she is a friend of a parent etc) all will be revealed! Need to do some research! Relieved about Felicity (knew she was Jo's daughter, but wondered if there was another one! Feeling foolish!) |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Esmeralda on Nov 20th, 2003, 12:01am Very impressive beginning - and the promise of lots more good stuff in store - Definitely looking forward to more of this... |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa_T on Nov 20th, 2003, 12:33am REally enjoying this! More please! |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by KB on Nov 20th, 2003, 12:33am Well, that's a lot to take in! Thank you, though, for not leaving us unsure as to the state of Amelia's father. I feel very sorry for Amelia's mother, but would it be better to tell Amelia about the house? If Meryl did, perhaps Amelia would be more reasonable, but then we'd have no story... |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Nov 20th, 2003, 9:41am Quote:
Yes, I sort of know where I want this to go, so I'm trying to put in events etc now that I can come back to later! But this isn't very well planned so I don't know what will happen! Meryl wants to protect Amelia from anything more at the moment, and I don't think she is quite thinking straight herself. I may occasionally track her character's progress too, she has interested me! Some more ... (Oh, and I promise it will cheer up a bit soon!) The final weeks sped by in a rush of activity. Amelia had not yet regained the once natural closeness with her mother, and each of them remained isolated in their own worlds. Amelia sought solace in her dancing, and fitted in as much practice as possible at the barre. Two nights before her departure she visited her friend Madeleine and found to her delight that an informal party had been arranged in her honour. “Promise you’ll write, Millie,” begged Bernadette, a petite girl with high cheekbones and dark shining hair that spoke of her French mother. “I almost wish I was coming with you, but I would miss my dancing so.” “Will there be dancing at the Chalet School?” enquired Claire, timidly. She was a rather nondescript girl, but miraculously came to life through her dancing. She would miss Amelia perhaps the most of all, as that young lady had taken her ‘under her wing’ the first term they had both attended their ballet school. “Oh, yes,” responded Amelia, trying hard to keep the scorn from her voice. “Folk dances you know. Partnering great oafs who don’t know their left from their right!” The other girls were a little taken aback by this retort, but all shared the passion of their art; they all knew what it was to lose oneself in a dance, carried away by the melodies. All of them sympathised with their soon-to-be-departed friend, but more than one was relieved it wasn’t her. “Still, you know, Switzerland! It’s a beautiful country,” offered Bernadette, after a short silence. “And at least you know French, thanks to me!” “And the ballet terms we use,” contributed Madeleine. Amelia smiled wryly. “Well, it was those terms that first interested me in the language,” she admitted with an appalling lack of grammar. “I suppose I need to try and make the most of the experience,” she continued with a sigh. “It says in the prospectus that the language and music teaching is especially good; I’ll be learning German, you know!” “Well, that will come in useful for when you tour with a company,” began Sally, who had hitherto remained silent, but she trailed off as she saw Claire’s uncharacteristically fierce expression. “Sally, you goose!” she hissed meaningfully. Amelia spoke up brightly to break the awkward silence. “It’s really all right,” she said. “Besides, I don’t intend to stay long. Just a while to fill out my education a bit, you know. And I’ll keep up my practising.” Claire swallowed a sob as she witnessed her friend’s brave effort to be cheerful. She inclined her head towards Madeleine and the latter responded with a mysterious nod, before ducking out into the hallway and then returning with a beautifully wrapped parcel. The girls crowded round as Madeleine solemnly presented it to Amelia. “With our love,” she said gruffly. Amelia unwrapped the parcel by tugging gently on the satin ribbons, and as the paper fell away a pair of brand new pink ballet shoes was revealed. She felt choked, and for a moment couldn’t speak. “We wanted to give you something to remind you of us,” continued Madeleine, now much recovered. “And we knew your old ones were really worn out,” supplemented Sally. Amelia spoke as if to herself. “Daddy bought me those.” She looked up at the others, eyes bright with unshed tears. “But it’s a beautiful gift. Mummy certainly won’t be buying me new ones. Thank you all so much, you’re – you’re true friends!” On that note, she turned and fled towards home. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Nov 20th, 2003, 10:34am The morning of departure arrived, and eight o’clock found Amelia admiring herself in the mirror. She couldn’t deny that the Chalet School had a delightful uniform; the gentian blue suited her trim figure and she looked neat and composed. Mrs Bartram-Jones came in to help straighten the tie. “Though you’ll have to do this by yourself,” she commented, as she knotted it with dexterous fingers. “I must say, this is a lovely use of colour. The crimson and silver look very well together.” They were catching the eight twenty two bus to Victoria station. There was quite an amount of luggage, although Amelia’s trunk had been sent on ahead as per the rules. “Shouldn’t we take a taxi, Mummy?” enquired Amelia, glancing up from her struggle with her suitcase. Her mother thought rapidly. She did not want to burden her daughter with the truth that they could not afford it, and that she herself would be walking the six miles back from the station. Great Aunt Dorothy’s charity did not stretch that far. “I thought you’d like to get a last proper glimpse of London,” she ventured lamely, but her response seemed to satisfy her daughter. They arrived at Victoria promptly, and a sudden flurry of noise and activity incited a feeling akin to panic in Amelia. She clung to her mother suddenly and wouldn’t let go. Relieved by this display of filial affection, Meryl spoke in a trembling voice. ”Now, darling, it really will benefit both of us. Think of the new experiences you will have. I will get well, and you can have some lovely holidays with me in Cornwall. Now, I believe this is your escort Mistress.” An attractive woman with smooth brown hair and a wide smile was hurrying towards them. She glanced at a list in her hand, and looked Amelia up and down with her dancing brown eyes. “You must be Amelia Bartram-Jones” she said pleasantly. “Good, you’re here in plenty of time; we won’t have to dash to get our compartment. Say your goodbyes now, dear, and we’ll join with the group over there.” Amelia followed the direction the mistress was indicating and beheld a huddle of six girls, laughing and talking together gaily. They looked nice, but all seemed very much at home together. She couldn’t imagine ever fitting in with that group! “You’ve got some food for the journey, haven’t you?” checked her mother, grateful for the excuse to comment on something practical. She held her daughter gently at arm’s length. “I’m so sorry, my darling – “ “Oh, I’m sorry too, mummy!” broke in Amelia with a sob. “I’ve – I’ve been beastly to you about my ballet. I will do my best at school, so Daddy would be proud!” Meryl bent down to gaze directly in her daughter’s eyes. “Always remember that your father was a good man, and he loved you very much. He gave everything for your happiness. Remember that when times are difficult. He wanted you to be happy.” Amelia nodded solemnly, and heard a gentle cough from behind. She gave her mother a final kiss, and then followed Miss Ferrars – for it was that lady – across the wide platform and to the waiting train. Meryl watched the big train pull slowly and noisily out of the station through misty eyes. She offered up a silent, swift prayer for her daughter’s wellbeing and another for her own strength before turning on her heel and walking resolutely from the station. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Nov 20th, 2003, 10:39am Quote:
Hee hee! Nice pun! ;D |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Rachael P on Nov 20th, 2003, 10:51am Lisa, This is great - very true to Chalet School Still waiting for it to get happier though!! I assume things will improve as she gets to the school (and of all else fails she can awlays have English tea with Joey ;)) More please! (and less of the puns! :)) |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Abi on Nov 20th, 2003, 10:54am This is good, Lisa, I'm really enjoying it and dying to know how she gets on at the CS and about her father and...... oh, everything! Please post more soon! |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Annie on Nov 20th, 2003, 11:36am *Sobbing wildly + uncontrolably* Very promising! Continue speedily s'il vous plait! |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Nov 20th, 2003, 1:22pm Hilda Annersley stretched out luxuriously in her chair. She surveyed her afternoon’s efforts with satisfaction: the neatly piled correspondence in the out-tray, the lists held together by assorted paper clips and a sheaf of colourful timetables ready for distribution to the other mistresses. Soon another term was to begin at the Chalet School. ‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ she thought to herself as she pushed her chair away from the desk and made her way over to the window. The sun was setting and the Platz was bathed in a dusky lilac glow. “How glorious is thy creation, O Lord,” she murmured under her breath. She was disturbed from her reverie by a gentle tapping at the door. “Entrez,” she called out, musically. Rosalie Dene popped her head around the door. “Hilda, my dear, it is time you stopped. It has started to get dark and you must reserve your strength for the next few days!” “Don’t remind me,” responded Hilda with a grimace. “Every term there seems to be more to do in less time.” “Well never mind that now,” Rosalie spoke briskly, “come and have some hot coffee with me.” Gratefully, her friend and colleague followed her out of the room. “Any interesting cases this term?” she continued conversationally. “Hmm, one or two. We have Amelia Bartram-Jones coming to us of course. Poor child, what a time she’s been having.” “I sympathise more with her mother,” replied Rosalie, sagely, as she led the way into a cosy sitting room where the welcome sight of Kaffe und kuchen spread on a pretty red embroidered cloth – a relic from Tyrolean days, greeted them. “After all, she knows the full tragedy of her husband’s death, and has to bear the scandal and loss of all she has.” Hilda remained silent, pensive as she remembered herself, not much older than Amelia, struggling to come to terms with the sudden loss of her own parent. There had been no warning, no illness with preparation for the long loneliness ahead, no time to share loving words. Still, she mentally shook herself, she had found companionship – nay, a family - in the Chalet School. “Amelia is our chief concern, however,” she said aloud. “Whilst she’s under my charge, I intend to see that she fully experiences the full benefits of the chalet school family.” “Do you suppose her mother will ever tell her truth?” questioned Rosalie, a little anxiously. “No doubt the poor child will find out one day. Now drink your kaffe while it’s hot, do! We’ll have no more chat about the girls this evening.” Hilda firmly ended the conversation, and Rosalie sensing her old friend’s disquiet obliged and began discussing the possibilities for winter sports that term. But later, as Hilda prepared herself for bed, her thoughts strayed back to the new pupil who would be arriving the next day. ‘A dancer,’ she mused, recalling Mrs Bartram-Jones’ comments in her letter to the Head. Apart from our bereavement, I worry that Amelia has become too narrow-minded and serious for her years. The letter had stated. My dear late husband indulged her in her passion for ballet, and whilst I admit that she certainly dances prettily, it is out of the question that she should continue. She will need to work to support herself, and the fees of the ballet school are beyond my means. I wish her to have the life of a schoolgirl, full of fun, lessons, games and friends, and Dorothy Bennett has kindly enabled this through the trust fund she has arranged. Hilda brushed out her hair as she pondered this last fact. Dorothy Bennett had been all but ready to cut off all support, financial and otherwise, but a residual feeling of tenderness for her dead nephew’s girl had troubled her conscience and she felt obliged to provide education for Amelia. Miss Bennett had insisted upon the Chalet School because of her great friendship with the invalid Kay Wynne, and the beneficial effect the chalet school had had on Tessa Wynne’s character. Besides that, Juliet O’Hara, Kay’s sister was an old girl of the school herself and had spoken so highly of it that Miss Bennett had not been able to resist. After saying her prayers with her characteristic devotion, she climbed into bed and pulled the plumeaux around her. She spared one last thought for the fatherless child speeding towards Switzerland at that very moment before her eyes dropped with sleepiness and she drifted into slumber. *Please correct me if I get anything wrong - terms of address, locations, details! This is set at a time sort of just before 'coming of age' or in a parallel universe! I'm having some trouble with which form Amelia should be in - I think she should be in the one below the triplets (because of her ability) even though she's about their age but I'm not really sure who her peers will be. Any advice, anyone?* |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Esmeralda on Nov 20th, 2003, 5:10pm I am really enjoying this story, as someone said, it is very CS, and there are lots of lovely questions to be answered, I'm looking forward to seeing the mystery of the father resolved - but not too quickly! As for the forms and pupils, I'm probably the last person to offer any advice, and probably the last person to notice if it was wrong! |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Nov 20th, 2003, 6:13pm Aboard the Basle train, the subject of these musings stared unseeingly out of the window. It was pitch dark outside, and rather cold, although under her travelling rug Amelia was comfortable enough. Her mind teemed with the mixture of new experiences she had had that day. Already, leaving London seemed so far away. The journey to the coast had taken just over two hours, and during that time Amelia observed the girls around her. They were a friendly bunch, and soon sensed that the new pupil was fairly reticent when it came to spilling information about herself, so they contented themselves with exchanging names and pleasantries. Amelia recalled the sea journey wistfully. It was not the first time she had travelled abroad by any means, but every time she crossed the sea, she felt a freedom. She had leaned out over the surf, feeling like a bird skimming over the waters. Her imaginative mind immediately began to create steps for a ballet that could convey that feeling of soaring and gliding effortlessly … “Amelia Bartram-Jones! What do you think you are doing?” Miss Ferrars’ clear voice had rang out across the deck of the ship, and caused not a few heads to turn in their direction. Amelia whirled round guiltily and looked up at the mistress. Kathie Ferrars appeared to note the faraway look in her charge’s eyes and resolve to be gentle with her. “Just remember not to lean out too far,” she continued softly, “and I really think you should be with the rest of the group, over here.” Amelia had allowed herself to be led away, she recalled, as the sound of the train began to mesmerise her. Then had come the arrival at Gare du Nord in Paris, where Amelia had earned for herself the respect of her pretty teacher by her confident use of French. After café et gateaux in the French capital, the seven girls and their mistress made their way to Gare de l’Est and there met up with a larger group of girls all clad in the same attractive blue uniform. The train bound for Basle left Paris in the evening and the compartment they were travelling in quickly hushed as many sleepy children settled down for the night. Just managing to keep her eyes open, Amelia glanced around at the other slumbering occupants. A movement attracted her attention, and a sleepy ruffled red head smiled at her. “Feeling iffy?” she whispered sympathetically. “You’ll soon settle in.” She broke off abruptly as she observed the dark haired girl leaning against her twitch and begin to mutter in her sleep. The red head winked at Amelia, and closed her eyes once more. Feeling immensely cheered by this, Amelia put all thoughts of home, her mother and her father and, listening to the rhythm of the clackety clack wheels on the track, she finally descended into a restless sleep. As the train approached its destination, the sun rose on a compartment of sleeping girls, silent but for light snoring (of which the owner, Mary Lewis, vehemently denied the next day!) and a few shufflings. Kathie Ferrars woke suddenly, and poked the mistress opposite her with her foot. “Biddy,” she hissed, “Wake up. Are we nearly there?” Biddy woke up instantly and a glance out of the window galvanised her into action. “My hat!” she expostulated. “Girls. Girls! Wake up all of you! We arrive in Basle in approximately ten minutes!” This bombshell was greeted with exclamations and cries, but the girls weren’t trained to instant obedience for nothing, and when the train finally slowed on its arrival in Basle a tidy group with bright faces clambered on to the platform and formed a neat line by the office. “We’ll partake of Fruhstuck here, “Miss Ferrars commented, looking up and down the platform. “I don’t know about you, but I’m famished! Hie there, would you please convey our luggage to the Berne train, and place it in the last carriage? I believe we have thirty minutes?” This last in fluent German to a porter who was approaching. Amelia took a sharp intake of breath. She had been congratulating herself on understanding the German word for ‘Fruhstuck’ before Miss Ferrars had issued her rapid instructions, and now she was lost. Would she ever be able to understand German like that, let alone speak it? The girls ‘croc’d’ down the street to a small establishment that served breakfast. In spite of her weariness, Amelia respected the way the girls formed a neat line; as a dancer she knew the value of discipline, and neatness was a virtue she valued. Her heart lifted as she breathed deep of the bracing mountain air, and, realising she was really hungry, she set her face to the breeze and entered the quaint building with the others. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Vikki on Nov 20th, 2003, 7:33pm Lisa, this is really good!! More soon please!! |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa_T on Nov 20th, 2003, 8:38pm *seconds this* Come on, Lisa! The marking can wait! ;) |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lesley on Nov 20th, 2003, 8:39pm Really enjoying this Lisa - more please! |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by catherine on Nov 20th, 2003, 8:47pm More please, Lisa! As for her formmates, if she's the form below the trips, I'd suggest: Isabel Drew, Connie Winter, Frankie Richardson, Charlotte Harrison, Tessa Wynne - I think Tessa gets a mention in New Mistress and Isabel and Connie crop up a few times. Frankie and Charlotte are both mentioned in Does it Again and are around the same age as Len. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Nov 20th, 2003, 8:54pm Thanks, Catherine, that's really helpful! I've not read many books from the time this set so I may make some blunders - please tell me if I do! I don't know what those characters you mentioned look like, or their personalities ... I can't believe how long it has taken me to get here! I'm really enjoying writing it, but in my mind I glossed over the beginnings and began my idea at the school. I'm learning that the detail takes time! Still, hopefully I can get stuck into the story soon! Oh, and Lisa, I have to admit I'm not marking at the moment! I have been quite ill and the Dr has prescribed 'complete rest' a la CS! Hence my increased output! When I return to work I won't be able to do much. Won't be for a little while yet, though! *realising that this is the only time the word 'delicate' can be used to describe me!* ;) |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by catherine on Nov 20th, 2003, 8:56pm I think Frankie and Charlotte are quite tall but I don't remember any descriptions. Connie is from a poor family and at school on the Therese Lepattre Scholarship. Isabel is a leader and generally seems to be form prefect. There is also Nan Wentworth - very delicate, I think. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Nov 20th, 2003, 8:58pm Great, thanks! (I think I'm experiencing the phenomenon known as lapinus plottius) ;D |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Chloe on Nov 20th, 2003, 9:02pm Lisa more of this to come soom i hope :) |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Vikki on Nov 20th, 2003, 9:19pm Well, now I'm in a quandry!! Do I wish you a speedy recovery, or not? ;) |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by KB on Nov 20th, 2003, 9:23pm Lisa, this just gets better and better. It's a delightful story to read, the characters are REAL and it is written in EBD's style without fault. The long parts are also lovely. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by xanthe on Nov 21st, 2003, 12:44am *sighs happily* Lisa this is great *hoping for some more...soon...* |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Nicolette on Nov 21st, 2003, 12:53am I think this might be my fave drabble at the moment. I love the mystery, and poor Amelia - am worried about how much practice she can put in at the CS. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lesley on Nov 21st, 2003, 8:05am Lisa - I think I agree with KB - this has a truely CS feel to it, as though it could be slotted in among the books without a ruffle. The character of Amelia is well drawn and sympathetic - love the mystery attached to her. More please - could you just get well up to a point - but not well enough to return to work? ;) |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Rachael P on Nov 21st, 2003, 9:09am Totally agree with all the plaudits, Lisa - this is excellent and could so easily be a real fill-in Description of the train journey etc was perfect - I look forward to more ... Agree with Vikki - enjoy your convalesence but drag it out as long as you can please!! |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Nov 21st, 2003, 9:41am Almost moved to tears by your lovely comments! There are so many talented writers on here, and I was very nervous about posting! I will add some more later! (might skip over lots of the 'first day' style stuff - we all know it & it will take ages!) Oh yes, have modified last post a little as I forgot part of the journey! Quote:
Maybe what I need is a couple of months in the bracing air of the San! |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Jennie on Nov 21st, 2003, 12:58pm This is terrific, Lisa, so please don't get well enough to go back to work too soon. After all, we don't want you to have a relapse, so cosset yourself, oh, and some more story, please. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Nov 21st, 2003, 3:50pm Breakfast was unusual for the little English girl, but she enjoyed the creamy coffee and sweet bread twists set before her and began to take a tentative part in the conversation. Amelia felt completely different this morning. Somehow, the beautiful scenery and fresh, crisp air had reawakened her desire to enjoy life again. She felt a pang as she evaluated her feelings; surely she wasn’t forgetting Daddy already? But the sensible part of her mind told her that this was a part of the grieving process. If the truth be known, Amelia was simply missing the lively companionship of others. The previous evening had seen her listening with all her ears to the many conversations – in many languages – being conducted around her. She dearly wanted to join in, but just then had been too exhausted both emotionally and physically. The opportunity of going away, leaving the house of painful memories, and even, thought Amelia guiltily, her mother’s careworn face and somewhat erratic behaviour had inspired a new lease of life in the young girl. She missed her father acutely, and a sense of his loss would always remain with her, but that would lessen with time and the busyness of this new life. She had barely swallowed the last crumbs of her breakfast when Miss Ferrarrs’ clear voice rang out: “Come along, girls. The train for Berne departs in just five minutes!” There was a scramble for belongings, but on the whole, an orderly group rose from their tables, prettily thanking the beaming proprietor and his wife with “Danke!” and “Gruss Gott!” Amelia joined in shyly. ‘At least that’s three more words of German I know!’ she thought to herself. The journey to Berne was a fast one, and Amelia enjoyed it the most of the whole voyage so far. Her imagination was caught by the beauty of the countryside they were passing through and her lightened spirit gave her usually pale face a rosy glow. “I say, you’re looking dandy this morning,” came an unexpected voice in her ear, startling her. Amelia looked up into the dancing green eyes of the red haired girl she had noticed last night. Before she could respond, the dark haired girl spoke urgently: “Don’t let Ferry hear you using slang like that!” “Oh, rot!” said the accused cheerfully. “It’s not even the start of term yet – officially! It’s Amelia isn’t it? I’m Isabel, and this,” indicating her dark haired friend, “leggy creature is Frankie. That’s why I had trouble sleeping last night – there’s so much of her to fold up on a train, she ends up sleeping across me!” Frankie beamed around the carriage good naturedly. She was used to comments about her height and quite enjoyed being at the centre of things. A number of other girls now started clamouring for Amelia’s attention, now that she seemed more disposed to be friendly towards them. Within a few minutes the bewildered new pupil had been introduced to several attractive, happy looking girls. Amelia introduced herself, took a deep breath and said: “Look, I’m sorry I was out of sorts last night …” Seeing the discomfort written on her face, Connie, a kind hearted individual, broke in: “Oh don’t you mither yourself about that!” she said. “We’ve all been there, you know. First time you’ve been away from home?” she enquired kindly. “Yes, and I don’t know anyone here – or any German!” Amelia spoke in a rush. “Well, I do know of Tessa Wynne, but I’ve never met her.” “Oh, Tess – she’s in the next compartment – didn’t you see her at breakfast? Oh, no – you just said you hadn’t met her before. I do think she should have been looking out for you,” added Connie a shade indignantly. “As for the German, you’ll soon pick it up.” “Easy for you to say, Connie!” exclaimed Frankie. Then, to Amelia: “She’s a brain, is our Connie! But don’t worry about German – I knew very little when I began but I’m not so dusty at it now!” “Hmm, although I’d say your English had deteriorated over the holidays, Francesca, “spoke a voice dryly. The girls looked up startled, and saw that Miss O’Ryan was working her away around the carriage, giving instructions. Frankie immediately coloured, but shot a resentful look at Isabel. That paragon of virtue sat looking smug! “Sorry, Miss O’Ryan. I – I’m just trying to make the new girl feel welcome, you know!” “Well, remember that we are at school now – oh, don’t be silly! Very nearly, then, You don’t want to have to lose all your money to the fine box this term, do you?” Miss O’Ryan left them with a twinkle in her eye. “What’s the fine box?” asked Amelia eagerly, and this launched a torrent of information upon her head which kept her occupied all the way to Berne and beyond, on the charabancs to Interlaken and up to the Gornetz Platz. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Toria on Nov 21st, 2003, 4:29pm This is really excellent Lisa. I like the ballet theme too as I only just had to give it up after starting my A levels, I'm doing five and the workload was too much. I hope that Amelia is able to continue using her talent. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Nov 21st, 2003, 4:32pm By the time the charabancs arrived at the Chalet School, conversation had lessened, and the girls – both new and old – stared out of the windows full of anticipation. “Mind your step getting down, there’s quite a gap,” advised Isabel as they began to move stiff limbs and collect their belongings. Unthinkingly, Amelia leaped gracefully from the ledge and landed with her knees bent in a perfect demi-plié. Her descent was greeted with a chorus of exclamations. “You dark horse! You never said you could leap like that!” “I say, how did you learn that?” “I wish I could be that graceful!” Amelia reddened and turned to face the others. She had tried to push thoughts of her dancing to the back of her mind so far, because it seemed too new, too raw a loss to face just yet. But the performer within her responded to the admiring faces of the girls and she found herself replying. “I am – at least, I was a dancer.” The sadness in her tone was unmissable. “What sort of dancing?” “What do you mean ‘was’?” “How long have you been dancing?” The questions all came at once, and Amelia had no choice but to laugh and wave her hand as if to fend off all the questions. “Ballet dancing, and I’ve been training properly at the Royal Ballet School in London for three years. And – and now, I can’t learn anymore, because you don’t have ballet here.” “But, why did you leave then?” insisted Deborah, a blunt English girl who was decidedly plump. “My father died, and – “ Amelia stopped abruptly, in a sudden and very real danger of dissolving into unexpected tears. Isabel took in the situation at a glance. “Well, we can’t stand about here everyone, it may be still early Autumn as yet, but it’s not that warm you know! Besides we’ll all be late, and you all know that Matron is the outside of enough if we muddle the timetable!” With these wise words, Isabel grabbed the other handle of Amelia’s case and helped her lug it up the steps. Amelia shot a grateful look towards her rescuer but didn’t trust herself to speak just yet. Much later that night, Amelia lay in her comfortable bed with its pretty counterpane that matched the curtains surrounding her cubicle. She reflected on the arrival which appeared to be so chaotic, and yet everything had run like clockwork. They had had abendessen: cold chicken and heaps of creamy potatoes, followed by apfel strudel which the others informed her,was a speciality of Karen, the cook who had moved with the school from when it had been situated on the Tirol. They had filed into the hall for prayers; the Catholics had gone elsewhere for theirs, and Amelia had been introduced to the common room and dormitories. At last she was alone, and the only sound was the gentle rise and fall of the breathing of the other seven occupants of the room. Her thoughts turned at last to her mother, her home and her father, and powerless against sad memories now, she let out a tiny sob, then turned and buried her face in the pillow. “Oh Mummy,” she whispered to herself, “are you feeling this way too?” But sheer exhaustion prevented Amelia from dwelling on her sadness, and she drifted into sleep only a few minutes later, with a trace of a few tears on her cheeks. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Nov 21st, 2003, 4:48pm FIVE A'levels Toria?! Oh my goodness! You must be a 'brain' like Connie! I'm afraid I won't be able to post any more until Sunday night, but I'll try and keep up with the story writing so I can give you lots of posts then! (Going home to Mummy & Daddy to be cosseted!) :D Have a nice weekend everybody! :) |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Jennie on Nov 21st, 2003, 4:59pm We'll all be looking forward to Sunday evening, Lisa. This is fantastic, such believable characters, and such a great mystery in Amelia's past. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Vikki on Nov 21st, 2003, 5:05pm That was great Lisa, more soon please!! ;) |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lesley on Nov 21st, 2003, 9:16pm Looking forward to the next installments of this! :) |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by KB on Nov 21st, 2003, 9:53pm Lisa, this is a truly beautiful story. Amelia's feelings are real and her pain is tangible, but at the same time you can see her gradually healing, which is lovely. Congratulations on such a marvellous piece of work. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Chloe on Nov 21st, 2003, 11:12pm on 11/21/03 at 09:41:58, Lisa wrote:
I think you can add your name to that list! :) More soon please! |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Marianne on Nov 22nd, 2003, 7:19pm Brilliant! More please! |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Today at 9:38pm Aw, shucks! :D I have written some more and have lots more in my head (plot bunnies have been doing double shifts) so there is plenty more on the way! Meryl Bartram-Jones was feeling that way, as she walked slowly around the London house for the last time. It was bare of furniture - even the rugs had been auctioned – and with the trappings of her home gone, Meryl imagined she could hear ghosts of the happy family memories. There, Amelia had played, and made up her own dances at the tender age of seven. Here is where she and Frederick had argued over Amelia’s expensive ballet schooling – she being cautious, him full of expansive enthusiasm, so like his daughter. And here, here is where she heard the news about his death. A wave of loneliness and isolation swept over her, knowing that she was leaving the house for good, but at the same time she knew there was nothing remaining here for her now. In the days following Frederick’s death she had expected some support from her friends and neighbours. But gossip spreads rapidly, and Meryl knew she was not imagining a withdrawal in their affections, just when she needed them most. Great Aunt Dorothy had been even less discreet. Her relationship with her brother had been troubled and his unwise marriage to plain Meryl Jones, of no family or background, had caused her father to cut him out of his will, thus leaving all the estate to the spinster sister. Never particularly supportive of her brother’s son at the best of times, his last act had caused her disgust and anger. She had always been snobbish about his business success – after all he was a self-made man, but she despised the lack of control and sense he’d had that had allowed the business to plummet, leaving the family with bankruptcy charges. Meryl knew that the only reason Great Aunt Dorothy was providing a trust fund for Amelia was because she had no-one else to leave her money to, With a sigh, Meryl turned down the gas lamp for the last time, and dragged herself up the stairs. She knew that many factors were contributing to her breakdown in health and was determined that Amelia should remain as blissfully ignorant as possible. Her thoughts strayed to her daughter as she no doubt slept in her new school for the first night and she walked into Amelia’s old bedroom, dropped to her knees beside her bed and prayed. After some moments of silence, Meryl felt heartened and was about to rise when she felt something digging into her knee. Bending down, she pulled out Amelia’s ‘treasure box’ as she’d always called it, and exclaimed aloud at the higgledy-piggledy way in which the clippings and letters had been thrust back inside. Clasping the box to her chest, she rose and took it into her bedroom, and emptied the contents on to the bed. Sifting through the pieces of paper, pausing every now and again over an old programme or clipping, she eventually stopped with a well-read letter in her hand. As she unfolded it, her heart came into her mouth as she recognised Frederick’s handwriting. Feeling uneasy about reading her daughter’s letter, she nevertheless glanced at the date on it before reading on. What she saw startled her; the date was just two weeks before his disappearance! Smoothing out the creases, she laid it on the bed and began to read: 19th April Darling Millie After watching you perform tonight at your Easter production, I was filled with such pride to see my little girl dancing so gracefully. I know one day you will be gathering notices from critics in the future – let this be your first one! Miss Amelia Bartram-Jones delighted audiences tonight in the Queen Victoria theatre as the junior members of the Royal Ballet School gave their interpretation of ‘The Snow Queen.’ Her dancing was both heavenly and yet utterly convincing, and the hearts of many were wrung by her final tragic dance. Will that do you, Millie? Seriously, my darling, I am so proud of you and I hope you know that I love you and will always give all I can to help you achieve your dreams. Hearts may be wrung, yours included, but always fasten on to the truth that you have a special gift for dancing, and I have had a special gift in having you as a daughter. All my love, your Daddy xx With trembling fingers, Meryl refolded the letter and replaced it in the box to put with the remaining luggage. She knew what the box represented to Amelia, and hoped that one day she would be ready to open it again. Finally getting into bed, she closed her eyes and waited for sleep. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Vikki on Today at 9:47pm *sniffle * Thank you Lisa! *off to the tissue box* |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Today at 9:51pm At this rate, the price of tissues (even if they are virtual ones) will go up because of me! I PROMISE it will get better (the next bit is more upbeat!) |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Chloe on Today at 9:56pm *sniffles* Aww thats so nice the letter and and just the sort of thing to be treasured :) |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Carolyn P on Today at 10:04pm Sob, sob, making my way to the tissue box, but can't see it properly because of the tears in my eyes. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by KB on Today at 10:06pm *adds her own somewhat teary congratulations* |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Lisa on Today at 10:17pm A loud clanging awoke Amelia the next morning, and she sat bolt upright in shock. All around her she could hear the muffled thuds and groans of the others getting up. Her curtain twitched and Isabel’s ruffled head looked around. “Oh good, you’re up! You’re on first bathroom with me. Grab your things and come this way, Hurry!” In a whirl, Amelia followed Isabel and found herself in a spacious bathroom just a few minutes later with instructions ringing in her ears. She turned on the cold water tap in obedience to Isabel’s orders, then surveyed the room for a moment. It was functional, that was for certain. A large towel rail occupied part of the room, just at the right height, Amelia noted. Looking around, she also noticed a large free-standing oval mirror, and she went over to inspect it. “This could be an adequate practice room,” she said to herself, softly, but just then came a thumping on the door. “Hurry up, whoever’s in there! It’s my turn and Matron will have my guts to make garters if I’m late and make no mistake!” In a panic, Amelia splashed her face with some cold water from the basin and left the bath tap running. She opened the door swiftly to be met by a glowering face, the owner of the charming speech from earlier. “Oh, I say, I’m sorry! I didn’t realise it was a new girl. I thought it was Frankie or Charlotte larking about. Thanks for running my bath for me!” and with that she was gone. Amelia returned thoughtfully to the dormy. She certainly did not want to confess to anyone that she had not managed her ablutions fully, as she usually was a fast changer and dresser, as any dancer had to be. She got dressed and gratefully accepted Connie’s help in leaving her cubicle ‘just as Matey would like to find it’ and then found herself in a mass of girls, all summoned downstairs by the pealing of another bell. |
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Title: Re: A Dancer At The Chalet School (SCS) Post by Chloe on Today at 10:24pm Yay thanks for the long posts today :) |
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