Helen McClelland - Visitors for the Chalet School

Devonshire Close was a pleasantly secluded London square, tucked wel away from the hustle and bustle of Kensington High Street. Tal , smartly painted Victorian houses rose, cliffs of respectability, around the trim gardens in the center. At the south-east corner stood number 28. The drawing-room was on the first floor and its huge balconied windows, with their elegant green brocade curtains, kept watch over the street and gardens below.

One sunny September afternoon, at about a quarter-past four, a girl was sitting at one of these windows, her long legs doubled up awkwardly on the narrow window-seat. Patricia Davidson was seventeen, very tal and very thin. She had dark grey eyes and brown straight hair, tied tightly back from her face, which tended in repose to have the look of strain, even severity. But she had an exceptional y charming smile and, from time to time, it would light up and transform her expression.

At this moment she was not smiling. Her brows were knitted anxiously as she waited for her new friend, Juliet Carrick, to arrive. Oh, dear! I do hope Juliet wont be late, she thought; that would be a black mark against her from the start.

Through her thoughts came her mothers voice, gently insistent: I presume, Patricia, that your friend can at least speak English? (There had been a subtle hesitation before the word friend.)

What on earth do you mean, Mother? Of course she can speak English. She is English, you know, so whatever makes you think she wouldnt?

But you said, dear, that she comes from this place in Germany whatever its cal ed the one you are going to visit with school. Im quite sure that is what you told me.

Juliet doesnt come from Briesau, Mother, she just went to school there, thats al . Patricia spoke quietly, but there was an edge to her voice.

Anyway Briesau isnt in Germany, its in Austria.

Isnt it al much the same thing? Lady Davidsons languid tones managed to suggest that the difference, if any, would be if no interest to a wel

bred English person. She returned to the shiny pages of The Queen.

Patricia hunched herself up stil further into the corner of the window-seat and watched the street below with worried eyes. On the pavement opposite a cat was stalking its non-existent quarry through the scattering of fal en leaves. Patricias thoughts, like an aching tooth, continued to nag.

I do hope Mother wil be decent to Juliet. And I hope Juliet wont say too much about going to university. If Mother got the idea I was being encouraged in that direction, things could be jol y sticky.

Meanwhile Juliet Carrick was slowly making her way through the tree-lined Kensington streets. She had left the hotel where she was staying in plenty of time and was in no hurry. So, at the gates of Grange House School she paused for a moment to look through the railings. Juliet was interested to see this school, for she had been hearing a great deal about it recently and Patricia Davidson, with whom she was now going to tea, was a pupil there.

This afternoon the school was deserted: buildings and grounds slumbered in holiday peace. As Juliet moved away from the high wrought-iron gates, she was thinking that Grange House sounded rather an unusual school. And (in more ways than Juliet realized) it was unusual.

Having begun in only two rooms, the school had grown to fil a site in Grange Avenue that original y contained six large houses and gardens. It had, moreover, become extremely fashionable. The headmistress, herself a titled lady, could claim many cousins among the aristocracy, and her school always had a large contingent of girls from Londons most exclusive families.

Not that this in itself was unusual, for there were plenty of other fashionable schools in and around London. But few of these offered much opportunity for serious study. They were convenient places where society girls could pass the time until they were old enough for the London season that ceaseless whirl of parties and dances, culminating (as Miss Denny had explained to Juliet) in the grand occasion when each girl, splendidly arrayed, would be presented at Court and make her curtsey to the King and Queen.

The Grange House headmistress knew wel that this was the only path awaiting many of her girls.

Nevertheless she was determined that her school should, in the meantime, offer its girls as excel ent an education as was taken for granted in the top boys schools. She had ensured that a wide range of subjects was always available at Grange House; and her highly qualified staff were instructed to demand serious hard work from their pupils. Woe betide any girl, however wel bred, who failed to hand in her essay on time, or to learn her daily quota of French irregular verbs. A hundred relatives in Burkes Peerage could not avail to save her.

It must be an enormous school, Juliet mused, as she crossed the road and turned into Devonshire Close.

Heaps bigger than ours. Lucky things, going off traveling for a whole term! I wonder how theyl like the Tiernsee? She looked round for number 28. It was perplexing the way that house-numbers in London seemed to be arranged differently in every street. Now, after a few minutes fruitless search, she realized she was on the wrong side of the square.

There were a great many things about London that Juliet found confusing, for this was her first visit to England. She had spent her entire early life in India until, at fifteen, she had been sent to the Chalet School in the Austrian Tyrol. Shortly after this, the death of both parents in a motor accident left her an orphan and the Chalet School had become her home. She was deeply devoted to the school and its former headmistress, Mrs Russel , who was her legal guardian.

Juliet was eighteen now, and about to begin an exciting new chapter in her life, studying for a BSc degree at London University. Already her schooldays seemed a long way off, but in fact it was barely ten days since she and Miss Denny, whose eccentric brother taught singing at the Chalet School, had arrived in London where they would be staying until the university term began. A friend of Madge Russel s had recommended the Leighton Hotel in Kensington, and it was here that Juliet first met Patricia Davidson.

The hotel was quite smal and, among the few residents, one stood out a handsome, rather formidable-looking woman, somewhere in her early forties, who appeared punctual y each day at breakfast and again at dinner-time.

Miss Denny and Juliet were sitting in the residents lounge on the second evening after their arrival when, to their surprise, they was this lady come bearing down on them. You must be Sarah Denny just had a letter from my cousin said youd be staying here and asked me to introduce myself How dyou do?

My names Bruce, Stel a Bruce. She shook hands firmly with Miss Denny and looked towards Juliet. Yes, of course going to the Royal Hol oway Col ege, arent you, she stated rather than asked, when Miss Denny murmured Juliets name. How dyou do? Which course are you taking? BSc? very good degree at London they tel me Now, you were at the Chalet School, werent you? Oh, yes, Ive heard of it my sister was governess for a while to that Belsornian child Elisaveta whats-her-name? And Im going to be visiting the school myself quite soon.

Miss Denny and Juliet looked at her enquiringly. Party of Sixth formers from Grange House thats my school going to stay in Briesau next month hotel cal ed the Stephanie expect you know it Ah, theres the dinner gong better be going delighted if you would like to sit with me.

At dinner they learnt that Miss Bruce was deputy headmistress and also head of the English department at Grange House School. She told them that she had been spending her holidays doing research in Anglo-Saxon literature at the British Museum Library; and since Grange House was closed during the summer and her home lay some distance from London, she had taken a room at the Leighton Hotel.