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Spring had made an early appearance in Hedgely Gate and the weather was unseasonably warm for mid-March. Winter was fast receding; little yellow Daffodils could be seen poking their heads up through the earth, testing the air to make sure their time had come. Sprays of bluebells and snowdrops sprung up all higgledy-piggledy among the tulips that bordered the country lanes, and the village's many Apple Blossom trees were in full bloom. Now and then, a gentle breeze would rock their branches and a flurry of soft white petals would float to the ground like snowflakes on a mid-winter day.
April showers were sure to follow in their droves once March had got the first excitement of Spring out of its system, but, for the past few days at least, the skies had remained blue and the clouds light and fluffy.
Violet Harding had been up very early that morning and had spent an inordinate amount of time staring at herself in the mirror. It was important beyond measure that she looked her best that day. Her shoes, belt buckle, and trefoil pin had all been polished the night before, and her blue uniform pressed to within an inch of its life. She was very careful in choosing socks that didn't have any holes in them and finding a sun hat that was not too stout nor too obnoxious. Violet didn't wear makeup and, as a consequence, didn't own any, but she could still pinch her cheeks and use beetroot juice to bring a bit of colour into her pale face. "Thank goodness I don't have any spots!" she said, as she inspected her skin carefully. For the first time in her life, Violet wished she had some mascara. It was all the rage to have eyes framed by long, dark lashes - Alison and Katy were always doing it. She had all but given up looking for a substitute when her eye fell to the tin of boot polish on her bedside table...
Olave was having a less structured morning. So far she had burnt her toast, spilled her toothpaste, lost her hairbrush, and argued fiercely with her brother Peter about whether or not he had hidden it. He swore he hadn't touched it, but Olave knew how fond he was of stupid pranks. "It would be just like you to sabotage me on a day like this!" She cried, throwing a shoe in his direction. Peter laughed, "I don't think you need any help!" Another shoe whizzed past his ears. "It's imperatative that I make a good impression on these girls," Olave said desperately, "You don't understand, Peter, I'd be letting everyone down, including Captain. It would be humiliating! Now, please, I need to brush my hair!" "It's imperative, dummy," Peter replied, "I don't know where your hairbrush is, I promise, but you can borrow my comb if you think you can get it through that untameable bird's nest of yours." By the time Betty and Daisy rang the doorbell, Olave had turned things around and was looking at least semi-presentable. Her good humour was always quick to return, especially on sunny days, and before she knew it she was arm-in-arm with her cousin and her best friend and had forgotten all about the morning's misfortunes.
"What do you suppose they'll be like?" Katy called over her shoulder as she and Alison raced along the rough country roads on their bicycles. They were going much faster than was responsible on such terrain, but they were running late. "I think they'll work us very hard," Alison shouted back, "Captain said they wouldn't like layabouts, and we shall all be expected to pitch in." "Naturally." "I wonder if they'll look as glamorous as they do on all the posters." "I doubt it. I've heard even the movie stars don't look half as splendid in real life as they do in-" Katy was cut short as her front tire ducked into a rather deep pothole and sent her spiralling over the handlebars. She landed with a bump, a little dazed and dusty. "What did you do that for?" Alison pulled up beside her fallen comrade, reaching instinctively for the first aid box in her basket. "Just to see if I could." Was Katy's sarcastic response. "Anything broken?" "All seems to be in working order," She said, wiggling her wrists and ankles tentatively, "But I've got a nasty graze on my knee." "That is a fierce one! Let me bandage it for you." Katy jumped up, "We don't have time for that, the train will get in before we do! Oh, dear, I haven't torn up my uniform have I?" "No," Alison laughed, taking a clean folded hankie out of her top pocket, "But you had better let me clean that knee up if you want to stand a chance of looking smart."
