#darrell rivers

Especially Darrell Rivers; i loved how tomboyish she was, how she was quick tempered but also quick to ask for forgiveness and make amends when she's been wrong, how she's kind to shyer girls in the story

Today I find out that there's a Malory Towers tv series???and there's 7 seasons of it???? And i didn't know??

:DDD

something about how Darrell's hair is cut by her abusive teacher, but she begins to wear it with pride and keeps it for her whole time at school.

something about how Darrell plaits Gwen's hair on her first day, and Gwen keeps that hair despite their conflicts.

Darrell Rivers from Malory Towers is a lesbian!

She read the books her mother gave her. Books from another country, from another time. A world which the war had shaken. A lot of them were terribly outdated. Where only the boys got to have any fun and the girls were left alone to - what, bake? Clean? Sew? She gave up on those. She loved George Kirrin fiercely. The illustrations in the books always portrayed her as a little prettier than Maura liked to imagine her; in her mind she gave her thick brows, a strong jaw. The kind of face that would make a stranger falter for their pronouns before addressing her. And she was fearless and devoted to her friends and her beloved Timmy, of course. Maura loved Bass, but she wouldn't face a man with a gun if he were in imminent danger. No one would shoot a tortoise anyway.

She saw herself as more of an Anne, just dragged along for the ride, often terrified and completely impotent. Maura did martial arts, and horseriding, gymnastics and fencing. She could play the violin but she didn't like to. She could take care of herself. But poor little Anne was always getting dragged into dangerous situations. No one listened to her voice of reason. And if the villains they'd faced had been a different sort, the sort that rarely featured in kids books, she'd have been the most at risk. George herself was protective, but the two brothers should have been ashamed of themselves.

Still, she read all twenty one books in the series, and she longed for the salt of the sea, the wind on her face bicycling through the countryside, the sound of laughter on a summer morning.

She longed for friendship.

She tried Nancy Drew, but she found them a little too simplistic, a little too rushed. A list of things that happened with no tension building to make the reader concerned for Nancy or her friends. Another female George who was boyish, though. Smart and sporty, easily able to tackle criminals.

And the Trixie and Honey in upstate New York. So close to home, and yet so far. A spoiled rich girl, an only child. Rich and awkward. And the rambunctious neighbour girl, who thought her strange but didn't let that bother her for a single moment, didn't deter her from making the best friend either of them could ever have. The sleepovers. The sharing of clothes and food, riding through the woods. She could almost smell the pine. She could see how Trixie noticed how vulnerable and scared Honey was and how she tried - in her own clumsy way - to make her feel safe and welcome. And Honey was so sensible and feminine and Trixie was all scraped knees and skinned knuckles and Maura wanted that. She wanted a Trixie. She wanted someone to tell her she was okay as she was, someone who saw her and knew she was enough.

But no matter how long she hung out in the woods by herself, no one ever came. Her parents' estate was too large, and her parents' friends didn't have children, or had ones much older than her that babied her.

But it was the boarding schools that got her in the end. She read hungrily about midnight feasts and swimming competitions and school pantomimes. She read about stolid, stable Darrell Rivers, headstrong and certain of herself. And by her side, Sally Hope, less certain, a little resentful, not as nice in the first books but blossoming into a fine young lady by the end. At her best friend's side. All the little interactions that young women had - all the spiteful little tricks, all the jabs and jeers and exclusions. It helped her to understand a little the social quagmire of her schooling days. She'd not been a success, at school. Academically she was very gifted. But socially she suffered. She chose Paris because she felt like her foibles might be seen as exotic, and she gave her parents the brochures.

But it was fruitless. While she wasn't bullied at boarding school - she was too smart to be openly derided, and she would do anyone's homework if they sat with her, but also even with all her studies on human behaviour she rarely noticed when someone tried to insult her - she never did find her Darrell Rivers. Her bosom friend, her companion. She gave up, after that. Adults had acquaintances, not friends. She threw herself into her studies and took the jobs offered her.

And then someone tall and dark with strong brows and a firm jaw was calling her 'sista' and Maura knew she'd been slighted. But a few months later the detective had bounced into her morgue, looking over the body. At least she didn't vomit, like some of them. It was fortunate Maura, despite being a super taster, didn't mind most smells. But Jane had come in, her curly hair tied back, business shirt and slacks. And she grinned at Maura, her smile cheeky and knowing, like she knew her, like they were friends already. And it was like if Katherine Hepburn had been a detective. It was like George Kirrin grown up and taking on the world with her quick brain and quicker smile. It was George Frayne on horseback, reaching her hand down to a damsel in distress. It was like Trixie Belden had stumbled through the woods to her mansion and stood outside waiting to play. It was like Darrell Rivers with her hot temper but warm nature had come to life from a book and seen her Sally Hope.

+++

"I don't know who any of them are," Jane said when Maura told her this, years later, curled up on the couch together. "Well, I read some Nancy Drew but she was a bit of a wimp in the early books. Trixie - she was the one - oh yeah, I liked those! She was always running through the woods and filthy. She was great! And you think of me as her?"

"Remember when you tackled a Federal Agent in a creek?" Maura asked, laughing.

Jane chuckled and pulled Maura closer.

"The point is, I always read about women having close friendships. About women like you - strong and masculine, protective and loyal. And their useless little sidekicks."

"Here's one for you then. Xena and Gabrielle. Gabby wasn't useless though. She had spunk, and she could fight too. You're not a useless sidekick, Maura. You're a fierce warrior in your own right."

Maura crinkled her brow as though she was trying to remember.

"I've seen your DVD boxset, Maura." Maura blushed; her roommate in college had watched the show religiously, and Maura had too, loving the dynamic of the women. The tall, strong brunette. The short, smart blonde. Visually striking together, perfectly suited. The way they were so protective of each other. So thoroughly loyal.

"They - they weren't just friends though." Maura had kind of known at the time, but as more years passed she saw how blatant it had been.

"Are we just friends?" Jane's voice dropped, and Maura looked up sharply at her.

"We're friends. Aren't we?" Maura looked terrified for a moment and Jane reached out to reassure her.

"We are," Jane said, rubbing her hand over Maura's shoulder. "But we could be more, couldn't we?"

"That's up to you," Maura said uncertainly, and like headstrong Darrell Rivers, like impetuous Trixie Belden or crusading Xena, Jane leaned in and kissed Maura.

And Maura knew what female friendship was about. She had female friends now; Nina and Susie and Angela. People who knew who she was and liked her.