Fifty Shades of Guy with Lorna Hill

Perhaps best known for her enormously popular Sadler's Wells series, author Lorna Hill was also a successful writer of pony book stories in the late forties and fifties. Featuring the adventures of teens on horseback, she wrote two series: the Marjorie books and the Patience books. My mother rode in her youth and her childhood bookshelves reflected her passion for all things equine. She owned just the one Lorna Hill, Border Peel, the third book in the Marjorie series, but I loved it.

My beloved 1956 Thomas Nelson edition of Border Peel

 What elevated the story from the average was the dynamic between the characters. There was Pan, the plain but endearing narrator; Peter, her twin brother, prone to the sulks; pretty, headstrong Esme, the baby of the group, fierce protector of cripple boys and ensnared rabbits; and of course, there was Marjorie, the eponymous titular heroine, poor little rich girl, trouble-maker, beautiful, wilful, and the one I wanted to be. There was also Toby, a bit of a weakling, easily-forgettable and whom Hill seemed to lose interest in. But the real star of the show was Guy.

Guy was the linch-pin of the group, the oldest and therefore the one to whom they all deferred - excluding Marjorie of course, who was only ever in it for Marjorie. Unencumbered by parents - his mother long dead and his wealthy father conveniently indulgent - Guy was a prototype Mr Darcy for the adolescent female. Having spent his youth on a ranch in his father's native Canada, he excelled in all things outdoors. In Lorna Hill's own words, "Guy was marvellous - he could do everything: ride like a centaur, swim like a fish, never used swear words, never smoked. In fact, let's face it, Guy was a bit of a prig."

And therein lay his appeal. Guy was a certain type of boy, a masterful, romantic ideal for Hill's young readers. He had firm ideas concerning the feminine and brooked no nonsense in enforcing them. He didn't pretend to understand women and admitted to being dictatorial, yet the girls adored him. If he did have a predilection for spanking those who disagreed with him - perhaps a reflection of an era where corporal punishment was the norm - his steely skill at wielding a riding crop - or slipper - only served to confirm his undisputed masculine authority. And it wasn't just the females in the books who fell under his spell: Lorna Hill's daughter, Vicki, and her friends for whom the early books were written clamoured for more Guy, and Lorna was happy to oblige.

1959 Thomas Nelson edition of Stolen Holiday

Guy's nemesis was Marjorie and much of the series appeal lay in their constant sparring. Whereas the others were, by and large, happy to fall in with Guy's plans, Marjorie stood out in her refusal to play ball. In the ensuing clash of wills Marjorie was rarely allowed to get off scot-free: Marjorie wore lipstick, Guy scrubbed it off; Marjorie curled her hair, Guy washed the curl out; Marjorie swore, Guy ducked her in a pond. Still, I'm pleased to report that it was not all a one-way street. In the very first book, Marjorie and Co., Guy's refusal to let Marjorie muscle in on his newly-formed clan resulted in Marjorie making a bonfire of his hand-crafted show jumps.

My favourite Marjorie escapade however, occurs in Northern Lights, the fourth book in the reading series, set during the Second World War and published posthumously in 1999. Faking a fainting fit in church in order to escape the Sunday service to which Guy has ordered compulsory attendance, Marjorie is subsequently tracked down to the nearby village and discovered holding forth in a tank, smoking a cigarette, drinking beer and flirting simultaneously with three soldiers. Inevitably Guy gets the last word, perhaps justifiably given that Marjorie is a tender fourteen years of age, frogmarching her home and locking her into her room on a diet of bread and milk for the remainder of the day. Yet one cannot help admiring Marjorie for trying. Indeed, no matter how trying Marjorie could be, and she could be truly awful, she usually had me rooting for her.

A typical Marjorie-Guy spat from Stolen Holiday.

A couple of years ago, a chance discovery in a charity shop led to my tracking down the Marjorie series in its entirety courtesy of Amazon Marketplace and eBay, and they now occupy a permanent space on my bookshelf and a place in my affections. Something about the characters still holds sway even to the sensibilities of the modern teenage girl: my oldest daughter, now 15, happily set aside Cassandra Clare, Suzanne Collins and Stephanie Meyer in order to enjoy the adventures of Marjorie, Guy et al., and loved them every bit as much I did.

To the uninitiated, and if you are able to track down a copy, I would highly recommend starting with Border Peel, a jolly good yarn and not just a series of loosely-connected episodes in which Guy gets to shine - although worry not, it is primarily that too. For die-hard Guy fans, he also appears in two of the spin-off Patience books: And Guy Came Too and Five Shilling Holiday. And readers of the Sadler's Wells books may recognise him in his adult guise as the man who marries Jane, the heroine of the series. Incidentally, this act of treachery to all fans of the Marjorie books, where it was evident that he was destined for Esme, was equally regretted by Lorna's daughter, Vicki. Regarding this subject I'll leave the final word to the author herself, quoted in the introduction to Northern Lights: "I must tell you that my daughter, Vicki...is most disgusted at Guy marrying Jane - Vicki 'was' Esme! But sadly the Marjorie books were out of print, and Guy seemed too good a character to let drop. However, I think, now, that it was a mistake - sorry!"

No Medals for Guy, Nelson 1962; and Castle In Northumbria, Burke 1961.

The Marjorie books in reading order:

1. Marjorie and Co. (1948)
2. Stolen Holiday (1948)
3. Border Peel (1950)
4. Northern Lights (published posthumously in 1999)
5. Castle in Northumbria (1953)
6. No Medals for Guy (1962)