It was a dogtooth check sort of day. The weather had turned milder and the pair of them hit the sunny street at a quarter to nine: eyelashed; powdered and tricked out in sixty guineas’ worth of novelty tweed suiting. The hair was still holding up reasonably well after a quick tickle with the co...
Some row about name tapes had prompted her to keep the four first years behind, sorting lost property in the hockey hut one afternoon, and when they’d finally finished they had all scurried guiltily down the road to the out-of-bounds Victory Café. Bunty, who’d already eaten most of Baker’s Cornis...