Like most girls in my year, I’d had another growth spurt over the summer and had to buy new fencing gear online from Leon Paul. I have just about reached the end of my tether with this growth spurt business. I am now five foot eight, and if I keep going like this I’ll be taller than Freddie and Billy. I was madly taking back all the petitions I had made to Our Lady in Year Seven to make me tall and slim, explaining that when I said tall and slim I had actually meant stunning and leggy, not a stick-like freakish giant. ‘Why didn’t you say anything to her, darling?’ Portia asked. ‘It’s pointless challenging her. You know what Honey’s like,’ I reminded Portia. Star and I could have had a great deal of fun out of the What Honey’s Like? conversation, but Portia was as silent as a throne. She simply went back to changing into her fencing gear as if that were the end of the matter. The next time she spoke was as we were heading out to the piste. ‘Oh, I forgot, I spoke to Mr Wellend.’ ‘What’s he like?’ I asked, whispering because I could already hear him out there and I didn’t want him listening to our conversation.
