It was an eerie feeling walking the school corridors while classes were in session. The heavy doors of the classrooms kept all but the loudest noise incarcerated and now and again the mousy receptionist would be seen gliding around like a restless spirit occasionally accompanied by orchestral music drifting through the corridors like a ghostly soundtrack when the music room, which had always been a music room, long before the building had become a school, was in use. Lizzie was an appreciator of music, but she had long since come to terms with her own lack of aptitude with any instrument, so she was slightly in awe of whomever the skilled students were behind the strings, piano and brass she often heard. Lizzie was inches from the door handle when her name, her Sunday name, chased her down the corridor. ‘Elizabeth’ Mr Pallister’s voice caught her and summoned her back. She hadn’t noticed that the Headmaster’s door had been open as she passed. Lizzie backed up and peered round the door.
