The school matron’s name was Jan Waters. She was fifty, plump, and behaved as if the last thirty years hadn’t happened. Which, Parva, supposed, had probably been to her advantage when she had applied for the job. Parva looked at the empty beds before her, five on each side of the room, their heads against each lime green painted wall. Just like in the old days. “I was just a bit worried,” Parva explained. “When I was on my way here I thought I saw someone dashing across the road in the rain.” “Probably part of a cross-country run,” said the nurse. “We do pride ourselves on keeping our young ladies in the peak of physical health.” Then why do you need so many beds? “That’s good to hear, but I don’t think this was part of any programmed physical activity. She was wearing a dress, for one thing.” “If she wasn’t wearing uniform or sports kit then I think it’s highly unlikely it was one of our girls.”
