She was standing outside the prefects’ room, quaking in her buckled, patent-leather shoes. The door opened, and Diana’s piercing blue eyes stared down at her. Diana was head of house and not someone Audrey had ever warmed to despite her popularity with the other girls – her prowess at lacrosse having secured the winning goal in the inter-house competition.
‘Come in,’ Diana said, holding the door open.
Audrey had heard what happened to girls who were called to the prefects’ room and felt the tears spring to her eyes. Somehow, she made her twig-like legs carry her body into a room she had never seen before. Through her blurry vision, she saw worn armchairs, an old oak coffee table with stains going back years, black-and-white framed photographs of winning lacrosse teams, and exquisite phot
