Miss Wolfe Wants You In Her Office

“Well I have six if we include knickers - are we including knickers?”

I looked across at the small group of girls in the corner. They were boasting – seeing who was wearing the most things made of silk. I could see Charlotte was going to win, but it was a bit of a forgone conclusion – almost cheating - since her parents owned half of South Molton Street, and she had her pick of anything she wanted. I didn’t care about silk things. I mean, I liked them – not the shiny new stuff they wore, obviously. I liked the old things I pinched from my grandmother, or my mother; I had a large lucky dip to choose from. The thing was, I wasn’t all that good at taking care of stuff. I stroked the sleeve of my ocelot coat. I’d somehow managed to split the seam that morning on the tube. I’d have to try to conceal it when I got home. Perhaps no one would notice if I could manage to keep my arm perfectly still until I got upstairs.

I sighed, knowing I’d probably be found out in the end though. I was bound to be. I longed for a lock on my bedroom door but there was no chance of that, nor of being treated like the adult I almost was, in any other way. It meant I had to carry all my important things – the stuff I didn’t want them to know about - with me the whole time – my diary (it would have been the end of me if they’d got their hands on that), any drugs and so on, which made things very inconvenient as my bag was always so heavy.

What a nightmare; it was no wonder I spent as little time there as I could. The minute I went through the door my whole life there was one long litany of complaint at the things I’d wrecked: clothes, books – leaving the page turned down was a crime worse than death for example; my life, and so on. They still went on about me running away and being expelled from my last school - even though that had been way back in March. Honestly, there was no fairness in it at all; I couldn’t wait to leave.

I looked over at them again and they all had their wrists up in the air. It was obviously watch boasting now. God – didn’t they have anything better to think about? Boyfriends for instance. I thought of mine. Really – Max was a million times better than a Cartier tank. He was two years older than me – sixteen- - and he had shoulder length blonde hair and he was tall and funny and he smelt nice and he had a drawer full of mandrax – well, actually it was his father who had the mandies – he was a professor of medicine, but it was all the same thing really.

Anyway, everything about him was wonderful, and even better than any of that, he was coming to meet me after school! Actually to the building! All the others would see him. I smiled, knowing how jealous they’d be. He was so good-looking it would be impossible for them not to be.

We wouldn’t stay long – there’d be no time to go for coffee or anything – but I’d definitely make sure we stayed long enough for everyone to see. After that we’d go and sell some of the mandies at Picadilly Circus – there were still quite a few to shift even though Max and I had both been offering them around at our schools for a while.

I looked at my watch – only one more lesson after break. The door opened and Mrs Moore came in. Everyone slowly got off the tables, dragged the chairs out, and sat down. My school was in an office building – only a few rooms – so there were no bells or anything. Instead of getting her books out though, Mrs Moore came over to me;

“Miss Wolfe wants you in her office.”

The room fell silent and a cold chill went through me. I could see the others looking sympathetically in my direction. She was literally the most terrifying person in the world. She had started the tutors – god knows how many years ago – she must have been at least seventy. I knew no one who wasn’t frightened half to death by her – the haughty expression in her cold grey eyes – the steel coloured wig she wore – the horrible things she said. Even the thought of her was enough to make some of the girls cry.

I got up as slowly as I could, wondering what I’d done. I’d only been there six weeks but I already knew that you didn’t get called in to see Miss Wolfe unless something really, really awful had happened.