sure you have enough there, Calypso?’ she asked nastily.
I had encouraged the dinner lady to pile the fish nuggets pretty high, because they were one of the few edible things they served us at Saint Augustine’s and I was famished after missing breakfast.
Star grabbed one of the fish nuggets off my plate and threw it at Honey. She riposted with a chip. And that was it. The food fight was on …
Clementine tossed a broad bean from her salad at Arabella, who chucked it across at Star. Georgina wiped aglob of mayonnaise on my nose and I flicked a pile of peas at her with my spoon. Within seconds it was a free-for-all. Food was being pelted around the canteen by everyone.
We were told to report to Sister Constance in her office after supper.
Sister sat in silent prayer under the massive gruesome crucifix that loomed above her desk. Its ivory Christ with an enormous spear jutting out of his bleeding side always made me feel really guilty and a little scared. In this setting, Sister Constance looked quite scary too. Generally, she has a very stiff, formal manner (although sometimes you catch her suppressing a smile).
Her office was lined from floor to ceiling with holy texts. The ancient literary feel was rather spoilt by a nasty, grey metal filing cabinet, supporting an enormous wooden statue of Our Lady of Lourdes. I don’t know why, but Sister Constance’s office always smelled of an old church Bible, that mixture of mustiness, wax, frankincense and furniture polish.
Seconds turned into minutes and I swear I heard Christ groan with the agony of it all as he hung from his cross. Although maybe it was just my tummy – I hadn’t actually got to eat any of my fish nuggets, because of our food fight. And at supper they’d served us the grey slops, which I had vowed never to eat after a rumour went around the school that it was made from dead pets from the pet shed.
Eventually Sister broke her meditation. She looked up at the six of us standing in front of her table and told ushow disappointed she was. We bowed our heads solemnly, striking what we hoped was a remorseful pose.
‘How wantonly wasteful to treat food in such a cavalier manner.’
‘Yes, Sister,’ we all said together.
‘Did you even spare the slightest thought for the poor little hungry children of the world who haven’t got enough food to fill their distended bellies?’
‘Yes, Sister,’ we repeated. I was looking out of the window and was slightly distracted by the sight of a group of girls heading off through the bluebells towards Puller’s Hill.
But I was brought back to attention by Sister Constance, gasping in shock.
‘Well, if you thought of those poor little hungry children and their desperate need for food, what possessed you to throw it about?’
We looked at one another, startled. Star spoke for all of us. ‘We meant no, Sister.’
‘No what?’
‘No, we didn’t spare the slightest thought for the poor little hungry children of the world who haven’t got enough food to fill their distended bellies.’
‘I thought as much,’ she said with a sigh, disappointment etched in every line of her face. ‘Your mother would be especially sorry to hear of you abusing food, when she does so much good work in her capacity as a senior fundraiser for War Child, Miss Castle Orpington.’
‘Yes, Sister.’
‘However, I can see you are all deeply ashamed about this affair now.’
‘Yes, Sister,’ we all agreed.
‘Yes, Sister what?’
‘Yes, Sister, we are deeply ashamed of ourselves,’ we recited.
‘Well then, let’s press on. What do you think your punishment should be on this occasion?’
‘We could … erm … sweep the corridor, or something nasty like that, Sister,’ Star suggested.
‘Actually, Star, that was going to be your punishment for cheeking Miss Cribbe last night. She was very upset about your suggestion that Misty may have been responsible for wetting Calypso’s bed.’
Star didn’t even struggle with
I had encouraged the dinner lady to pile the fish nuggets pretty high, because they were one of the few edible things they served us at Saint Augustine’s and I was famished after missing breakfast.
Star grabbed one of the fish nuggets off my plate and threw it at Honey. She riposted with a chip. And that was it. The food fight was on …
Clementine tossed a broad bean from her salad at Arabella, who chucked it across at Star. Georgina wiped aglob of mayonnaise on my nose and I flicked a pile of peas at her with my spoon. Within seconds it was a free-for-all. Food was being pelted around the canteen by everyone.
We were told to report to Sister Constance in her office after supper.
Sister sat in silent prayer under the massive gruesome crucifix that loomed above her desk. Its ivory Christ with an enormous spear jutting out of his bleeding side always made me feel really guilty and a little scared. In this setting, Sister Constance looked quite scary too. Generally, she has a very stiff, formal manner (although sometimes you catch her suppressing a smile).
Her office was lined from floor to ceiling with holy texts. The ancient literary feel was rather spoilt by a nasty, grey metal filing cabinet, supporting an enormous wooden statue of Our Lady of Lourdes. I don’t know why, but Sister Constance’s office always smelled of an old church Bible, that mixture of mustiness, wax, frankincense and furniture polish.
Seconds turned into minutes and I swear I heard Christ groan with the agony of it all as he hung from his cross. Although maybe it was just my tummy – I hadn’t actually got to eat any of my fish nuggets, because of our food fight. And at supper they’d served us the grey slops, which I had vowed never to eat after a rumour went around the school that it was made from dead pets from the pet shed.
Eventually Sister broke her meditation. She looked up at the six of us standing in front of her table and told ushow disappointed she was. We bowed our heads solemnly, striking what we hoped was a remorseful pose.
‘How wantonly wasteful to treat food in such a cavalier manner.’
‘Yes, Sister,’ we all said together.
‘Did you even spare the slightest thought for the poor little hungry children of the world who haven’t got enough food to fill their distended bellies?’
‘Yes, Sister,’ we repeated. I was looking out of the window and was slightly distracted by the sight of a group of girls heading off through the bluebells towards Puller’s Hill.
But I was brought back to attention by Sister Constance, gasping in shock.
‘Well, if you thought of those poor little hungry children and their desperate need for food, what possessed you to throw it about?’
We looked at one another, startled. Star spoke for all of us. ‘We meant no, Sister.’
‘No what?’
‘No, we didn’t spare the slightest thought for the poor little hungry children of the world who haven’t got enough food to fill their distended bellies.’
‘I thought as much,’ she said with a sigh, disappointment etched in every line of her face. ‘Your mother would be especially sorry to hear of you abusing food, when she does so much good work in her capacity as a senior fundraiser for War Child, Miss Castle Orpington.’
‘Yes, Sister.’
‘However, I can see you are all deeply ashamed about this affair now.’
‘Yes, Sister,’ we all agreed.
‘Yes, Sister what?’
‘Yes, Sister, we are deeply ashamed of ourselves,’ we recited.
‘Well then, let’s press on. What do you think your punishment should be on this occasion?’
‘We could … erm … sweep the corridor, or something nasty like that, Sister,’ Star suggested.
‘Actually, Star, that was going to be your punishment for cheeking Miss Cribbe last night. She was very upset about your suggestion that Misty may have been responsible for wetting Calypso’s bed.’
Star didn’t even struggle with
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