tablecloth!â someone yelled.
I couldnât stay cool. I felt tears pricking my eyes. I turned round and stuck my finger up at them. They all shrieked delightedly. Mum looked shocked.
âPrudence! Donât do that.â
âWhat did she do, Mum? Prue, what does it mean, doing that with your finger?â said Grace.
âI donât know,â I lied. Iâd seen the boys from the estate gesture to each other and worked out exactly what it meant. Grace didnât seem to have any idea at all. She was looking younger than ever, and very frightened.
âI want to go home ,â she said, hanging back from the school door.
Mum looked as if she might relent. âI donât see you two learning much in this sort of environment,â she whispered. âYour dadâs going to kill me when he finds out.â
âLetâs just leg it back across the playground,â I said.
We looked at Mum pleadingly. She bit her lip, swaying from one Scholl sandal to the other, plucking helplessly at the roses on her hips. âI donât know what to do for the best,â she said.
Then a man with black hair and a little beard came up to us. He was wearing a denim jacket and black jeans, and he had a diamond earring in one lobe. We looked at him uncertainly. He seemed very young but the beard surely meant he couldnât be one of the pupils.
âCan I help?â he said.
âMy girls are starting at the school. Well, I think they are,â said Mum.
He smiled at Grace and me. I usually couldnât stick men with beards but his was small and trimmed and looked cool, especially with the earring.
âI hope youâll be very happy here. Donât look so worried. Itâs always a bit weird starting at a new school.â
âTheyâve not been to any school, not for years and years,â said Mum, starting to launch into a long and unnecessary resumé of our lives.
He listened politely while Grace and I rolled our eyes at each other, agonized.
âWell, Iâm sure everything will be fine,â he interrupted eventually. He nodded at Grace and me. âIâll maybe see you in the art room sometime. Iâm Mr Raxberry. Iâm one of the art teachers here.â
âIâm rubbish at art but Prue is brilliant,â said Grace.
âIâm not,â I said, blushing.
âYes, you are,â said Grace.
I had to shut up or we would have got stuck in a ludicrous pantomime routine.
Mr Raxberry glanced at me. He had a very intent way of looking, as if he was actually drawing me, noting everything about me. I wished I didnât look such a total idiot in my tablecloth dress. His dark eyes seemed very warm and sympathetic, as if he understood exactly what I was thinking.
He showed us to the office and introduced us to one of the school secretaries. âGina will look after you. Good luck! I hope you enjoy your first day,â he said, and then went hurrying off down the corridor.
Gina stared after him wistfully. She would obviously have preferred to look after him . She gave us forms to fill in and then told us to wait on chairs outside the headteacherâs study.
We crouched there, all three of us, totally unnerved, while great gangs of students careered up and down the corridors, laughing, calling, shouting.
âWhy donât the teachers tell them off?â Mum whispered. âStill, the teachers seem a pretty rum lot. Imagine, that Mr Raxberry had an earring . You wouldnât think theyâd allow it.â
âHe teaches art , Mum,â I said.
âI donât know what your dad would say.â
There was a little pause. We were all horribly aware that Dad couldnât manage to say two words together at the moment.
I hunched up on my hard chair, guilt stabbing me in the stomach. Grace reached out sympathetically, and smudged the ink where sheâd written her name on her form.
âOh rats,â she said,
I couldnât stay cool. I felt tears pricking my eyes. I turned round and stuck my finger up at them. They all shrieked delightedly. Mum looked shocked.
âPrudence! Donât do that.â
âWhat did she do, Mum? Prue, what does it mean, doing that with your finger?â said Grace.
âI donât know,â I lied. Iâd seen the boys from the estate gesture to each other and worked out exactly what it meant. Grace didnât seem to have any idea at all. She was looking younger than ever, and very frightened.
âI want to go home ,â she said, hanging back from the school door.
Mum looked as if she might relent. âI donât see you two learning much in this sort of environment,â she whispered. âYour dadâs going to kill me when he finds out.â
âLetâs just leg it back across the playground,â I said.
We looked at Mum pleadingly. She bit her lip, swaying from one Scholl sandal to the other, plucking helplessly at the roses on her hips. âI donât know what to do for the best,â she said.
Then a man with black hair and a little beard came up to us. He was wearing a denim jacket and black jeans, and he had a diamond earring in one lobe. We looked at him uncertainly. He seemed very young but the beard surely meant he couldnât be one of the pupils.
âCan I help?â he said.
âMy girls are starting at the school. Well, I think they are,â said Mum.
He smiled at Grace and me. I usually couldnât stick men with beards but his was small and trimmed and looked cool, especially with the earring.
âI hope youâll be very happy here. Donât look so worried. Itâs always a bit weird starting at a new school.â
âTheyâve not been to any school, not for years and years,â said Mum, starting to launch into a long and unnecessary resumé of our lives.
He listened politely while Grace and I rolled our eyes at each other, agonized.
âWell, Iâm sure everything will be fine,â he interrupted eventually. He nodded at Grace and me. âIâll maybe see you in the art room sometime. Iâm Mr Raxberry. Iâm one of the art teachers here.â
âIâm rubbish at art but Prue is brilliant,â said Grace.
âIâm not,â I said, blushing.
âYes, you are,â said Grace.
I had to shut up or we would have got stuck in a ludicrous pantomime routine.
Mr Raxberry glanced at me. He had a very intent way of looking, as if he was actually drawing me, noting everything about me. I wished I didnât look such a total idiot in my tablecloth dress. His dark eyes seemed very warm and sympathetic, as if he understood exactly what I was thinking.
He showed us to the office and introduced us to one of the school secretaries. âGina will look after you. Good luck! I hope you enjoy your first day,â he said, and then went hurrying off down the corridor.
Gina stared after him wistfully. She would obviously have preferred to look after him . She gave us forms to fill in and then told us to wait on chairs outside the headteacherâs study.
We crouched there, all three of us, totally unnerved, while great gangs of students careered up and down the corridors, laughing, calling, shouting.
âWhy donât the teachers tell them off?â Mum whispered. âStill, the teachers seem a pretty rum lot. Imagine, that Mr Raxberry had an earring . You wouldnât think theyâd allow it.â
âHe teaches art , Mum,â I said.
âI donât know what your dad would say.â
There was a little pause. We were all horribly aware that Dad couldnât manage to say two words together at the moment.
I hunched up on my hard chair, guilt stabbing me in the stomach. Grace reached out sympathetically, and smudged the ink where sheâd written her name on her form.
âOh rats,â she said,
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