I am fortunate, I suppose. I have only a handful of girls, all of them Sixth-Form students. They arrived in room 59 just before the beginning of Period 2, accompanied by Miss Lambert, the Headmistress of Mulberry House, and a strong scent of something both musky and sugary, like civet cats in a sweet shop.

Providentially, I was free during Period 1 that day. I dread to think of the disruptive effect on a class of Middle School boys of the arrival of a phalanx of Mulberry girls—out of uniform, of course (their Sixth Form doesn’t have one), and exhibiting all the sartorial subtlety of an evening in Bangkok. Miss Lambert herself—a blonde, by choice—was wearing a shocking-pink tweed ensemble with a very short skirt and very high heels, plus an Aztec abundance of jewelry.

“Girls, this is Roy Straitley,” she said, as if introducing some interesting museum exhibit, previously encountered only in books.

Then, turning to me, she said: “I thought I’d introduce the girls myself. They’re such fun, aren’t you, girls? This is Frankie, Helena, Chanelle, Angelina, Paris, and Ben. Ben’s real name is Benedicta, but she’d rather be called Ben, wouldn’t you, dear?” She gave me a smile, half lipstick, half teeth. “All my girls use given names as soon as they enter the Sixth Form. It gives them a sense of community. And they call me Jo, don’t you, girls?”

The girls acquiesced, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Miss Lambert sets the house style among the girls of Mulberry House. A Mulberry girl, as she often says, is confident; ambitious; up-to-date; and popular. From what I could see, they were also rather on the flashy side, long-legged and short-skirted, with the exception of the one she’d called Ben, a small-featured, vaguely mousy girl, who looked embarrassed to be there.

“Now I’ll leave you in Roy’s capable hands,” announced Miss Lambert to the girls. “The rest of the class should be here before long. Now remember what I said. Know your place. Which is, of course, at the top of the class, looking down at all those boys.”

At which she made her exit, amid sycophantic laughter from the girls (except for the one she’d called Ben, whom I was rather beginning to like), leaving me to explain to them that while I occupy the Bell Tower, I shall remain Mr. Straitley, regardless of how forbidding that seems to girls who call their Headmistress Jo.