Kate looked at each of the three girls in turn. They were all dressed in similar uniform to her own, yet there was a subtle difference about theirs somehow. They all had short hair, cropped to a length just below their ears.

‘Kate. Kate Hilton. What’s yours?’

Another spoke but ignored Kate’s question. ‘Is that your proper name? The one you were christened?’

‘N-no. I – was christened Katharine, but I’m called Kate.’ And Danny calls me Katie, she almost added, but bit her lip to hold back the confidence.

‘Huh,’ the second girl said scathingly. ‘You’ll be called Katharine here.’

‘And you’ll have to have that hair cut.’ The third girl spoke for the first time, touching her own neatly cropped hair. ‘We all have to have it cut the same way.’

‘Or plait it, Isobel. She could have it plaited,’ the first one volunteered.

‘Not unless she can do it neatly.’

Kate gasped in horror. ‘They aren’t cuttin’ mine!’ she said vehemently, but the girls only laughed.

The door opened and a woman entered. She was dressed in what appeared to Kate to be a nurse’s uniform. She wore a long navy blue serge dress and a pristine white apron with a bib. Her hair was completely hidden by a starched square of white cloth folded around her head and falling into a triangle at the back.

‘Matron – this is the new girl, Katharine Hilton.’

‘But she likes to be called Kate.’

The woman’s eyebrows almost reached the edge of her cap. ‘Really?’

Now four pairs of eyes regarded her.

‘Come with me—’ the Matron paused and then added with emphasis, ‘Katharine.’

The three girls stifled their giggles swiftly as Kate slid slowly off her bed and walked between them towards the Matron.

‘Look at her blouse – it’s home-made,’ came a whisper.

‘So’s her gym-slip – just look at her boots!’

‘Have you unpacked and put your clothes away?’ the matron was asking.

‘No, me trunk ain’t got here yet.’

Another whisper. ‘Listen to how she speaks! How common!’

Kate spent the next half-hour in the Matron’s room listening to a list of school rules which she knew she would never remember. Then the Matron took her downstairs to the first floor and into a classroom to meet her teacher. When they entered, there were seven other girls in the room, all sitting in a semi-circle around the teacher, sewing. But at once they all stood up and chanted, ‘Good afternoon, Matron,’ and only sat down again when the Matron had acknowledged their greeting and added, ‘You may sit down, girls.’

‘Miss Ogden – this is Katharine Hilton. She will be in your class from tomorrow morning.’