‘I can’t even see the sky!’ she wailed aloud. She leaned her cheek against the wall and sobbed.

It seemed as though she was in the darkness on her own for an age, huddled on her bed, before she heard voices coming up the stairs and along the landing, nearer and nearer.

Then they were in the room. Someone lit the gas light near the door and they were crowding round the end of her bed, gaping at her. Some had expressions of something akin to admiration. ‘Fancy walking out like that. I’d never have dared!’

Others with derisory glee. ‘You’re in for it. Miss Denham wants you in her study. Now!’

And one or two with hostility: ‘You’ll get us all into trouble if you carry on like that.’

‘What can you expect from a country bumpkin? No manners and can’t even understand a word of French!’

‘Ya’d better go down, likely ya’re in fer ca-ane.’ It was a cruel impersonation of the Lincolnshire dialect so strong in Kate’s speech.

Rage flooded through her again. She dashed away her tears with the back of her hand and swung her legs off the bed. ‘I aren’t afraid of her!’

‘Just listen to her! “I aren’t!” Wherever did she go to school?’

‘A better school than this ‘un,’ Kate uttered as a parting shot as she marched out of the room, the sound of their heartless laughter following her down the stairs.

Outside the door of Miss Denham’s study, her boldness deserted her. Again the knot of nerves was fluttering just beneath her ribs and rising into her throat. She swallowed and her empty stomach gurgled.

She knocked on the door and on hearing ‘Enter’ – thankfully spoken in English now – she went in.

Miss Denham sat behind her desk with Miss Ogden standing on one side of her and the Matron on the other. Miss Ogden looked at her sadly, whilst outrage was apparent on the other two faces.

‘Katharine Hilton, your behaviour at the dinner table this evening was disgraceful,’ Miss Denham began. Kate returned the woman’s stare steadfastly, though her insides were churning and her knees were trembling. ‘Have you anything to say for yourself?’

‘I felt sick, Miss.’

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Miss Ogden’s hand flutter briefly towards her, almost as if she wanted to reach out and touch her. ‘Oh, you poor child . . .’ she heard the teacher mutter, but the gesture of understanding was quelled by a look from the Principal.

Miss Denham turned her cold gaze back upon Kate. ‘Normally I would cane you for such behaviour, but because it is your first day here, this time,’ there was heavy emphasis on the two words ‘this time’, ‘we will say no more about it. However, you will go straight to your dormitory and to bed instead of participating in games hour before bedtime. You may go.’