‘What on earth are you doing, girl? Did you put this light off?’ Matron snapped as she relit the light to inspect the bathroom. ‘Just look at the mess you are making! Mind you clear all this up. And where’s your towel?’

Kate, her hair plastered to her back and running rivulets down her body, bent and picked the dripping towel out of the water.

‘Well, you’re not going to get very dry on that, are you, you foolish child?’ The matron shook her head impatiently. ‘Wait there . . .’ She disappeared, and Kate stepped carefully out of the bath and wrung her wet towel out, twisting it viciously between her hands, wishing it was Isobel Cartwright’s neck.

Matron returned with a towel. ‘Here, dry yourself quickly and let’s have no more of this nonsense. And don’t go turning lights off until you know how to relight them. Fancy trying to take a bath in the dark!’ She shook her head in exasperation and disbelief that anyone could be so stupid.

Kate opened her mouth to retort that the light had been turned out while she was in the bath, but then she closed it again without speaking. She was no tell-tale. She never had been and she wasn’t going to start now, however much she hated Isobel Cartwright.

The Matron turned away and left the room, leaving Kate to dry herself and wipe the floor. There was nothing else to use but her own towel which was now not only soaking wet but grubby too.

When she returned to the dormitory, she found all the girls knew of her embarrassment. She glared at Isobel, who smirked as she said, ‘Tell Matron, did you?’

‘No,’ Kate answered shortly. ‘I aren’t a tell-tale . . .’ There were further giggles. ‘But I’ll get you back, Isobel Cartwright,’ she added, wagging her forefinger at the other girl. ‘I dun’t care how long I have to wait – but one day I’ll get you back. You see if I don’t!’

‘Oooh, I’m sha-aking in me shoes,’ Isobel mocked.

Kate turned her back on them all and began to dry her hair, rubbing it vigorously with a towel.

On the first Sunday after her arrival, Kate discovered that all the pupils walked in crocodile fashion up the steep hill to the cathedral for Morning Service, accompanied by the Principal and the two assistant teachers.

The moment she stepped through the huge doors, Kate felt her heart begin to thud. The interior of the holy place was immense! Her hobnailed boots echoed hollowly on the flagstones and she could feel Miss Denham’s disapproval boring into her back.

Awe-struck, Kate gazed around her as she took her place in a pew. Stone pillars supported the high arched roof and in front of her the rich wooden carving of the angel choir gave warmth to the austere stonework. Light shone through the stained glass windows, mottling the flagstones.