And then there was the time Charlotte had organised and starred in the school uniform fashion show to model the trousers that girls were now allowed to wear. From then on, all the girls had worn trousers instead of skirts and Charlotte had shown everyone different ways to wear them. To Claire, they were just simple, navy-blue trousers but Charlotte had somehow managed to make them look like they deserved to be on the cover of Vogue. You could wear them turned up with cute ankle socks; you could wear them with the waistband turned down to create a low-rise jean effect or you could sew on tiny little sequins down the seam of the pocket. Never had a pair of trousers caused so much of a stir and it was then that Charlotte seemed to rise from the gaggle to someone just slightly superior.

A few weeks after the fashion show, Charlotte ran for head girl and won the number of votes by a large margin, despite being under a C average. Somehow the lack of grades only made the feat even more impressive. And then Charlotte had come up with the idea of the Queen Bees. She’d announced it one morning break time to the cluster of girls around her and when it was clear something exciting was going on, Anne and Claire had joined the fringe, curious.

‘…and it’s going to be called the Queen Bees. But not just anyone can get in. First, they have to be invited and then go through a secret initiation.’

Squeals of delight had erupted, and the girls had turned to each other clamouring with questions. What kind of secret initiation? What happens when you get into the Queen Bees? The bell had rung then, signalling the start of the next class and Charlotte had breezed off down the corridor, her troop following behind.

‘Could be fun,’ Anne had said as they walked to their classroom.

Claire had shrugged her shoulders noncommittally. ‘Could be.’

But privately, she felt a flicker of doubt, a hint of hesitation about the whole thing. It was the fact that some people would get in and some people wouldn’t. She hated competing because she hated not winning. Take the school cross-country run, for example, where it was easy to see who came first and who came last. It was ironic because she actually enjoyed running, just not in a race. This Queen Bee club had a similar feel – it was all in public and everyone knew who would be in and who would be out.