This is dedicated to the Twitter crowd. Happy New Year, #cacklesbitches!

1

Constance sat with hunched shoulders, bent over papers in the staffroom as the light-hearted chatter and the bustle of arms being slipped through coats and robes sounded behind her. She scrawled notes on the fourth year potions essays, each "constructive" comment becoming more strangled with bitterness as her thoughts were distracted by the scraps of trivial conversation over her shoulder.

'...nice way to see in the New Year...'

'...looking forward to a glass or two of wine...'

'...glass? I'm having at least two bottles!'

Constance gritted her teeth. Somehow, she had the feeling that whether or not she wanted to participate in events, she would be relied upon to put in a cameo appearance later that evening to escort a slurring Miss Bat back from the Hare & Hounds, the chanting teacher having humiliated herself as she always did when within mere sniffing distance of alcohol.

'Are you sure you won't join us, Constance?' Miss Cackle asked kindly, as the other teachers filed out of the staffroom. Constance didn't look up from her marking as she gave her reply.

'No thank you, Miss Cackle. It may be the end of 2010, but that I do not see that as an excuse for the kind of drunken debauchery that will bring the Academy's name into ill repute.'

She hovered her quill over Ethel Hallow's parchment (the one upon which she had made the least scathing remarks), and waited for Amelia to try to persuade her further. She didn't. Constance contemplated that the headmistress was probably comparing her to a young Ebeneezer Scrooge. All work and no play...

'Very well. You know where we are if you change your mind. '

And with that, the staffroom door clicked shut behind Miss Cackle's retreating back.

Constance sighed and replaced the candle which was burning out at the corner of the desk.

x

'Come on, ladies!' boomed Mr Blossom's voice over the relentless thud of music that emanated from the village pub's jukebox. 'Ol' Terry Root and me 'ave got a pool tournament about to start, and there's darts later. An' if Sharon the Landlady allows it, there'll be a bit o' karaoke before the night's done! Drilly,' he beamed at the gym mistress as she slung her waterproof over a barstool and took a glass brimming with Chardonnay from Davina's hands, 'Bet your partial to a bit of Abba, aren't you?'

'I'll do it after a few more of these,' she mouthed over the music. 'And if you play your cards right,' she inclined a nod towards Miss Cackle who was chatting animatedly to the landlord, 'Amelia'll give you a rendition of Eva Cassidy!'

x

'Oh! Hello there, Miss Hardbroom.' Constance jumped as the door crashed open and Miss Lamplighter swept in, bringing with her a gust of cold evening air and the scent of the outdoors. 'Have they already gone to the pub?'

Constance got quickly to her feet, feeling her cheeks flush as she did so and grateful for the dim light of the staffroom.

'I, er, I – '

'Why aren't you there too? Not working too hard, I hope?' Miss Lamplighter breezed over, cocking her head to scan the papers on the deputy headmistress's desk. Constance hastened to gather them up in an attempt to look thoroughly harassed. She hadn't seen Lynne since Art Week the previous summer; and she was loath to admit even to herself that the woman had invaded her thoughts on more than a handful of occasions since...

There was a heavy silence as Lynn awaited an answer which wasn't forthcoming. Sensing that her timing was perhaps misjudged, Miss Lamplighter made for the door.

'Well, if you fancy a drink later we'll be there till they throw us out.'

Constance opened her mouth to speak as the door closed with a flourish.

Strangely enough, she felt a sudden inclination to accompany the rest of the staff in seeing in the New Year.

x

'Who the bloody hell invited them?' Imogen muttered to Davina, as the gym mistress chalked the tip of her pool cue and blew the excess away with a brisk puff.

'God knows,' replied the chanting teacher, scowling towards the door where Chief Wizard Helibore, Algernon Rowan-Webb and Benjamin Greengage were wandering in, nodding cordially at the suspicious locals and squinting towards the bar pumps.

'Pint of Merlin's Staff for me, please,' Imogen heard Helibore declare. 'And two pints of Moon n' Stars for my companions here! Ah, the charming Miss Cackle and her flock!' Imogen rolled her eyes and bent down so that she was eye-level with the pool table. 'May we join you in a little competition?'

Imogen lined her cue towards the triangle of balls Davina had arranged near the far end and took a forceful shot, sending them scattering about the tabletop.

'We were just getting some practice in, I think,' came the Headmistress's diplomatic tones. 'Our caretaker, Mr Blossom, has arranged a charity match against some of the local allotment growers. Winnings go to the charity of our choice.'

'Highly commendable, dear lady!' came the Cheif Wizard's reply. Imogen potted her third red as she heard him mutter aside: 'It would seem your young gym mistress has her uses after all...'

Imogen directed an outraged gaze towards Miss Bat, who shook her head with all the avid imploration of peacekeeper. It wasn't enough to deter the gym mistress's following retort.

'Come one then, Bertie!' she jibed, 'Let's see if you have your uses. Pot as many yellows within five minutes and you can have a hundred quid to repair the reputation of Camelot College!'

x

Constance turned at her desk and looked out of the window. A full moon. A rainless sky. A perfect evening. Miss Lamplighter flickered through her mind. Damned woman! Getting to her feet, she noticed the discarded glasses of wine on the staffroom table. She took a swig from one. And another. Rijoca Reserva, she decided, without the need to even consult the bottle. Another glug. Just enough to light her courage and warm her soul.

Grabbing her cloak from the back of her chair, she slid it over her shoulders and tossed the hood over her head.