Miss Hardbroom only got books for her birthday. That's what she said and even though this year she received a magnificent burgundy scarf (Miss Drill), a pair of purple raven patterned joke socks (Miss Bat), Miss Cackle thought that she might be overwhelmed with this deviation of tradition so she did give her a book. A very special book. The others made a face when they saw the book shaped package and it was a very small tattered book, not the weighty tomes of study that Constance was used to. She opened it with slight trepidation and found herself looking at a friendly cover. The one she'd thought of for such a long time. She raised her head and saw affection in her friend's eyes. Constance had been mortified to find out that she was a blabbermouth drunk and had spilled some of her secrets several months ago when the two of them were the last ones standing at an unusually raucous staff Christmas party. Miss Bat was snoring half in and out of the open cupboard, Miss Drill was fast asleep on a pile of cushions in the corner, the vase she'd been drinking sloe gin out of, beside her. Amelia and Constance were slumped over the table soaking up the alcohol with a cheesecake. Constance knew she was drunk because she actually ate two slices. She vowed never to be that reckless or indulgent again. She'd told Amelia things about her childhood that she'd never told anyone before. She could remember saying some of them. Garbled out of her like a stream of consciousness. She hadn't really thought that Amelia had listened and stored the information away but here was the proof that she had.
'Matilda? Isn't that a children's book?' Queried Davina. Imogen flashed her a warning look and nudged her quiet. She was thinking the same but by the look on Constance's face, it had obviously stirred a sentiment rarely seen with the deputy head.
'I thought you might like to have it back' explained Miss Cackle with a smile. Constance could have hugged her.