Davina Bat was a woman of many talents but time keeping was not one of them. Neither was a photographic memory. Or an inclination to wear underwear all the time. She did however have a unique talent of retaining information by eating words.
She had discovered this osmosis quite by accident when she had holidayed in Margate one summer and ate fish and chips every evening. The amount of daily articles she could remember for a week was impressive. All because of the newspaper her meal was wrapped in. The fish was flaky, the chips were comforting and the newspaper, delicately flavoured with vinegar, was a scrunchy delight.
She widened her horizons when she went home, first making the mistake of incurring fines at the library for wilful destruction and then attempting a language course by chewing up Cantonese and Mandarin newspapers. She found them most delicious but didn't usually understand what the news around the provinces of China was about. Nibbling on a myriad of Eastern European newspapers were also tricky. It was so hard to keep up. After a while she thought she'd stick to English, although sensibly purchasing copies of the curriculum to keep the knowledge handy should her memory fail her. Miss Cackle didn't always approve of working off piste.
'What are you doing now?'
'She's learning' said Miss Cackle. Miss Hardbroom looked at her colleague chewing paper with a vacant expression. She noticed it was a novel. Tilting her head, she could read the title. Pride and prejudice. What kind of a story was that?
'At least she's finished with War and peace said Amelia with a sigh, thinking back to the autumn term when Davina had swept around in a flourish, declaring gibberish and wearing a yak wool hat.
'That's no way to treat a book!'
Davina shook some sugar over the top of her next page and resumed masticating.
'Yes. Needs flavouring.'
She giggled as she got to witty dialogue. Snorted at the next chapter.
'She'll probably dream of the regency era tonight' said Miss Cackle in resignation. 'Just keep her away from Shakespeare. Don't want her staging tragic deaths while wearing yellow stockings.'
'As long as she doesn't make us stage a play of it' said Miss Hardbroom briskly. She had wondered how the scatty and disorganised Miss Bat had ever qualified to be a teacher. As usual, the methods were madness. She supposed stranger things had happened.