The girls walking through the town centre in front of me were weighed down with textbooks. A Level students, I guessed, exams looming, in the midst of a mutually-supportive “shall we go and revise together in the coffee shop” trip.Only when they sat down, one would turn to the other: “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You remember… when you got the cane last term. What - what happened? How does he do it? Was it really awful?”

Her best friend would blush, then go pale, glancing round to make sure that none of the other customers had heard. With tears welling up: “I… I’d rather not talk about it.”

“It’s just that…” She gulped: “The Headmaster’s secretary caught me as I was leaving school on Friday afternoon, and told me to report to him after assembly on Monday morning. And I’m really worried that he’s found out that I forged my sicknote when I stayed at home on Wednesday…”

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