It wasn't quite light yet, I had a small deer that I had shot on my back, I do my bit to improve school dinners. And I had just walked into the school yard.
There stood Florence Nightingale in a nightie, but without the lamp. I knew that it was Florence Nightingale because the teacher had a big sign with the two words “Florence Nightingale” hanging from her neck.
“Where are you going?” she asked, very unfriendly.
“You know that girls are not allowed to leave the school at night!”
“Miss Haroyd, it's rather cold out here, perhaps it would be better to go inside.”
The arts and history teacher turned without a word and disappeared into the dark.
Cook was very pleased to see me and made me a big mug of hot cocoa. “You know, Cook! You're the only sane person in this school. Most of the teachers have problems with their legs – they don't reach the ground – and the girls are all children.”
“Too right, Jennffer! The head teacher, Miss Pringold, and Joan of Arc are the worse.”
“Florence Nightingale tonight!”
“Yes, yes, a real pair of loonies, if you ask me, but no one asks me. And Jennffer, you're a bit funny too. I mean, going hunting in the dark, coming here into the kitchen which is not allowed.”
“Oh, yes! You are right. Do you want me to help you skin and hang the meat?”