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‘It’s so great you’re taking us to school today, Mummy,’ said Casey, her eldest twin, looking up at her mother and smiling.
‘You know how busy Mummy gets in the morning,’ she said, squeezing her daughter’s fingers.
‘Why are you going to see Miss Beaumont?’ asked Amelia, always the more suspicious, guarded child. ‘Are you sure we’re not in trouble?’
‘Absolutely sure,’ smiled Paula.
Paula paused in the courtyard, positioning herself just below the head teacher’s office window so that anyone inside could see. Then she crouched down eye to eye with her girls and embraced them tightly. She watched them go, their blonde ponytails swinging from side to side under their felt berets, then straightened her Chanel jacket. She was ready to go to war.
‘Mrs Asgill, so good to see you again.’
Miss Fenella Beaumont, Eton Manor’s headmistress, extended a plump hand across the large walnut desk that dominated her office and settled back into her chair, smoothing down the heavy black robe she always wore over her blouse and skirt. She was a formidable–looking woman: tall with ash–blonde hair set on her head like a helmet, and a powerful speaking voice honed at the Oxford Union, Miss Beaumont having studied Classics at the university in the early 1970s. Paula was well aware that the school’s pupils and many of their parents wilted under her fierce gaze, but she had no intention of letting a pompous English spinster get in her way.
‘Thank you for making the time to see me,’ said Paula, giving the headmistress her sweetest smile. She was careful to conceal her true feelings here, but Paula had been absolutely furious when it had taken her a week to get an appointment with Miss Beaumont. They were playing ten thousand dollars a term for both Casey and Amelia to attend Eton Manor. That was $60,000 a year, not including the hiked–up lunch fees, ballet classes, French tutorials, music lessons, and sundry ‘donations’ they paid on top. For that money, Paula had expected to see Miss Beaumont immediately. The teacher nodded graciously.
‘What can I do for you today?’ she asked.
‘It’s the girls,’ said Paula plainly, waving away the offer of tea.
Miss Beaumont glanced down at a sheet of paper in front of them.
‘I understand Casey and Amelia are both doing quite well.’
Paula did her best to look troubled.
‘Yes, that’s true, but … its not easy being a twin.’
Miss Beaumont’s forehead creased slightly, perhaps perceiving a slight against the school.
‘Generally speaking, of course, my husband and I are very happy with the school,’ continued Paula carefully. ‘But lately we are getting a little concerned that your teachers seem to be – how shall I put this? – seeing the girls as one.’
Miss Beaumont poured milk into her tea from a tiny china jug and nodded thoughtfully. ‘Please. Expand.’
‘Well, the girls say their teachers have addressed them both by the wrong names on numerous occasions. Casey, Amelia. Amelia, Casey. Amelia particularly has been getting very upset about it, as she is the more sensitive of the girls, as I’m sure you know. I could almost understand it if they were identical twins, but, well, that’s not the case.’
Miss Beaumont was not a woman to get flustered by fussy parents. She fixed Paula with a baleful gaze. ‘Well, naturally I’m sorry for any distress,’ she said. ‘I’ll talk to all the teachers concerned.’
Paula released a disappointed sigh. She had been rehearsing the sigh for two days.
‘Well, that would certainly be a start,’ she said. ‘But, really, I fear this is impacting on the girls’ personal development. My husband and I would be much more reassured if we could work out a way to try and stop this happening again.’
‘What did you have in mind?’
Paula took a breath. ‘Casey and Amelia should be separated, put in different classes,’ she said. ‘As soon as possible.’
Miss Beaumont’s brow creased. ‘Really? I understood that you wanted them to be together in class?’
Paula met her gaze without flinching. This was actually true. William had made a big deal about it when they had originally been accepted for the kindergarten class two years earlier.
‘Secondly, I’m generally against moving a pupil into another class away from the friends she’s cultivated over the last year. Especially mid–way through the academic year.’
Paula examined Miss Beaumont’s face, looking for any trace of suspicion. Had any other parents heard of Princess Karina’s arrival at the school and tried to get their child in the same class? But no, that was impossible. Word might have got out on the grapevine of Carlotta’s enrolment, but not even the admissions’ secretary’s sister knew which of the two Year One classes the royal child was going to be in. The beauty of twins, thought Paula with the smallest of smiles. With one of her beautiful daughters in each class, she would have all bases covered. Play dates at the Princess’s palatial 72nd Street townhouse were surely just a matter of weeks away.
‘Are you saying you can’t help us, Miss Beaumont?’ said Paula, introducing a note of challenge. The headmistress shook her head.
‘Not at all, I’m simply saying I should talk to the teachers concerned and review the situation in a few weeks.’
She was as tough as old boots, thought Paula grimly. Fenella Beaumont had the inscrutable earnestness of someone that could not be bought; rather foolish of her, given the position of power she was in, thought Paula. Still, she had an ace up her sleeve.
