Матильда
The Trunchbull
Shehadanobstinatechin,acruelmouthandsmallarroganteyes.Andasforherclothes...theywere,tosaytheleast,extremelyodd.Shealwayshadonabrowncottonsmockwhichwaspinchedinaroundthewaistwithawideleatherbelt.Thebeltwasfastenedinfrontwithanenormoussilverbuckle.Themassivethighswhichemergedfromoutofthesmockwereencasedinapairofextraordinarybreeches,bottle-greenincolourandmadeofcoarsetwill.Thesebreechesreachedtojustbelowthekneesandfromthereondownshesportedgreenstockingswithturn-uptops,whichdisplayedhercalfmusclestoperfection.Onherfeetsheworeflat-heeledbrownbrogueswithleatherflaps.Shelooked,inshort,morelikearathereccentricandbloodthirstyfollowerofthestag-houndsthantheheadmistressofaniceschoolforchildren.
WhenMissHoneyenteredthestudy,MissTrunchbullwasstandingbesideherhugedeskwithalookofscowlingimpatienceonherface."Yes,MissHoney,"shesaid."Whatisityouwant?You’relookingveryflushedandflusteredthismorning.What’sthematterwithyou?Havethoselittlestinkersbeenflickingspitballsatyou?"
"No,Headmistress.Nothinglikethat."
"Well,whatisitthen?Getonwithit.I’mabusywoman."Asshespoke,shereachedoutandpouredherselfaglassofwaterfromajugthatwasalwaysonherdesk.
"ThereisalittlegirlinmyclasscalledMatildaWormwood..."MissHoneybegan.
"That’sthedaughterofthemanwhoownsWormwoodMotorsinthevillage,"MissTrunchbullbarked.
