Justice hardly dared to breathe as feet clipped past her. Women’s feet, wearing stout walking shoes. Justice didn’t need her torch to identify the slim figure. It was Miss de Vere, wearing a black coat and hat. The headmistress ran down the stairs, her heavy shoes surprisingly light, and Justice heard the sound of a key in a lock. It must be the inner door. Yes, it made a soft, furtive click as it shut behind her.
“I believe in memory. I believe in remembering someone you love so well that it becomes kind of like a ghost. You remember someone so hard that it feels like they’re in the next room, just around the corner, that they could walk in any minute.”