Magic at Silver Spires by Ann Bryant

Buon giorno, Signorina! ” she said, when we appeared at the door to her room. “ Andiamo in la sala common .”
    I had to laugh. She’d used a mixture of English and Italian-with-a-totally-over-the-top-accent to say, “Hello, Miss. Let’s go to the common room.”
    Actually it’s difficult to translate Signorina properly, because in England you don’t really use the word “Miss” very much, but in Italy it’s quite usual to say “ Signorina ”. I like the way languages are all so different. I think I’d be interested in doing something connected with languages for a career when I’m older.
    As I had that thought I also had another thought – a much more important one, and I couldn’t resist telling Nicole straight away. I didn’t really mind that Matron was listening too, because she’s so lovely and friendly and not like a proper teacher, or even like Mrs. Pridham or Miss Stevenson. She reminds me a bit of a younger version of Nonna, my grandmother, in fact.
    â€œI’ve just had a great idea, Nicole!”
    â€œWow! It must be good, you look so happy about it!” said Nicole. “I hope you’re not planning on changing the play, because I know my part now and I’d never be able to learn any more lines.”
    â€œ Neanch’io! ” said Matron. Then she burst into her little-bird laughter. “Did I get that right, Antonia? That means ‘Me neither’, doesn’t it?”
    â€œYes, it does!”
    â€œYou’re getting so good at Italian, Matron!” said Nicole.
    â€œI know, but…” Matron’s smiling face dropped as her sentence faded away. I guessed she was about to say, But how am I going to manage when you’ve left? Or something like that.
    â€œLet me tell you my idea,” I quickly said. “I love languages so much that I’m going to tell Papà that my biggest ambition is to be an interpreter, and for that job you need the best, best English, so he can’t make me leave Silver Spires!”
    Nicole was frowning thoughtfully. “It might work,” she said slowly.
    But Matron looked doubtful.
    We hardly ever call Matron by her real name. But somehow I wanted to at the moment. “What do you think, Miss Callow?”
    She pursed her lips and looked up at the ceiling as though she was trying to find the answer to my question up there. “It’s worth a try, dear.” She sighed, then repeated the words in a thin voice. “It’s worth a try.”
    â€œBut your dad would take more notice if he heard it from a teacher, wouldn’t he?” said Nicole. “What about Mrs. Stockton? She could tell him how brilliant you are at English.”
    â€œThat’s a great idea, Nicole. I could ask Mrs. Stockton if she’d mind having a word with Papà…as long as she really does think I’m good at English.”
    â€œCourse she does. And we’ve got English just before morning break tomorrow, haven’t we? You could talk to her at the end of the lesson.”
    â€œRight, that’s settled then,” said Matron. I could tell she was trying to go back to her usual chirrupy self, but her voice had lost its bubbles. And it was no wonder. She was probably thinking that my great idea was stupid. Even if I did talk to Mrs. Stockton and even if she did then talk to my dad, he wouldn’t suddenly completely change everything just because of one conversation, would he? I don’t think anyone’s mum or dad would do that, but especially not my dad.
    We practised the play for about half an hour. I was playing the part of a receptionist, so it was okay for me to sit down nearly the whole way through, thank goodness.
    When it was time for me and Nicole to go off to afternoon lessons, I thought Matron looked a bit sad again, but then she caught me looking at her and immediately smiled. “I’m just thinking,