The book of the banshee [antikvár]

Today a writer came to school and gave a talk to our class and 3B. No one was expecting her, that was quite obvious. Chopper and I noticed her standing about in the entrance hall, waiting for Mrs MacKay to think of someone who might be able to take her off her hands. Chopper thought she was a new teacher, so he took an interest. I pointed out that she couldn't have come for an interview, the bag on the floor beside her was far too full. And she couldn't have come to start teaching, either. No one turns up at lunch time on their first day. Then we heard Mrs MacKay rap smartly on her glass screen as Scotbags strolled through the swing doors. 'Mr Scotbeg. Mr Scotbeg! Here's -' She stopped. She wasn't sure what to call her. The woman put on a bit of a patient look. 'Alicia Whifley,' she said. 'I'm Alicia Whitley.' She didn't say if she was Miss or Ms or Mrs, and so she didn't really help poor Mrs MacKay at all. I got the feeling that was deliberate. Alicia Whitley just stood there, watching, with her skirts swaying and her hands stuck deep in her jacket pockets, and all of a sudden I