Set across one summer term in a girls' boarding school, this slow-build read charts the infatuation between the school's matron - a young Australian intern - and Mrs S, the wife of the headmaster. As their connection reaches vividly erotic realisation, the book opens into a moving exploration of belonging and gender identity. Give yourself time to tune into the staccato style of the narration: what begins as halting becomes deeply expressive.
Sitting above Mrs S, I can see her neck, her hands folding in her lap. The wristwatch slipped back and forth. Her hands. Another planet. She decides against the fold, unclasping, instead flexing her fingers into her palms, the softest of fists. Estuaries of neon veins, knuckles rising like moons. Nails short, a practical choice, although this too I happily convert into a concealed lesbianism. Everything is a sign. The finger then released before her teeth can clamp down. Back in her lap. She is more restless than she lets on. I pretend it is my presence.
