Constance Hardbroom, feared nemesis of all girls named Mildred Hubble, slammed her office door behind her so hard that the hinges let out a wail of protest.

"Shut up," she told them so fiercely that the second heart rending wail that had begun to emit from the much abused hinges ceased immediately.

While Constance's default state was furious, this time she was at a state that furious just couldn't cover. What was Miss Cackle thinking? Yet again she had taken the side of that outrageous girl, that irritating, idiotic, disrespectful -

She kicked her foot against the nearest pile of books on the floor. Given that the pile was four feet tall they fell over with a satisfying thud, threatening to topple several other piles on their way downwards. Just to even things up, Constance pushed over a few more of the wavering stacks before slamming herself into the chair behind the paper strewn desk, arms crossed tightly over her chest, and prepared for a good sulk.

She was not to get the chance for long. The door sighed open and Amelia Cackle walked in as if she had every right to be there.

She looked around at the mess and shook her head. "I'm always rather surprised by the state of your office, Constance. I have this expectation that your personal areas will be immaculately tidy. I suppose most people would think that too, just by looking at you. Coming in and seeing all this everywhere almost seems shocking."

Constance tried not to grind her teeth too loudly. "I like it untidy. It helps me to think. "

"I think you mean that it stops you from thinking clearly." Amelia pushed her glasses back up onto her nose and raised her hand. "Orderum reduxis illio allio returnum resolvo!"

A whirlwind suddenly sprang into being in the centre of the office, sucking dust and anything not nailed to the floor into its vortex. Constance clung grimly onto her chair and closed her eyes for a long moment. When the noise finally stopped, she took a long breath and opened her eyes.

The office was now absolutely tidy. All the books were neatly shelved, and the miscellaneous papers were pigeonholed in what Constance knew would be perfect order. And Amelia Cackle was comfortably seated in a squashy armchair that hadn't been there ten minutes ago, sniffing a potted daffodil and admiring the winter sunshine pouring through the large window.

"It looks lovely," Constance said flatly. "but it won't last more than a day. I enjoy my clutter, Miss Cackle."

Amelia did not even bother to look abashed. "I, on the other hand, do not enjoy your temper of late, Miss Hardbroom. And," she held up a hand to still Constance's immediate move to respond, "I cannot and will not believe that it has that much to do with Mildred Hubble, no matter how much you dislike her. Constance," her voice softened, "my dear, what is wrong?"

Constance's face was mutinous. Then she flung her hand from the chair in disgust and stood up.

There would not have been a single girl at Miss Cackle's who would have credited what Constance Hardbroom did next. Anyone who had seen it would disbelieve the evidence of her own eyes. Constance Hardbroom, known hardnose, moved towards Amelia Cackle, still seated serenely in her comfortable armchair, and collapsed onto the chair's padded arm, leaning companionably - and familiarly - against Miss Cackle.

Amelia Cackle, extraordinarily, did not register even an iota of surprise.

"They're all so young," Constance finally sighed. "Ridiculously young, and they're getting younger every year, I swear. I look at them and I feel so... old."

Amelia's mouth twisted wryly. "Constance, my dear, we are old. We were here teaching at Cackles when their grandmothers were born. We'll be here teaching at Cackles when their grandchildren are born. Is this so bad?"

"Not bad, Amelia. However I can't help but feel it's an endless task."

"Endless - but surely rewarding, Constance? We are shaping the minds and hearts of the best witches in each generation. It's not an achievement to be sniffed at."

"I don't regret it, exactly." Constance admitted, then threw up her hands in disgust at her own inability to make clear her feelings. She rose from her perch on the arm of Miss Cackle's chair and, rounding her now-tidy desk, sank back into her own chair. "I don't know. I simply feel frustrated with it all."

"Perhaps," Amelia said gently, "you need a holiday?"

"A holiday?" Constance's eyebrows rose in a familiar gesture. "What, pray tell, would I do on a holiday?" The sarcasm lay on her voice like thick honey.

"I don't know," Amelia replied mildly, resuming her focus on the potted daffodil. "Have fun, possibly?"

"And where exactly would I go to do that, Miss Cackle? I loathe travelling, in case you hadn't noticed - or have you forgotten our school excursion to Paris?" She rolled her eyes extravagantly. "What a disaster."

"I do accept that going to Paris in 1789 was not one of my better ideas," Amelia said with a touch of frost. "However, the French Revolution aside, travelling abroad can be a wonderful antidote to a sense of futility. It might help you gain clarity on the problem."

"I don't have a problem," Constance ground out. "I'm perfectly fine. I'm simply -" Yet she couldn't complete the sentence. There was something wrong, something was surely bothering her, but the thought of leaving Cackles felt so horribly uncomfortable that her formidable defences were back in place and firing on all fronts. She couldn't help but snap at Amelia. She folded her arms across her chest and glared.

Amelia rose from her chair. "Constance, my dear, I want you to seriously consider it. Now I've said what I had to say, I shall look forward to seeing you at dinner. That's in two hours, which should give you time enough to have a thorough sulk."

"Sulk?!" Constance's voice rose an octave in the course of one syllable. Then she caught Amelia's grave mouth and laughing eyes, and couldn't help but smile herself.

With a wave of her hand and a sudden slightly wicked smile, Amelia closed the door behind her and left Constance to her thoughts. As ever, after a talk with Amelia, Constance's thoughts were not so dark as before.

A holiday, she mused. Had she ever been on a holiday? As a child, sometimes she had been forced to go along with her parents to their home in Wales, but for the most part she had managed to convince them that staying over in boarding school was best. She had always enjoyed the quietness of the castle when the other students had gone. She practised her spells, caught up on her reading, took long walks though the forest. It was a time of quiet that was deeply soothing. And when she returned to Cackles as a teacher, she had, almost without thinking, resumed that habit. No one even bothered to ask her what she was doing in her holidays anymore.

"But where would I go?" she asked aloud. The thought of spending time in tourist spots appalled her. Anything involving large amounts of sunshine was definitely out as well. Sporty pursuits were of no particular interest: Constance owed the slimness of her figure to a disinterest in food and daily lengthy walks in search of plants to restock supplies constantly depleted by heedless girls who would use a tablespoon of hemlock when a teaspoon would have done.

The two hours before dinner passed remarkably quickly while she mused on the foreign concept of holidays, and she walked down to the staff room still at something of a loss.

Miss Bat was already at the table, contemplating a large roast with obvious pleasure. Miss Drill and Miss Cackle were still absent as Constance picked a few potatoes and a small slice of meat onto a plate. "Miss Bat," she asked abruptly, causing Miss Bat to start at being addressed, "where would you recommend as a holiday destination?"

Miss Bat blinked rapidly. "A holiday?"

"Yes, a holiday destination," Constance snapped. She had tried over the years to get along better with Miss Bat, mostly because Amelia kept asking her to, but the woman's fuzzy-headedness had never ceased to annoy her.

"For who?" Miss Bat looked more confused.

"For *whom*, Miss Bat, and it would be for me."

Miss Bat's eyebrows went even higher. "But Constance, you don't take holidays. You've never taken a holiday. Griselda and Fenella said that there might be a curse on Cackles, and that if you ever leave it, something terrible might happen." She stopped, and frowned. "Or maybe they said Cackles was cursed with you never to leave it, and that was the terrible thing that had happened."

"Miss Bat!" Constance's voice was so loud that both Miss Cackle and Miss Drill paused mid-step on their way into the room. Realising what she had said, Miss Bat immediately gave a squeal, leapt up from her chair, and -

Miss Cackle sighed as the cupboard door banged shut. "One day, those hinges are going to fall apart," she remarked to the air, but then her eyes met Constance's. Constance grimaced.

"What was that all about?" Miss Drill asked.

Constance sighed. "I asked Miss Bat's opinion on holiday destinations, and..." She shrugged, leaving the sentence to drift away, and stared determinedly out the window.

"Holiday destinations?" Miss Drill asked, clearly puzzled.

Amelia jumped in, since clarification from Constance was clearly not forthcoming. "I suggested to Constance that she take her holidays outside the castle this year. We've only two weeks until break time, so there's very little time for Constance to make her plans."

"I've decided against the whole idea," Constance swung her face round to face the other two teachers. "I will stay in the castle as I normally do."

"I'm afraid you won't, Constance. Not this year." Amelia's face was calm, but her voice was quietly determined.

"What?" Constance was openly shocked.

"Ah," Miss Drill moved towards the door. "I think I will go check on the Dangerous Old Books Society. Just to see what they're up to. Cold roast tastes better anyway." The last few words were muffled as she was already through the door while saying them.

"Miss Cackle, have I understood you correctly? You're... kicking me out?" Constance was on her feet without even realising it.

"Constance." Amelia's voice was firm, but the choice of use of her first name calmed Constance's stomach. A little bit. "You need a change of routine. You've been unhappy for months, and I won't let you keep being unhappy. You will take a holiday, you will take it somewhere you have never been before, and I will make certain you enjoy yourself even if I have to come along!"

Constance blinked. Then her jaw firmed. If Amelia was going to be high handed, well, so could she be. "Then I look forward to your company, Miss Cackle - wherever we end up."

If Constance had to lose her comfortable holiday routine, at least she had the satisfaction of the look on Amelia Cackle's face when she realised she had painted herself right into a corner.