Margaret and the Moth Tree Read Online Free PDF Page B

poke or pinch or tease, they never seem satisfied, which is a pity for whoever is being poked and pinched. The truth about bullies is that every one of them has a sore spot that pokes and pinches at
them,
like a bad stomachache or a pesky thorn stuck in their side. The sore spot might be caused by loneliness, or jealousy, or even fear, but every single bully has one, and it never goes away no matter how much bullying they do.
    Miss Switch, who was one of the biggest bullies of all, was no different. Though she brought orphan after terrified orphan to the brink of despair, she never seemed satisfied, and the sore spot never went away. For the thorn sticking in Miss Switch’s side was
beauty
.
    Though anyone would say that the Matron was beautiful now, she knew she had once been much more than that. Not so many years ago, she had been breathtaking — the type of person you would stop and stare at if you saw her walking down the street.
    One day when she was quite young, two people had stopped to stare at her who were very important indeed.
    â€œRolph! Do you see zat girl?” one of them said, a woman with dark sunglasses and tall spiky heels.
    â€œOh my, yes!” said Rolph, who wore a long ponytail. “Dah-ling!”
    â€œExcusez-moi!” cried the woman, waving a silk handkerchief at Miss Switch. “Mademoiselle, a moment!”
    And they swooped down on the young Miss Switch like hungry bees on a flower.
    â€œ ’Ave you ever posed for a portrait?” asked the woman.
    â€œDah-ling, what a face!” cried Rolph.
    Young Miss Switch, who was unused to this sort of attention, had a feeling that a wonderful new life was about to start for her.
    As it turned out, the spiky-heeled woman was called Estella Isabella, and she owned a very successful fashion magazine. Rolph, who had no last name, was a world-famous photographer. They both found Miss Switch to be so lovely that from that point on, her only job was to sit for portraits.
    In the grand scheme of things, sitting for portraits is neither a useful nor an interesting job. But Miss Switch didn’t mind. She made a large group of stylish new friends and bought all the best clothing and jewelry to adorn herself with. Each day seemed better and more glamorous than the last, and she truly believed that she could very happily spend the rest of her life in the world of fashion.
    In that world, you see, people with beautiful faces have a lot of control over those around them. And Miss Switch, with the most beautiful face of all, controlled a great many people.
    She controlled the man who painted on her makeup and the seamstresses who hemmed her gowns. She controlled the girl who brought her lunch and the woman who cleaned her dressing room. If she didn’t like the way things were done, she could pout and hold up everyone’s day until she got her way. Her portraits were so important to everyone that no one dared refuse her anything.
    But the one thing Switch couldn’t control was time.
    Years passed, and her shiny hair became the tiniest bit duller. Her skin became just a smidgen less glowing. And one fateful day, just as Switch was about to have her portrait taken with an enormous peacock, the makeup man screamed and dropped his brush.
    â€œWhat is it?” said Miss Switch in alarm, for he looked as though he’d seen something really dreadful.
    â€œNothing to worry about!” said the man. “I’ll just need some more powder.”
    But when Miss Switch checked her reflection in the mirror, she saw what had made the makeup man scream. Right in the middle of her smooth forehead was a tiny wrinkle.
    That was the last photograph ever taken of Miss Switch. Rolph stopped asking her for portraits, and Estella wouldn’t return her phone calls.
    Switch lingered near the fashionable shops and restaurants in the hope of bumping into them, but all the waiters and shopkeepers who had once been so happy to see her now