“You have to be terrifically strong. The Trunchbull will throw anything around just to keep her arm in, especially children.”
“Good heavens,” Lavender said. “I once heard her say,” Hortensia went on, “that a large boy is about the same weight as an Olympic hammer”
“and therefore he's very useful for practising with.”
At that point something strange happened.
The playground, which up to then had been filled with shrieks and the shouting of children at play, all at once became silent as the grave.
“Watch out,” Hortensia whispered. Matilda and Lavender glanced round and saw the gigantic figure of Miss Trunchbull
advancing through the crowd of boys and girls with menacing strides.
The children drew back hastily to let her through
and her progress across the asphalt was like that of Moses going through the Red Sea when the waters parted.
A formidable figure she was too, in her belted smock and green breeches.
Below the knees her calf muscles stood out like grapefruits inside her stockings.
“Amanda Thripp!” she was shouting. “You, Amanda Thripp, come here!”
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