Slightly damaged street cred

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The taxi sped importantly up the impressive gravel driveway to the main entrance of Ransom's. Seldon felt massaged by the school's reassuringly disdainful facade, which exuded an effortless patina of success and kudos. Under the circumstances, therefore, it was rather unfortunate that the Head chose this precise moment to pull up in her brand new, disconcertingly nouveau-riche sports cabriolet. It was incongruous. Seldon had somehow envisaged the Head of Ransom's owning something rather more low-key and substantial - a Volvo estate perhaps. As it was, her car seat was so close to the ground that she could not extract herself from the depths of the vehicle without treating the observer to the unsolicited privilege of two spindly, flailing legs, reminiscent of a large spider trying to wriggle out of a crack in a wall. The indignity was enhanced on this occasion by an unexpectedly generous viewing of a white cotton gusset. Not so much Volvo estate as vulva-in-state, chuckled Eva to herself, although she was practiced in keeping her humour well hidden from parents, even prospective parents, such as Seldon

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