'I suppose you know the Trunchbull has a lock-up cupboard in her private quarters called The Chokey? Have you heard about The Chokey?'
Matilda and Lavender shook their heads and continued to gaze up at the giant. Being very small, they were inclined to mistrust any creature that was larger than they were, especially senior girls.
'The Chokey,' Hortensia went on, 'is a very tall but very narrow cupboard. The floor is only ten inches square so you can't sit down or squat in it. You have to stand. And three of the walls are made of cement with bits of broken glass sticking out all over, so you can't lean against them. You have to stand more or less at attention all the time when you get locked up in there. It's terrible.'
'Can't you lean against the door?' Matilda asked.
'Don't be daft,' Hortensia said. 'The door's got thousands of sharp spiky nails sticking out of it. They've been hammered through from the outside, probably by the Trunchbull herself.'
'Have you ever been in there?' Lavender asked.
'My first term I was in there six times,' Hortensia said. 'Twice for a whole day and the other times for two hours each. But two hours is quite bad enough. It's pitch dark and you have to stand up dead straight and if you wobble at all you get spiked either by the glass on the walls or the nails on the door.'
'Why were you put in?' Matilda asked. 'What had you done?'
'The first time,' Hortensia said, 'I poured half a tin of Golden Syrup on to the seat of the chair the Trunchbull was going to sit on at prayers. It was wonderful. When she lowered herself into the chair, there was a loud squelching noise similar to that made by a hippopotamus when lowering its foot into the mud on the banks of the Limpopo River. But you're too small and stupid to have read the Just So Stories, aren't you?'
'I've read them,' Matilda said.
'You're a liar,' Hortensia said amiably. 'You can't even read yet. But no matter. So when the Trunchbull sat down on the Golden Syrup, the squelch was beautiful. And when she jumped up again, the chair sort of stuck to the seat of those awful green breeches she wears and came up with her for a few seconds until the thick syrup slowly came unstuck. Then she clasped her hands to the seat of her breeches and both hands got covered in the muck. You should have heard her bellow.'
'But how did she know it was you?' Lavender asked.
'A little squirt called Ollie Bogwhistle sneaked on me,' Hortensia said. 'I knocked his front teeth out.'
'And the Trunchbull put you in The Chokey for a whole day?' Matilda asked, gulping.
'All day long,' Hortensia said. 'I was off my rocker when she let me out. I was babbling like an idiot.'
'What were the other things you did to get put in The Chokey?' Lavender asked.
'Oh, I can't remember them all now,' Hortensia said. She spoke with the air of an old warrior who has been in so many battles that bravery has become commonplace. 'It's all so long ago,' she added, stuffing more crisps into her mouth. 'Ah yes, I can remember one. Here's what happened. I chose a time when I knew the Trunchbull was out of the way teaching the sixth-formers, and I put up my hand and asked to go to the bogs. But instead of going there, I sneaked into the Trunchbull's room. And after a speedy search I found the drawer where she kept all her gym knickers.'
'Go on,' Matilda said, spellbound. 'What happened next?'
'I had sent away by post, you see, for this very powerful itching-powder,' Hortensia said. 'It cost fifty pence a packet and was called The Skin-Sc
orcher. The label said it was made from the powdered teeth of deadly snakes, and it was guaranteed to raise welts the size of walnuts on your skin. So I sprinkled this stuff inside every pair of knickers in the drawer and then folded them all up again carefully.' Hortensia paused to cram more crisps into her mouth.
'Did it work?' Lavender asked.
'Well,' Hortensia said, 'a few days later, during prayers, the Trunchbull suddenly started scratching herself like mad down below. A-ha, I said to myself. Here we go. She's changed for gym already. It was pretty wonderful to be sitting there watching it all and knowing that I was the only person in the whole school who realized exactly what was going on inside the Trunchbull's pants. And I felt safe, too. I knew I couldn't be caught. Then the scratching got worse. She couldn't stop. She must have thought she had a wasp's nest down there. And then, right in the middle of the Lord's Prayer, she leapt up and grabbed her bottom and rushed out of the room.'
Both Matilda and Lavender were enthralled. It was quite clear to them that they were at this moment standing in the presence of a master. Here was somebody who had brought the art of skulduggery to the highest point of perfection, somebody, moreover, who was willing to risk life and limb in pursuit of her calling. They gazed in wonder at this goddess, and suddenly even the boil on her nose was no longer a blemish but a badge of courage.
'But how did she catch you that time?' Lavender asked, breathless with wonder.
'She didn't,' Hortensia said. 'But I got a day in The Chokey just the same.'
'Why?' they both asked.
'The Trunchbull,' Hortensia said, 'has a nasty habit of guessing. When she doesn't know who the culprit is, she makes a guess at it, and the trouble is she's often right. I was the prime suspect this time because of the Golden Syrup job, and although I knew she didn't have any proof, nothing I said made any difference. I kept shouting, "How could I have done it, Miss Trunchbull? I didn't even know you kept any spare knickers at school! I don't even know what itching-powder is! I've never heard of it!" But the lying didn't help me in spite of the great performance I put on. The Trunchbull simply grabbed me by one ear and rushed me to The Chokey at the double and threw me inside and locked the door. That was my second all-day stretch. It was absolute torture. I was spiked and cut all over when I came out.'
'It's like a war,' Matilda said, overawed.
'You're darn right it's like a war,' Hortensia cried. 'And the casualties are terrific. We are the crusaders, the gallant army fighting for our lives with hardly any weapons at all and the Trunchbull is the Prince of Darkness, the Foul Serpent, the Fiery Dragon with all the weapons at her command. It's a tough life. We all try to support each other.'
'You can rely on us,' Lavender said, making her height of three feet two inches stretch as tall as possible.