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very pretty blonde sixth-formers in matching minis and open-necked shirts, arranged to show off their flat, tanned, bare midriffs and belly-button piercings. They're all grinning across at Crow. Their stall is selling handbags made out of patchwork squares. Quite nice ones, actually. I feel disloyal for thinking it.
    ‘Got a customer? Ooh, Fairy. Lucky girl! Going to make your fortune?’
    They cackle with laughter, amazed at their own cleverness.

    ‘Are they always like that?’ asks Edie, indignantly.
    Crow shrugs again. Shrugging seems to be her major form of communication. I'm indignant too. I know how it must feel.
    ‘Like the hats, Fairy!’ They cackle again. Then one turns to the others and says very loudly, ‘D'you remember when she wore that gold cape? Proper little Wonder Woman she was, weren't you, Fairy? Shame it got ruined in that nasty drain.’
    They laugh hard, holding on to each other. I can imagine how the cape ended up in the nasty drain. Crow carries on drawing without any change in her expression, though. It's as if they're not there. In fact, she seems to be annoying them far more than they're annoying her.
    However, by now Edie and I are more annoyed than anyone.
    Edie picks up one of the nylon things.
    ‘How much is it?’ she asks.
    ‘Fifty p,’ Crow almost whispers, hardly raising her eyes.
    ‘I'll have three,’ Edie says loudly. ‘Nonie, how about you?’
    ‘Oh, me too,’ I agree. ‘And one of these.’
    There's a raspberry pink knitted thing peeking out from under all the nylon. I'm not sure what it is, but I'm happy to pay two pounds for it.
    ‘And I'll have one as well,’ says a voice right behind me. It's Harry. He seems relaxed enough but I can tell fromthe way he's breathing that he's as annoyed as the rest of us.
    Startled, Crow starts putting things in bags and collecting up our proffered coins.
    ‘Actually, we're from Teen magazine,’ Edie adds after a moment's thought, still keeping her voice up. ‘My friend here's our stylist and this is one of our staff photographers. We love your stuff and we'd like to feature you. Such a shame everything else today is so TRASHY. Here's my card.’
    She hands something across to Crow, which on inspection turns out to be her library card.
    Then she turns on her heel and sweeps off, with me sweeping after her and Harry bringing up the rear, after running off a few shots of the stall for effect.
    ‘Ooooh, Fairy!’ we hear just before we head out of earshot. But it sounds like air coming out of a balloon. The blondies’ hearts don't seem to be in it any more. And Crow seems to be too busy examining the library card to notice.
    Once we're outside the playground, Harry throws his arms around Edie and hugs her.
    ‘Well done! You could be Wonder Woman yourself, you know.’ Then he laughs. ‘You're shaking.’
    She is. I can see it now. It must be a mixture of nerves and indignation.
    ‘We have to DO something,’ she splutters.

    ‘I certainly owe her one,’ Harry says. ‘I got another great picture out of it.’
    He scrolls through the pictures on his camera and shows us the one he means. It's of the blondies, all clustered together, looking gorgeous, but positively evil.
    ‘I'm going to call it ‘The Three Bitches’. See?’
    Edie nods wisely, then sees my dumb expression. ‘He means like the three witches. Macbeth. Get it?’
    I sigh. It wouldn't surprise me to know she's read all the works of Shakespeare in between the Jane Austens.
    ‘You can have these, by the way,’ she adds, thrusting her bag of nylon things at me. ‘They're more your style than mine.’
    By which she means they're more weird than wonderful, which is probably true. I can't wait to get them home, though, to find out for sure.

I  t's late afternoon, and Edie and I are standing in Leicester Square, praying that the unsummery dark-grey clouds that have suddenly appeared don't actually spill their contents onto us until all the people in silk and