by bedtime all the faces, the voices, had blurred for charlotte to one face, one voice. she prepared herself for bed, very slowly and deliberately, cleaning her teeth with the new green toothbrush, undressing awkwardly because she did not like to hide herself in the washing cubicle with her fellow new girl, susannah; but she was on the other hand much too shy and strange...
and further into the story...
she was crying and crying for a girl who had died more than forty years before, whom, in any normal world, to any normal way of thinking, she could not have possibly have known; whom she had never seen, though she had lived with her. she was crying for herself, perhaps, and for emily.