dunno

Mrs Mesman was a stern woman, to be messed with. Now in her twilight years she had opted for a quiet life; unfortunately this wasn't to be. After fifty years as head matron of Institute for children, a peaceful retirement was just always out of reach. On this typical Friday night Mrs Mesman was sitting alone in her fathers old home with a glass of brandy next to the telephone (perhaps her son would call tonight?)
The hours ticked by with no friendly voice to converse with. A group of teens loitered for a while outside her home but she couldn't summon the energy to go outside and send them on their way, after all she had spent too many of her years telling horrible children how to behave. She had a go at watching television but found the content of every channel utter rubbish.
It wasn't until around midnight that anything interesting happened, the disruption she had been waiting for; a phone call from Elizabeth, almost hysterical, urgently requesting her assistance at the school. Mrs Mesman got up from her chair, fetched her traveling coat and headed out into the night at a brisk pace down the cobble-stone street. Barely ten minutes later she rounded the corner and came in sight of the large brick building, light poring from every window (at this hour!) Dozens of voices met her ears as if carried on the wind; laughing, crying, screaming, singing, complaining.
'I'm far too old for this', she thought as she opened the rusting gate and started up the path. As soon as she opened the door she was hit by an avalanche of noise. The chaos was even more than she had anticipated; chilren out of bed, Elizabeth no-where to be seen, nurses running around like headless chickens, a broken window! A small boy caught sight of Mrs Mesman his smile dropped faster than an anchor ...(not finished)