Mrs. Phelps looked along the shelves, taking her time. She didn’t quite know what to bring out. How, she asked herself, does one choose a famous grown-up book for a four-year-old girl? Her first thought was to pick a young teenager’s romance of the kind that is written for fifteen-year-old schoolgirls, but for some reason she found herself walking past that particular shelf.

‘Try this,’ she said at last, ‘It’s very famous and very good. If it’s too long for you, just let me know and I’ll find something shorter and a bit easier.’

‘Great Expectations,’ Matilda read, ‘by Charles Dickens. I’d love to try it.’

I must be mad, Mrs. Phelps told herself, but to Matilda she said, ‘Of course you may try it.’