Over Hill and Dale

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P E NGUIN B OOK S OV E R HILL A ND DA LE Gervas e P hinn is a teac her, freelanc e lec turer, author, poet, s c hool ins pec tor, educ ational c ons ultant, and vis iting profes s or of educ ation - but none of thes e is m ore im portant to him than his fam ily. Over the years Gervas e taught in a range of s c hools before m oving to North Y orks hire, where he s pent ten years as a s c hool ins pec tor. A s well as writing for adults , Gervas e is als o a s uc c es s ful c hildren's author publis hed by P uffin. Gervas e P hinn lives with his fam ily near Donc as ter. 'Greetings from Gervas e' is a quarterly em ail with all the lates t news from Gervas e P hinn. T o s ign up, go to www.penguin.c o.uk/s ubs c ribe and enter your em ail addres s . T hen tic k the box m arked 'Gervas e P hinn' and fill in your details to be added to Gervas e's lis t.

OVER HILL AND DALE Gervase Phinn

P E NGUIN B OOK S

P E NGUIN B OOK S P ublis hed by the P enguin Group P enguin B ooks Ltd, 80 S trand, London W C2R 0RL, E ngland P enguin Group (US A ) Inc ., 375 Huds on S treet, New Y ork, New Y ork 10014, US A P enguin Group (Canada), 90 E glinton A venue E as t, S uite 700, T oronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y 3 (a divis ion of P ears on P enguin Canada Inc .) P enguin Ireland, 25 S t S tephen's Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a divis ion of P enguin B ooks Ltd) P enguin Group (A us tralia), 250 Cam berwell Road, Cam berwell, V ic toria 3124, A us tralia (a divis ion of P ears on A us tralia Group P ty Ltd) P enguin B ooks India P vt Ltd, 11 Com m unity Centre, P anc hs heel P ark, New Delhi - 110 017, India P enguin Group (NZ), 67 A pollo Drive, Ros edale, North S hore 0632, New Zealand (a divis ion of P ears on New Zealand Ltd) P enguin B ooks (S outh A fric a) (P ty) Ltd, 24 S turdee A venue, Ros ebank, J ohannes burg 2196, S outh A fric a P enguin B ooks Ltd, Regis tered Offic es : 80 S trand, London W C2R 0RL, E ngland www.penguin.c om Firs t publis hed by Mic hael J os eph 2000 P ublis hed in P enguin B ooks 2001 34 Copyright (c ) Gervas e P hinn, 2000 A ll rights res erved T he m oral right of the author has been as s erted E xc ept in the United S tates of A m eric a, this book is s old s ubjec t to the c ondition that it s hall not, by way of trade or otherwis e, be lent, re-s old, hired out, or otherwis e c irc ulated without the publis her's prior c ons ent in any form of binding or c over other than that in whic h it is publis hed and without a s im ilar c ondition inc luding this c ondition being im pos ed on the s ubs equent purc has er IS B N: 978-0-14-195683-1

Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 Rem em ber Me?

For my mother and father, P at and J immy P hinn, my firs t and bes t teac hers

I s hould like to rec ord the im m ens e debt of gratitude that I owe to J enny Dereham , m y editor, for her invaluable advic e and s upport and for her wis dom and patienc e. The Ins pec tor Calls (fac ing page) and Remember M e? (page 343) both appear in It Tak es One to K now One publis hed by P uffin B ooks , 2001.

The Inspector Calls

Mis s , m is s , there's a m an at the bac k of the c las s room W ith a big blac k book and a s m ile like a c roc odile. Mis s , he as ked m e if I got a lot of hom ework, A nd when I s aid, 'T oo m uc h! ' - he wrote it down. Mis s , m is s , there's a m an at the bac k of the c las s room W ith a long s harp penc il and eyes like a s hark. Mis s , he as ked m e what I liked bes t about our s c hool, A nd when I s aid, 'T he dinners ! ' - he wrote it down. Mis s , m is s , there's a m an at the bac k of the c las s room W ith a big s quare badge and hair like a hedgehog. Mis s , I as ked him what he liked bes t about our s c hool, A nd he s aid he was not there to ans wer m y ques tions , He s aid he was jus t 'a fly on the wall'. Mis s , m is s , why don't you tell him to 'B UZZ OFF! '

1

Dr Gore, Chief E duc ation Offic er for the County of Y orks hire, s m iled like a hungry vam pire, the s ort of thin-lipped, s elf-s atis fied s m ile of Count Drac ula before he s inks his fangs into a helples s vic tim . 'A nd how are you, Gervas e?' he m outhed s oftly, s howing a glim ps e of teeth. 'Oh... er... very well, thank you, Dr Gore,' I replied, attem pting to s ound c heerful and relaxed. 'Good, good,' the CE O m urm ured. He s tared for a m om ent over the top of his s m all, gold-fram ed s pec tac les and then, res ting his elbows on the large m ahogany des k in front of him , s teepled his long fingers and nodded thoughtfully. 'A nd how have you found your firs t year with us in Yorks hire?' he as ked. His voic e was as s oft as the s um m er breeze. 'Oh... er... very well, thank you, Dr Gore,' I replied for the s ec ond tim e and s hifted nervous ly in the c hair. He c ontinued to s m ile and s teeple his long fingers without s aying a word. In the em barras s ed s ilenc e whic h followed I heard the s low tic king of the c loc k on the wall, s queaking foots teps in the c orridor outs ide, the dis tant hum of traffic on the High S treet and a s light buzzing of a faulty fluores c ent light in the outer offic e. 'I think, well, quite good ac tually, quite s uc c es s ful...' My voic e trailed off. I s ounded inc redibly inartic ulate for the County Ins pec tor of S c hools for E nglis h and Dram a. 'Not too bad,' I s aid finally. 'Good, good,' the CE O s aid alm os t in a whis per. 'I expec t you are wondering why I s ent for you s o early in the new ac adem ic year?' he c ontinued, s m iling and s teepling. 'Y es , I w as wondering,' I replied nervous ly. T he m orning had s tarted off s o well. I had arrived at the E duc ation Offic e in Fettles ham that firs t day of the new term , bright and early and keen to be bac k at work. A warm S eptem ber s un had s hone in a c loudles s s ky, the air had been fres h and s till, the birds s inging and everything had s eem ed right with the world. Over the s um m er break, while the s c hools had been on holiday, I had m anaged to c lear m y des k of the m ountain of paperwork. Reports had been c om pleted, guidelines written, c ours es planned, c orres pondenc e dealt with and doc um ents had been filed away neatly. I had s urveyed the em pty des k with a s ens e of real s atis fac tion and ac hievem ent. It had been a fas c inating firs t year, oc c as ionally exhaus ting and frus trating, but for m os t of the tim e full of variety and c hallenge. T he c olleagues with whom I worked and s hared an offic e had been im m ens ely s upportive during m y induc tion into the profes s ion of s c hool ins pec tor. T here was Dr Harold Yeats , the S enior Ins pec tor, S idney Clam p, the unpredic table and larger-than-life c reative and vis ual arts ins pec tor and David P ritc hard, the s m all, good-hum oured W els hm an res pons ible for m athem atic s , P E and gam es . W e got on well together and were s upported and kept in order by J ulie, the ins pec tors ' s ec retary. T hat firs t year, I had worked alongs ide teac hers in the c las s room , organis ed c ours es and c onferenc es , direc ted works hops , run s em inars and attended governors ' m eetings and appointm ent panels . T he m os t interes ting part of the job, however, had involved vis iting the s m all rural prim ary s c hools in the heart of the beautiful Y orks hire Dales , to s pend a m orning or an afternoon obs erving les s ons , looking at the c hildren's work and reporting on the quality of the teac hing and learning. A s I s at at m y em pty des k, thinking about the quiet, uneventful, s tres s -free day ahead of m e, I heard a c lattering on the s tairs , telling m e that a m om ent later J ulie would totter in on thos e abs urdly high-heeled s hoes s he was s o fond of wearing. In m y firs t year J ulie had been invaluable. Not only was s he very effic ient, good-hum oured and extrem ely c om ic al, s he had thos e qualities often pos s es s ed by Yorks hire people - generous to a fault, hard-working but with a blunt nature and a fierc e hones ty, c harac teris tic s whic h often got her into trouble. W ith her bright bubbly blonde hair and bright bubbly nature, J ulie was a breath of fres h air in the drab and c ram ped offic e. T hat m orning s he s truggled into the room , breathing heavily and loaded down with as s orted bags , papers and files . I jum ped up to help her. 'I feel like s om e s ort of peripatetic c ar boot s ale! ' s he c ried, dropping her load nois ily on the neares t des k. B efore I c ould open m y m outh s he c ontinued, 'I s tarted off with a handbag and a bit of s hopping but c ollec ted all this little lot on m y way from the bus s top. A s I was pas s ing Com m ittee Room 1, Debbie - you know, the big wom an with the peroxide hair who always wears thos e awful pink knitted outfits - as ked m e to take Mr P ritc hard's briefc as e whic h he left there las t term . Forget his head if it was n't s c rewed on. I m ean that briefc as e has been there for s ix weeks . It wouldn't have done Debbie any harm to bring the briefc as e up hers elf. T he c lim b up the s tairs would have given her a bit of exerc is e. S he c ould do with los ing a few pounds . A nyway, when I got to the P os t Room that Derek - you know, the gangly lad with the s pec tac les and big ears - as ked m e to pic k up the ins pec tors ' m ail s inc e I was going that way anyway. T hen I had thes e c onfidential s taffing files pus hed into m y hands when I reac hed P ers onnel. T hey weigh a ton. I don't know why Dr Yeats didn't pic k them up him s elf. I m us t have looked like an old pac k hors e, s tum bling along the c orridors of County Hall.' S he s hook her head and breathed out heavily. 'I'm too goodnatured by half, that's m y trouble. A nd I've s nagged a nail.' S he began to root about in her handbag and c ontinued c hattering on without paus ing. 'A nyway, how are you?' I attem pted a res pons e but without s uc c es s . 'I had a nail file in here s om ewhere, I'm s ure I did,' s he c ontinued. 'I don't know about you, but I c ould m urder a s trong c up of c offee.' W ithout waiting for an ans wer s he dis appeared out of the room . 'Good m orning, J ulie! ' I s houted after her, at las t getting a word in. I thought of the wonderfully des c riptive and rather unkind Yorks hire expres s ion to des c ribe a pers on, jus t like J ulie, who s o enjoys talking about anything and everything that it bec om es alm os t a running c om m entary: 'S he's got a runaway gob - talks and s ays nowt and s he's s aid nowt when s he's done.' A few m inutes later, when I was s orting through m y m ail, J ulie returned with two s team ing m ugs . I watc hed as s he s et one m ug down on m y des k and c upped her hands around the other. 'Y ou're very quiet today,' s he s aid. 'Is s om ething wrong?' 'Nothing at all, J ulie,' I replied am iably, putting m y letters into the in-tray on m y des k. T hen I as ked a ques tion whic h I im m ediately regretted, for it s tarted her off on another m onologue. 'How was your holiday?' 'Don't as k! ' 'Not too good then?' I hazarded, looking up and reac hing for the c offee. 'A wful! I went to Majorc a with m y boyfriend. It took m onths to pers uade him , bec aus e P aul's about as adventurous as a dead s heep when it c om es to holidays and, of c ours e, his m other has to put her two pennyworth in about foreign food, plane c ras hes and hijac kers . A nyway, the flight was delayed s o we had a four-hour wait at Manc hes ter A irport with him m oaning and groaning. T hen I was s topped at c us tom s by a horrible little m an in blac k. I got S panis h tum m y the day after I arrived and P aul fell as leep in the s un and woke up like a lobs ter with an attitude problem . T hen he c am e out in blis ters the s ize of balloons and wouldn't leave the room . He s aid he looked like s om ething out of a horror film and when I agreed he didn't s peak to m e for two days . T he hotel was only half built and the pool was full of s poilt, s c ream ing c hildren. W e had karaoke every night until two in the m orning with a tone-deaf Dutc hm an s inging "I Did It My W ay" at the top of his voic e and a wom an from Dudley who s ounded like a s heep about to give birth. A nd if you got down after eight o'c loc k in the m orning you c ould s ay goodbye to the s unbeds . W e'll go to S kegnes s next year in his auntie's c aravan. A nyway, what was your holiday like?' 'Oh, very res tful,' I told her. 'I m anaged to get away for a few days and -' B efore I c ould elaborate J ulie dived in with her c harac teris tic bluntnes s . 'A nd did you s ee m uc h of that s exy teac her you were taking out?' 'Unfortunately, not a great deal,' I replied s m iling and thinking of what Chris tine's reac tion would be to J ulie's c om m ent about her. I had m et Chris tine alm os t exac tly a year earlier when I had vis ited the infant s c hool where s he was the Headteac her. S he had appeared like s om e vis ion and I had been bowled over by thos e large blue eyes , warm s m ile, fair c om plexion and s oft m as s of golden hair. A fter a long period s pent s um m oning up the c ourage, and with c ons tant nagging from m y c olleagues in the offic e, I had as ked her out. W e had been to the theatre and the c inem a, to a c onc ert and various s c hool events and as eac h day pas s ed I felt s ure I was falling in love with her. W hen I had firs t m et Chris tine s he had had a boyfriend - Miles . He was everything I was not: s trikingly hands om e, with the s ort of s c ulptured features of a m ale m odel. He was lean, athletic , s ophis tic ated and s uave and he was als o very wealthy. B ut Miles had thos e flaws of c harac ter often pos s es s ed by m en who are ric h and hands om e: he was arrogant and s elf-c entred. To m y delight, Chris tine had, in S idney's words , 'given him the old heave-ho', whic h was when I had c hanc ed m y arm and as ked her out. Over the rec ent s um m er holidays I had not s een very m uc h of her. S he had s pent three weeks in Chic ago, s taying with a c ous in and a further week writing up a dis s ertation for a m as ters degree. W e had enjoyed a day walking on the North Y ork Moors and been to the theatre and out to dinner a c ouple of tim es . T his term I was determ ined, I was going to s ee a whole lot m ore of her. 'S o what's happening with you two then?' as ked J ulie. S he was not one to beat about the bus h. 'W hat do you m ean, what's happening?' 'W ell, are you getting it together? Is it s erious ?' 'I'm not s ure...' I s tarted. J ulie folded her arm s and pulled a fac e. 'T ypic al of m en that - "I'm not s ure." J us t like P aul.' S he put on a s ort of whining voic e. ' "I'm not s ure about going to Majorc a, I'm not s ure this is the right flight, I'm not s ure I'll like this S panis h food, I'm not s ure -" ' I dec ided to c hange the s ubjec t. 'A m I the only one in the offic e this m orning?' 'It's always the wom an who has to m ake the dec is ions . W hat did you s ay?' 'I as ked if I was the only one in the offic e this m orning?' 'J us t you. Mr Clam p's planning his art c ours e, Mr P ritc hard's m eeting with the newly qualified teac hers and Dr Y eats is at a c onferenc e. T here's not m uc h m ail either, by the look of it.' 'S o,' I s aid happily, 'it looks like a quiet s tart to the term .' 'Not nec es s arily,' s aid J ulie. 'Mrs S avage phoned las t Friday.' A t this point her lip c urled like a rabid dog and her voic e bec am e hard-edged. 'S he wondered where you were. I s aid, "P eople do take holidays , you know." If s he'd have bothered to look at thos e wretc hed ins pec tors ' engagem ent s heets I have to s end over to A dm in. every week, s he'd have s een that you were on leave. S he jus t likes the s ound of her own voic e and it's not her real voic e anyway. S he puts it on. I don't know who s he thinks s he's trying to im pres s .' I began to c huc kle and s hake m y head. 'Y ou've really got it in for Mrs S avage this m orning, J ulie, and no m is take. S he's not that bad.' 'S he's unbearable. "Ho," s ays s he, "well tell Mr P hinn, when he returns , thet Dr Gore wis hes to s ee him in his room has a m etter of hurgenc y at nine hey hem prom pt." Made you s ound like a naughty s c hoolboy. T hen s he s lam s the phone down with no trac e of a "pleas e" or a "thank you".' J ulie's fac e s c rewed up as if s he had c hronic indiges tion. 'T hat awful voic e of hers really gets under m y s kin.' Mrs S avage, the CE O's pers onal as s is tant, was not the m os t popular of people in our offic e nor was s he the eas ies t wom an to get on with. S he had a form idable reputation with a s harp tongue and a s tare that c ould c urdle m ilk; s he definitely was not a pers on with whom to c ros s s words . I had kept a wary dis tanc e after battling with her the previous year. 'A nd s peaking of getting under people's s kin,' s aid J ulie, 'I rec kon s he's had her fac e done.' 'W ho?' I as ked. 'Mrs S avage. W hen I s aw her las t week in the s taff c anteen I didn't rec ognis e her. Her s kin's been s tretc hed right bac k off her fac e. S he looks as if s he's walking through a wind tunnel. A ll thos e wrinkles have dis appeared. A nd s he did have s om e lines on her fac e, didn't s he? Looked like s om ething out of that s hop in the High S treet where they s ell all thos e wrinkled leather c oats . T hos e two pouc hes under her c hin have gone as well.' 'I don't rem em ber her having pouc hes .' 'Of c ours e you do! S he looked like a gerbil with m um ps . A nd I think s he's had that rhinos uc tion bec aus e s he looks a lot thinner as well.' 'Lipos uc tion,' I c orrec ted. 'S he's that thic k-s kinned, I think I was right firs t tim e. S he gave m e s uc h a glare. I tell you, if looks c ould m aim , I'd be on c rutc hes .' 'A nd s he s aid Dr Gore wanted to s ee m e?' 'S he's unbearable that wom an,' s aid J ulie with venom , 'you would think -' 'J ulie! ' I s napped. 'Did Mrs S avage s ay that Dr Gore wanted to s ee m e?' 'A t nine o'c loc k prom pt. T hat's what Lady High and Mighty s aid.' 'I wonder what it's about?' 'S he puts on that pos h ac c ent and that hoity-toity m anner but it does n't fool m e. Marlene on the s witc hboard rem em bers her when s he s tarted as an offic e junior. T hat's when her hair c olour was natural. S he had a voic e as broad as a barn door and as c roaky as a frog with laryngitis . T hen s he went through all thos e hus bands like a dos e of s alts and was prom oted far beyond her c apabilities and s he now s peaks as if s he's got a potato in her m outh.' 'I think the expres s ion is "a plum in her m outh".' 'W ith a m outh like hers , it's definitely a potato. W hen I think of the tim es -' 'Did s he s ay what Dr Gore wanted?' I interrupted. I was feeling rather uneas y about this interview with the CE O s o early on in the term . A s m all c old dread was s ettling into the pit of m y s tom ac h. 'No, I never gave her the c hanc e. I keep all c onvers ations with that wom an as s hort as pos s ible. A nyone would think s he was royalty the way s he c arries on. It m ight be prom otion.' 'P ardon?' 'W hy Dr Gore wants to s ee you. Y ou know, a s tep up. Doubtful though - you've only been here a year and a bit. Could be a c om plaint from a governor or an angry headteac her.' 'T hat's all I need the firs t week bac k,' I s ighed. 'T hen again,' s aid J ulie, with a m is c hievous glint in her eye, 'it c ould be one of his little jobs .' 'Oh no! ' I exc laim ed. 'Not one of his little jobs ! P leas e don't let it be one of his little jobs ! ' I was well ac quainted with Dr Gore's little jobs , having been given s everal in m y firs t year - and they were never 'little' jobs . T here had been the c ounty-wide reading s urvey and the full audit of s ec ondary s c hool libraries followed by a detailed report to the E duc ation Com m ittee. T here had been the inves tigation into the teac hing of s pelling, the produc tion of a s eries of guideline doc um ents for teac hers , and the organis ing of the vis it of the Minis ter of E duc ation. A ll this was extra work on the top of the c ours es , ins pec tions and report writing. I prayed it was not one of Dr Gore's little jobs . Dr Gore, Chief E duc ation Offic er for the County of Yorks hire, c ontinued to s m ile like a hungry vam pire as he leaned forward in his c hair. He peered over his glas s es , his eyes glinting like c hips of glas s . 'W ell, Gervas e,' he m urm ured, s troking his brow with a long finger. I jus t knew what he was going to s ay. He was going to s ay, 'I have a little job for you.' 'I have a little job for you,' he s aid. T en m inutes later J ulie was waiting for m e at the top of the s tairs . 'W ell?' 'One gues s .' 'A little job?' 'Right firs t tim e.' 'I'll put the c offee on.' I followed her into the offic e. 'A c tually it's not too bad,' I s aid c heerfully, rattling the c hange in m y trous er poc ket. 'Dr Gore's as ked m e to organis e a vis it of one of Her Majes ty's Ins pec tors for later this term . He wants to look at s om e s c hools as part of a national inform ation gathering exerc is e on literac y s tandards . I jus t have to nom inate a num ber of s c hools and arrange things , nothing m as s ively dem anding in that. I c an ring round the s c hools this m orning and get a letter off to the Minis try. T here's not m uc h els e for m e to do today. T he only fly in the ointm ent is having to liais e with Mrs S avage.' J ulie pulled the s c rewed-up fac e again and c lattered out of the offic e. 'Forget the c offee,' s he s aid, 'I'll get the brandy.' One bright m orning a week later I was looking c as ually through m y pos t when I c am e upon a frighteningly offic ial-looking doc um ent. On the envelope there was a large royal c res t with a lion ram pant and rearing unic orn and topped with a c rown. T he letter ins ide had a blac k em bos s ed heading - The M inistry of E ducation - and ended with a large flouris h of a s ignature. I rec ognis ed the nam e: Mis s W . de la Mare. Mis s de la Mare, Her Majes ty's P rinc ipal Divis ional Ins pec tor of S c hools , had c ontac ted m e the previous year when I had been given the 'little job' of arranging the vis it of the Minis ter of E duc ation. S he had barked down the telephone at J ulie that s he had wanted to s peak to m e to dis c us s the vis it and then had prom ptly hung up. J ulie had told m e that the s peaker 'was like a grizzly bear with toothac he' and had given a nam e whic h s ounded like 'Deadly S tare'. In the event Mis s de la Mare's bark was far wors e than her bite. In the letter I had now, s he reques ted that I arrange a s eries of vis its to s c hools 'whic h dem ons trate good prac tic e in the teac hing of reading and writing' and whic h 's how good breadth, balanc e and c ontinuity in the c urric ulum '. S he was partic ularly interes ted in poetry. I knew jus t the s c hool for her to vis it: B ac kwaters thwaite P rim ary, the very firs t s c hool I had c alled at when I had s tarted in m y new c areer as an ins pec tor a year earlier. It had been the firs t week of the job. A fter a frus trating two-hour s earc h up and down the dale, along m uddy, twis ting roads , ac ros s anc ient s tone bridges , up dirt trac ks and through c ountles s pic tures que villages , I had eventually dis c overed B ac kwaters thwaite S c hool. T he Headteac her, Mr Lapping, a tall, lean m an with grey, frizzy hair like a pile of wire wool, had not been expec ting m e but was entirely unperturbed when I inform ed him that I was a County S c hool Ins pec tor vis iting to exam ine the c hildren's work and s c rutinis e the s c hool doc um entation. I had c alled at the s c hool again a c ouple of tim es during the year and had been im m ens ely im pres s ed by the quality of the educ ation. T he c hildren were polite and well-behaved, they ans wered ques tions with enthus ias m and perc eption, read with c onfidenc e and expres s ion and wrote the m os t poignant and vivid poetry. I replied prom ptly to the letter from the Minis try of E duc ation s ugges ting five s c hools for Mis s de la Mare to vis it and offering to ac c om pany her to B ac kwaters thwaite. I c ertainly did not want her to s pend half the day, as I had done, travelling bac kwards and forwards through the dale in s earc h of the elus ive s c hool. A c ouple of days later a s ec ond rather s harp-s ounding letter arrived from the Minis try of E duc ation inform ing m e that Mis s de la Mare was grateful for the lis t of s uitable s c hools and for m y offer to ac c om pany her on one of the vis its , but s he would prefer to go alone. I im m ediately telephoned the headteac hers at the c hos en s c hools forewarning them of the HMI's vis itation. 'W ell, thank you very m uc h,' s ighed George Lapping down the line. 'T hank you very m uc h indeed. I know now who m y friends really are.' I c ould gues s from the tone of his voic e that he was s ec retly pleas ed but he m ade the pretenc e of dis pleas ure. 'I have attem pted, Gervas e, over the m any years I have been a teac her and headteac her in this vas t and beautiful c ounty, to avoid the attentions of s c hool ins pec tors . My s c hool is is olated, diffic ult to find and s ubtly dis guis ed to res em ble the fac ade of a private dwelling. I have kept m y head down, got on with m y teac hing and not done too bad a job, even if I s ay s o m ys elf. Now, with your rec ent arrival in the c ounty, B ac kwaters thwaite has been put firm ly on the m ap. I gues s there will be c oac hes c reeping up the dale full of educ ationalis ts and res earc hers , m aybe day trippers and s c hool parties . Now I have an HMI putting m e under the m ic ros c ope.' 'Y ou s hould be very flattered that I rec om m ended your s c hool, George,' I replied. 'It's a m ark of the exc ellent work whic h your pupils ac hieve. A s S hakes peare would have it, "S om e are born great, s om e ac hieve greatnes s and s om e have greatnes s thrus t upon them ." ' 'B ut I have an HM I thrus t upon m e. W ell, I jus t hope he has the s am e diffic ulty finding the s c hool as you did when you firs t c am e here, Gervas e. I c an't be doing with vis itors . T hey interrupt m y teac hing routine with all their ques tions . A nyway, when is this vis it likely to take plac e?' 'Oh, s om e tim e this term ,' I replied. 'I'm not exac tly s ure, but I s hould im agine that you'll be given very good warning. B y the way, George -' I was about to tell him that the HMI in ques tion would be a wom an but he c ut m e off. 'A nd I do not intend putting on anything s pec ial for him . He'll jus t have to take us as he finds us . A nyway, if he intends c om ing out in Novem ber or Dec em ber, he had better rec ons ider. It's like T ibet up here in the winter.' I tried again to explain that the HMI intending to vis it him was not a m an but Mis s de la Mare, and quite a forc eful c harac ter at that, but he never gave m e the c hanc e. 'I s hall have to go. B reak is over and there's c hildren to teac h. I'll let you know how I get on.' W ith that the line went dead. A s s oon as I had replac ed the rec eiver, however, the telephone rang. I s natc hed it up. 'George,' I s aid, as s um ing it would be the previous s peaker, 'I m eant to s ay that the HMI -' T he voic e whic h replied was c oldly form al. 'T his is Mrs S avage.' I jum ped as if s om eone had poured a buc ket of c old water down m y bac k. 'Is that Mr P hinn?' 'Y es , yes , Mrs S avage,' I s aid. 'I thought you were s om eone els e.' 'Mr P hinn,' s he s aid prim ly, 'it was m y unders tanding that you and I were going to liais e?' 'Going to what?' I as ked. 'Liais e,' s he repeated. 'I unders tood from Dr Gore that we were going to liais e over the vis it of the HMI.' 'Oh yes , he did s ort of m ention s om ething about that.' 'Mr P hinn, Dr Gore does not s ort of m ention s om ething. Dr Gore is always very s pec ific and prec is e and he c learly inform ed m e that you were going to get in touc h to liais e about this intended vis it of the HMI. I was to deal with all the adm inis trative arrangem ents .' 'I s ee,' I s aid lam ely. 'Clearly you do not s ee, Mr P hinn.' 'I'm s orry?' 'I have not heard a thing,' s he s aid tartly. W hen I did not res pond s he c ontinued. 'I did telephone earlier in the week but your s ec retary - who is not the eas ies t pers on to deal with I have to s ay - was in rather a tetc hy m ood. S om ething had obvious ly got under her s kin that m orning.' A t the m ention of 's kin' and J ulie I rec alled the earlier c onvers ation about Mrs S avage's plas tic s urgery. I winc ed and held m y breath to keep from laughing. 'A re you s till there?' c am e a s trident voic e down the line. 'Y es , yes , I am .' 'A nd then this m orning, as I was dealing with Dr Gore's c orres pondenc e, I c am e ac ros s a letter from the Minis try of E duc ation inform ing him that the vis its have already been arranged.' 'T he thing is , it was a pretty s im ple tas k, Mrs S avage,' I s aid. 'I s aw no reas on to bother you about it.' I heard a s ort of c luc king nois e down the telephone. 'S o I take it that you have c ontac ted the s c hools , arranged the vis its and organis ed everything els e as well?' I c ould im agine the s tiffening of the s houlders , the hawk-like c ountenanc e and the flas hing eyes . 'Y es , I have.' 'I s ee. W ell perhaps you will do m e the c ourtes y, next tim e we are as ked to liais e, of letting m e know that you intend to do it all yours elf.'

'I s hall, of c ours e, be inform ing Dr Gore of the s ituation. I expec t you have s ent him all the details ?' 'It is in draft now,' I s aid, pulling a c lean pad of paper towards m e, 'and he will have it in the m orning.' T here was an em barras s ed s ilenc e followed by the c luc king nois e again. 'W ell, there s eem s little m ore to s ay.' W ith that s he replac ed the rec eiver. I took a deep, deep breath, turned to the window and exhaled nois ily. T he m orning had s tarted off s o well. How things c an c hange in a m atter of hours , I thought to m ys elf. I prayed that I would s ee little of Mrs S avage in the term ahead. A s things turned out, m y prayers were not ans wered.

2

'Mis s , who's that funny m an at the bac k of the c las s room ?' T he s peaker was a s m all, s toc ky boy of about nine or ten with a s hoc k of thic k, red hair. 'T hat's not a funny m an, Oliver,' replied the teac her s m iling and c olouring a little, 'that's Mr P hinn.' 'W ell, who is he, m is s ?' as ked the c hild. 'He's a vis itor, c om e to s ee how well we are getting on.' 'B ut what does he do, m is s ?' pers is ted the little boy s taring intently at m e with c lear quizzic al eyes . 'He's jus t s itting there not doing anything.' 'T hat's bec aus e he's an ins pec tor -' 'A polic em an! ' whis pered the c hild exc itedly. 'No, Oliver. Mr P hinn's not a polic e ins pec tor. He's a s c hool ins pec tor and -' 'A nd he jus t s its and watc hes people then does he, m is s ?' 'W ell, yes , he does , but he has lots of other things to do.' Mrs P eters on took a s low, deep breath. 'Mr P hinn lis tens to c hildren read, for exam ple.' 'Lis tens to c hildren read?' Oliver repeated s hrilly. 'A nd does he get paid for it, m is s ?' 'Y es ,' replied the teac her wearily, 'he does get paid for it, Oliver, but c om e along now, s ettle down, there's a good boy.' Oliver returned to his des k, all the while s taring intently in m y direc tion. He then s hook his head like an old m an des pairing at the exc es s es of youth, before c om m enting, 'Nic e little num ber that.' I was s itting in the junior c las s room of Highc ops e County P rim ary S c hool, the s ec ond week into the new s c hool term , watc hing the c hildren s ettle at their tables , wriggling to get c om fortable on the hard c hairs . It was a glorious ly s unny S eptem ber m orning and through the open c las s room window I c ould s ee a great rolling s weep of green, dotted with lazy s heep, ris e to the aus tere, grey-purple fells beyond. A n old s tone farm hous e c rouc hed agains t the lower s lopes , tiny wis ps of s m oke c urling from the s quat c him ney into the c lear blue s ky. A kes trel hovered in the warm air. I c ould hear the tric kling of the s m all s tream outs ide as it dribbled am ongs t the white lim es tone roc ks and s m ell the fres h peaty tang of the c ountrys ide. It was idyllic . T he boy was right - it was a 'nic e little num ber'. I was brought bac k from m y reverie by the teac her's voic e. 'Now, is everyone ready?' s he as ked. 'W ill you all fac e the front, and pay attention? Do s top s huffling your feet, P enny, and Oliver, don't do that with your penc il, pleas e. You know what happened las t tim e. T hank you. It will not have es c aped your notic e, c hildren, that we have a very s pec ial vis itor in s c hool today.' T hos e c hildren who were not bus y c learing away looked warily in m y direc tion. My s m ile was greeted by a s ea of s olem n fac es . 'Our s pec ial vis itor is c alled Mr P hinn, and he will be with us all m orning. I hope you will have a good view of proc eedings from the bac k, Mr P hinn?' 'I'm s ure I will, thank you,' I replied s m iling. 'I wouldn't want you to m is s anything.' I detec ted a hint of s arc as m in the teac her's voic e. 'I c an s ee everything very well, thank you, Mrs P eters on.' 'A nd you are not too unc om fortable on the s m all c hair?' 'No, I'm fine, thank you,' I repeated, s till s m iling. 'Let's give Mr P hinn a really nic e warm welc om e, s hall we, c hildren, with a c heerful "Good Morning"?' T he c hildren c hanted half-heartedly: 'Good m orning, Mr P hinn.' 'Good m orning, c hildren,' I replied c heerily, s till s m iling widely. 'Mr P hinn,' c ontinued the teac her, 'will be hearing s om e of you read, looking at your writing and having a little c hat about the work whic h you have been doing. T hat's right, Mr P hinn, is n't it?' 'It is indeed,' I replied, with the fixed s m ile beginning to m ake m y c heeks ac he. 'Oliver! ' s napped Mrs P eters on, her eyes bec om ing s uddenly c at-like, 'will you s top doing that with your penc il, pleas e? I have told you onc e and I don't want to have to tell you again. W e do not want a repetition of las t term and the inc ident with the wax c rayon, do we?' 'No, m is s ,' ans wered the c hild brightly. 'Oliver m anaged to get a piec e of wax c rayon lodged in his ear, Mr P hinn, and we had the devil's own job to get it out, didn't we, Oliver?' 'Y es , m is s .' T here was no trac e of c ontrition in the c heerful voic e. 'P eter, turn round pleas e, dear, and pay attention. A nd do you know, Mr P hinn, Oliver always has an opinion or an ans wer. I do enc ourage the c hildren to as k ques tions and expres s their views but s om etim es they do need to lis ten, don't they?' 'T hey do indeed,' I agreed, wis hing that s he would not inc lude m e at every turn. 'A nd if Oliver lis tened a little m ore and talked a little les s he wouldn't have all thes e m is haps , would you, Oliver?' T he s ubjec t of the teac her's c om m ents unders tood that this was an oc c as ion for lis tening and he s tared bac k s ilently with wide eyes . 'W hen I as ked him what he was doing pus hing a wax c rayon in his ear, do you know what he replied, Mr P hinn?' I s hook m y head. 'He replied, "T o s ee if it fitted." ' T he teac her purs ed her lips and a pair of hard, glittery eyes res ted on the c hild. 'Now then, Oliver, you c an perhaps rem em ber what I s aid Mr P hinn does for a living?' 'Not a lot by the s ound of it, m is s ,' replied the c hild s erious ly. T he teac her s ighed. 'Can you rem em ber what I s aid his job was c alled?' s he as ked s harply. 'Y es , m is s . He's a s us pec ter.' Mrs P eters on s hook her head, s hrugged and m outhed in m y direc tion, 'T here's always one! ' I knew exac tly what s he m eant. In the twelve m onths that I had been a County Ins pec tor of S c hools , I had c om e ac ros s c ountles s little Olivers : lively, inquis itive c hildren who were full of ques tions (and ans wers ) and, like J ulie, bluntly hones t and outs poken. 'Mr P hinn is a s c hool ins pec tor,' the teac her c orrec ted, m outhing the words s lowly, 'and it's lovely to have you with us , Mr P hinn.' J udging by her expres s ion and body language, I was not c onvinc ed of the s inc erity of this s tatem ent. Mrs P eters on held out her hand s uddenly in a dram atic ges ture. 'Oliver, bring that penc il to m e, pleas e.' T he little boy trudged to the front of the room and plac ed the penc il on the teac her's palm . 'T hank you.' S he glowered at him as he returned to his s eat before turning her attention bac k to the c las s . 'Now this m orning, bec aus e it is a Monday, we s tart the day as we norm ally do with "News tim e". A nd we love "News tim e", don't we?' T he c las s rem ained im pas s ive. Mrs P eters on turned in m y direc tion. 'It's an opportunity, Mr P hinn, for the c hildren to tell us what they have been doing over the weekend. I don't know whether it's c ons idered good prac tic e or not thes e days . T hings in educ ation s eem to s hift like the s ands of tim e.' 'It is good prac tic e,' I reas s ured her, s m iling s till. 'It enc ourages the c hildren to s peak c learly, c onfidently and with enthus ias m .' 'J us t what I think.' S he nodded and proc eeded. 'T hough with s om e c hildren' - s he glanc ed in the direc tion of Oliver - 'a little m ore lis tening and a little les s s peaking would be preferable.' T he s ubjec t of her obs ervation had his elbows on the des k and was propping his c hin in his hands . He had a faraway look on his fac e. Clearly he was not lis tening. 'W ell, this week, let m e s ee whom I s hall as k.' S he s c anned the c las s room . 'P ortia, would you like to c om e out to the front and tell us what interes ting things you and your fam ily have been doing over the weekend?' A large, m oon-fac ed, rather m oros e-looking girl with hair in enorm ous bunc hes and tied by large c rim s on ribbons , ros e s lowly from her s eat and headed s luggis hly for the front. S he s tared m otionles s at the c las s as if c aught in am ber, a grim expres s ion on her round pale fac e. 'Com e along, then, P ortia,' urged Mrs P eters on. 'Nowt 'appened, m is s ,' the girl ans wered s ullenly. 'S om ething m us t have happened, P ortia. Did you go anywhere?' 'No, m is s .' 'W ell, what did you do all weekend?' 'W atc h telly, m is s .' Mrs P eters on s ighed and turned in m y direc tion. 'It's like extrac ting teeth, getting s om e of the c hildren to s peak, Mr P hinn,' s he c onfided in a s otto v oc e voic e. 'S om e of them are very ec onom ic al in their us e of words .' S he turned her attention bac k to the large girl at the front of the c las s room , who was s taring vac antly out of the window. 'Now, c om e along, P ortia, there m us t be s om ething you c an tell us all?' 'Mis s , we found an 'edge'og on our lawn on S aturday and it were dead,' the c hild announc ed bluntly. 'Oh dear,' s aid Mrs P eters on, pulling a dram atic ally s ym pathetic fac e. 'I wonder why that was ? Do you think s om ething c ould have killed it?' S he then looked in m y direc tion, an expec tant expres s ion playing about her eyes . 'P os s ibly a c at, Mr P hinn, do you think?' 'V ery pos s ibly,' I replied. 'My dad s aid it were probably next door's dog,' s aid P ortia. 'It's allus killing things that dog. My dad s ays it wants purrin' down. It's a reight vic ious thing. It bit 'im when he was fixing t'fenc e and las t week it c has ed this old wom an who were c ollec ting for the RS P CA right down t'path. W e c ould hear t's c ream ing from our bac k room .' 'Dear m e, it does s ound a rather fierc e c reature, P ortia,' s aid Mrs P eters on. 'It bit 'er on t'bottom by t'gate. A ll her little flags were ovver our garden. My dad s aid s he wouldn't be c om ing bac k in an 'urry! ' Mrs P eters on s ighed wearily, gave m e a faint s m ile and pic ked on another news giver: a s m all, pale boy with large glas s es . 'Com e on down to the front, S im on, and tell us all what interes ting things you have been up to this weekend.' 'Mis s , we're going to Dis neyland again next year,' s aid the boy s c urrying down to the front. 'W e went into town to book it.' 'W ell, that does s ound exc iting. S im on is a very luc ky little boy, Mr P hinn,' rem arked Mrs P eters on, s wivelling again in m y direc tion and giving m e a look as if to s ay: 'His parents have m ore m oney than s ens e.' 'He's jus t got bac k from A m eric a and he's off there again next year. My goodnes s .' 'It's really good fun, m is s . T here's lots to do at Dis neyland,' s aid S im on enthus ias tic ally. 'Have you been to Dis neyland, Mr P hinn?' as ked Mrs P eters on. 'No,' I replied, 'I haven't.' 'Neither have I. W hitby was as far as I got this s um m er and it rained for the whole week. P erhaps when teac hers get that well-des erved pay ris e, Mr P hinn, I'll be able to go to Dis neyland.' I s m iled faintly and nodded. 'T hank you, S im on. Now let m e s ee. Oh, c om e on then, Oliver. I c an s ee your hand waving in the air like a palm tree in a tornado. Com e on down to the front and tell us what interes ting things have happened to you during this weekend.' Oliver s c am pered to the front exc itedly, drew him s elf up to his full height and proc laim ed in a loud and c onfident voic e: 'Mis s , s om e white worm s c am e out of m y bottom yes terday.' Mrs P eters on s c rewed up her fac e as if s he were s uc king a lem on. 'Oh dear m e, Oliver. I don't think we want to hear about that.' 'My m um 's going to the c hem is t's today to get s om e pink s tuff to get rid of the white worm s that c am e -' 'I think we've heard quite enough about the white worm s , thank you, Oliver. Is there s om ething nic e you c an tell us about?' 'B ut, m is s , m y m um s aid lots of people get them . W hen s he was a girl s he s aid that all her c las s -' 'Y es , well, Mr P hinn's not travelled all the way from Fettles ham to hear about white worm s , have you, Mr P hinn?' I s m iled faintly and s hook m y head. 'I'm s ure the m edic ine will work wonders tonight.' 'B ut, m is s , when I firs t s aw thes e white worm s they s ort of wriggled and -' 'Oliv er!' s napped Mrs P eters on with s uc h a wild gleam in her eye that s he looked like a c at ready to pounc e. 'E nough! B ac k to your plac e, pleas e.' T hen, turning to P ortia s he s aid, 'P erhaps the hedgehog ate s om ething whic h didn't agree with him . W hat do you think m ight have happened, Mr P hinn?' T his was like s om e double ac t, with m e as the s tooge. I was bec om ing a regular feature in 'News tim e', and now I was the res ident expert on hedgehogs . 'W ell, it c ould have been that,' I s aid. 'T hey do s c avenge. Quite a lot of people put out bread and m ilk for hedgehogs whic h is bad for them . It m akes their s tom ac hs s well, s o it's bes t to let them find their natural food.' 'A nd does anyone know what the hedgehog's natural food is ?' as ked Mrs P eters on, addres s ing the c hildren. 'W orm s ! ' exc laim ed Oliver, grinning widely. Mrs P eters on s m iled thinly with noble res ignation. T owards the end of the m orning I took the opportunity, whils t the c hildren were writing up their news , to look at the exerc is e books . P ortia was writing c arefully in large, c lear rounded letters as I approac hed, but on c atc hing s ight of m e s he froze, dropped her penc il and s tared up like a terrified rabbit in a trap. 'May I look at your work?' I as ked gently. S he s lid the book ac ros s the des k, all the while s taring and blinking nervous ly. S he had written the date at the top of the page in bold writing and then underneath in four large c apital letters the word 'E GOG'. 'W hat does this m ean?' I as ked. ''E dge'og! ' s he replied, looking at m e as if I was inc redibly s tupid. T ry as I m ight, I jus t c ould not get her to s peak to m e above the s ingle word s o I tried another tac k, to re-as s ure her that I was really quite friendly. 'It's a lovely nam e, P ortia,' I s aid. S he eyed m e s us pic ious ly. 'You are nam ed after one of the m os t fam ous c harac ters in a wonderful play by W illiam S hakes peare. P ortia was a very c lever and beautiful wom an.' I was jus t about to launc h into a rendering of 'T he quality of m erc y is not s trained' when Mrs P eters on approac hed, bent low s o her lips were nearly in m y ear and inform ed m e in s low and deliberate tones that 'T he nam e is s pelled "P -O-R-S -C-H-E " not "P -O-R-T -I-A ! ", Mr P hinn. Her father told m e, when I as ked him about the unus ual s pelling on P arents ' E vening that he always wanted a P ors c he c ar but c ouldn't afford one. S he's the next bes t thing.' Mrs P eters on s hook her head, s hrugged and m outhed: 'T here's always one! ' Little S im on, with the large s pec tac les and the pale, trans luc ent fac e, had produc ed a lively little ac c ount about his rec ent trip to Dis neyland, whic h c onc luded: On S aturday we booked again for Dis neyland but next year we are not taking m y nanna with us . My dad s aid s he wouldn't s top talking all week and s he got on his nerves and was a pain in the nec k. He s aid it was like taking a parrot with us . Finally I arrived at Oliver's des k. T he little boy had his head down and was s c ratc hing away furious ly with a large, fat fountain pen. It appeared to be leaking bec aus e there was ink everywhere. A s I peered over the s hoc k of red hair I read, with s om e diffic ulty, a s im ple little ac c ount of the white worm s and their dram atic appearanc e on the day before. 'It's an interes ting piec e of work, Oliver,' I c om m ented, 'but your writing is hard to read.' 'T hat's bec aus e m is s took m y penc il away, s o I'm having to m ake do with this .' He s c rutinis ed the writing im plem ent before obs erving, 'A nd this pen's got a life of its own.' A fter m orning playtim e I joined the infant c las s in a s pac ious room whic h was neat and orderly with c olourful dis plays depic ting various fairy s tory c harac ters c overing the walls . T here were s ix large, low tables with s m all, orange m elam ine c hairs at eac h, a s elec tion of bright pic ture books on a trolley, a c arpeted area, a big plas tic tray for s and and another for water, and at the front a s quare, old-fas hioned teac her's des k and hard wooden c hair. T he windows looked out on a m agnific ent view up the dale: a vas t expans e of pale golden-green rolling to the grey-purple fells and c lear s ky beyond. T he five- and s ix-year-olds were in the c harge of a s erious -looking teac her in a grey jum per and dark brown s kirt, c alled appropriately Mrs Dunn. S he had iron-grey hair pulled bac k s everely ac ros s her s c alp and wore a pained expres s ion throughout the hour-long les s on. S he had the rather uns ettling habit of twitc hing nervous ly before glanc ing in m y direc tion. T he c hildren read c om petently and their writing, though s lightly below the s tandard I would have expec ted from c hildren of this age, was s ound enough. T here was a great deal of c opied writing, a few s im ple s tories and no poetry. A t the end of the m orning I returned to Mrs P eters on's c las s to m ake m y farewells . T he teac her beam ed effus ively as I entered her room . 'Now, c hildren, look who's bac k - it's Mr P hinn.' T he c hildren looked up indifferently. 'I've jus t popped in to s ay goodbye, Mrs P eters on.' 'It's been a pleas ure, Mr P hinn. W e do like to have s pec ial vis itors , don't we, c hildren?' One or two c hildren nodded unenthus ias tic ally. 'It's been a real treat for us and I hope it is not too long before you c om e bac k and s ee us again. T hat would be nic e, c hildren, wouldn't it? My goodnes s , Mr P hinn, we do have s uc h a lot of fun in this c las s room , don't we, c hildren?' T he c las s s tared im pas s ively. 'W e really do have s o m uc h fun, don't we?' T here were a few nods . I c aught s ight of Oliver in the Reading Corner. He looked up from his book, Creepy -Craw lies and M inibeas ts and s hook his head. Mrs P eters on had s potted him too. 'Y es , we do, Oliver! W e're always having fun.' S he fixed him with a rattles nake look and gave a little laugh. It was not a pleas ant little laugh. 'T oo m uc h to s ay for him s elf, that young m an, Mr P hinn,' Mrs P eters on c onfided in m e in an undertone. 'W e do have a lot of fun.' A s I pas s ed Oliver on m y way out, I heard him m utter, 'I m us t have been away that day.' I s uppres s ed a s m ile. 'Oliver,' c ontinued Mrs P eters on, her fac e now rather m ore leering than s m iling and her voic e with quite a s harpnes s of tone to it, 'would you go and as k the s c hool s ec retary to ring the bell for dinnertim e, pleas e, there's a good boy.' T he las t phras e was s aid with s om e em phas is . 'A nd s hall we all now s ay a nic e, warm "Goodbye" to Mr P hinn?' 'Goodbye, Mr P hinn,' the c las s intoned. 'Goodbye,' I s aid. Oliver and I walked down the c orridor together. 'Can I as k you s om ething, Mr P hinn?' he s aid. 'Of c ours e.' 'How do you bec om e one of thes e s us pec ters , then?' 'Ins pec tors , Oliver.' 'How do you bec om e one?' 'W ell, you have to work hard at s c hool, read a lot of books and when you go up to the big s c hool you have to pas s your exam s and go on to c ollege. Y ou then take m ore exam s and that takes a long, long tim e.' 'How old do you have to be?' he as ked. 'Y ou have to be twenty-one to be a teac her and even older to be a s c hool ins pec tor, s o you have a long way to go.' 'A nd then you c an s it at the bac k of c las s room s and watc h people?' 'T hat's right.' 'A nd hear c hildren read?' 'T hat's right.' 'A nd look at their writing?' 'A nd look at their writing,' I repeated. T he little boy looked up and then s c ratc hed at the s hoc k of red hair. 'A nd you get paid for it?' 'A nd get paid for it,' I intoned. He s till looked very thoughtful, s o I s aid, 'W ould you like to as k m e anything els e?'

'No, not really, but...' He paus ed. 'Go on, Oliver. Have you got s om ething to tell m e?' 'W ell, Mr P hinn, I was jus t thinking, that when I'm twenty-one, you'll probably be dead! '

3

'Y ou've had a telephone c all,' announc ed David, when I arrived at the offic e one dam p, depres s ing, early Oc tober afternoon. He gave a wry s m ile before adding, 'Y ou have been s um m oned to an audienc e with the Ic e Queen hers elf.' 'W ho?' 'Mrs S avage.' 'Oh, no,' I m oaned. 'W hatever does s he want now?' S idney looked up from his papers , s hook his head, adopted a pitiful expres s ion and s ighed dram atic ally. 'S he left a m es s age that you are to go up and s ee her,' c ontinued David. 'S he was quite ins is tent.' 'S ounds like Mae W es t,' s aid S idney s uddenly. He m im ic ked the s low A m eric an drawl of the s tar of the s ilver s c reen. 'Com e up and s ee m e s om etim e, honey.' 'A nyone les s like Mae W es t, I c ould not im agine,' I told him c aus tic ally. 'My goodnes s ,' s aid David, taking off his reading glas s es and folding them on the des k in front of him , 's om eone is in a rather fraught c ondition this afternoon.' 'I c an't s eem to es c ape from the wom an,' I s aid, banging m y briefc as e down on a c hair. 'S he was on the phone to m e the very firs t day of term and s inc e then I keep on getting m es s ages and m em os every other day.' 'S he's perhaps taken a s hine to you,' s aid David, finding the whole s ituation highly am us ing. 'Y ou want to watc h out.' 'Huh! ' I grunted. 'Or a c ertain young, attrac tive headteac her m ight s tart getting a trifle jealous .' 'David, I've already had the third degree from J ulie about m y love life. Could we leave Chris tine out of it, do you think? I wonder what Mrs S avage is after now?' 'Did you know,' s aid S idney, pus hing as ide his papers and leaning bac k expans ively in his c hair, 'that s he onc e tried to lure a bis hop up to her room ?' 'W ho? M rs S av age?' exc laim ed David. 'No, no! Mae W es t. S he m et this bis hop at s om e fanc y func tion or other and s aid to him , "Com e up and s ee m e s om etim e," and this bis hop replied, with a very s erious fac e, "I'm s orry, Mis s W es t, but that is quite im pos s ible. It's Lent." Mae W es t was reputed to have quipped bac k, "W ell, bis hop, when you get it bac k from the pers on you lent it to, c om e up and s ee m e." ' 'I'm s ure you m ake all thes e s tories up, S idney,' s aid David s niggering, and returning to his work. 'Did s he s ay what s he wanted?' I as ked. 'W ho? Mae W es t?' as ked S idney. 'S idney, w ill you be s erious ! Mrs S avage. Did s he s ay what s he wanted to s ee m e about?' 'No, no,' s aid David. 'J us t for you to go up and s ee her in the A nnexe and that it was a m atter of s om e urgenc y.' 'W hen is it not?' I as ked in an exas perated voic e. 'Now don't s tart getting c om fortable, Gervas e,' c ontinued David, as I began taking a bundle of papers from m y briefc as e, 'putting off until tom orrow what you c an do today. S he won't jus t dis appear, m uc h as we would like her to, you know. My old W els h grandm other us ed to s ay that it is always bes t to m eet advers ity head on. "Gras p the nettle, David," s he us ed to s ay. "T ake the bull by the horns and fac e the m us ic . Doing nothing, s olves nothing." S he's working late tonight and wants you to go up and s ee her at about s ix o'c loc k. S he will be waiting.' 'Y our old W els h grandm other?' as ked S idney, fac etious ly. 'Y ou are bec om ing very tires om e, S idney,' replied David, putting his glas s es bac k on and looking at him over the top of them . 'I am endeavouring to c onvey an im portant m es s age and then c om plete this report. It is nearly s ix o'c loc k and I do have a hom e to go to.' 'Go and s ee her now, Gervas e,' advis ed S idney. 'David's quite right, it's bes t to get s uc h a deeply unpleas ant and potentially hazardous experienc e over and done with - like having an ulc erated tooth pulled or a giant boil lanc ed.' 'Y es , I think you're right,' I s aid wearily, s tuffing the papers bac k into m y briefc as e. 'I'd better s ee what s he wants .' 'A nd if I were you, Gervas e,' s aid David, looking up from his papers , 'I s hould enter her labyrinth with a great degree of c aution. S he bec om es even m ore of a Gorgon after s ix o'c loc k.' 'No, no! ' exc laim ed S idney. 'It was T hes eus who entered the labyrinth to fac e the Minotaur. Y ou're thinking of Medus a, one of the Gorgons , who had great s harp s houlders , barbed c laws , enorm ous teeth and who c ould turn you to s tone with an ic y s tare. Com e to think of it, s ounds rather like Mrs S avage.' 'T hank you for the potted his tory of Greek m ythology,' s aid David, rem oving his glas s es again. 'I am well aware of the differenc e between the Minotaur and a Gorgon. W e were taught the c las s ic s at m y W els h gram m ar s c hool. One c an't s ay anything around here without rec eiving a lec ture from you, S idney, or s om e c lever c om m ent or other. A ll I was attem pting to s ay was that Gervas e ought to be on his guard, to proc eed with extrem e c aution. S he's obvious ly taken a liking to him -' 'No, s he has not! ' I exc laim ed. 'A nd m ay have an ulterior m otive for thes e late m eetings . Y ou are a very vulnerable young m an. T he wom an has been through hus bands like a killer s hark through a s hoal of s prats , and before you s tart to tell m e, S idney, that killer s harks don't eat s prats -' I left them both in hearty dis c us s ion and departed, thinking to m ys elf, if only David knew. I had never divulged to m y c olleagues the entirely unexpec ted and dreadfully em barras s ing c onfrontation whic h had taken plac e in Mrs S avage's offic e a few m onths into m y new job. W e had worked c los ely together on a num ber of projec ts and Mrs S avage had been unc harac teris tic ally good-hum oured and c ooperative. W hen I had been given one of Dr Gore's 'little jobs ' to organis e - the vis it of the Minis ter of E duc ation - Mrs S avage had been enorm ous ly helpful and highly effic ient. T he vis it had gone really well and s he and I were on-firs t-nam e term s by the end. T hen I had vis ited Mrs S avage's offic e late one Marc h afternoon. S he had looked like the s tar of an A m eric an s oap opera, dres s ed in a s c arlet and blac k s uit with huge s houlder pads and great s ilver buttons and with what, I im agined, s he c ons idered an alluring look on her fac e. S he had tilted her head, m oved near and c onfided in m e that s he had been s o lonely following the death of her las t hus band. W hen s he had m oved c los er, breathing heavily and fluttering her eyelas hes , I had m ade hurried apologies and departed at high s peed. S inc e then I had kept m y dis tanc e and, on the few oc c as ions our paths had c ros s ed, Mrs S avage had rem ained c oldly form al. I had s ens ed, however, that beneath the ic y exterior there was s om ething s till s im m ering. It was with s om e trepidation, therefore, that I headed for the dreaded m eeting. T he s c hool ins pec tors oc c upied the top floor of what c ould only be des c ribed as an E dwardian villa, s om e dis tanc e away from the m ain County Hall. W e s aw little of the oc c upants of the ground floor - the educ ational ps yc hologis ts who, like us , s pent m os t of their tim e in s c hools . One of the villa's form er bedroom s had been c onverted into our offic e, another was us ed as a s tore and the third, whic h was not m uc h bigger than a box-room , was where J ulie worked. T he trip from our offic e to County Hall was a pleas ant s troll on a bright s um m er's day and a brac ing walk on a fres h winter's m orning, but when the weather took a turn for the wors e, I would arrive for a m eeting wet and windblown and wis hing I worked in an offic e near to the m ain E duc ation Departm ent. B ut then I would be c los er to Mrs S avage whic h would be wors e, I now m us ed as I quic kly s kirted the form al gardens , well-tended lawns and neat footpaths whic h s urrounded the grey s tone edific e of County Hall. It was a dark, rain-s oaked evening and a ragged grey c urtain of c loud hung from the s ky and the wind drove the rain at a s harp s lant, thoroughly s oaking m e. Onc e ins ide the m ain building, wet and c old, I headed for the c loakroom s where I dried m y fac e and c om bed m y hair in preparation for the ordeal ahead of m e. I then s et off for the A nnexe and Mrs S avage's room . T he interior of County Hall was like an em pty m us eum , hus hed and c ool, with a s uc c es s ion of wandering m arbled c orridors , long leather-c overed benc hes and ornate highly polis hed doors . T he walls were full of portraits of form er c ounc illors , m ayors , alderm en, leaders of the c ounc il, high s heriffs , lord lieutenants , m em bers of parliam ent and other dignitaries , m any of them bearded and all of them looking gloom y. T hey s tared from their gilt fram es in s olem n dis approval, adding to m y dis m al m ood. A jagged s treak of lightning lit up the dark c orridors , followed s ec onds later by a grum bling of thunder and a downpour of rain whic h las hed fierc ely at the windows . A s I turned the c orner leading to Mrs S avage's room , the c loc k on the County Hall tower s truc k s ix deep, m elanc holy, ec hoing notes . It s ounded like a funeral bell. T he offic e of Dr Gore's P ers onal A s s is tant was at the very top of a m odern three-s torey s truc ture attac hed to the rear of County Hall. T he A nnexe c lung to the s turdy im pos ing V ic torian building like s om e great glas s lim pet and looked entirely out of plac e. T he arc hitec t, no doubt c ons trained by the Financ e Departm ent, had des igned s om ething large, utilitarian and c heap and had m ade no attem pt to m atc h the s tyle or c ons truc tion of the original building. T he A nnexe hous ed the adm inis trative and c leric al s upport offic es and the P rint Room . Mrs S avage's offic e was palatial c om pared to m ine. T he des k, whic h dom inated the room , was a vas t as ym m etric al affair in ric h m ahogany. T here were filing c upboards and c abinets of various s orts , an expens ive-looking bookc as e, an oc c as ional table and two eas y c hairs . T he walls , whic h were plain and the c olour of s our c ream , had four large paintings in m etal fram es , pos itioned at exac t dis tanc es from one another. T hey were the s ort of art S idney des c ribed as m eaningles s , abs trac t s platters . T here was a thic k s hag-pile c arpet and long pale drapes at the window. Mrs S avage was s itting s tiffly at her des k with ic y im perturbability, a c om puter hum m ing away on a c ons ole bes ide her. 'Do c om e in, Mr P hinn, and take a s eat,' s he s aid, c atc hing s ight of m e hovering in the doorway like a naughty s c hoolboy waiting to s ee the Headteac her. 'I won't be a m om ent.' T here was a note of s harp c om m and in her voic e. I s at in one of the eas y c hairs , c ros s ed m y legs c as ually and flic ked through m y diary, attem pting to give the appearanc e of being entirely at eas e. Inwardly I felt as nervous and anxious as a patient waiting to hear the res ults of s om e m edic al tes t. Mrs S avage s c ratc hed away with a s harp penc il, for what s eem ed an interm inable am ount of tim e, glanc ing up oc c as ionally as if to m ake s ure I was s till there. I watc hed her out of the c orner of m y eye. S he looked haughtier than ever. I had not s een her s inc e the previous term and, as J ulie had rem arked rec ently, s he s eem ed to have los t weight and a num ber of wrinkles and c reas es into the bargain. S he was dres s ed in a c los e-fitting, pale green s ilk s uit s plas hed with great c rim s on poppies whic h m atc hed exac tly the c olour of her lips tic k and nail varnis h. S he c ertainly was a s triking-looking wom an. 'Now then, Mr P hinn,' s he s aid s uddenly, looking up from her papers , 'thank you for c om ing up to s ee m e.' S he was m aking it perfec tly c lear that we were no longer on firs t-nam e term s . S o be it, I thought. 'T hat's all right, Mrs S avage,' I replied, attem pting to s ound relaxed. 'I believe you m entioned that it was urgent?' 'It is ,' s he s aid s harply. 'It's about the Feoffees .' 'I beg your pardon?' 'T he Feoffees ,' s he repeated, pic king at the word like a pigeon with a piec e of bread. S he s tared and waited and it was c lear that s he had no intention of enlightening m e as to what a Feoffee ac tually was . W ell, two c an play at this c at and m ous e gam e, I thought to m ys elf. 'W hat have the Feoffees got to do with m e, Mrs S avage?' I as ked. 'A s you m ay be aware, Mr P hinn, Lord Marric k, the V ic e-Chairm an of the E duc ation Com m ittee, is to take up the offic e of Greave and Chief Lord of the Feoffees in the New Y ear.' S he paus ed for effec t. 'Really?' 'Next year is the five hundredth annivers ary of the foundation of the Feoffees . I don't know whether you knew?' 'No, I didn't.' 'Lord Marric k, who is a great one for tradition, as you know, is keen to m ark this very s ignific ant junc ture in the Feoffees ' his tory by hos ting an open day at Mans ton Hall at the end of May, and he wants various events , involving a wide range of loc al ins titutions and organis ations , to c elebrate s uc h an aus pic ious oc c as ion.' 'I s ee,' I s aid, nodding and trying to appear knowledgeable. I had not the firs t idea what a 'Fee-Fo', or whatever it was c alled, was but I was not going to let on to Mrs S avage. 'A nd how do I c om e in?' 'Dr Gore wis hes you to attend a planning m eeting at Mans ton Hall in Novem ber in his plac e. I have c hec ked your engagem ent s heet and note that you have no im portant c om m itm ents at that tim e. Of c ours e, Dr Gore would have repres ented the E duc ation Departm ent him s elf but it is quite im pos s ible for him to attend the m eeting. A s you are no doubt aware, he has been as ked by the Minis ter of E duc ation to s it on a m ajor Governm ent c om m ittee and will be exc eptionally bus y for the fores eeable future. It is , of c ours e, a great honour for the CE O to be invited by the Minis ter to be part of s uc h a pres tigious group.' S he gave a s light s m ile as if s he were privy to s om e s ec ret. 'Dr Gore would not, under norm al c irc um s tanc es , have delegated s uc h an im portant tas k to s om eone els e, partic ularly to a relative newc om er to the c ounty, but Dr Yeats is leading a m ajor s c hool ins pec tion in Novem ber and is not available. Dr Gore unders tands that you had a num ber of dealings with Lord Marric k las t year s o he is not unfam iliar to you.' 'I s ee,' I s aid again, s till totally in the dark. 'He would have s een you pers onally to explain what is involved but he is the gues t s peaker at the Fettles ham High S c hool P res entation this evening s o has as ked m e to deal with it. He would like this m atter expedited im m ediately.' S he leaned over her des k and c las ped her hands before her. T here was a huge s olitaire diam ond ring on one red-nailed finger and a c lus ter of gold hoops on another. 'He has als o, Mr P hinn, as ked m e to liais e with you over this .' Her voic e had taken on an even s harper edge. 'I s inc erely hope that we will, in fac t, liais e and that you will not take it upon yours elf, as you did with the HMI vis its , to do everything on your own.' I had gues s ed that s he would rais e that little m atter but dec ided not to get into a further dis c us s ion about it. 'Y es , of c ours e, Mrs S avage,' I s aid pleas antly. 'A nd what does this partic ular initiative involve?' 'It involves joining the planning group and c ontributing where appropriate. Of c ours e, the E duc ation Departm ent will have a s ignific ant part to play in the c elebration of five hundred years of the Feoffees . I gues s it will m ean dis plays of various s orts , c hildren's pres entations , that s ort of thing, reflec ting the life and work of the Feoffees .' It was as if s he were s peaking in a foreign language. 'Of c ours e,' I nodded. T here was a portentous purs ing of the lips . Mrs S avage eyed m e for a brief m om ent before c ontinuing. 'Dr Gore has as ked m e to deal with all the adm inis tration. I have already inform ed Lord Marric k that you will be repres enting the E duc ation Departm ent and I s hall s end you the agenda and the ac c om panying papers for the m eeting jus t as s oon as I rec eive them .' S he paus ed and gave m e a fros ty look. 'A nd I would be very apprec iative, Mr P hinn, if you would s ee to it that I am kept fully inform ed. It m akes m y life s o m uc h eas ier if I know what is happening, when it is happening and how it is happening. I hope I m ake m ys elf c lear.' 'P erfec tly c lear, Mrs S avage.' S he ran her eyes over m e c ritic ally as a doc tor m ight obs erve an interes ting patient. 'Good,' s he s aid. I s tood up to go. 'One m om ent, Mr P hinn, I haven't finis hed with you yet.' S he gave a s m all, quic k s m ile before ris ing from her c hair and s traightening the c reas es in her s kirt. I felt a tingle of apprehens ion. W as s he going to leap ac ros s the des k, launc h hers elf on top of m e in wild abandon, drag m e on to the thic k s hag-pile c arpet, throw m e over the oc c as ional table? I s tepped bac k as s he m oved s tealthily around the des k like a predatory c at. I c ould s m ell her heavy perfum e. T he eyelas hes began to flutter. My apprehens ion turned to c old fear. T his was going to be a re-enac tm ent of the earlier deeply em barras s ing inc ident. I was going to have to fight the wom an off! 'W hat about a date?' s he as ked. 'Date?' I whis pered. 'W hat date?' 'Y ou need a date for the m eeting at Mans ton Hall.' 'A h,' I s ighed, 'that date.' In m y anxiety to get the m eeting over quic kly, I had c om pletely overlooked that the date had not yet been m entioned. I had thought, for one appalling m om ent, that Mrs S avage was propos itioning m e for a date. 'T he twenty-fifth of Novem ber at ten o'c loc k.' I s tared, wide-eyed, open-m outhed, rooted to the s pot as if looking into the fac e of Medus a hers elf. 'Is there s om ething els e, Mr P hinn?' as ked Mrs S avage. 'No, nothing,' I replied and headed at a bris k pac e for the door. S idney and David were putting on their c oats when I arrived bac k at the offic e. 'Y ou m anaged to es c ape uns c athed then,' c om m ented David, s traightening the papers on his des k. 'He does look a little flus hed and out of breath, don't you think?' s aid S idney. 'I hope your dealings with Mrs S avage were entirely profes s ional, Gervas e. W hat did s he want?' 'Have either of you heard of the Feoffees ?' 'A re they a pop group?' as ked David. 'I onc e went out with an am azing A m eric an girl at Oxford c alled Fifi,' s ighed S idney. 'V ery good s c ulptor. Had wonderful m us c les and flam ing red hair. A te nothing but lentils . Rem arkable wom an.' 'I have a drawer in m y filing c abinet m arked "Fifi",' s aid David. 'It's s tuffed full of papers , dead doc um ents , reports and m em oranda. S tands for "File it and forget it". Mos t of Mrs S avage's m is s ives are c ons igned to that drawer.' 'W ill you two be s erious for a m om ent,' I s aid. 'It's not "Fifi", it's "Feoffee". I have to attend a m eeting at Mans ton Hall. E vidently Lord Marric k is bec om ing the top Feoffee, whatever that involves , and wants to arrange s om e events to c elebrate it. Could it be s om e s ort of Mas onic order?' 'Druids ,' s ugges ted S idney, putting on his rainc oat. 'P robably the Y orks hire vers ion of the druids . Old m en in white s heets danc ing around the m onoliths at B rim ham Roc ks . Like the daft s ort of thing the W els h go in for. Dres s ing up in thos e funny c os tum es and waiting for the ec lips e.' 'Daft! ' exc laim ed David. 'I'll have you know that the druids are part of a long c ultural tradition whic h s tretc hes bac k c enturies . T hey do not dres s up in funny c os tum es . T he Celts -' 'Oh, pleas e s pare us the Celts ,' begged S idney, 'or we will be here all night.' A heavy laboured tread c ould be heard on the s tairs leading up to the offic e. 'W ell, I c an't offer any m ore help,' announc ed David, glowering in S idney's direc tion before reac hing for his um brella. 'B ut thos e light s teps on the s tairs ,' s aid S idney, c upping his hand around his ear, 'tell m e that our es teem ed leader is about to enter and I feel c ertain he will be able to furnis h you with detailed inform ation about thes e Feelies .' 'Y es , you'd bes t as k Harold, Gervas e,' agreed David. 'T here is nothing on whic h Harold Y eats is not an expert.' 'Is n't that a double negative?' as ked S idney. ' "Nothing on whic h he is not". I think it would be rather better expres s ed as "Harold is an expert on everything".' 'I am going to do s om ething extrem ely unpleas ant with this um brella in a m inute, S idney, if you don't s hut up! Firs tly I am pic ked up on m y knowledge of Greek m ythology, then you have a go at the druids and now you s ee fit to c orrec t m y gram m ar.' 'W ell, we have the E nglis h expert here, he c an arbitrate. A m I right or am I right, Gervas e? W as that not a double negative?' 'Don't bring m e into it,' I s aid, 'I've got other things on m y m ind at the m om ent.' A t this point Harold breezed in, wet and windblown, but s m iling a great toothy s m ile. T he S enior County Ins pec tor was a giant of a m an. S ix foot, three inc hes in height, he looked a daunting figure with his great broad s houlders , heavy bulldog jaw, large watery eyes and prom inent teeth but he was the gentles t and m os t unas s um ing pers on I had ever m et. He was a m an of s inc erity, generos ity and unfailing c ourtes y, s om eone who always looked for the bes t in everybody and had a deep interes t in the needs of c hildren. He was als o a walking enc yc lopaedia and turned out to know everything there was to know about the Feoffees . He bec am e quite anim ated when as ked to explain what they were and what they did. 'A very interes ting group of m en, the Feoffees ,' he enthus ed. 'T hey were originally a c ollec tion of c ivic worthies and dignitaries , us ually prom inent landowners and gentry, founded in the reign of Henry V II to keep law and order. A ll jus tic e in a paris h or town was adm inis tered by them and they ens ured the s ic k and needy were c ared for. T hey were res pons ible for no end of things - repair of bridges and roads , keeping the water s upply fres h, is olating plague vic tim s , m aking s ure the pillories and duc king s tools were kept in good working order.' 'A re you s ure we're talking about the s am e thing, Harold?' I as ked. 'Oh, yes , indeed. T he Feoffees s erved a very im portant func tion in T udor and S tuart tim es . T hey appointed the s wineherd, c lerk of the m arket, overs eer of the roads and provided all the liveries for the beadles , pipers , town c riers and organ blowers - the whole c om pany of m inor offic ials . Of c ours e, the Feoffees varied from area to area but -' 'T hat's fine, Harold,' I interrupted, 'but what is their func tion today?' 'W ell, it is largely a c haritable ins titution. W hy are you s o interes ted in the Feoffees anyway, Gervas e?' I explained about the m eeting with Mrs S avage, the propos ed vis it to Mans ton Hall and m y involvem ent in the forthc om ing c elebrations . 'I s ee,' s aid Harold. 'It s ounds a very interes ting undertaking. I would have very m uc h liked to have attended that m eeting m ys elf. I m ean I am the ins pec tor who c overs his tory. It's s trange that I was n't approac hed.' 'Mrs S avage s aid that you are leading an ins pec tion on the twenty-fifth of Novem ber when the m eeting takes plac e but if you c an re-arrange things , Harold, I s hould be delighted for you to go ins tead.' 'No, no,' s aid Harold. 'I c an't c anc el an ins pec tion. Mrs S avage is quite right.' 'It would have been nic e to have been as ked or at leas t c ons ulted though, wouldn't it, Harold?' s aid David. 'T hat wom an takes far too m uc h on to hers elf. S he's only an offic e c lerk, for goodnes s s ake. A nyone would think s he was the CE O, the way s he c arries on.' 'W ell, I'm glad s he didn't approac h m e! ' s aid S idney. 'It s ounds a c om plete and utter was te of tim e! W hat has all this got to do with educ ation? I thought our job was to ins pec t s c hools not join a group of anac hronis tic , undoubtedly well-heeled geriatric s who have nothing better to do than s pend their tim e repairing pillories and duc king s tools , and is olating vic tim s of the plague.' 'S idney,' s napped Harold, 'it has everything to do with educ ation! Firs t, the Feoffees are part of our ric h, c ultural heritage, whic h is s om ething we s hould be proud of and c heris h.' 'Like the druids ,' interpos ed David. 'It is im portant,' c ontinued Harold, 'that young people s hould know about the his tory of their c ountry. Furtherm ore, the Feoffees s till help the poor and afflic ted, partic ularly orphans and deprived c hildren. T hey c ontinue to prom ote good c onduc t in the ris ing generation, provide financ ial s upport and give s c holars hips and burs aries to des erving c aus es .' T he c loc k on the County Hall tower began to s trike s even but Harold, who had now got the bit firm ly between his teeth, c ontinued undeterred. 'T he Feoffees , who num ber am ongs t their ranks of anac hronis tic , well-heeled geriatric s our own Dr Gore, do a great deal of good, s o when you as k -'

'For whom the bell tolls ,' interrupted S idney, 'it tolls for m e to get on hom e. S even o'c loc k and I m ight, with any luc k, have m is s ed the traffic . Oh, and Harold, I do hope the Feoffees have ens ured that the roads are in good repair, that Hawks rill B ridge is s till s tanding and there are not too m any c rowding around the pillories or in the s toc ks . I need to get bac k in good tim e for the football tonight.'

4

I headed for the offic e one s plendidly bright autum nal Friday afternoon, tired and road-weary. T he m ild weather had brought the c aravaners out in forc e and I, at the bac k of a queue of five or s ix other frus trated c ar drivers , followed a dangerous ly s waying box on wheels for three m iles as it m eandered at 20 m ph along the twis ting narrow c ountry roads . W hen at las t I bec am e the c ar direc tly behind the c aravan, I notic ed s tuc k on the bac k window a little c ut-out hand whic h waved as the c aravan teetered. Its m es s age read 'Have a nic e day' and next to it was a large yellow c irc le with the injunc tion in bold blac k c apital letters : S TAY BACK! BABY ON BOARD! I would have a m uc h nic er day, I thought to m ys elf irritably, if the driver of this c reeping death-trap would pull over and let m e pas s . W hen I finally m anaged to overtake, I notic ed that various other m es s ages and s igns had been plas tered on the s ide window, inc luding a bright red rec tangle with the inform ation: 'I've been down T he B lac k Hole at A lton Towers .' W ho ac tually would be interes ted in this piec e of totally fatuous inform ation, I as ked m ys elf. I c aught s ight of the driver: he was an exc eptionally old m an, and inc ongruous ly s ported a bright orange bas eball c ap. He beam ed through the window and gave m e a s haky wave. T here was c ertainly no pos s ibility of this geriatric having a baby on board, and as for a journey down T he B lac k Hole at A lton T owers ... I was not in the bes t of m oods as I rac ed towards the m ain road. On the gras s y verge s tood an extrem ely dirty-looking individual with a tangle of hair and dres s ed in a filthy rainc oat. He was holding aloft a large piec e of c ardboard on whic h was written: 'I am going to York'. Not in this c ar, m ate, you're not, I thought to m ys elf, s peeding up. S idney and David were bus y at their des ks as I pus hed through the door a s hort while later and c ollaps ed into a c hair. 'I m et the ever-ebullient Mrs P eters on on m y art c ours e yes terday,' obs erved S idney, looking up from his work, 'and s he was not bes t pleas ed with your report on her s c hool.' B efore I c ould ans wer, David, plac ing his pen down c arefully and s m iling beatific ally, added, 'Makes a c hange from all thos e adoring wom en who are c ons tantly telephoning him and writing little billets -doux and s inging his prais es .' 'W hat did s he s ay?' I as ked S idney, dec iding to ignore David's c om m ent. 'T hat your report was full of c ritic is m s ,' S idney told m e blithely. 'It was n't that bad,' I s aid glum ly, looking through the m ail on m y des k. 'S he s aid that you s aid the reading was n't up to m uc h at Highc ops e County P rim ary S c hool,' c ontinued S idney c as ually. 'I never s aid anything of the s ort! ' 'T hat the writing was pretty ordinary, the c hildren didn't s peak m uc h and the teac hers didn't bother at all with any poetry.' 'S ounds pretty dam ning to m e,' c om m ented David, s till s m iling like a c at with the c ream . 'It would be if I had, in fac t, s aid it,' I replied bris tling. 'My report judged the s c hool to be s ound enough but there needs to be m ore c hallenge and variety in the work. It was pretty pos itive overall but I s ugges ted that -' 'S he als o s aid you were not very im pres s ed with Mrs Dunn.' 'Not very im pres s ed with Mrs Dunn! ' I exc laim ed. 'Not very im pres s ed with Mrs Dunn?' 'T hat is what s he s aid.' 'A n unus ual wom an, Mrs Dunn! ' exc laim ed David s uddenly. 'I rem em ber firs t m eeting her on one of m y m athem atic s c ours es , with that dour expres s ion of hers , wild-looking hair and hooded eyes . S he was , I have to adm it, a deeply unim pres s ive wom an. S he s at in the front row with a fac e like a death m as k until I as ked the teac hers to break into groups for the ac tivities . T hen s he looked as if I had as ked her to take all her c lothes off and do a tap danc e on the table. I rec all s aying to Mrs P eters on, when s he s aid what a good teac her s he was , that Mrs Dunn was s uc h a s om bre and s erious pers on and that s he didn't s parkle for m e. "I don't em ploy Chris tm as tree fairies , Mr P ritc hard," s he replied tartly. "I em ploy teac hers ." ' 'S he never s m iled the whole les s on,' I s aid, s till s tinging at the c ritic is m of m y report. I tore open a letter s o s avagely that I nearly ripped it in half. 'Does n't m ake her a poor teac her,' s aid David. 'W e had a c las s ic s m as ter at gram m ar s c hool c alled "S m iler" J ones . He always had a s m ile on his fac e. Terrified of him , we were. He was always leering and grinning from the front. He had thes e tiny, s hining eyes and a big hooked nos e and always wore a tattered blac k ac adem ic gown. He was like s om e great dus ty c row. Fearful teac her was "S m iler" J ones . Now, I wouldn't c ons ider him a good teac her.' 'T hat m ight explain why you are rather dodgy on the Greek m yths ,' rem arked S idney. I s hook m y head and s ighed heavily. 'I m erely wrote that the teac her of the infants c ould be a little m ore lively and enthus ias tic .' 'You know, Gervas e,' s aid David, 'you of all people, being in c harge of E nglis h, s hould know that one s hould never judge a book by its c over or, as they s ay in this part of the world, "Never judge a blade by its heft". I've s een Mrs Dunn teac h, and whils t I have to adm it s he is not the m os t dynam ic and ins pirational of teac hers in the world and unlikely to win the "T eac her of the Y ear A ward", s he is a good, s olid, reliable c las s room prac titioner, well-intentioned, dedic ated and willing to learn. S he im proves with knowing, does Mrs Dunn.' 'A nd Mrs P eters on s aid that you s aid the c hildren were unus ually quiet,' c ontinued S idney, leaning bac k on his c hair and obvious ly enjoying im parting this next piec e of inform ation. 'W ell, they were. T here was only one c hild who got a word in.' 'T hat was bec aus e, as Mrs P eters on s aid, you frightened them .' 'W hat?' 'S he s aid you s at at the bac k with your big blac k c lipboard like s om eone about to take the m eas urem ents for a c offin.' 'I was of the opinion, S idney, that that is what s c hool ins pec tors do - s it at the bac k of c las s room s and obs erve les s ons .' 'S he s aid your c ons tant s m iling put the c hildren off.' 'I don't believe it,' I s ighed. 'Of c ours e that's what "S m iler" J ones us ed to do,' rem arked David. 'His s m ile was quite unnerving. He put the fear of God into us with his funereal expres s ion.' 'S he s aid that when you had gone,' c ontinued S idney, 'one of the juniors as ked if that funny m an with the s m ile like the s hark was c om ing bac k?' 'Y ou s eem to have taken an unus ually thorough interes t in m y vis it to Highc ops e S c hool, S idney. It appears you have gone through the report with Mrs P eters on in s om e detail.' 'J us t forewarning you, old boy, that's all.' 'Oh hec k, I'll give her a ring later and s ort it out.' 'Might be a wis e m ove,' added David, nodding s agely, 'bearing in m ind who her hus band is .' 'A nd who is her hus band?' I as ked. 'County Counc illor George P eters on. He's on the E duc ation Com m ittee. One of the m os t voc iferous , s elf-opinionated and tires om e m em bers . Ram bles on for hours , does old George.' 'W hat an end to the week,' I s ighed. 'I have had a m os t enjoyable week, ac tually,' s aid S idney m is c hievous ly, c learly enjoying m y dis c om fiture. 'T he art c ours e was a great s uc c es s , all s c hools vis ited, reports c om pleted, letters written, doc um ents filed.' 'A nd pigs fed and ready to fly,' added David. 'I s hall c hoos e to dis regard that rem ark, David,' retorted S idney. 'I feel on top of everything at the m om ent and, being Friday, I am in the very bes t of m oods . Nothing and nobody will interfere with m y good hum our and well being today. It has been s uc h glorious weather for this tim e of year, I m ight jus t take the c aravan out this weekend. Y ou c an join us if you like, Gervas e. It m ight c heer you up.' I did not res pond. T he following Monday I telephoned the s c hool. 'Hello,' c am e a loud, c onfident voic e down the line, 'Highc ops e County P rim ary S c hool. Mrs P eters on, Headteac her, s peaking.' 'Hello, Mrs P eters on, it's Gervas e P hinn here.' 'Oh, hello Mr P hinn. How are you?' S he c ertainly did not s ound ups et or angry, quite the revers e in fac t. 'I'm very well, thank you. Now, er, Mrs P eters on, m y c olleague S idney Clam p has had a word with m e. He tells m e that you are rather ups et about the report I wrote after m y vis it.' 'I was n't ups et, Mr P hinn,' s he s aid s weetly, 'jus t a little dis appointed, that's all.' 'W ould you like m e to c all in and dis c us s it with you?' I as ked. 'Oh no, there's no need for that. I do know how bus y you ins pec tors are. Of c ours e, we in s c hools are bus y people too. Mrs Dunn and I do try very hard, Mr P hinn, but there's only s o m any hours in the day and there's s o m uc h to c over on the c urric ulum thes e days . I do apprec iate your c om m ents about poetry, although I have to s ay we were s om ewhat s urpris ed with the extent of the c ritic is m s in the report, but you s ee it's not one of Mrs Dunn's s trong points . Not m ine either, if I'm truthful. S he is very good at the things s he feels c onfident with but when it c om es to poetry and -' I interrupted the m onologue. 'Mrs P eters on, I really would be happy to c all in to talk about the report and s ugges t various approac hes and offer s om e ideas .' 'Oh, I'm s ure you have lots of s ugges ted approac hes and ideas , Mr P hinn.' T hat s am e hint of s arc as m was in her voic e whic h I had detec ted when I had obs erved her les s on. 'W hat would be us eful, rather than jus t talking about the report and s ugges ting what we s hould be doing, would be for you to c om e and s how us jus t what you m ean.' 'In what way?' 'W ell, c ould you take the c hildren for a poetry les s on? Do a dem ons tration?' I have walked s traight into that little trap, I thought. 'W ell, yes , I s uppos e I c ould,' I replied. 'Next week?' c am e the s m ug voic e down the telephone. I flic ked through m y diary. 'T hurs day m orning?' 'S plendid. I look forward to s eeing you then. Mrs Dunn will be s o exc ited.' T he Headteac her rang off. I c ould im agine Mrs Dunn's reac tion at the thought of m y taking her c las s for poetry and the word 'exc item ent' did not s pring readily to m ind. It would probably be a s hrug of the s houlders , a s hake of the head and a weary look of res ignation. * I arrived at Highc ops e S c hool the following week on another bright, c lear m orning to take the c hildren for poetry writing. I paus ed for a m om ent before entering the building, breathed in the fres h air and s urveyed the s wath of green ris ing to the m is ty fells ide, dotted with brows ing s heep. I c ould s ee rabbits c ropping the gras s at the edge of a nearby field, and a fat pheas ant s trutted along the c raggy lim es tone wall bordering the s c hool. A s quirrel ran up the trunk of an anc ient tree by the road and then peered at m e between the yellowing leaves . High above in a vas t and dove-grey s ky, the rooks s c reec hed and c irc led. Here was poetry indeed. T he junior c las s was ready and waiting, paper in front of them , penc ils pois ed. I s pent the firs t part of the m orning enc ouraging the c hildren to write poetry bas ed on s everal large prints of paintings by fam ous artis ts whic h depic ted figures and fac es . I as ked them to c onc entrate on the s hapes , c olours , dis tinc tive features , dres s , fac ial expres s ions and s urroundings , prom pting them through ques tions : 'W ho is this pers on? W here does s he live? Is s he feeling happy or s ad, angry or thoughtful? How would you des c ribe the expres s ion?' In a relatively s hort tim e the range of res pons es and ideas c overed the blac kboard and helped the c hildren c om pos e s om e im pres s ive piec es of writing. Mrs P eters on was quite taken abac k when s he read P ors c he's poem whic h was bas ed on the large c olour print of Mary Cas s att's 'Child with a Red Hat'. It looks as if her head's on fire. Great flam ing hat as red as a furnac e. T ongues of yellow in the golden hair, Like burning c orn. S im on's effort was als o very des c riptive. His poem was bas ed on 'T he Ironers ' by Degas . S he yawns with a m outh like a gaping c ave, In a fac e as fat as a football. S he has the fis ts of a boxer A nd arm s as thic k as tree trunks . It m us t be all that ironing. Mrs P eters on took m e as ide. 'T hey are m os t s triking piec es of writing, Mr P hinn. T he c hildren have written s uc h lovely poem s . I m us t s ay you have c ertainly brought out their c reativity.' I was feeling c onfident and pleas ed with m ys elf when I appeared after m orning playtim e in the c las s room of Mrs Dunn. I gathered the s m all c hildren around m e on the c arpet in the Reading Corner and we talked about s everal large c olour photographs of various anim als whic h I had brought with m e. I explained that we were going to write s om e little des c riptive poem s about the different c reatures whic h inc luded a m ole, rabbit, s quirrel and dorm ous e. W e were to look at eac h pic ture in turn and it was m y intention to enc ourage the c hildren to talk about the c olours and s hapes . I did not, however, get very far. W hen I held up the large photograph of the m ole, one of the older c hildren, a large round c hild c alled T hom as , rem arked c as ually that his granddad killed m oles . 'Does he really?' I replied equally c as ually and attem pted to m ove on. 'Now look at his little fat blac k body. He's an unus ual little c reature, the m ole. Can you s ee his big flat paws like pink s pades and the s harp c laws ? Can anyone tell m e what -' 'T hey dig and dig wi' them c laws , deep underground they go and c huc k up reight big m ounds of s oil,' explained T hom as to no one in partic ular. 'Do a lot o' dam age to a field, do m oles . T hey're a real pes t m y granddad s ays . S om e farm ers put down pois on but m e granddad traps 'em and hangs up their bodies on t'fenc e.' I dec ided to look at another pic ture. 'Here we have a grey s quirrel. I s aw a s quirrel this m orning peeping from between the branc hes of the tree outs ide. Look at his large blac k eyes and long bus hy tail. Can anyone tell m e what -' 'T ree verm in,' c om m ented the s am e boy. 'My granddad s hoots them an' all. Ruin trees , they do. My granddad s ays s quirrels are a dam n nuis anc e. T hey eat all t'c orn put out for t'hens . Rats wi' bus hy tails , that's what s quirrels are. My granddad goes out in t'm orning with his s hotgun, s hoots 'em and hangs up their bodies on t'fenc e.' 'J us t lis ten a m om ent, will you, T hom as ,' I s aid, c atc hing s ight of Mrs Dunn s itting at the bac k of the room with a s elf-s atis fied s m ile on her fac e. S he s eem ed to be quite enjoying m y dis c om fort. 'W e c an perhaps talk about that later on. Now I want us all to look very c arefully at this pic ture of the rabbit. I s aw quite a few rabbits this m orning as I -' 'My granddad kills them an' all,' s aid T hom as . 'He pegs a little s tring net ovver t'rabbit warren holes and lets one of his jills down.' 'J ills ?' I as ked. 'His ferret. He keeps her half fed to m ake her keen. If he underfeeds her, s he eats t'rabbit and won't c om e up out of t' ole. If he overfeeds her s he won't go down at all. He lets her down t'hole and s he c has es t'rabbits out into t'net. T hen m y granddad breaks their nec ks . He's reight good at that.' 'Really,' I s aid feebly. 'W ell perhaps later on we c ould hear all about that, T hom as , but for the m om ent let's look at the pic ture and think of the s hapes and c olours in it.' I s elec ted the final large photograph of a dorm ous e and dec ided on a pre-em ptive s trike. 'A nd what about dorm ic e, T hom as ? Does your granddad kill thos e as well and hang them up on the fenc e?' 'No, he quite likes dorm ic e. T hey don't really do any harm .' T hank goodnes s for that, I thought. 'Right then,' I s aid c heerfully, 'let's all look at this s hy little dorm ous e, c linging to a s talk of wheat. Look c arefully at the c olour of his fur and his large round eyes whic h -' 'S heba kills dorm ic e, though,' s aid T hom as in his flat, m atter-of-fac t voic e. 'S heba?' I s ighed. 'Our farm c at. S he c atc hes 'em in t'fields , c arries 'em into t'kitc hen and plays with 'em before killing 'em . W e try to get 'em off of 'er but s he runs off.' 'I s ee,' I s aid wearily. 'A nd s om etim es s he brings s hrews into t'kitc hen an' all, and bites their 'eads off and -' 'Is there anyone els e who would like to s ay anything about anim als ?' I interrupted, in the hope of c hanging the s ubjec t. A s m all, pixie-fac ed little boy s itting right under m y nos e rais ed his hand eagerly. 'Y es ?' I s aid pleas antly, looking into the keen little fac e. 'W hat have you to tell m e?' 'I've got frogs on m y underpants ,' he announc ed proudly. B y the end of the m orning the c hildren had produc ed s om e s hort, interes ting poem s about the anim als . Mos t were not about little, s oft-furred m oles , adorable little dorm ic e, gam bolling rabbits or playful s quirrels but were blunt, realis tic des c riptions of the anim als that they knew s o m uc h about - far m ore than I ever would. T hey c learly did not need a s et of large photographs to prom pt them . T here were im ages of 'fierc e, s harp-toothed badgers ', 'c rows whic h pic ked at the dead anim als on the road', 'fat, blac k rats that hid in the hay' and 'red foxes c reeping behind the hen c oop'. T hom as 's effort was quite c learly the bes t: On a fros ty m orning, m y granddad T akes his jill to c atc h rabbits . S he has a little blue c ollar and a s ilver bell, T iny red eyes and c ream y fur, A nd s he trem bles in his hands . 'T hom as lives on the farm at the top of the dale,' explained Mrs Dunn as we headed in the direc tion of the s c hool hall for lunc h. S he was quite anim ated and talkative. 'Like m os t farm ing c hildren, he's been brought up to be uns entim ental about anim als . T hey are on the farm for a purpos e, not as pets , and any c reature whic h affec ts their livelihood is regarded as a pes t. Y ou s hould hear what he's got to s ay about foxes .' S he paus ed for a m om ent before adding, 'T hom as has a great deal to s ay for him s elf, has n't he? Y ou m ight have gues s ed, Mr P hinn, he's Oliver's younger brother.' A t lunc h I s at between T hom as and an angelic -looking little girl. T he boy s urveyed m e for a m om ent. 'Meat and tatey pie for lunc h,' he s aid rubbing his hands . 'My favourite.' He s tared at m e for a m om ent. 'I rec kon you won't be 'aving any.' 'W hy is that?' I as ked, intrigued. 'Y ou're probably one of thos e vegetarians . Me granddad does n't like vegetarians . He s ays they take the m eat out of his m outh. "T here's nothing better than a good bit o' beef on your plate or a nic e bit o' pork on your fork." T hat's what m y granddad s ays . He does n't like vegetarians , m y granddad.' W oe betide any vegetarian foolis h enough to c ros s his granddad's land, I thought to m ys elf. T hey'd end up, along with the m oles and the s quirrels , hanging up on t'fenc e. B efore I c ould inform T hom as that I was not, in fac t, a vegetarian, the little angel s itting next to m e whis pered s hyly, 'I like rabbits .' 'S o do I,' I replied. 'My daddy likes rabbits too.'

'Does he?' 'A nd m y m um m y likes rabbits .' 'T hat's nic e.' S he took a m outhful of m eat and potato pie before adding quietly, 'T hey tas te really good with onions .' I am c ertain that I learnt m ore from the c hildren that m orning at Highc ops e P rim ary S c hool than they did from m e. Heading bac k to the offic e after lunc h, on that bright autum nal afternoon, along the twis ting ribbon of road, I c am e onc e m ore upon the s waying box on wheels with the c ut-out hand waving 'Have a nic e day' in the bac k window. I glanc ed again at the driver as I overtook. He gave m e his s haky wave. I s m iled and waved bac k. I was in s uc h a good m ood that had the extrem ely dirty-looking individual s till been at the s ide of the road intent on getting to Y ork, I m ight very well have s topped to give him a lift. Later that afternoon, on m y way bac k from c ollec ting s om e guideline doc um ents from the P rint Room , I bum ped into George Lapping in a c orridor in County Hall. 'Hello,' he s aid lac onic ally. 'W hat are you doing at County Hall, George?' I as ked. 'I thought you rarely ventured out of B ac kwaters thwaite.' 'I've been dragooned,' he s aid. 'P ardon?' 'E nlis ted, pres s -ganged, s elec ted to s it on one of thes e advis ory c om m ittees . I got the s ort of invitation you c ouldn't refus e from the CE O. It's on "K ey S kills ". Now what do I know about key s kills ? Y ou're res pons ible, putting m e in the s potlight and enc ouraging that HMI to vis it m e. I knew it would happen.' 'I m eant to give you a ring about the HMI. S he's been then, has s he?' 'Oh, s he's been all right,' he replied with a wry c huc kle. 'Have you got a m inute, George?' I as ked him . 'J us t let's pop into one of the em pty c om m ittee room s and you c an fill m e in.' A m om ent later George was giving m e a blow-by-blow ac c ount of the vis itation of Mis s W inifred de la Mare, HMI. 'For a s tart,' began George, 'I didn't rem em ber rec eiving this letter whic h s he s aid s he s ent, s aying when s he would be c om ing, s o it was a real s hoc k when s he arrived on m y doors tep. I was walking up the path to the s c hool one m orning jus t before half pas t eight and, as I always do, I paus ed to adm ire the view. A nyway, as I approac hed the entranc e a huge brown c reature jum ped out at m e. It gave m e the s hoc k of m y life. I thought at firs t it was a grizzly bear. W hen I had c alm ed down a bit, I realis ed it was , in fac t, a large wom an in thic k brown tweeds , heavy brogues and this hat in the s hape of a flowerpot. ' "Y ou were expec ting m e! " s he s naps . ' "W as I?" I replied. ' "Y es ! " s ays s he. ' "Oh! " s ays I. ' "I wrote you a letter," s ays s he. ' "Did you?" s ays I. ' "Did you not get it?" s he as ks . ' "I m ight have," I replied. ' "It was very im portant," s ays s he. ' "W as it?" s ays I. ' "Offic ial! " s ays s he. "In a large brown envelope." ' "Really?" s ays I. ' "T he nam e is de la Mare," s ays s he. "Do you not rem em ber?" ' "Can't s ay as I do," s ays I.' A s George rec ounted his m eeting with the HMI, it brought bac k m em ories of his and m y firs t m eeting and the verbal badm inton we had played for a good few m inutes before he had dis c overed that I was not the m an to fix the guttering but a s c hool ins pec tor. I thought to m ys elf that he m ight have learnt s om ething from that experienc e. He c learly had not. 'S o what happened?' I as ked. 'I told her that I rec eived lots of letters but, bec aus e I was a teac hing head, I had to deal with c orres pondenc e and s uc h when I c ould find the tim e. S he followed m e into the s c hool, peering around her as if it were a m us eum , dec lined a c up of tea, plonked hers elf down on m y c hair, took the flowerpot off her head and got out this thic k wedge of paper from her big blac k bag. ' "I'm ready to c om m enc e," s ays s he. ' "A re you?" s ays I. ' "I am ," s ays s he. 'I pointed out to her that the c hildren had not yet arrived s o there was not m uc h point in "c om m enc ing" anything, but at nine o'c loc k after the regis ter s he c ould get s tarted. I as ked her if s he wanted to begin with the infants and work up or with the juniors and work down. ' "I wis h to s tart with you, Mr Lapping," s he s ays , fixing m e with thos e gim let eyes of hers . "I want to dis c us s the teac hing of s pelling, gram m ar and punc tuation, approac hes to poetry, dram a and s tory writing, s tandards of literac y, the handwriting polic y, reading in the early years and the level of c om prehens ion." It was like an educ ational s hopping lis t. ' "Hang on, Mis s Mare," I s ays . ' "De la," s ays s he, "it's de la Mare." ' I s hut m y eyes and groaned inwardly - I c ould gues s what was c om ing. ' "OK , Della," I s ays , "I don't have all that inform ation at m y fingertips , you know." ' B ingo! ' "W ell, don't you think you ought to, Mr Lapping?" s ays s he. ' "W hat?" s ays I. ' "Have that inform ation at your fingertips . A fter all you are the Headteac her! " 'I tried to explain to her that doc um ent after doc um ent arrived at the s c hool like the plagues of E gypt, that I'd got a broken boiler, faulty pipes , toilets whic h wouldn't flus h, a leaking roof, three c hildren with c hic ken pox and a m em ber of s taff s uffering from s tres s who, having jus t returned from one of Mr Clam p's art c ours es , was ready to c huc k hers elf down a pothole at Hopton Crags . ' "Nevertheles s , Mr Lapping," s ays s he, "it would be helpful to have s om e inform ation on all thes e m atters ." ' "W ell, it's a new one to m e," s ays I. "It's the firs t tim e in nearly forty years of teac hing that the nit nurs e has wanted that s ort of inform ation from m e." ' I winc ed. 'Y ou thought s he was the s c hool nurs e?' 'W ell, of c ours e I did. How was I to know s he was one of thes e HMIs ? I've only ever m et one in the whole of m y c areer and he was an old m an in a s uit, with a hangdog expres s ion and about as happy as a joc key with haem orrhoids . I was c ertainly not expec ting a s trapping great wom an in tweeds . I m ean, s he looked like the nit nurs e.' 'How did s he reac t?' I hardly dared as k. 'S he s tared at m e for a m om ent with a s ort of glazed expres s ion and then s he s m iled. ' "Let's s tart again, Mr Lapping," s he s aid. "My nam e is W inifred de la Mare, HMI." 'W e got on like a hous e on fire after that, partic ularly when s he had m et the c hildren and read their poetry and s tories . S he liked what s he s aw s o m uc h s he's c om ing bac k in the s pring.' 'I really am delighted,' I s aid. 'Maybe I c ould c om e out to m eet her when s he returns ?' 'Oh, you'll be m eeting her all right, Gervas e,' George Lapping replied. 'S he was very interes ted in the c reative writing we were doing, s aid it was very innovative, s o I told her I got the ideas from one of your literac y c ours es and I s ugges ted that s he m ight c are to join you on the next one you direc t. T hos e little gim let eyes of hers lit up at the thought. S he s aid it was an exc ellent s ugges tion and that s he will, no doubt, be getting in touc h with you.' 'W ell, thank you very m uc h,' I replied. 'Y ou s hould be very flattered,' he told m e, with a m is c hievous ring in his voic e. 'It's a m ark of the exc ellent in-s ervic e you provide that I have rec om m ended you.' W ith that, he m ade for the door, waved his hand dram atic ally and departed with the words : ' "S om e are born great, s om e ac hieve greatnes s and s om e have greatnes s thrus t upon them ." '

5

T here was a witc h waiting for m e outs ide the s c hool. T he hideous c reature had long, knotted blac k hair whic h c as c aded from beneath a pointed hat, a pale green-tinged fac e and c rim s on s lit of a m outh, and s he was s hrouded in a flowing blac k c ape. A s I approac hed, the red-rim m ed eyes fixed m e with a glare and a long white-fingered hand with s harp red nails reac hed out like the talon of s om e great bird of prey and bec koned. T he ghas tly c rone s m iled widely to reveal a m outhful of blac kened teeth. 'Hello, Gervas e,' s he c rooned, 'how nic e to s ee you.' B efore m e s tood the wom an I was pretty s ure I loved. B eneath the green and red m ake-up, the tangle of hair and the c loak of blac k was Mis s Chris tine B entley, Headteac her of W innery Nook Nurs ery and Infant S c hool. T hat partic ular m orning I had agreed to vis it the s c hool as part of the Children's Reading Day c elebrations to take the s c hool as s em bly, talk to the c hildren about s tories and reading, and judge the c om petition for the bes t fanc y-dres s ed c harac ters out of literature. I had looked forward im m ens ely to s eeing Chris tine again and, even dres s ed as a witc h, thought s he looked wonderful. I had arrived at the E duc ation Offic e earlier in the day feeling on top of the world. 'Y ou're looking pretty c hipper, Gervas e,' rem arked S idney as I entered the room , hum m ing. 'I am feeling pretty c hipper ac tually, S idney,' I replied c heerfully. 'Certainly a lot m ore buoyant than a c ouple of weeks ago,' rem arked David, looking up from his papers and rem oving his s pec tac les . 'I take it you have plac ated Mrs P eters on and have dear little Mrs Dunn eating out of your hand following your lates t vis it to Highc ops e S c hool?' 'Y es , things went well, thank you, David. Y ou were quite right, s he is a dedic ated teac her and perhaps I was a little hard on her.' 'A nd is the B ride of Frankens tein leaving you in peac e?' 'T hings have gone blis s fully quiet in that direc tion,' I s aid brightly. 'Not a m em o or a m es s age or a telephone c all all week from Mrs S avage.' 'T here's a definite s pring in your s tep,' c ontinued S idney, 'an eagernes s in your eye and rather a s m ug little s m ile playing about your lips . I c ould hear you whis tling up the s tairs like a blac kbird with the early m orning worm .' 'It would hardly be whis tling, this blac kbird of yours ,' obs erved David, putting down his pen, 'if it had a beak full of worm s .' 'Oh, don't be s o pedantic ,' retorted S idney. 'I didn't s ay the blac kbird had the worm in its beak, did I?' 'W ell, where would it have the worm then, if it's not in its beak - tuc ked under its wing? In a s hopping bas ket?' 'Look, the worm is im m aterial -' began S idney. 'Is this c onvers ation leading anywhere?' I interrupted. I had heard quite enough about worm s rec ently - enough to las t m e a lifetim e. S idney ignored m e. 'W hat I m eant, David, is that Gervas e looks like the c at that has c aught the m ous e. Now is that c om paris on ac c eptable to you?' I had heard enough about m ic e as well. 'W hen you two have quite finis hed -' I attem pted to get a word in but had no s uc c es s . 'Not really,' c ontinued David. 'T hat's a c lic he, that is . W hat about: like a proud, powerful lion s urveying his jungle kingdom . Muc h m ore original, prec is e and des c riptive, don't you think?' 'Now I wonder why our young c olleague here is looking s o very pleas ed with him s elf this bright m orning?' rem arked S idney, s wivelling around on his c hair to fac e m e. 'It has rather m ore to it than having a s uc c es s ful vis it to Highc ops e S c hool, I'll wager.' 'P os s ibly bec aus e today is Children's Reading Day,' I s ugges ted, 'and for m os t of the tim e I s hall be doing what I really enjoy - touring s c hools enc ouraging c hildren to read.' 'Or c ould it, by any c hanc e, be bec aus e you are about to s ee the wom an of your dream s , the V enus of Fettles ham , the A phrodite of the educ ation world, the delec table Mis s Chris tine B entley of W innery Nook Nurs ery and Infant S c hool?' 'How do you know I am vis iting W innery Nook this m orning?' 'Y ou c an't keep anything from m e, dear boy. J ulie m entioned that you had the vis it on your engagem ent s heet for this week. Now do tell us , how are things going with that Nordic beauty of yours ?' B efore I c ould reply, David looked up again from his papers . 'S he's a real c rac ker is that Mis s B entley,' he s aid. 'A s m y grandfather - he was the one who had the s heep farm near B uilth W ells - us ed to s ay, "Fy ddai hi y n berffaith petai hi y n Gy mraes ." ' 'I c ould not have expres s ed it better m ys elf,' rem arked S idney. 'A nd what in heaven's nam e does that m outhful of gutteral gibberis h m ean? W henever you s tart s pouting W els h I always think you're c hoking on a bone.' 'It m eans , "If s he were W els h, s he'd be perfec t"! ' replied David. 'A nd I'll tell you this , if I was fanc y-free, with a bit m ore hair on m y head and les s of a s pare tyre around the tum m y, I'd be after her like a rat up a drainpipe.' ' "Like a rat up a drainpipe"! ' S idney repeated, s norting. 'W hat a wonderful way with words you W els h have! "Like a rat up a drainpipe." Mos t original and des c riptive. I don't know how you have the bras s nec k to c ritic is e m y c hoic e of words when you us e that s ort of hac kneyed expres s ion.' I had begun to s ort through the papers on m y des k to c hec k that there was nothing urgent to deal with, trying not to get involved in the endles s badinage between S idney and David. It was im pos s ible, however, not to lis ten. T hey were like a c om edy duo. One would s et off on a line of thought and then the other would res pond with a wittic is m or a c lever ripos te, eac h trying to outdo the other. It was like playing verbal ping-pong. A fter a m om ent's s ilenc e, when I thought m y two c olleagues had returned to their work, S idney jum ped up from his des k, hurried over to where I was s tanding, put his arm around m y s houlder and looked at m e with an intens e expres s ion upon his fac e and a gleam in his eye. 'W hat is it?' I as ked. 'Now c om e along, Gervas e, you have been partic ularly elus ive when a c ertain young enc hantres s is m entioned. How are things going with you and the delightful Headteac her of W innery Nook?' 'Oh, all right,' I replied, s huffling m y papers . 'A nother m as ter words m ith. "Oh, all right",' S idney s norted again. 'E ver the m as ter of unders tatem ent. Y ou are s uppos ed to be an ins pec tor for E nglis h, for goodnes s s ake. Can't you do better than "Oh, all right"? W hat about s plendid, fantas tic , m agnific ent, m arvellous , am azing, inc redible, m irac ulous , phenom enal, s pec tac ular -' 'A ll right! A ll right! T hings are going pretty well. I jus t don't want to tem pt fate.' 'S o we c an as s um e that you are, in Harold's quaintly old-fas hioned words , "walking out" with Mis s B entley, or in J ulie's m ore down-to-earth des c ription "c ooartin" and that wedding bells will s oon be in the air?' 'No, you c ertainly c annot as s um e any s uc h thing. I have taken her out a few tim es . T here's nothing s erious at the m om ent.' I was feeling rather em barras s ed and irritated by the way the c onvers ation was going. 'Have you c om pleted this form on s c hool res ourc es yet?' I as ked holding up a yellow s heet of paper, endeavouring to c hange the s ubjec t. 'Oh, you won't get out of ans wering quite s o eas ily as that,' S idney told m e, pluc king the paper from m y hand and returning it to the pile on m y des k. 'Now do tell. A re things developing s atis fac torily in that direc tion?' 'Look, S idney,' I groaned, 'I would rather not talk about it. It's gone eight thirty and I have to be in a s c hool in fifteen m inutes .' 'W ell, you want to go for it, Gervas e,' rem arked David, leaving his des k to join us . 'Y ou are only young onc e. A nd as m y grandfather us ed to s ay -' 'Oh dear, here we go,' s ighed S idney. 'More W els h wis dom . A t leas t, it's a c hange from your old grandm other.' ' "Live for the m om ent, for tim e runs away like the wild hors es in the wind." V ery im aginative was m y old grandfather. One of the W els h bards he was . He had a very poetic al turn of phras e. You know, I think about that little s aying of his m ore and m ore thes e days . I feel as if tim e is running away with m e like the hors es in the wind.' He turned to the window and s tared out in the direc tion of County Hall. 'I've felt dec idedly pas t it rec ently, I c an tell you. Las t week a c hild as ked m e if I wore knic kerboc kers when I was a boy, and then the gam es teac her at S t W alburga's wondered if I m ight c are for a c hair while I watc hed the rugby m atc h. T hen I got this m em orandum from Mrs S avage outlining the advantages of early retirem ent. P eople will be s tanding up for m e on bus es next and helping m e c ros s the road.' He s ighed, turned to fac e m e and res ted a hand on m y s houlder, 'B ut about Mis s B entley...' A s the c onvers ation was now developing into an in-depth analys is of m y love life, I dec ided to leave. S natc hing up m y m ail, I c ram m ed it into m y briefc as e and headed for the door, nearly knoc king J ulie over in the proc es s as s he entered with three m ugs of c offee. 'S om ebody's in a hurry! ' s he exc laim ed. 'Rus hing around like a rabbit with the runs .' 'Look,' I s aid quietly but deliberately and addres s ing all three of m y c om panions , 'this m orning I have been c om pared to a blac kbird with a beak full of worm s , a c at that has got the m ous e, a lion in the jungle, a rat up a drainpipe, a hors e in the wind and now a rabbit with the runs . To c ontinue the anim al s im iles , m ay I add one of m y own? I feel like a fox purs ued by hounds . I would be very pleas ed if you left m e and m y love life alone! A nd s o that no one is in any doubt where I am going, I am off to W innery B ook S c hool for Nook Day, I m ean W innery Nook for B ook Day, to s ee Chris tine, I m ean Mis s B entley, purely, I m ay add, in m y profes s ional c apac ity.' 'Of c ours e you are! ' they all c horus ed loudly. 'I thought you were dres s ing up for Children's Reading Day,' I teas ed, returning Chris tine's s m ile. 'Cheeky thing! ' s he exc laim ed. 'Y ou had better c om e in. A nd any m ore c lever c om m ents of that kind and I'll put a s pell on you.' B ut Chris tine had already put a s pell on m e. S he had c aptivated and c harm ed m e, if only s he knew it. I walked with her down the s c hool c orridor pas t exc ited, c hattering c hildren dres s ed as all s orts of c harac ters , fus s ing parents who were putting the final touc hes to their c hildren's outfits , and teac hers in c os tum e attem pting to organis e things . 'How was Chic ago?' 'Marvellous ,' Chris tine replied. 'A nd the dis s ertation?' 'A ll finis hed and s ent off.' W e had arrived at the m ain hall by this tim e and were s urrounded by a knot of c olourful little c harac ters all exc ited to s how them s elves off to the Headteac her. 'Look,' Chris tine whis pered, laying a red talon on m y arm , 'things are a bit frenetic at the m om ent, but I'm free this weekend. Let's go out and I c an tell you all about it and you c an tell m e what s ort of s um m er you've had.' 'T hat would be great,' I s aid, c huc kling. 'I'll give you a ring.' 'W hat are you laughing at?' s he as ked. 'Y ou jus t look s o ridic ulous in that witc h outfit.' 'I've told you onc e,' s he s aid, s howing a m outhful of blac k teeth, 'I'll put a s pell on you. I prom is e we'll c atc h up on everything this weekend, but now I m us t welc om e the parents and c hildren, Gervas e, s o if you would like to wait in the s taff room , I'll s ee you in a m om ent. Make yours elf a c up of c offee if you like. Oh, by the way, you'll find the Chairm an of Governors in there. S he'll be judging the c om petition with you.' In the s m all s taff room I found a large, elderly wom an with hands on hips and legs planted well apart, s taring intently out of the window at the view. S he had really gone to town on her c os tum e and was dres s ed in a wonderfully bizarre outfit. T he heavy, old-fas hioned s uit was a m us tard yellow with red and green c hec ks and was as s hapeles s as a s ac k of potatoes . T he thic k s toc kings were of the darkes t brown and the s hoes of the heavy, s ens ible brogue variety with little leather ac orns attac hed to the front. To c om plete the effec t, s he wore a wide-brim m ed red hat s porting two long pheas ant feathers , held in plac e by a s ilver brooc h in the s hape of a s tag's head. S he held a battered old handbag and an anc ient um brella with a s wan's head handle. S he looked m agnific ently outlandis h. T he m ultic oloured figure, like s om e overfed, exotic bird, turned full c irc le when s he heard m e enter. 'Mornin'! ' s he s napped. 'Good m orning,' I replied. 'Y ou really do look the part.' S he s tared at m e perplexed. 'Do I?' 'Y es , indeed. A re you Mis s Marple?' 'I beg your pardon, young m an?' 'Mis s Marple?' 'No, I'm not. I'm S ybil W ainwright, Chairm an of Governors .' 'B ut who are you dres s ed as ? A re you not A gatha Chris tie's s leuth, Mis s Marple?' 'W hy do you keep going on about a Mis s Marple? I've already told you, m y nam e is Mrs W ainwright.' 'Y es , but what c harac ter are you s uppos ed to be? A re you Mary P oppins ?' 'Charac ter? W hat are you blathering on about? I've not c om e as any c harac ter.' It then dawned upon m e that s he was wearing her us ual apparel. 'I always dres s like this .' I urgently wanted the ground to open and s wallow m e up. 'Of c ours e.' I held out m y hand whic h s he s hook c harily. 'It's m y feeble attem pt at hum our. I'm Gervas e P hinn, s c hool ins pec tor, here to judge the c om petition with you.' 'P leas ed to m eet you, I'm s ure,' s aid Mrs W ainwright, grim ac ing and eyeing m e s us pic ious ly. 'I had not the firs t idea what you were going on about.' A fter a s hort and rather s trained c onvers ation, I extric ated m ys elf from the c om pany of the c olourful Chairm an of Governors and went in s earc h of Chris tine. I found her in the s m all reading area of the s c hool. T he W ic ked W itc h of the W es t was s itting in the c orner with her arm around a s m all boy who was c rying piteous ly. His little body was s haking unc ontrollably and great tears s tream ed down his round red fac e. Chris tine held him c los e with a c law-like hand and tried to c om fort him . T he c hild was dres s ed in twis ted yellow tights over whic h he wore a pair of c los e-fitting, elec tric -blue underpants . He had on a baggy white T -s hirt with S UP A MA N written inc orrec tly ac ros s the front in large, s haky letters . 'W ell, I don't think you look a prat, Gavin,' s aid the witc h. 'I do, m is s , I do,' whim pered S uperm an. 'E veryone s ays I look a prat.' Chris tine c aught s ight of m e peering through the bookc as es . 'W ell, look who is here! ' s he c ried, bec koning m e over. 'It's Mr P hinn.' S uperm an looked up and s tifled his s obbing for a m om ent. He wiped away his tears with a grubby little fis t, leaving long s treaks ac ros s his c heeks , and s tared s orrowfully in m y direc tion. 'Now, Mr P hinn is a very im portant vis itor, Gavin, and knows everything about everything bec aus e he's an ins pec tor.' T he c hild s niffed loudly and wiped his nos e on his hand. 'Do you know what an ins pec tor does ?' T he c hild nodded pathetic ally before ans wering. 'He c ollec ts bus tic kets .' Chris tine s tifled a laugh before telling the c hild that I was a s c hool ins pec tor and s om ething of an expert on c os tum es . 'S hall we as k Mr P hinn what he thinks about your outfit, Gavin?' T he c hild s niffed, wiped his nos e again and nodded. 'W ell, Mr P hinn,' s aid Chris tine, 'do you think Gavin looks a prat?' 'I c ertainly do not think he looks a prat! ' I exc laim ed dram atic ally. T he little boy s tarted to weep and wail again. 'I do! I do! I know I do. E verybody s ays I do! ' 'A nd I have in m y poc ket a s pec ial piec e of paper whic h s ays you do not look a prat.' I reac hed in m y jac ket, produc ed a vis iting c ard and wrote on it: 'S uperm an does not look a prat.' T he little boy took it from m e, s c rutinized it for a m om ent and as ked: 'Is that what it s ays ?' 'It does ,' I replied. He tuc ked the c ard down the bac k of his elec tric -blue underpants , s niffed, s m iled and s c urried off. Chris tine c am e over and put her hand on m y arm . 'T hat was s weet,' s he s aid. 'Now let's s ee how you fare taking the s c hool as s em bly.' T he infants by this tim e had gathered in the hall and were s itting c ros s -legged in their res plendent c os tum es , fac ing the front. 'Good m orning, c hildren,' s aid Chris tine brightly. 'Good m orning Mis s B entley, good m orning everyone,' they c hanted. 'Don't you all look wonderful this m orning,' s he s aid, s c anning the rows of c hildren who gazed bac k with expec tant, happy fac es . 'E veryone looks really, really s uper. My goodnes s , what a lot of different c harac ters we have in the hall today. It's going to be really hard to judge whic h of you are the bes t, s o I have as ked two of m y friends to help m e. I think you all know Mrs W ainwright' - s he indic ated the Chairm an of Governors s itting at the s ide - 'and s om e of you m ay rem em ber Mr P hinn who vis ited our s c hool las t year. W ell, Mr P hinn is going to take our as s em bly this m orning and then help us dec ide whic h of you are the m os t im aginatively dres s ed c harac ters . Over to you, Mr P hinn.' I had dec ided that I would read the c hildren the parable of the los t s heep. It's a s hort ac c ount and I thought it would be very appropriate for an as s em bly and would relate to the c hildren, m any of whom c am e from farm ing bac kgrounds . 'Good m orning, c hildren,' I s aid, s triding to the front of the hall. 'Today, as you know, is Children's Reading Day and Mis s B entley has as ked m e to talk to you about s om e of m y favourite books .' I held up a large c rim s on-c oloured volum e, on the front of whic h the title, S tories from the B ible, was pic ked out in large golden lettering. 'T his book was given to m e by m y m other m any years ago when I was a little boy. It is a very s pec ial book, full of wonderful s tories whic h were told by a very s pec ial m an. Does anyone know who I m ean?' 'J es us ,' c horus ed the c hildren. 'Yes , it's J es us , and although J es us never wrote down any of his s tories , his friends did, and m illions of people have read what he s aid nearly two thous and years ago. J es us wanted everyone to be kind and love eac h other and was often s urrounded by people who did not have m uc h m oney, people who had done wrong, people who had got into trouble, people who were s ic k and lonely, people who were looked down upon by the ric h and powerful. In this s tory, whic h is c alled "T he S tory of the Los t S heep", J es us tries to help us unders tand how we s hould feel about the poor and weak.' E very eye was on m e as I read the s tory. 'Im agine that a s hepherd had a hundred s heep. One day, when he c ounted them , he found that there was one m is s ing. He c ould have s aid, "W ell, it's only one, I've got ninety-nine m ore. I won't bother looking for it." B ut he didn't s ay that. He left all the other s heep untended and went in s earc h of the one los t s heep until he found it. Now why do you think he did that?' I hoped that the c hildren would apprec iate the m eaning of the parable, that every s ingle one of us is valuable in the eyes of God and that 'there is m ore joy in heaven when one s inner turns bac k to God than ninety-nine who s ee no need to repent'. B ut the point was m is s ed. 'W hy do you think the s hepherd ris ked los ing all the other s heep jus t for the one whic h was los t?' I as ked again. A thoughtful-looking little boy on the front row rais ed a hand. ''appen it were t'tup! ' he s aid. I pres s ed on, explaining what parables were and how they taught us all how to lead better lives . I c ould s ee by the fidgeting and turning of heads that I was not having a m as s ive im pac t on the c hildren who were obvious ly keen to get on with the judging of the c os tum es , s o I dec ided to finis h. B ut not before pos ing one final ques tion. 'A nd what would you s ay to J es us ,' I as ked, holding high the red book like s om e preac her of old, 'if he were to walk into the hall this m orning?' T he boy on the front row thought for a m om ent, then rais ed his hand a s ec ond tim e and s aid loudly, 'I'd give 'im that book, Mes ter P hinn, and I'd s ay, "J es us Chris t - this is your life! " ' T he judging of the c om petition went a great deal better. B efore us paraded a whole hos t of book c harac ters : Long J ohn S ilver and P eter Rabbit, P addington B ear and P eter P an, Robin Hood and Cinderella, Toad of Toad Hall and Little Red Riding Hood. Las t of all c am e a pathetic -looking little boy in wrinkled yellow tights , elec tric -blue underpants and a T -s hirt with S UP A MA N written inc orrec tly ac ros s the front. I heard a few s uppres s ed giggles and whis pers from the other c hildren and s aw their s m irks and s m iles . Mrs W ainwright and I awarded the firs t prize to the Little Merm aid, the s ec ond prize to A laddin and the third prize to a very pleas ed little boy in yellow tights , elec tric -blue underpants and a T -s hirt with S UP A MA N written inc orrec tly ac ros s the front. A s he s c am pered out to the front of the hall, his weeping and whim pering c eas ed and the frowns were replac ed by a great beam ing s m ile. I s aid m y farewells to the c hildren and Mrs W ainwright and headed for the door. Chris tine followed m e and when s he had m ade s ure we were out of s ight of everyone s lipped her hand through m y arm . 'T hat was really nic e of you,' s he s aid, giving m e a quic k pec k on the c heek and then rubbing out the greenis h s m ear whic h had been left behind. 'Gavin won't s top talking about that for weeks . Y ou're an old s oftie really, aren't you?' 'I think the as s em bly was a bit over their heads ,' I s aid. 'J us t a bit. I've got to go. Don't forget to ring m e.' A large, round-fac ed boy appeared from the hall. He wore a bright red blous e, baggy blue pants , large red floppy hat with a s m all s ilver bell on the end and huge blac k s hoes . His lips were c rim s on, his eyes lined in thic k blac k m as c ara and two s c arlet c irc les adorned eac h c heek. It was a grotes que parody of Noddy. 'Mr P hinn! ' he gas ped. 'Mr P hinn! I need one of thos e piec es of paper whic h you gave to Gavin whic h s ays I don't look a prat.' Driving on to m y next appointm ent, I rec alled when I had been in exac tly the s am e s ituation as little Gavin. I was s even at the tim e and m y s is ter, at hom e from teac her training c ollege, had m ade m e the m os t m agnific ent red and yellow outfit from c repe paper for a fanc y dres s event. I was to go as the P ied P iper of Ham elin and had s et off for s c hool with her in m y c olourful doublet and little red and yellow hat. P eople on the top dec k of the bus had c raned their nec ks to get a view of the little figure who had s trutted along, pas s ers -by had s tared and then s m iled, and old ladies had peered through the c urtains . I had felt the

c entre of attention and s o proud. Halfway there, the s ky had opened and the rain had fallen as thic k as um brella s pokes . In s ec onds the c ris p c repe paper had turned into one s oggy, orange m es s and I had arrived at s c hool s oaked to the s kin and s obbing unc ontrollably. Mis s Franklin, the Headteac her, had taken c harge im m ediately and I had been dried and given a c lean pair of s horts and yellow T -s hirt to wear. B y this tim e, m y great heaving s obs had bec om e a pathetic s niffle and s nuffle but when I had s een m ys elf in the m irror I had returned to the howling. T he dye from the red and yellow c repe paper had run and looking bac k at m e in the m irror had been a s m all boy with brilliant orange s treaks down his fac e, arm s , hands and legs . Mis s Franklin had c alm ed m e down, given m e a c uddle and had us hered m e into the hall where all the other c hildren were waiting in their c olourful c os tum es . I rem em bered their s m irks and grins and the whis pering and giggling and, like the c hild in the elec tric -blue underpants and yellow tights , I had felt a c om plete prat. 'W ho's he c om e as , m is s ?' one of the older c hildren had s niggered. 'W ell, c an't you tell, J im m y E verett?' Mis s Franklin had s aid with exaggerated s urpris e in her voic e while putting her arm protec tively around m y s houlder. 'He's c om e as the Gingerbread Man. Fanc y you not knowing that.' Like little Gavin, I had won third prize, had talked about it for weeks and had fallen in love with m y very firs t infant Headteac her, the beautiful Mis s Franklin.

6

My next appointm ent on Children's Reading Day was at Hawks rill P rim ary, a s c hool deep in the heart of the Dales , where I had agreed to take another s c hool as s em bly on the them e of reading. A s I drove up the twis ting s nake of a road, I determ ined that this as s em bly would be without inc ident and dec ided that I would abandon m y plans to read again the parable of 'T he Los t S heep' and I would talk about s om ething c om pletely different. One day during the s um m er holidays , Chris tine and I had walked from deep within the North York Moors to the c oas t at Ravens c ar. T he journey followed the old V iking route known as T he Lyke W ake. Legend has it that the V ikings c arried the 'lyke' or c orps e ac ros s the bleak m oors to the s ea, where the body was given up to the waves . W ith the c om ing of Chris tianity, the prac tic e was c ontinued but it took on a deeper m eaning and the walk c am e to s ym bolis e the journey of the s oul towards Heaven. W hen we had arrived at Ravens c ar Chris tine had bought m e a very readable little book about T he Lyke W ake. T he c entral c harac ter was a brave and noble V iking c alled T hor who helped c arry his dead father ac ros s the lonely, des olate land to his final res ting plac e. T he s tory s tarts in m odern tim es , when a s c hool party s tum bles ac ros s a s ilver brac elet or torque glis tening in the brac ken. T his s hort, lively tale, I thought, would be ideal for reading in the as s em bly. Hawks rill was a s m all s tone building enc los ed by a low, c raggy lim es tone wall. It was s urrounded by a vas t expans e of pale and dark green fields whic h ros e to the thic k, now dead brac ken s lopes , long belts of woodland and the faraway, c old grey fells . T he Headteac her, Mrs B eighton, was a s tout, s quarely built, ruddy-c om plexioned wom an with a wide, friendly fac e and s hort c ropped white hair. Her as s is tant, Mrs B rown, was unc annily like her. T hey both wore rather old-fas hioned, floral-patterned dres s es and c ardigans and c arried c apac ious handbags . B oth were widows and s hared a s m all c ottage within walking dis tanc e of the s c hool. Mrs B eighton and Mrs B rown were ins eparable. T hey c am e on c ours es together, c ould be s een eac h S aturday, s hopping in Fettles ham , and on S undays they attended the P rim itive Methodis t Chapel and s at s ide by s ide in the front pew in their S unday hats . Mrs B eighton and Mrs B rown were typic al of m any Y orks hire folk: indus trious , good-hum oured and plain s peaking, with s trong views and an ironic s ens e of hum our. On m y las t vis it to the s c hool towards the end of the previous term , I had rem arked that they were s o typic al of the forthright and friendly people I had m et on m y travels about the c ounty. 'W ell, you know, Mr P hinn,' Mrs B eighton had explained, 'I think you c an always tell s om eone from Y orks hire.' 'B ut you c an't tell them m uc h,' Mrs B rown had added, c huc kling. B oth teac hers now greeted m e with warm s m iles when I entered the one large, bright c las s room during m orning playtim e. 'Hello, Mr P hinn,' s aid the Headteac her c heerily. 'How kind of you to c om e to s ee us .' 'Mos t kind,' ec hoed Mrs B rown. 'Do c om e in.' 'It s eem s an age s inc e you vis ited us , out here at Hawks rill,' s aid Mrs B eighton. 'A good few m onths , I s hould s ay, Mrs B eighton,' rem arked her c om panion. 'A nd the c hildren are s o looking forward to m eeting you again.' 'T hey are indeed,' added Mrs B rown. A fter m orning break, the s ixteen junior and twenty infant c hildren gathered around m e in the large c las s room for the as s em bly. T hey lis tened attentively to the s tory of T he Lyke W ake with no interruptions and everyone was c om pletely s till and hus hed when I arrived at the dram atic c onc lus ion. Mrs B eighton and Mrs B rown, m ouths open, hands res ting on their laps , s at trans fixed at either end of the c las s room like bookends and m ade no effort to m ove. 'W ell, I hope you all enjoyed that,' I s aid c heerfully when I finis hed. T he c hildren and their teac hers nodded. 'A re there any ques tions ?' I looked ac ros s a s ea of s ilent c hildren. 'T here m ight be s om ething s om eone wis hes to as k?' T here was s till no res pons e. 'A nything at all?' 'Com e along now, c hildren,' c am e Mrs B eighton's voic e from the bac k. 'I'm s ure there are lots of things you would like to as k Mr P hinn.' A young frizzy-haired boy with a pale, earnes t fac e rais ed a hand. 'A h, there's s om eone,' I c ried, relieved that at leas t one c hild had found the s tory s uffic iently interes ting to as k a ques tion. 'Y es , and what would you like to as k?' 'W hat's a c ondom ?' 'P ardon?' I jum ped up in m y c hair as if I had been poked with a c attle prod. 'A c ondom ? W hat's a c ondom ?' repeated the c hild. I was c om pletely los t for words . Mrs B eighton and Mrs B rown leapt to their feet like s ync hronis ed puppets with their s trings being yanked. 'W ell, it's ...' I began, looking appealingly towards the teac hers . 'It's a s nake,' s napped Mrs B eighton quic kly. 'No, that's an anac onda, m is s ,' volunteered a young, helpful, red-headed boy. 'It's a bird,' announc ed Mrs B rown with great as s uranc e. 'Condor,' exc laim ed the c hild at the bac k. 'Y ou're thinking of a c ondor, m is s .' 'W ell, what is a c ondom ?' pers is ted the frizzy-haired c hild, looking s traight into m y eyes . 'W ell, it's ...' I began a s ec ond tim e. 'V ikings didn't have big horns on their helm ets , J ohn,' s aid Mrs B eighton, m oving to the front of the c las s and taking c entre s tage, 'and they definitely did not have c ondom s either.' T he little boy, entirely undeterred, c ontinued with the grilling. 'B ut what is a c ondom ?' 'It's s om ething you will learn about when you are older,' replied Mrs B rown firm ly, as s he joined her c om panion. S he had the pious fac e of a Mother S uperior. 'Is it a rude word, m is s ?' as ked the innoc ent. 'No, it's not a rude word, J ohn.' 'Can I c all s om ebody a c ondom then, m is s ?' 'No! Y ou c ertainly c annot! ' s napped Mrs B eighton. 'Certainly not! ' ec hoed her c om panion. 'S om ebody c alled m e a c ondom , m is s ,' the infant told the teac her. 'W ell, they s houldn't have,' s aid Mrs B eighton. 'Ignore them ,' added Mrs B rown s harply. 'Does it begin with a c urly "C" or a kic king "K "?' as ked a fres h-fac ed little girl at the front. 'A c urly "C", S arah, but -' replied Mrs B rown. 'A nd is it s pelt C-O-N-D-O-M?' s he as ked, artic ulating every letter s lowly and deliberately. 'It is but -' 'Oh, jus t look at the tim e! ' c ried the Headteac her, c om ing to her c olleague's aid. 'W e haven't s tarted writing yet.' T he frizzy-haired c hild c ontinued to pers evere and s till had his hand in the air. 'Right, c hildren. P ut down your hand now, J ohn. E veryone s it up s traight, look this way, arm s folded and when we are ready we c an go to our des ks and s tart our writing.' Mrs B eighton explained that the older c hildren were going to rec ount the s tory I had told in as s em bly in their own words and the younger ones were to draw a pic ture and add s om e c aptions whic h s he would write on the blac kboard. S oon books were out and the c hildren were s c ribbling away indus trious ly and peac e des c ended on the c las s room . I s pent the rem ainder of the m orning working with groups of c hildren and looking through the reading s c ores . 'T hank you, Mrs B eighton,' I s aid over a c up of c offee at lunc h-tim e, 'you really s aved m y bac on.' 'I'm s orry, Mr P hinn?' s he s aid with a quizzic al expres s ion on her fac e. 'T he c ondom ,' I rem inded her. 'Oh that. W ell, c hildren do tend to get s traight to the point in this part of the world. Do you rem em ber what you were s aying on your las t vis it about bluff Y orks hire folk, Mr P hinn?' s he as ked. 'Y es , I do,' I replied. 'I believe in being hones t and open with c hildren, don't get m e wrong, but s om etim es it is nec es s ary to evade the diffic ult ques tion. A s m y s ainted m other us ed to s ay, there is a tim e and a plac e for everything.' 'A nd everything in its proper plac e,' added Mrs B rown. 'Children grow up too early thes e days , in m y opinion, Mr P hinn,' c ontinued the Headteac her. 'T he tim e when they were innoc ent until they reac hed the big s c hool has s adly pas s ed.' 'Like wild hors es in the wind,' I m urm ured, rem em bering David's words . 'I blam e the televis ion,' added her c om panion and then, alm os t as an afterthought, s ighed nois ily, 'I was thirty-three before I knew what a c ondom was .' W hen the tim e c am e for m e to leave, I paus ed at the gate of the s m all s c hool to m arvel at the panoram ic view whic h s tretc hed out before m e: s oft green pas tures dotted with grazing s heep and heavy, s quare-bodied c attle; a vas t, hazy-blue s ky s treaked with c ream y c louds ; nes tling, s unlit farm s teads ; the c ountry lane whic h twis ted and turned over the hill. It had, no doubt, rem ained the s am e for c enturies . T here was a great s ens e of tranquillity and tim eles s nes s around m e, as if the nois es and c onc erns of the m odern world had been s wallowed up by thos e rolling fields , thic k brac ken s lopes , dark, m ys terious fores ts and m is ty fells . I was brought out of m y reverie by the s ound of voic es . Out of s ight, behind the c raggy s tone wall whic h enc los ed the s c hool, I obs erved three or four young boys gathered around the red-haired pupil who had tried to put his teac hers right about what a c ondom was . He was explaining to his fas c inated c om panions that 'Y ou c an get them in different s izes , different c olours , different flavours ...' My next appointm ent was at the S taff Developm ent Centre to plan the in-s ervic e c ours e for s ec ondary s c hool librarians with Mike S piller, P rinc ipal Librarian for the c ounty, and the c hildren's writer, Irene Madley, who lived loc ally. I arrived at the unattrac tive, red-bric k building, whic h had onc e been a s ec ondary m odern s c hool, with only a few m inutes to s pare. A t the entranc e was a large notic e with the words W E LCOME T O T HE S TA FF DE V E LOP ME NT CE NT RE , underneath whic h was written, T HE S E P RE MIS E S A RE P ROT E CT E D B Y GUA RD DOGS . T he c ar park, form erly the s c hool playground, was littered with great red and yellow c ones and res em bled the tes t c ours e for advanc ed m otoris ts . Connie, the c aretaker, was awaiting m y arrival. S he was s tanding, as was her wont, in the entranc e hall, with arm s folded tightly over her c hes t and with the pained expres s ion of one who is wearing unc om fortably tight s hoes . S he was an am ple wom an with a bright c opper-c oloured perm , round florid fac e and the s m all s harp eyes of a hungry bird. S he was dres s ed in her us ual brilliant pink nylon overall and c lutc hed a feather dus ter m agis terially like a field-m ars hal's baton. 'Y ou c an always tell when the Caretaker from Hell is approac hing,' S idney had onc e s aid after a partic ularly ac rim onious exc hange with Connie. 'S he fair c rac kles in that nylon overall. T ouc h her and you'd elec troc ute yours elf.' Connie was not S idney's favourite pers on and he was c ertainly not hers . S he c om plained about him frequently and he about her. S idney - extrovert, unpredic table, c reative - was jus t the s ort of m an to ruffle Connie's feathers and he had experienc ed the s harp edge of her tongue on m any an oc c as ion. Connie, in fac t, c om plained about m os t things and m os t people. If one were to as k her how s he was , s he would invariably reply with the phras e, 'Mus tn't grum ble' whic h was followed im m ediately by a long diatribe. S he was a wom an of a c ertain reputation and fam ous for her bluntnes s , thic k s kin, m em orable m alapropis m s and am azingly inventive non s equiturs . Connie was als o very good-hearted, down-to-earth and had a dry wit to rival S idney's . On m y firs t vis it to the Centre, I had walked c heerfully into the m ain hall, with an arm ful of books and folders , to be s topped in m y trac ks by a s tentorian voic e ec hoing down the c orridor behind m e. 'I s ay! ' s he had boom ed. 'I've jus t m opped that floor! ' I had prom ptly dropped everything I had been c arrying. Later in the day s he had inform ed m e gravely that s he liked things neat and tidy and that s he had s o m uc h work c leaning up after the ins pec tors that s he 'c ould barely keep her feet above water'. Connie greeted m e that afternoon with her us ual grim ac e, whic h I ignored. 'Good afternoon, Connie,' I s aid in the m os t agreeable of voic es . 'W hat a lovely day it is .' 'I wouldn't know, I've been ins ide c leaning,' s he ans wered glum ly. 'T he weather has been perfec t today,' I c ontinued c heerfully. 'B eautifully m ild and s unny.' 'A ye, that's as m ay be,' s he m outhed, 'but I rec kon we'll be paying for it next week.' B efore I c ould res pond, s he launc hed into the attac k. 'You c am e into the c ar park like a s quirrel with its tail on fire. You want to s low down.' W hat is it, with all thes e anim al s im iles , I thought to m ys elf. Now Connie had jum ped on the band wagon. 'Y ou don't need to go s o fas t,' s he c ontinued, ges turing with the feather dus ter. 'It's a good job it is n't ic y, or you'd have been into the wall and then the s parks would have really hit the fan.' 'I thought I was running a bit late for the m eeting,' I explained. 'W ell, there's only you here.' Connie s et off up the c orridor in the direc tion of the kitc hen, s till determ ined to prolong the c onvers ation about m y s peedy arrival at the Centre. 'You nearly had m y bollards over. I put them bollards there for a reas on, not for dec oration, you know. T hey're to s top people from driving rec kles s ly and from bloc king m y entranc e. It's a health and s afety hazard it is , parking in front of m y entranc e. T hat Mr Clam p's always doing it, when he runs his artery c ours es . I'm tired of telling him not to obs truc t the fire exit, but does he lis ten? T hen there's Mr P ritc hard. He left his equipm ent propped up there on the Monday when he had his P E c ours e and -' 'I've parked well away from the entranc e, Connie,' I as s ured her, 'and your bollards are intac t and all in plac e.' 'J us t as well,' s he s norted, flic king at the window s ills as s he walked ahead of m e. W e s oon arrived at the s m all kitc hen. 'Did Mr S piller or Mrs Madley ring through to s ay they'd be late?' I as ked her. 'No,' s he replied c urtly. 'W ell, they s hould be here any tim e now. I'll go and put the papers out in a m inute, if you'll tell m e what room we're in.' 'I've put you in Room 9, well away from the ps yc hologis ts . T hey've got a m eeting here today whic h, knowing the way they talk, will go on into the early hours .' 'Connie, I was wondering -' I began. S he read m y m ind. 'A nd I s uppos e you'll be wanting a c up of tea?' 'T hat would be m os t welc om e.' 'W ell, you're out of luc k with the bis c uits . Mr Clam p polis hed off the las t c us tard c ream s on T ues day and I'm all out of Garibaldis .' Connie dis appeared into the s m all kitc hen and I heard her rattling and c lattering as s he m ade the tea. 'A nd did you have a nic e holiday this s um m er?' I s houted after her. 'No,' c am e the quic k reply. 'I thought you and your hus band were going to Ireland?' 'W e did.' 'A nd you didn't enjoy it?' 'No, I didn't! ' S he em erged a m om ent later with a m ug of tea whic h s he thrus t into m y hand. 'B e c areful, it's hot.' 'W ell, I had an abs olutely m arvellous tim e in Ireland,' I told her. 'It was one of the bes t holidays I have had. T he s c enery was s tunning, the food m agnific ent, the people really friendly. W hat was the problem ?' 'T he c ros s ing. I had a dreadful tim e. I thought I was going to die, I really did. A s s oon as I s et foot on that ferry I jus t knew I was going to be s ic k. W e'd barely got out of the harbour when it s tarted to m ove and it got wors e and wors e. I was up and down thos e s teps like a s huttlec oc k.' I as s um ed s he m eant 'like a yo-yo' but I felt it politic not to interrupt. 'If I vom ited onc e, I vom ited ten tim es .' I took a s ip of tea and attem pted to look c onc erned. 'A ll the way over, the s ea was heaving and s plas hing outs ide and I was heaving and s plas hing ins ide in the ladies ' lavatory. A nd where was Ted?' Ted was Connie's long-s uffering hus band. 'I'll tell you where Ted was ,' s he c ontinued, not waiting for or expec ting a res pons e. 'He was in the res taurant with a full E nglis h breakfas t, two rounds of toas t and a pot of tea for two, that's where Ted was . I s aid to him later, when I dec ided to talk to him again, that if I'd have fallen overboard he'd have never known. If he'd have been on the Titanic he wouldn't have got up from his egg and bac on and s aus age. No little thing like an ic eberg would have s hifted Ted from the table. Up and down, up and down, went that boat. I'll tell you this , I've never been s o glad to get m y feet on terra c otta.' I s pluttered, nearly c hoked and c overed m y tie in tea. 'I told you that tea was hot,' s he s aid. 'No, no, it's fine,' I replied, wiping m y tie with a handkerc hief, 'I was jus t thinking it was about tim e for m e to s ee if m y c olleagues have arrived.' 'A nd leave the room tidy,' Connie told m e, dis appearing into the kitc hen where s he res um ed the c lattering and c lanking. A m om ent later, as I was half way down the c orridor, I heard her ec hoing voic e, 'A nd I hope they've parked away from the entranc e.' Following the planning m eeting, I headed for m y final engagem ent of the day. Connie watc hed eagle-eyed from the window as I c rawled out of the c ar park, negotiating the line of large red and yellow, s trategic ally plac ed c ones . I was s till in good s pirits when I arrived at the m arket town of Mas onby to give an evening talk on Reading Developm ent to parents and governors , but things were about to c hange. W es tgarth P rim ary S c hool was a large, s prawling building s urrounded by high iron railings . I had vis ited the s c hool the previous year with Harold Yeats and we had rec eived a rapturous welc om e. T he beam ing c aretaker had announc ed our arrival in grand s tyle, the s ec retary had very nearly s wooned with pleas ure and the Headteac her, Mrs T hornton, a hors e-fac ed wom an with a vigorous hands hake, had exc laim ed: 'A t las t! I c annot tell you how pleas ed we are to s ee you! ' S he had then dis c overed that we were not from the P rem is es and Maintenanc e S ec tion of the E duc ation Departm ent, as s he had thought, there to deal with the s m ell in the boys ' lavatories , and her attitude had ins tantly c hanged for the wors e. S he had regained her good hum our, however, when Harold had delivered a very good report on the s c hool c urric ulum and prom is ed to take up her c aus e of the boys ' lavatories at County Hall. My talk now at W es tgarth P rim ary S c hool s tarted later than planned. In the Headteac her's room , I was c ollared by the partic ularly garrulous and s elf-opinionated Chairm an of Governors who owned the large hardware s hop near the s c hool. I had pas s ed the prem is es on m y way down the High S treet and s m iled after reading the notic e prom inently dis played in the window: 'B argain B as em ent Ups tairs '. T he owner was a loud, flop-eared, extrem ely portly individual with a nos e as heavy as a turnip and great hooded eyes . He berated m e about the drop in s tandards , the dec line of hom ework, the lac k of m anners in the young and the inc reas e in juvenile c rim e. T he Headteac her tried in vain to intervene and m ove the c onvers ation on to m ore pleas ant and inc ons equential topic s but s he failed s ingularly. T he Chairm an of Governors , s tabbing the air with a fat finger and with eyes s hining with the intens ity of a zealot, c arried on regardles s . Mrs T hornton's fac e took on the long, gloom y expres s ion I had obs erved on m y vis it to the s c hool the previous year, when Harold had inform ed her that we had not c om e to fix the plum bing. It was the look of weary res ignation, that of a s aint approac hing c ertain m artyrdom . Clearly that was her way of dealing with this pretentious and irritating m an. 'Mr P ars ons ,' s he began, glanc ing at her wris twatc h, 'do you think we m ight m ake a s tart? It is -' T he Chairm an, who c learly thought that s c hool ins pec tors were part and parc el of s om e c ons pirac y to depres s s tandards and were largely res pons ible for all the ills of s oc iety, c ontinued to harangue m e without even ac knowledging her. In his opinion it was all the fault of the 'educ ational es tablis hm ent'. It was the 'long-haired profes s ors ' and 'trendy, bearded progres s ives ' who were to blam e with 'their wis hy-was hy, airy-fairy ideas '. I was jus t too nonplus s ed to reply, and lis tened to the tirade with a bem us ed expres s ion on m y fac e, thinking how he would have reac ted to S idney and S idney to him . T he ranting s peaker was c learly rather dis c onc erted when I failed to res pond. My m other, a nurs e and health vis itor for m any years , had had to deal with m any an awkward and s om etim es aggres s ive patient. S he had always advis ed m e that, when fac ed with antagonis tic and belligerent people, bris tling for a quarrel, the bes t plan of attac k was to dis arm them with affability. It never failed to work. S o, I looked at the large blus tering fac e before m e and m erely s m iled and nodded. It was the janitor, knoc king nois ily on the door before burs ting in, who res c ued the s ituation. 'A re we s tartin' or what, Mrs T hornton?' he dem anded loudly. 'W e've got upwards of fotty people out theer and they're getting res tles s .' 'W e are jus t c om ing, Mr S m ails ,' the Headteac her replied, c learly relieved by the interruption and gras ping this ideal opportunity to get the proc eedings s tarted. 'If you'll follow m e, Mr P hinn,' s he s aid, ignoring the Chairm an of Governors , who was m id-s entenc e at the tim e, 'we'll m ake a s tart, s hall we?' T hree rows of parents and governors fac ed a bare table and c hair at the front of the s c hool hall, m os t of them with weary expres s ions and folded arm s . A s I arranged m y books and s orted out m y papers , Mr P ars ons launc hed into his introduc tion as if addres s ing a Nurem berg rally. He told parents that we were 'all labouring under a m is c onc eption' if we thought reading was in a healthy s tate. He had read in the paper about the three m illion illiterates in the c ountry and thought that it was a 'national s c andal'. T his evening, he told them , the expert would tell them jus t what the E duc ation Departm ent would be doing to rais e

s tandards . T he expert, I thought to m ys elf, would be doing no s uc h thing. He would be s peaking about the exc item ent of books and how parents m ight help in enc ouraging their c hildren to read and enjoy them . A s Mr P ars ons droned on, I glanc ed at the s olem n fac es in front of m e, and rec alled S idney's reas s uring c om m ents after one of his talks had not gone as well as he had expec ted. He had addres s ed a group of reac tionary elderly ladies at a lunc heon c lub event on the them e of m odern art. He had s aid he had felt like a garlic s ales m an at a vam pire c onvention. T he Madam e Chairm an had told the audienc e at the end of his talk that s he was grateful to Mr Clam p for s haring his interes ting views and that he had very kindly waived his fee. A s a res ult, s he had s aid, beam ing widely, they c ould s ave up to get a really good s peaker for the following year. Finally Mr P ars ons finis hed and introduc ed m e. Onc e I s tarted reading extrac ts from books and peppering the talk with anec dotes about c hildren, the atm os phere in the hall im proved. I heard a num ber of c huc kles and s aw people s m iling and nodding in approval. During the talk I glanc ed oc c as ionally in the direc tion of the Headteac her and the Chairm an of Governors . E ac h tim e I looked their way, I s aw Mrs T hornton, perc hed m otionles s on the edge of her c hair, s taring into s pac e like s om eone who had been told s om e devas tating news . I gues s the anxiety over the boys ' lavatories paled into ins ignific anc e c om pared with the problem s itting on her right. T he vote of thanks was not the m os t effus ive I have rec eived. 'T hank you,' s aid the Chairm an of Governors , when I s at down to a ripple of applaus e. 'I'm not taking any ques tions ,' he s aid, pus hing out his c hin, 'bec aus e tim e is getting on and I'm s ure Mrs T hornton and the janitor are anxious to get to bed.' A pained expres s ion c ros s ed the Headteac her's fac e. 'A nd I s han't be far behind them ,' added Mr P ars ons , oblivious to the titters from the audienc e. T he Headteac her walked with m e to the s c hool gate. 'T hank you very m uc h for c om ing, Mr P hinn,' s he s aid. S he s ounded exhaus ted. 'It was good of you to give up your evening. I know the parents very m uc h enjoyed your talk. A s for Mr P ars ons ...' S he did not finis h the s entenc e but gave m e her m artyred look and s hook her head. 'Goodnight,' s he s aid quietly. A s I walked to the c ar, I thought again of m y m other and one of her favourite s ayings , 'T here is always s om ebody els e wors e off than you.' I headed for hom e, tired but happy with the way Children's Reading Day had turned out, arriving jus t as the c loc k at County Hall c him ed nine. T he s m all flat whic h I rented above T he Rum bling T um c afe in the High S treet would s eem very c old and lonely after s uc h an entertaining and eventful day. I parked behind a little green Morris Minor whic h I rec ognis ed im m ediately and I jum ped out of m y c ar like - er, a rabbit with the runs . T he s ide window of the Morris Minor s lid down. 'Hello,' s aid Chris tine. 'I've jus t put the c auldron on. I wondered if you would like to join the W ic ked W itc h of the W es t for s upper?'

7

Valentine Courtnay-Cunningham e, 9th E arl Marric k, V is c ount Mans ton, B aron B rafferton, MC, DL, was a larger than life c harac ter, whom I had m et for the firs t tim e one c old, bright day the previous autum n. I had been driving c as ually along an em pty, twis ting road on m y way to a s m all rural s c hool, when a pheas ant he had jus t s hot landed on the bonnet of m y c ar. I don't know who was the m ore s urpris ed, m e or the pheas ant. Having c om e to an abrupt halt and whils t c ontem plating roas t pheas ant for S aturday s upper, a rotund, red-c heeked c harac ter had c lim bed over the drys tone wall, s hotgun in hand. He had a great walrus m ous tac he and hair s hooting up from a s quare head and was dres s ed in Norfolk jac ket, plus -fours and deers talker hat. He had c om e to c laim the bird he had bagged. T hat was Lord Marric k. I had m et him on a num ber of oc c as ions after that - at s c hool governors ' m eetings , s taff appointm ents and when I took reports to the E duc ation Com m ittee on whic h he s erved as V ic e-Chairm an. I had als o ac c om panied him round a num ber of s c hools to look at as pec ts of the c urric ulum and s how him good educ ational prac tic e. I found Lord Marric k to be a plain-s poken, s hrewd but extrem ely warm m an with a c heerful good hum our and a deep s ens e of reverenc e for the land his fam ily had been s o m uc h a part of for m any generations . He had rec eived the little-awarded K night of the Order of S t S ylves ter from the P ope him s elf the previous year. On one oc c as ion Lord Marric k had told m e how he had been walking through Nether B rafferton W ood, whic h form ed part of his extens ive es tate, when he c am e upon a large hairy individual at the entranc e to a s habby tent. 'W ho are you?' he had as ked abruptly. 'J ac k,' the m an had replied. 'A nd who are you?' 'I am Lord Marric k and you are on m y land.' 'A m I?' 'Y es , you are. W ould you be s o good as to de-c am p, pac k up your things and depart.' 'W hy?' 'B ec aus e, as I have s aid, this is m y land.' 'I'm not doing any harm ,' the m an had s aid am iably. 'T hat is bes ide the point. T his is m y land.' 'W here did you get it from ?' 'I got it from m y father,' Lord Marric k had explained c alm ly. 'W ell, where did your father get it from ?' the m an had as ked. 'From his father.' 'W ell, where did he get it from ?' 'He got it from his father who got it from his father who got it from his father, right the way bac k to the Norm an Conques t when S ir Ric hard de Courtnay ac quired it.' 'W ell, how did he get it?' the m an had as ked, m aking no effort to m ove: 'He fought for it,' Lord Marric k had replied. 'W ell, I'll fight y ou for it! ' had c om e the reply. 'Good s tory, is n't it?' Lord Marric k had roared. 'T he very devil. "I'll fight y ou for it." Of c ours e, I let the fellow s tay, told him not to go lighting fires and dis turbing the grous e and s aid there'd be a hot m eal up at the hous e. I m ean you c an't jus t throw "a gentlem an of the road" off your land, c ertainly not one who pos s es s es s uc h wonderful im pertinenc e and wit. W ell, c an you?' * T he evening before m y appointm ent with Lord Marric k, the s now fell unexpec tedly and in bitter earnes t. P eering from the window of m y s m all flat whic h overlooked Fettle-s ham High S treet, I watc hed the great flakes begin to s ettle and gradually form a thic k c arpet along the pavem ents . W alls , trees , road s igns , letter boxes , rooftops were s oon s hrouded in white. I thought of the farm ers . I had s een a Dales winter the previous Chris tm as . T he ic y wind had raged, the s now had pac ked up in great m ounds and piled into drifts whic h froze until the whole lands c ape had been trans form ed into one vas t oc ean of c rus ted billows . I rec alled s eeing a farm er, his c ollie dog leaping at his heels , tram ping through the thic k s now in a field behind a s c hool, in s earc h of his foundered s heep. I rem em bered well the grim , determ ined expres s ion on his fac e. His was a hard life. T he next m orning, 25 Novem ber, I was up bright and early. I pulled bac k the c urtains to find the s now had s topped but had s ettled. T he m ain road out of Fettles ham , however, looked to have been c leared and traffic was m oving as us ual. T he weather forec as t s aid there would be no m ore s now on the way and that a thaw would likely s et in during the day, s o I dec ided to c hanc e it and drive out to Mans ton Hall. I c alled into the offic e to c hec k if any papers for the m eeting had arrived, but apart from a c ouple of m es s ages , a s um m ary of a polic y doc um ent from the Minis try of E duc ation and the us ual c irc ulars and publis hers ' c atalogues , there was nothing for m e. 'Y ou're in very early this m orning, Gervas e,' s aid Harold, whom I bum ped into at the door to the offic e as I was on m y way out. 'I c alled in on the off-c hanc e that the papers for the Feoffees m eeting would have arrived, but they're not here. Mrs S avage s aid s he'd s end them over. S o m uc h for liais ing.' 'W ell, they'll perhaps have them for you when you get there - if it's s till taking plac e. It's very thic k s now this m orning and you'll have a tric ky drive up to Mans ton. You have to go over Ribbon B ank. I think this c old s pell has c aught everyone out and you'll not find any gritting lorries along that road yet. P erhaps you ought to ring through and s ee if the m eeting is s till on.' 'Y es , that's a thought,' I s aid, returning to m y des k and pic king up the telephone. I looked up the num ber and dialled. 'I thought you were on ins pec tion this week?' I s aid to Harold, whils t waiting for s om eone at the other end of the line to pic k up the rec eiver. 'I was but the s c hool's s nowed in and thos e c hildren who did arrive have been s ent hom e, s o we are pos tponing it. I got a c all from the Headteac her very early this m orning.' T he telephone was ans wered by Lord Mans ton's s ec retary who c onfirm ed that the m eeting was going ahead and looked forward to m eeting m e later that m orning. S he reas s ured m e that the weather further up the dale was not too bad and that all the roads were pas s able. 'W ell, it's s till on,' I s aid and then had a thought. 'Harold,' I s aid, 'if you have nothing els e on today, why don't you c om e with m e to the m eeting or go in m y plac e? Y ou know far m ore about thes e Feoffees than I do.' 'No, no,' s aid Harold, 'it's good experienc e and they are expec ting you anyway. J us t be c areful on the roads . Oh, and give m y regards to Lord Marric k.' Onc e I had left the m ain Fettles ham -W es t Challerton road, I wondered to m ys elf whether it had been s uc h a good idea after all to ris k s uc h a potentially hazardous journey. T he fields and hedgerows , hills and fells whic h s urrounded m e, m erged into one great white expans e, unbroken and s him m ering to the horizon's brim . T he s c ene was m agnific ent but I was too c onc erned with keeping m y eyes fixed on the road ahead and avoiding c areering into s om e ditc h to apprec iate it on that c old, bright m orning. T he c ar s kidded a good few tim es on the narrow untreated roads and it took three or four attem pts to get up Ribbon B ank, but thankfully there were no s harp inc lines after that and I was s oon, with a great feeling of relief, c rawling towards the tall ornate gates and s quare lodge whic h m arked the entranc e to Mans ton Hall. Mans ton Hall was not a large hous e by s tately hom es ' s tandards but was a beautifully proportioned building of extraordinary c harm and beauty. B uilt in warm , red bric k and with m any large rec tangular windows , it s tood out s quare and bright and s olid in its vas t parkland. A ll around the hall s tretc hed a s trange white world s troked in s ilenc e. No wind blew the s now into drifts , no birds c alled, no anim al m oved and, s ave for the s poradic s oft thud of s now falling from the branc hes of the towering dark trees whic h bordered the drive, all was s ilent. T here was a s tillnes s , as if life its elf had been s us pended. T here were s everal large s aloon c ars , a Range Rover, a Rolls -Royc e and a s hiny blac k lim ous ine with a s m all flag on the bonnet, parked in front of the hall. T he old V olvo es tate whic h I drove looked very m uc h out of plac e in s uc h expens ive c om pany. I looked at m y watc h. Ten m inutes pas t ten. I was late. I c hec ked m y hair in the rear view m irror, s traightened m y tie, c ollec ted m y note pad and c lim bed out. T he great blac k door to Mans ton Hall, flanked by elegant s tone pillars , was opened by an anc ient retainer. He was a tall m an with a long, pale, angular fac e, dark deep-s et eyes , very thic k wild white hair and a large nos e whic h c urved s avagely like a bent bow. 'Good m orning, s ir,' he intoned s epulc hrally and ges tured for m e to enter. I walked into a s pac ious entranc e hall whic h was painted in pale yellow and blue. W hile the retainer pus hed s hut the heavy door and re-arranged the draught-exc luder in front of it, I gazed round in wonder. T he c eiling was a jungle of dec orative plas terwork, the intric ate twis ting des igns s tanding out from the darker bac kground. A s eries of m atc hing panels was s et in the walls , between whic h were large oil paintings s howing different anim als : grazing c attle, fat blac k pigs on s tum py legs , bored-looking s heep, leaping hors es , pac ks of hounds . T he floor, of white inlaid m arble, m atc hed the huge and m agnific ently c arved c him ney-piec e, above whic h a full-length portrait in dark oils depic ted a s evere-looking m an pos ing in m ilitary uniform . A n organ c as e with m as s ive Ionic c olum ns and elaborate c arving s tood at one s ide, flanked by a pair of pale, delic ate tables with dark m arble tops . On the oppos ite s ide, the entire wall was c overed by a vivid tapes try depic ting s om e c las s ic al them e. T he c entral c harac ter, a wom an with a great tangle of hair and pierc ing eyes , looked rem arkably like Medus a. 'May I have your nam e, s ir?' as ked the retainer s traightening up. He s poke in a hus hed voic e and his fac e was entirely expres s ionles s . 'Gervas e P hinn,' I replied. 'Is that Mr P hinn?' he enquired. 'It is ,' I replied. 'If you would c om e this way, Mr P hinn.' I followed his s low, m eas ured s teps down a long c orridor. W e pas s ed one rather form al-looking room with dark portraits on the walls and porc elain on the antique, highly polis hed furniture and then a m ore c om fortable lived-in s tudy with rather s habby s ofas and arm c hairs . Our unhurried progres s ended at two tall c arved wooden c olum ns . T he retainer opened the door and I was us hered through it. 'Mr Gervas e P hinn,' announc ed the retainer and then departed without a glanc e. I was in the library, a panelled room with a c eiling ric h in fine plas terwork. One wall had s helving whic h s tretc hed from floor to c eiling and whic h was c ram m ed with leather-bound books . A huge P ers ian c arpet c overed the dark polis hed wooden floor. T here was a group of m en in anim ated c onvers ation, s tanding before a great roaring open fire. On hearing of m y arrival, Lord Marric k glanc ed in m y direc tion, waved his hand expans ively in the air and s trode ac ros s to m eet m e. 'Mr P hinn. Gervas e. Good of you to c om e. Dreadful weather, is n't it?' He did not wait for a res pons e. 'Hope you had no trouble finding us ? Com e along in and m eet everyone.' Taking m y arm he led m e towards the group and began introduc ing m e, as the educ ation repres entative, to the frighteningly augus t group of individuals . T here was B rigadier Lum s den, a big-nos ed, big-voic ed ex-s oldier; A rc hdeac on Ric hards , a plum p, c heerful-looking little c leric with a round red fac e; the pres ent Greave of the Feoffees , a s toc ky m an in a loud-c hec ked tweed s uit with a fac e as s oft and brown and wrinkled as an over-ripe rus s et apple. T hen there was Dr Couls on-S m ith, the-High S heriff, a s hort, thic k-nec ked individual with a c urious ly flat fac e; a tall s ilver-haired polic em an in im pres s ive uniform with a s hort toothbrus h m ous tac he; and finally J udge P lunkett, a painfully thin m an with a fac e full of tragic potential. It s ounded like a page from W ho's W ho. I s hook hands , s m iled fatuous ly at eac h one and wondered why I was there. W hat exac tly c ould an ins ignific ant s c hool ins pec tor c ontribute to this gathering of the great and the good? 'Gentlem en! ' boom ed Lord Marric k. 'W e appear to be all pres ent and c orrec t s o s hall we m ake a s tart? If you would follow m e, I'll lead the way to the m orning room .' W e followed the peer into another equally m agnific ent room in the c entre of whic h was a long, highly polis hed table at one end of whic h s at a young wom an with blac k lus trous hair and big dark eyes . Carved, balloon-bac ked ros ewood c hairs were arranged around it and I was s eated between the tweed s uit and the polic em an. 'Now, gentlem en,' Lord Marric k began, when we were all s eated and looking in his direc tion, 'I've as ked J anet, m y s ec retary, to take a few notes .' He indic ated the wom an by his s ide who s m iled down the table. 'I apprec iate your giving up valuable tim e to join m e here this m orning,' c ontinued Lord Marric k, 'partic ularly in this bloody awful weather and I want to as s ure you that this m eeting will be s hort, s harp and to the point and not ram ble on like a los t s heep in a s nows torm .' I glanc ed to the window and notic ed that heavy flakes of s now were beginning to fall. S o m uc h for the weather forec as t I thought. 'Now I hope you got all the papers that J anet s ent out las t week.' T here were nods and grunts of agreem ent and the s huffling of various doc um ents . E veryone s eem ed to have a batc h of papers exc ept m e. Mine were no doubt s itting on Mrs S avage's des k. 'Now, as I have s aid in m y notes ,' went on Lord Marric k, 'I want to m ark the five hundred years of the Feoffees by a m ajor event at Mans ton Hall. I want the general public to know about thos e traditions whic h are s o m uc h a part of our c ultural heritage. W henever I m ention the word Feoffees to people, they look at m e as if I am not quite right in the head.' 'It was the s am e when I bec am e High S heriff in A pril,' s aid the thic k-nec ked individual with the c urious ly flat fac e. 'I would m ention the word "s hrievalty" and people thought I was talking in P olis h.' He looked ac ros s the table at m e. 'You wouldn't c redit it, would you? T hat people had never heard of the word "s hrievalty"?' 'Y ou wouldn't,' I s aid, feigning dis belief. I hadn't a c lue what the word m eant. 'T he num ber of tim es I have had to explain that it refers to the offic e of s heriff -' 'Quite s o, quite s o,' s aid Lord Marric k im patiently. 'I am s ure we c ould debate the dec line in the E nglis h language until the c ows c om e hom e, a topic whic h I am s ure Mr P hinn, as s om ething of an E nglis h s pec ialis t, would love to do, but we m us t pres s on. Could we throw a few ideas around regarding how the area for whic h you have res pons ibility c an play its part in the c elebration? T he Feoffees , as you know, have exis ted for five hundred years , helping the unfortunate, s upporting the s ic k, giving burs aries and s c holars hips to des erving c aus es and I want to have a really good bas h up here at Mans ton Hall to c elebrate our ac hievem ents . S o c om e on, c olleagues , what c an you s ugges t?' During the next half-hour the ideas c am e fas t and furious . T he brigadier s ugges ted a parade of arm y vehic les inc luding tanks , and a dis play by the arm y m otorc yc le team ; the polic em an s aid he c ould arrange a m arc h pas t by the polic e band, and a dem ons tration by dog-handlers and m ounted polic e; the arc hdeac on offered a rec ital by the abbey c hoir; other s ugges tions c am e forth for exhibitions of loc al his tory, c raft s talls and inform ation s tands of all kinds . T hen there was a s udden s ilenc e and all eyes s eem ed to be on m e. 'Mr P hinn,' s napped Lord Marric k s uddenly. 'You have been unnaturally quiet. W hat c an the E duc ation Departm ent offer?' I was on the point of m um bling s om ething about having to c ons ult Dr Gore, gleaning s ugges tions from s c hools and dis c us s ing c ertain ideas with m y c olleagues when m y neighbour, the large rus s et-c heeked individual in the tweed s uit, jerked up in his c hair as though he had been s tung, twitc hed m adly and exc laim ed, 'W hat the devil! ' His head then dis appeared beneath the table. 'Is it the bitc h?' as ked Lord Marric k c as ually. A long with the others , I peered below the table and s aw the uglies t, m os t vic ious -looking dog I had ever s een. It was a barrel-bodied, bow-legged bulldog with pinky-white jowls and pale unfriendly eyes . It had res ted its fat, round head between the legs of the m an next to m e. 'P us h her off, Quentin! ' c om m anded Lord Marric k good hum ouredly. 'S he loves the s m ell of tweeds . S he's an old s oftie at heart. J us t wants to be friendly and affec tionate.' A t this point the m ons ter growled and s howed a s et of im pres s ive teeth. 'Old s oftie', 'friendly' and 'affec tionate' were not words whic h readily s prang to m y m ind. T he dog peered up with the grey, watery, button eyes of a s hark. It then began rum bling like a dis tant train. T he c om plexion of the m an in tweeds had c hanged m irac ulous ly from the s oft brown of the rus s et apple to an unearthly white. 'Com e on out of there, Laetitia,' c oaxed Lord Marric k, joining us to peer under the table. T he dog c ontinued to s tay rooted to the s pot, growling and grim ac ing and eyeing the m an in tweeds like s om e long-los t bone. 'S he's a wonderful dog. E nglis h bulldog. Nobly born of im pec c able pedigree. S he'd let anyone walk s traight into the hous e. W ouldn't m ake a s ound. Cours e, they'd not get out again. Teeth like m etal m an-traps . One s nap of thos e jaws and s he'd not let go. Loc ks on you, s ee. Couldn't pris e her off with a m onkey wrenc h. Y es , if s he grabbed a hand you'd los e a few of your fingers .' T he m an in tweeds looked as ifhe had been c aught in am ber. I don't think he's worrying about his hand, I thought to m ys elf. Not a m us c le in his body m oved. E veryone in c los e proxim ity to the dog c ros s ed his legs . 'Laetitia! W ill you c om e out! Heel! ' ordered Lord Marric k. T he dog blinked lazily, lifted its fat, round fac e from between the m an's legs , yawned m as s ively, dis playing a s et of teeth like tank-traps , and plodded off, s till rum bling. 'Now then, you were s aying, Mr P hinn,' s aid Lord Marric k to the ac c om panim ent of a great releas e of breath from the m an in the tweeds . B efore the m eeting c onc luded, I agreed to m ount a dis play of c hildren's poetry and s tories bas ed on fam ous c harac ters from his tory, approac h a c ouple of s c hools to as k them to perform s om e s hort plays on an his toric al them e, enlis t the help of m y c olleagues to arrange an exhibition on educ ation down the ages , a gym nas tic s dis play and a perform anc e by the County Y outh Orc hes tra. Finally I agreed to organis e es s ay and public s peaking c om petitions on the them e of c us tom s and traditions . T hat little lot would keep Mrs S avage bus y, I thought to m ys elf gleefully. Lord Marric k appeared well pleas ed with how the m eeting had gone. I waited until the others had departed before going over to him . He was explaining s om ething to his s ec retary but looked up as I approac hed. 'Quite a s uc c es s ful m orning, eh, Mr P hinn?' he s aid. 'Y es , indeed, Lord Marric k,' I replied. 'I jus t wanted to apologis e for m y late arrival but I had a few problem s getting up Ribbon B ank. I'm afraid the s now was partic ularly thic k and -' 'Not a problem .' 'A nd als o for arriving without the papers . I didn't want you to think that I hadn't bothered to bring them along. I'm afraid they didn't arrive at the E duc ation Offic e. I c hec ked this m orning but they definitely weren't on m y des k.' 'W ell, that's s trange bec aus e I delivered them m ys elf when I was at County Hall las t week for the E duc ation Com m ittee. No point was ting m oney on pos tage. Gave them to Dr Gore's s ec retary. T he wom an with the red nails and the teeth.' 'Mrs S avage,' I s aid s lowly. 'T hat's the wom an. J anet, will you arrange for another s et to be s ent to Mr P hinn? T hank you.' Lord Marric k him s elf es c orted m e bac k to the entranc e hall. W e s topped beneath the vivid tapes try depic ting the c las s ic al them e and the wom an with a great tangle of hair and pierc ing eyes . I heard the patter of feet behind m e on the white inlaid m arble floor and, turning, found behind m e not only the wretc hed bulldog but two exac t m iniature vers ions of its elf. B oth puppies had the grey button eyes , the pinky-white jowls , the rows of s harp teeth, the s tum py tails and both growled and grum bled in unis on with their m other. 'T hos e are her pups ,' Lord Marric k told m e proudly. 'Luc retia and Caes are. S he's s howing them off, you s ee. I'm hopeful they will win m e a blue ribbon for B es t of B reed at the Fettles ham S how in a few years ' tim e.' He bent down and s troked the fat little heads . B oth puppies s tared up with a lofty dis dain. T hen Laetitia nos ed Lord Marric k's hand away and growled before m oving in m y direc tion and rubbing her body agains t m y legs . 'S he likes you, Mr P hinn.' 'Really,' I m anaged to whis per. 'Do you know s he c an be the m os t wilful, bad-tem pered, m oody c reature im aginable and c ertainly not one to loc k jaws with, but when s he takes a liking to s om eone, s he'll s tic k to him like glue and be his bos om friend for life.' T he dog began to whim per. 'You've m ade a great im pres s ion,' c ontinued Lord Marric k beam ing widely. 'Y ou will have a job to get rid of her.' I don't know why, but at that m om ent I thought of Mrs S avage and I m ade a m ental note to give her a wide berth in the c om ing weeks .

8

Over the s um m er, when the s c hools were on holiday, we ins pec tors had the long and onerous tas k of analys ing all the s c hool reports from the previous ac adem ic year and writing an extens ive c om m entary for s ubm is s ion to Dr Gore and the E duc ation Com m ittee. A lthough this exerc is e was one of the m os t tedious and tim e-c ons um ing as pec ts of our work, it was invaluable in giving us a c lear and detailed pic ture of how well, or otherwis e, s c hools in the c ounty were doing, what were the is s ues whic h needed to be addres s ed and whether s tandards , partic ularly in literac y and num erac y, were ris ing or falling. T he analys is was als o us eful in helping us plan the in-s ervic e training of the teac hers and offer a program m e of c ours es , c onferenc es and works hops whic h foc us ed on their partic ular needs . It was with a great s ens e of relief that m y c om m entary on the s tate of E nglis h teac hing in the c ounty turned out to be pos itive. Mos t teac hers c learly s pent a great deal of tim e and effort teac hing c hildren to read and write and enc ouraging them to turn to books for pleas ure and for inform ation. T here was , however, one area of the E nglis h c urric ulum whic h s eem ed to be neglec ted. Mrs P eters on and Mrs Dunn at Highc ops e P rim ary S c hool were c learly not alone in s pending little tim e on poetry. In report after report I noted that this s ubjec t was often c ons igned to the m argins of the s erious bus ines s of s tudy and that s om e c hildren had little experienc e of apprec iating and writing vers e. I dec ided, therefore, to m ount a s eries of weekend c ours es to help teac hers develop their expertis e, offer ideas and s trategies and give them greater c onfidenc e in teac hing this im portant area of E nglis h. T he firs t c ours e was planned to take plac e in early Dec em ber. I wanted to get it out of the way before the end of term events , when s c hools would be im m ers ed in c arol c onc erts , parties , pres entation evenings , nativity plays and all the other ac tivities whic h c om e with the fes tival. I knew from m y experienc es the previous year that this would be m y bus ies t tim e and I would be out in s c hools every day and m os t evenings as well. I was not, however, prepared for the res pons e to attend the poetry c ours e. W hen the deadline c am e for final applic ations , m y in-tray was piled high with over fifty reques ts . 'Y ou s hould be pleas ed, ins tead of pulling a fac e like a bulldog whic h has jus t s wallowed a was p,' c om m ented S idney, s taring at his own m eagre pile of applic ations . 'I've got a m is erable ten people for m y Dec em ber art c ours e.' 'I am pleas ed,' I res ponded, feeling s lightly unc om fortable at the m ention of bulldogs . 'It's jus t that it's rather m ore than I antic ipated.' 'W ell, there's a s im ple rem edy. W rite to half of them s aying the c ours e is full and tell them there's s pac e on a really exc iting art c ours e planned to take plac e at the s am e tim e.' I pondered S idney's s ugges tion but dec ided to go ahead with the large num ber. T he various c ontributors to the c ours e were delighted with the interes t from s o m any teac hers and had no worries about working with s uc h a big group. T he S taff Developm ent Centre had been booked well in advanc e but I rang Connie to let her know that there would be m ore teac hers attending than antic ipated. T hen I s team ed ahead and ordered the m aterials , arranged for the c ours e program m e to be printed, and des patc hed letters of ac c eptanc e to the applic ants . E verything was going like c loc kwork - and then I rec eived the letter. My heart gave a jum p when I c am e ac ros s the frighteningly offic ial envelope with the large royal c res t and the heavy blac k lettering: The M inistry of E ducation. It was from the form idable Mis s de la Mare, Her Majes ty's P rinc ipal Divis ional Ins pec tor of S c hools . S he s aid s he had been im pres s ed with s om e of the c reative writing s he had obs erved in the few s c hools s he had rec ently vis ited in the c ounty and m entioned her vis it to B ac kwaters thwaite and the poetry les s ons of the 'ins pirational Mr Lapping'. S he s aid that, as I was no doubt aware, s he was c om piling a national report on the teac hing of the arts in prim ary s c hools and wis hed to dis c us s c ertain m atters with m e. T hen s he had notic ed, as s he was looking through the c ounty in-s ervic e handbook for teac hers , that I was running a s eries of weekend poetry c ours es and thought how us eful it would be if s he attended one. S he c onc luded her letter: 'I have followed the norm al protoc ol and c ontac ted Dr Gore and he is happy for m e to join you. I trus t there will be no objec tion on your part?' 'No objec tion! ' exc laim ed S idney with a hollow laugh, when I read him the letter. ' "No objec tion on your part", s he s ays . A s if you are in any pos ition to objec t. It would be like a pris oner of the S panis h Inquis ition s aying to his torturer: "I s ay, s enor, I would rather you didn't do that with the old thum bs c rews ", or a Frenc h aris toc rat inform ing the m an on the guillotine, "Not today, m ons ieur, thank you very m uc h". You have no c hoic e in the m atter, whats oever. T he ques tion is m erely rhetoric al. S he's c leared it with the CE O, s o you've no option. You are well and truly lum bered with her. Fanc y having the HMI vers ion of a rottweiler watc hing you for two days . T hat will c ram p your s tyle and no m is take. A nd by the des c ription of her provided by poor George Lapping, s he m akes Mrs S avage s ound like Florenc e Nightingale and Connie like Mother Teres a. S he'll be watc hing your every m ove with thos e little beady eyes and noting things down and filing away all this inform ation about you at the Minis try of E duc ation.' 'A nd everything was going s o s m oothly,' I s ighed. 'I c ould have well done without this .' 'Oh, that's the way of things ,' s aid David in his P rophet of Doom voic e. 'A lways s om ething or s om ebody who goes and has to s poil one's equilibrium . I don't think I've ever run a c ours e without a m is hap or a problem . E verything is going fine and then - dis as ter! You are c yc ling along the c ountry lane on a bright, balm y day with the s un s hining on your fac e and the fres h wind blowing through your hair and s uddenly s om ebody pus hes a thundering great s tic k through your s pokes and you're over the handlebars and flat on your fac e.' A t this point he rem oved his reading glas s es , plac ed them neatly on the des k in front of him and leaned bac k in his c hair. W e knew we were in for one of his m onologues . 'No, I have yet to run a c ours e free from s om e hitc h or another. T here's the c ours e m em ber who has been s ent by the headteac her who does n't want to be there in the firs t plac e and thinks the thing is a total was te of tim e. S he s its there, on the front row - to c ontinue S idney's m etaphor - like Madam e Defarge knitting, as if waiting for the great blade to des c end and your head to roll into the bas ket before her.' He brought his hand down in a s harp c hopping m ovem ent. 'T hey are the wors t,' I agreed, nodding. 'T he front row c ynic who has nothing to learn.' 'T hen there's the teac her who turns out to be verbally aggres s ive,' c ontinued David, 'bec aus e he's been pas s ed over for prom otion and, of c ours e, he blam es you bec aus e you were on his interviewing panel. A nd the expert who has been on every bles s ed c ours e and c onferenc e in the in-s ervic e handbook and knows it all and tells you s o.' 'I think I m ight have a few of thos e on this poetry c ours e,' I s aid, glanc ing through the applic ations . 'Or the outs ide s peaker who fails to turn up and you are left fac ing a hos tile audienc e, feeling like the firs t Chris tian to be thrown to the lions . T hen there's the oc c as ion when you and thirty teac hers turn up all bright-eyed and bus hytailed one S aturday m orning to find the S taff Developm ent Centre all loc ked up and Connie away in Mablethorpe in her c aravan for the weekend.' 'A h, now that won't happen,' I told him , 'I've c hec ked the date with Connie.' 'My goodnes s , I've had m y fair s hare of dis as trous c ours es ,' s aid David m oros ely. 'Mind you, I've never been s c rutinized by an HMI. Now that is deeply worrying. A t leas t m y dis as ters went unobs erved.' 'I am s ure that Gervas e is greatly heartened and enc ouraged by all that,' rem arked S idney. 'I s hould im agine that he won't get a wink of s leep c ontem plating all the potential c alam ities .' 'Hang on a m inute,' exc laim ed David. 'It was you who s tarted all this off with your gloom y predic tions about this rottweiler of an HMI c ram ping his s tyle and watc hing every m ove with her little beady eyes . I hardly think your c om m ents are likely to re-as s ure him .' 'I was going on to s ay,' s aid S idney, 'before you s tarted on your running c om m entary of all your failed c ours es , that I will be direc ting m y art c ours e at the very s am e tim e as our young c olleague and will be there at the S taff Developm ent Centre to give him the benefit of m y advic e and guidanc e, as well as m y undivided s upport and s uc c our.' 'Huh! ' s napped David. 'Y ou'll not have any tim e to be giving him any undivided s upport and s uc c our. Y ou'll be too bus y arguing with Connie as you always do.' B efore S idney c ould res pond, I s tood up, walked behind him as he s at at his des k, put m y hand on his s houlder and s aid, 'T hat is really very kind of you, S idney. I m ight jus t as k Mis s de la Mare to pop into a few of your s es s ions . A fter all, s he is interes ted in the arts in s c hool whic h c overs your s ubjec t as well.' 'Ha, ha! ' laughed David, throwing up his hands in the air. 'T hat's taken the s m ug expres s ion off his fac e.' A week before the c ours e, I double-c hec ked that all the arrangem ents were in plac e. Connie was fully briefed, the s peakers had the dates in their diaries and all the details , c ours e m em bers and Mis s de la Mare had rec eived the program m e, and the books and m aterials I was to us e had been delivered. On the Friday evening before the c ours e c om m enc ed, a bitterly c old night, I drove out to the S taff Developm ent Centre to s et out the tables and c hairs , put up the exhibition of c hildren's work and to m ake c ertain all the equipm ent was working. I expec ted to s ee a dark and des erted building but, as I pulled into the c ar park, I notic ed that every room s eem ed to be lit up. Connie, in her predic table pos e, with arm s folded and the death-m as k expres s ion, s tood in the entranc e like s om e E as tern s tatue. S he m ade a s ort of c luc king nois e as I entered. 'W hat are y ou doing here?' s he as ked bluntly. 'I've c om e to s et up the room s for tom orrow's poetry c ours e,' I replied. 'You'll be luc ky. I s ay you'll be luc ky,' s he s napped, giving a twis ted s m ile. 'T he plac e is as full as bingo night at the E m pire. E veryone, bar the Queen and m em bers of the royal fam ily are in here tonight. It's bedlam . T here's the vic ar, him with the jeans and the m otor bike, rehears ing his pantom im e bec aus e the c hurc h hall's heating's off. T here's the B rownies at the bac k like a hoard of wild dervis hes and a whole load of s enior c itizens in c owboy hats and great big boots line danc ing in the rec eption area bec aus e the village hall's boiler's broke down too. S om e of them c an hardly s tand up never m ind trying to leap about to c owboy m us ic . I've s een three of them with zim m ers . I m ean that floor's s lippery - I only polis hed it this m orning. B ut would they lis ten? T hey s houldn't be out on a night like this . It's bitter. Do you want a c up of tea?' 'Y es , pleas e, Connie.' I followed her down the c orridor to the kitc hen and, to be fair to her, there was a great c ac ophony of nois e is s uing from every room in the Centre. I took two c ups and s auc ers from the c upboard and watc hed her as s he filled the kettle. 'Mr Clam p has jus t gone after s etting up his artery c ours e for tom orrow, leaving behind him the us ual trail of des truc tion and debris . You m ight as well get bac k in your c ar and have a quiet Friday night in - s om ething whic h I was intending to do before I got the c all from that dreadful Mrs S avage at County Hall telling m e to allow all thes e people in. "A s this is a tim e of peac e and goodwill," s he s ays in that pos h voic e of hers and as if butter wouldn't m elt, "we are m aking the prem is es available for the c hurc h dram a group, the B rownies and the s enior c itizens ' danc e c lub, s inc e their pipes are frozen up and they are des perate. I'm s ure we c an help out." I s aid to her, "W hat's with the 'we'? It's all very well m aking the prem is es available but it's m e what has to s tay and s upervis e and give up m y Friday night as well." I s aid to her, "It's not you who'll be having to deal with the trendy vic ar, an unc o-operative B rown Owl and a pos s e of geriatric line danc ers - and Mr Clam p to boot." S he had no ans wer to that I c an tell you! ' S he opened a tin of bis c uits . 'Mind you, I'm on double tim e. Do you want a Garibaldi?' I had a s inking feeling that David's prophec ies about doom ed c ours es were about to c om e true. 'S o, I c an't s et up m y room s for tom orrow, then?' I as ked. 'Not unles s you want to negotiate with the B rownies and the OA P line danc ers , you c an't.' 'W hat tim e will they be finis hed, do you think?' 'W ell, this plac e is being loc ked up at nine, c om e hell or high water.' 'I'd better leave it until tom orrow then, Connie,' I s aid. 'I'll be here early to s et things up, if that's all right.' 'I'm opening up at s even, as per us ual,' s he replied as I s tarted to go. 'Don't you want a c up of tea then?' 'No, I'll get off.' I was thinking that I m ight give Chris tine a ring and s ee if s he would like to go out for a drink. Connie followed m e out of the m ain door, as if to s ee s om e undes irable off the prem is es . It was then that I notic ed the flower. Outs ide the entranc e to the Centre, in a large wooden tub full of pale s piky gras s and the withered rem ains of s um m er bloom s , was a s plas h of red. It was a large flower with c rim s on leaves . 'W hat do you m ake of that, Connie?' I as ked. 'It's an alopec ia.' 'A w hat?' 'I notic ed it this evening when Mr Clam p was unloading his s tuffed anim als for his artery c ours e. I m entioned it to him . I s aid I had never s een a flower like that growing in Dec em ber, exc ept winter pans ies . He s aid it was a hardy winter variety of alopec ia that flouris hes in the fros t.' 'I don't know m uc h about flowers , but it looks like a geranium to m e.' 'It's a s c arlet alopec ia,' s aid Connie. 'Mr Clam p s ays that they only flower every ten years and that they like the c old. T hey're quite rare ac tually. He s ugges ted I write to that gardening program m e. W hat do you think?' 'I think Mr Clam p's got a vivid im agination, Connie, that's what I think.' 'S o you don't think it's an alopec ia then?' 'A s I s aid, it looks like a geranium to m e, but I've never s een one bloom in the winter, not outdoors , at any rate.' I poked the earth s urrounding the flower and it was as hard as iron. 'It's very s trange, I have to adm it.' To the s trains of s om e very loud twanging c ountry and wes tern s ong, the s hrieks of exc ited little girls and the pic ture of Connie in m y rear view m irror s taring at the flower, I drove hom e. I hoped I c ould pers uade Chris tine to c om e out for that drink. I needed to have m y m ind taken off the c ours e the next day. A s it turned out, I need not have worried s o m uc h - but Chris tine did provide the perfec t divers ion. T he next m orning I arrived at the Centre bright and very early. I c hec ked the equipm ent, arranged the tables and c hairs , s et up the exhibition in the large room where the c ours e was to take plac e and waited nervous ly for the firs t teac hers to arrive. E ven though I had run c ours es before, I c ould not help being rather on edge. David's words kept c om ing bac k to m e. W ould m y s peakers turn up? If they did, would they be well rec eived? W hat would I do if I got a group of diffic ult teac hers ? W as the program m e relevant? S uppos e the heating went off? To oc c upy m ys elf, and take m y m ind off things whic h m ight go wrong, I began to write a s hort poem , taking as a them e the flower whic h had bloom ed m irac ulous ly in the c old weather. V ery s oon I had written a c ouple of vers es whic h I entitled 'Red B loom of W inter'. I c om pared the flower to 'a s plas h of blood on the dark earth', des c ribing it as 'a c rim s on c lus ter hidden in the gras s , s traight s tem m ed, defiant'; it was 'a bright life in the m ids t of death'. I was deep into c reating vivid im agery when the door opened and Connie m ade an entranc e, holding a brus h like a weapon. 'T here's a wom an in rec eption wanting to s ee you. I thought at firs t it was one of the geriatric line danc ers c om e bac k to c ollec t her zim m er but s he s aid you were expec ting her. S ounded like "Fella B eware".' 'Mis s de la Mare,' I whis pered to m ys elf. 'S he's the HMI I told you about, Connie,' I s aid, jum ping to m y feet and hurrying to the door. 'W ell, I hope s he's not bloc ked m y entranc e,' grum bled Connie, following m e down the c orridor. Mis s de la Mare was not as I expec ted her to be. I im agined a s olid, am ple wom an with s avagely c ropped grey hair, s m all s evere m outh and hard glittery eyes , the kind that m ake you think that at any m om ent you are about to be pounc ed on. I expec ted her to be dres s ed, as George Lapping had des c ribed her, in thic k brown tweeds , heavy brogues and in a hat the s hape of a flowerpot. T he wom an waiting for m e in the entranc e was very different. S he was a plum p, c heerful-looking wom an with a round fac e frec kled like a good egg, and neatly bobbed s ilver hair. S he was dres s ed in a c oat as bright and as red as a letter box with a long m ultic oloured s c arf draped around her nec k. 'Mr P hinn,' s he proc laim ed, s haking m y hand vigorous ly. 'W inifred de la Mare. Good of you to let m e c om e. Really looking forward to joining you. Now, I know that you will have lots to do, s o don't m ind m e. You jus t c rac k on with what you have to do. I'll jus t tootle off and m ingle with the teac hers when they begin to arrive. Oh, by the way, I notic ed in the c ours e booklet that there's an art c ours e going on at the s am e tim e. Do you think your c olleague would m ind if I popped in this afternoon?' 'He would be delighted, I'm s ure,' I replied gleefully. 'Good s how! ' S he peered around her before adding, 'I don't s uppos e there's a c hanc e of a c up of tea? I've travelled a fair dis tanc e this m orning.' 'Ofc ours e,' I replied turning to Connie, who was loitering in the bac kground. 'I wonder if Mis s de la Mare c ould -' B efore I c ould c om plete m y reques t, Connie s et off in the direc tion of the kitc hen, announc ing that if m y vis itor would c are to follow her, s he would put the kettle on. A s they s trolled off, I c aught a s natc h of their c onvers ation. 'Y ou keep this Centre very neat and tidy.' 'I try m y bes t and you c an't do any m ore than that.' I had an idea, from that m om ent on, that the c ours e would be a s uc c es s . To m y great relief, m y opening lec ture and the m orning works hops were well rec eived. T he teac hers were good-hum oured and genuinely interes ted and took part in all the as s ignm ents with great enthus ias m . Mis s de la Mare, des pite her rather overbearing m anner and her frequent interruptions , proved to be m os t am ic able and involved hers elf fully in all the ac tivities , joining the dis c us s ions and even tac kling the writing tas ks . A t lunc h-tim e I introduc ed the HMI to S idney. He was holding forth to s everal young wom en teac hers who had gathered around him in the dining area. T hey were s taring up at him as wide-eyed as infants . 'Mis s de la Mare,' I s aid when S idney looked up and gave m e a s urreptitious wink, 'm ay I introduc e m y c olleague who is the Creative and V is ual A rts Ins pec tor?' 'W inifred de la Mare! ' s he barked. S idney's s m ile s tretc hed from ear to ear and c ould have been s een a few hundred yards away. 'I am delighted to m eet you, Mis s de la Mare,' he s aid. 'I hope you are enjoying the poetry c ours e.' 'V ery m uc h,' s he s aid bris kly. 'Mis s de la Mare is wondering if s he m ight join you for the rem ainder of the day,' I s aid with s uc h a wonderfully s m ug feeling. T he fixed s m ile waned a little on S idney's fac e. 'J oin m e?' he s aid. 'Y ou would like to join m e?' 'If you have no objec tion,' s aid Mis s de la Mare. I rec alled m y earlier c onvers ation with S idney. He really had no c hoic e in the m atter. T he ques tion was m erely rhetoric al. 'I s hould be delighted,' he s aid, with little c onvic tion in his voic e. B y the tim e S unday afternoon had arrived, I had s een relatively little of Mis s de la Mare. S he s eem ed to have been s o c aptivated with the work S idney was undertaking that s he had rem ained with him for all of S aturday afternoon and S unday m orning. For the las t s es s ion of the poetry c ours e, however, s he reappeared. T he teac hers were dis c us s ing a s elec tion of vers e by known and unknown poets and s om e of the c ours e m em bers had agreed to read out poem s they had written them s elves . I dec ided to c hanc e m y arm and read m y poem , 'Red B loom of W inter'. I c onveniently failed to m ention that it was m y own work. W hen I had finis hed dec laim ing to the group there was a rapt s ilenc e. T hen one rather pens ive-looking wom an s poke. 'B eautiful,' s he s ighed. 'B eautiful. It's s uc h a very tender poem . I jus t loved the delic ate s ound form ation and the s trong s ens e of the m ys tic .' 'Did you really?' I c ooed. 'I think the poet c aptures the s ens e of des olation really well,' added another. 'S he's obvious ly im m ens ely depres s ed, perhaps on the very brink of taking her own life?' 'W ho is ?' I ventured. 'T he wom an in the poem . A ll the words and im ages s tres s her rejec tion and feeling of em ptines s and futility. T he m ood is one of c oldnes s and frigidity. T he relations hip has turned s our. It's s o very s ad.' 'W hat relations hip?' I ventured again. 'W hy, the wom an's relations hip with her partner. S he is repres ented by the red flower,' explained the teac her. 'T hat is the c entral s ym bol of the vers e. T he m an is the hard, c old earth whic h is freezing the very life out of her. S he is the wom an of warm th and life, the E arth m other.' A nother teac her entered the dis c us s ion. 'P erhaps the flower is m ore a s ym bol of the hatred and deep-s eated jealous y of the wom an who has been betrayed.' 'B etrayed?' I as ked. 'T here's a great deal of violent im agery in the poem , referenc es to "blood" and "death" and the "frozen s tem as rigid as a c orps e".' 'It c ould be m ore to do with her death,' s aid the pens ive-looking teac her. 'B ut there is n't a wom an in the poem ,' I s aid. 'T he poet has obvious ly s uffered,' s he c ontinued. 'I think s he's quite dis turbed.' 'Is the poem about s aving the planet?' as ked a s m all m an with large glas s es . 'Does n't the dying flower repres ent the des truc tion of the environm ent? A ll that is bright and beautiful is being c hoked to death.' 'Or is the poem about life its elf?' s ighed the wom an who had s poken firs t. 'Or c ould it jus t be about a flower?' I hazarded. 'B ut who would want to write a poem about a flower?' as ked the rather intens e-looking wom an. Later in the s taff room , after all the teac hers had m ade their farewells and thanked m e for a s tim ulating c ours e, I s at with Mis s de la Mare. S idney bobbed in to s ay goodbye. He looked like the c at whic h had got the c ream . He had whis pered to m e earlier in the hall that he had got on well with Mis s de la Mare who had been highly c om plim entary about what s he had obs erved. 'He's quite a c harac ter, Mr Clam p,' s aid the HMI. 'A n im m ens ely c reative m an and very innovative and, like m any introverts , a m an of few words .' 'A m an of few words ! ' I gas ped. 'A n introvert?' 'Oh yes , I found him a m os t unas s um ing and quietly s poken m an but very talented. I did s o enjoy m y tim e with him and the art teac hers and I have a m ind to as k him to c ontribute to a national c ours e on "T he A rts in S c hool", whic h I am direc ting next s um m er in Oxford. He m ight of c ours e be a little s hy about s peaking to a large group. Do you think he would be interes ted?' 'I'm s ure he would,' I replied. S idney had m ade another c onques t. 'Y ou m ay c are to c om e along too,' c ontinued Mis s de la Mare. 'I found thos e parts of the poetry c ours e I attended m os t interes ting. I thought your c hoic e of that final poem quite ins pired.' 'T hank you,' I replied. 'Y ou obvious ly c hos e the poem about the flower to get the dis c us s ion going about the very nature of poetry writing.' Did I? I thought to m ys elf. 'A nd it c ertainly got them to think and to argue,' c ontinued Mis s de la Mare, 'but you c an s ee what a lot of work you have to do.' 'I do?' 'W hy, yes . It really was n't as good as all the teac hers thought, was it? In fac t, the poem was rather overwritten, rather c lic hed, don't you think? S o m any people im agine that a poem mus t have s om e hidden m eaning, s om e s ym bolis m , s om ething profound to s ay. It is quite pos s ible for s om eone to write a s im ple

s ure the poet here never im agined that her poem about a flower would be regarded as a des c ription of life its elf.' 'No, I s uppos e not,' I s aid, feeling s om ewhat deflated. 'Did one of the s ixth-form ers you have c om e ac ros s write it?' s he as ked. I s hook m y head. 'No, it's by a m odern poet.' 'I onc e vis ited a large prim ary s c hool in the m iddle of a dreadfully depres s ing inner c ity area,' Mis s de la Mare told m e, s m iling at the m em ory. 'T he work of the c hildren c ons is ted largely of arid exerc is es on the noun, the verb and the adjec tive but when ques tioned the c hildren had not the firs t idea what the parts of s peec h were. P age after page was filled with dreary exerc is e after dreary exerc is e. T here was the oc c as ional s tory, the odd c om prehens ion but not a s ign of a poem . A nd then I found this nervous little boy in the c orner of the c las s room . W hen I as ked if I c ould exam ine his book he looked at m e with s uc h large s ad eyes and he s aid very quietly, "No." I tried to c oax him but he was adam ant, s aying that his work was not worth looking at. He c ouldn't s pell, his writing was untidy and he never got good m arks for his work. I eventually pers uaded him to let m e s ee his writing. T he book was indeed very poor and, like all the res t, c ram m ed with unm arked exerc is es . T here was the oc c as ional c om m ent from his teac her in bright red ink for him to re-write or to take greater c are. 'T hen, at the very bac k of the book I c am e upon a piec e of writing in s m all c rabbed print. I as ked him ifhe had written it. He nodded. I as ked him if he had rec eived any help with it. He s hook his head. W ell, it was quite a s m all m as terpiec e. He had written, and I rem em ber the words s o well: Y es terday yes terday yes terday S orrow s orrow s orrow T oday today today Hope hope hope T om orrow tom orrow tom orrow Love love love ' "W hat a wonderful little poem ," I told him . 'He thought for a while, s tared up at m e with thos e large, s ad eyes and announc ed: "T hey're m i s pelling c orrec tions , m is s ." ' Connie c ollared m e on m y way out later that afternoon. 'It's dead! ' s he exc laim ed. 'W hat is ?' 'My flam ing alopec ia, that's what! It wilted and then died. I knew I s houldn't have watered it.' 'I s houldn't think it m ade m uc h differenc e, Connie,' I reas s ured her. 'I've never had a flam ing alopec ia before,' s he s aid s adly. I learnt from S idney the next day that he, as I had s us pec ted, had been behind the rus e. He had arrived at the S taff Developm ent Centre on the Friday night to s et up for his c ours e. B ac kwards and forwards , under Connie's eagle eye, he had em ptied his c ar of m aterials and artefac ts for his 'A rt for Chris tm as ' weekend. B ranc hes of yew, fronds of holly, ropes of ivy, bunc hes of m is tletoe, s tuffed robins and las t of all two large poins ettia plants had been c arried into the Centre. A s he had tried to negotiate the vic ar's m otor bike, whic h had been parked prec arious ly near the entranc e, S idney had s napped off the s tem of one of the plants . Rather than leave the c lus ter of red leaves on the floor for Connie to c om plain about, he had s tuc k them into the tub and thought no m ore of it. W hen later Connie had drawn attention to it, he had inform ed her that it was a rare flam ing alopec ia plant. 'I think it was very unkind of you,' I rem arked, 'and I've a good m ind to tell Connie.' 'Don't do that, old c hap,' he replied, leaning bac k in his c hair and plac ing his hands behind his head. 'Connie is s o wonderfully naive, s o s plendidly gullible, s o am azingly ingenuous , that it would be c ruel to enlighten her. I do not approve of anything, you know, Gervas e, whic h tam pers with natural ignoranc e. Ignoranc e is like a delic ate exotic flower, touc h it, and the bloom is gone for ever.' 'I've read Os c ar W ilde as well, S idney,' I s aid. 'A nd it was n't a delic ate exotic flower, it was fruit. "Ignoranc e is like a delic ate exotic fruit," s ays Lady B rac knell. It's in The Importanc e of B eing E arnes t.' 'W ell, I s aid it firs t! ' exc laim ed S idney with m oc k s urpris e. 'T his Lady B rac knell m us t have heard m e s ay it on one of m y c ours es . A nyway, "flower" is far m ore appropriate, in the c irc um s tanc es , don't you think?' 'A nd what will happen,' I as ked him , 'when Connie dis c overs that alopec ia is a s c alp c ondition and not a variety of rare winter-flowering plant?' 'S he will probably not s peak to m e for a long, long tim e,' s m iled S idney, s tretc hing bac k even m ore expans ively in his c hair. 'W hic h s uits m e fine bec aus e it will keep her out of m y hair. I s ay, that's rather c lever, is n't it? A lopec ia? Hair?' I s hook m y head. 'Y ou're inc orrigible, S idney.'

9

'I'm really going to m ake an effort with Chris tm as this year,' announc ed J ulie, a week before the s c hools c los ed for the holidays . 'A nd why is that?' as ked David, looking up from his papers and peering over his gold-rim m ed, half-m oon s pec tac les . 'B ec aus e las t year,' replied J ulie, taking the opportunity to have a break from dis tributing the early m orning m ail, 'was s o indes c ribably awful that I'm really going to try not to let it get to m e this year. I'm going to go with the flow, jus t let it all was h over m e. Do you know that las t year I was glad to get bac k to work. I s pent ages and ages looking for pres ents whic h in the end didn't s uit. I wrote hundreds of c ards to people I haven't s een for ages and am not likely to ever s ee again and then, at the very las t m inute, s om ebody s ent m e a c ard who I hadn't s ent one to and I had to rus h to c atc h the las t pos t to s end them one. W ell, this year I'm not s ending any c ards and I'm giving all m y nephews and niec es m oney and I've as ked everybody els e what they want. It's a m uc h better idea, I think.' 'Oh no,' I s aid, 'I don't agree at all with that. P art of the exc item ent of Chris tm as is s ending c ards and getting s urpris e pres ents .' 'W ell, I c an do without s urpris e pres ents , thank you very m uc h,' replied J ulie, flic king half-heartedly through the m ail. S he looked up. 'Y ou know what s urpris e pres ent I got from P aul las t year?' 'I don't,' I s aid, 'but I gues s you are about to tell us .' 'Red underwear! T hat's what I got. S hoc king, s kim py, red s ilk underwear. Now who in their right m inds - apart from Mrs S avage and a Frenc h pros titute - would be s een dead in red underwear?' 'A lthough I am not an expert on ladies ' lingerie,' s aid David, 'I do think red underwear s ounds rather attrac tive - on a wom an that is .' 'T here's the typic al m an s peaking,' J ulie told him . 'I wouldn't be s een dead in red underwear.' 'It c ould have been wors e,' I ventured. 'P aul c ould have given you oven gloves .' 'W ell, at leas t I would have worn the oven gloves ,' retorted J ulie. 'He's c ertainly not getting m e into, red underwear.' 'S o what about Chris tm as Day?' I as ked. 'Have you c anc elled that?' 'W e're going out for dinner. T hat's the other big im provem ent. Chris tm as Day las t year was a dis as ter. Mum put the turkey giblets in a dis h and when s he c am e to m ake the gravy they'd m ys terious ly dis appeared. You would have thought that s he'd los t all her life s avings the fus s s he m ade. E ventually, Unc le Tom adm itted that he had given them to the dog. W e had Mum m oaning, Unc le T om apologis ing, A untie P at c rying, Dad ignoring it all - and then the dog was s ic k. Granddad nearly c hoked on a s ilver s ixpenc e and Grandm a los t an earring s o we s pent the afternoon playing c lean the c arpet, find the s ixpenc e and hunt the earring. T hen we watc hed Chitty , Chitty , bloody B ang B ang for the um pteenth tim e on the telly until we all fell as leep. It was a nightm are. Four days of living hell.' 'Y ou had a lively tim e and no m is take,' rem arked David, c huc kling to him s elf. 'T hat's jus t it, Mr P ritc hard, I don't want a lively tim e. I have enough of a lively tim e with you ins pec tors all the year round. A t Chris tm as I want peac e and quiet, with no has s le, no nois e, no s tres s .' 'A nd s peaking of has s le, nois e and s tres s ,' s aid David, c upping a hand around his ear, 'I think I c an hear the dainty tread of the Ins pec tor for V is ual and Creative A rts on the s tairs .' 'A nd that's another thing,' s aid J ulie, purs ing her lips before holding up the papers in front of her, 'I've got a m ountain of work to finis h for Mr Clam p and I was hoping to get off a bit earlier tonight to finis h m y Chris tm as s hopping.' A m om ent later S idney burs t into the offic e. 'Happy Chris tm as ! ' he roared, throwing his briefc as e on Harold's c hair. 'I jus t love this tim e of year. T he s m ell of pine in the air, s hop windows c ram m ed with c olourful gifts , c arols and c ribs , fairy lights , holly and m is tletoe, and S anta's grotto, ho! ho! ho! It jus t grabs you by the throat and s ays , "P eac e and goodwill to all m en".' He pulled off his c oat, hung it up roughly and flopped at his des k. 'Chris tm as m akes you feel s o well dis pos ed to others , it's ... it's ... what's the word, Gervas e? Infec tious , yes , that's what it is , infec tious . W hy, at this tim e of year I c ould kis s Connie and hug Mrs S avage.' S idney s uddenly s topped. T he three of us were s taring at him in bem us ed s ilenc e. 'Is it s om ething I've s aid?' 'May I rem ind you, S idney,' s aid David, 'that s c hools have not broken up for the holidays yet and Chris tm as has not arrived. W e all have quite a bit of work to do before the term ends and I believe you, in partic ular, have a great deal to finis h.' 'I've s om ehow gone bac k in tim e,' s aid S idney dram atic ally, talking to no one in partic ular, 'and found m y way into the offic e of E beneezer S c rooge.' J ulie plac ed the thic k pile of papers on his des k. 'Dr Yeats wants the report on Loxley Chas e S c hool before the end of the afternoon. He was on the phone twic e yes terday. You have s ix letters to s ign, the ques tionnaire on "P ainters in S c hools " to c om plete, your J anuary c ours e applic ations to c hec k over and you s till haven't finis hed the A rts Counc il res pons e that Dr Gore as ked you to do. In today's m ail there are two item s m arked "very urgent" and two m ore m arked "urgent". A nd, by the looks of it,' s he s aid, indic ating the papers before him , 'you've only got two greetings c ards this m orning in that little lot. Happy Chris tm as ! ' 'W ill s om eone tell m e what I have done?' appealed S idney, watc hing J ulie totter out of the door on her high heels . 'It's what you haven't done,' s aid David, pointing to the m ound on his c olleague's des k. 'J ulie was not intending to work late tonight. S he was wanting to finis h her Chris tm as s hopping. If I were you, S idney, I'd m ake a s tart.' T hereafter, the firs t part of the day was unus ually quiet. S idney s oon s ettled down to his reports and letters and all that c ould be heard above the gentle hum of the traffic on Fettles ham High S treet were the s c ratc hing of pens , the oc c as ional s igh and grunt, and the s c raping of a c hair on the hard wooden floor. W hen the c loc k on the County Hall tower s truc k eleven o'c loc k, S idney's pen bounc ed off the page in a flouris h as he s tabbed the final full s top to the Loxley Chas e Report. T hen he leaned bac k in his c hair, plac ed his hands behind his head and exhaled heavily. David peered over his glas s es and I looked up from m y work. 'I take it that our young s ec retary,' announc ed S idney, 'bearing in m ind the m ood s he was in when I arrived, will not be forthc om ing with the libations this m orning.' 'Y ou know where the m ugs are,' m urm ured David, returning to his report. 'A nd s inc e you are s o full of the Chris tm as s pirit, S idney,' I told him , 'oozing with goodwill to all m en and infec ted with fes tive kindnes s , perhaps you would like to m ake David and m e s om e c offee at the s am e tim e.' S idney thought for a m om ent, s m iled dram atic ally, then jum ped up from his c hair. 'Of c ours e, dear boy, nothing would give m e greater pleas ure. I s hall take thes e letters and this c om pleted report through to J ulie to plac ate her as well.' Over c offee, S idney began one of his all too fam iliar interrogations . 'I as s um e that over Chris tm as you are taking the blonde love goddes s of W innery Nook to s om e faraway, exotic loc ation, Gervas e?' 'No,' I replied c urtly. 'No?' he retorted. 'Is it a wet weekend in W hitby, then?' 'A c tually, we are not s pending Chris tm as together. I'm going to m y brother's in Retford again. I'm hoping we c an have a few days together in the New Y ear.' 'B arbados , Nic e, S t T ropez, P aris ?' 'S ettle.' 'S eattle! ' exc laim ed S idney, reac hing for his c offee. 'W ell, well, Gervas e, you are las hing out. T his s ounds s erious . A trip to the S tates . S eattle will be beautiful at this tim e of year.' 'No, S idney, I s aid S ettle, not S eattle.' 'S ettle! S ettle! ' he c ried. 'Y ou're taking her to S ettle? T he pot-holing c apital of the Dales . W hat are you intending doing? Creeping about on all fours underground with lam ps on your heads ? Hiking over the s lippery lim es tone in driving s leet? T rekking through the s now?' 'A c tually, S ettle is s pec tac ular in winter,' announc ed David, taking off his s pec tac les . 'Don't tell m e you're taking him with you as well?' as ked S idney. 'A s a m atter of fac t, it was I who rec om m ended S ettle to Gervas e. T here is a very pleas ant little hos telry there c alled T he T raddles . T he food is outs tanding, the views m agnific ent and the people who own it very friendly. A ls o, it's a very rom antic plac e.' 'B ut it is s till S ettle,' groaned S idney. 'A nd has s he agreed to go?' 'I haven't as ked her yet,' I s aid. 'I want it to be a s urpris e.' 'It'll be a s urpris e all right! ' 'I booked a c ouple of days bac k in Oc tober and -' 'W ell, don't hold your breath,' S idney told m e, 'I think s taying at hom e is preferable to S ettle in winter.' He c hanged the s ubjec t. 'A nd what have you got your inam orata for Chris tm as ?' 'A loc ket,' I replied. 'Oh dear, oh dear. A loc ket! A loc ket is s om ething you give your m aiden aunt or a little girl about to m ake her Firs t Com m union.' 'A s a m atter of fac t,' s aid David again, 'it was I who rec om m ended to Gervas e the Mezzo Gallery in S kipton. T hey des ign and m ake the m os t unus ual s ilver jewellery.' 'B ut a loc ket is not a pres ent you give to the wom an of your dream s . W hat he needs for a feis ty young beauty of Chris tine B entley's obvious c harm , attrac tion and eleganc e is s om ething partic ularly fem inine, s om ething whic h expres s es his s im m ering pas s ion, his ardour, s om ething whic h s peaks of his undying devotion, like a m as s of red ros es , an obs c enely large bottle of Frenc h perfum e, a huge box of B elgian c hoc olates , a delic ate diam ond pendant -' 'Y ou m ean s om ething tas teful like red s ilk underwear?' s ugges ted David. 'T hat's exac tly the s ort of thing wom en love,' enthus ed S idney. 'T hey really go for m en who are unpredic table and im puls ive, who s urpris e them with unus ual gifts . Unlike your other ideas , David, red underwear is an ins pired s ugges tion. Now I will take you to Hoopers ofHarrogate, Gervas e, and help you s elec t -' 'T here is no way I am giving Chris tine red underwear! ' I s aid em phatic ally. 'B ut s he will adore it! ' c ried S idney, jus t as J ulie appeared with his letters for s igning. 'Now what wom an c ould res is t red s ilk underwear? W ouldn't you agree, J ulie?' J ulie gave him a long, blis tering look before s lowly leaving the offic e. 'Y ou know, I think Chris tm as brings out the wors t in s om e people,' s ighed S idney s haking his head. I dec ided to broac h the s ubjec t of the c ouple of days in S ettle with Chris tine that very evening. I had agreed to go with her to the Chris tm as produc tion at W innery Nook J unior S c hool and was due to pic k her up from her parents ' hous e at s even o'c loc k. 'P leas e c om e with m e,' Chris tine had pleaded earlier that week, 'and give m e s om e m oral s upport with the ins ufferable Mr Logan.' To s ay that Chris tine did not get on with the s elf-opinionated Headteac her of the J unior S c hool would be s om ething of an unders tatem ent. Mr Logan was a large m an with pale watery-blue eyes and heavy jowls . He had the irritating habit of waving his fat frec kled hands in front of him as if c onduc ting s om e invis ible orc hes tra and he s poke at s uc h a s peed and in s uc h a s trident tone of voic e that his lis teners were eventually harangued into s ilenc e. He was hard-working and m anaged an exc ellent s taff but it was his patronis ing attitude to early educ ation whic h infuriated Chris tine. For Mr Logan, the Infant S c hool was where 'the little ones ' were 'oc c upied' and 'taught a few bas ic s kills '. It was only when they reac hed him in the J uniors that the really rigorous work began. I arrived at Chris tine's hous e a little before half-pas t s ix. Drops of rain began to fall as I drove up the c urved gravel drive leading to the s tone-built hous e. Chris tine's m other opened the door to m e with a warm s m ile and I was us hered down the long hallway and into the s itting-room . 'W hat an evening,' s he s aid. 'Com e along in, Gervas e, Chris tine won't be long. S he arrived bac k late from s c hool as us ual, s o s he's s till getting ready.' It was a c harm ing, elegant room and about as different as it pos s ibly c ould be from m y dark little flat above T he Rum bling T urn c afe. A large Chris tm as tree in the c orner s parkled with s ilver tins el and tiny lights , the m antelpiec e was lined with c ards , red and gold dec orations hung from the walls and a s m all c rib had pride of plac e on an oc c as ional table. I s at in front of a welc om ing log fire whic h c rac kled brightly in the grate. 'T he room looks s plendid,' I s aid. 'Oh, I jus t love Chris tm as ,' s he replied, ec hoing S idney's words . 'It s eem s to put everyone in s uc h a friendly m ood. P eople s m ile at one another in the s treet and s trangers talk to you. It really brings out the bes t in people, don't you think?' 'S o you are all prepared for Chris tm as ?' I as ked. 'J us t about. I told Chris tine that you would be very welc om e to join us but s he s aid you had already agreed to go to your brother's .' 'T hat's right,' I replied. 'I'm c ollec ting m y parents and m y s is ter is c om ing down and we'll have a fam ily Chris tm as in Retford. B ut thank you very m uc h for inviting m e.' 'W ell, perhaps next year,' s he s aid s m iling. Let's hope I will s till be on the s c ene next year, I thought. 'Ours will be a quiet affair,' Mrs B entley c ontinued. 'W e never s ee a great deal of Chris tine at Chris tm as , to be truthful. S he goes off on B oxing Day and -' 'Goes off?' I interrupted. 'S kiing, you know. S he's gone s kiing every Chris tm as s inc e s he left c ollege. Didn't s he tell you?' 'No,' I replied, c res tfallen, 's he never m entioned it.' 'Oh dear,' s aid Mrs B entley. 'I hope I haven't put m y foot in it.' 'Y ou never told m e you were going s kiing after Chris tm as ,' I rem arked as I drove towards W innery Nook J unior S c hool a s hort while later. 'Oh didn't I?' s he replied innoc ently. 'No, you didn't.' I realis ed m y voic e had a rather petulant edge to it. 'W ell, I knew that you were off to your big fam ily get-together in Retford.' W hen I didn't reply, s he c ontinued. 'Y ou didn't want to c om e, did you?' 'I m ight have done.' Chris tine c huc kled and put her hand on m y arm . 'B ut you don't s ki, Gervas e.' 'I c ould have watc hed. A nyway, who are you going with?' 'Oh, jus t a friend,' s he replied, c learly enjoying this little exc hange. 'W hat friend?' I c ould feel m y heart thum ping in m y c hes t. 'S om eone you don't know.' 'Not Miles , is it?' 'Of c ours e not. I've not s een Miles for ages . A nyway, you know him .' 'W ho then?' 'T his is getting like the third degree.' 'I think you m ight have told m e.' 'A re you jealous ?' 'No,' I s aid peevis hly. 'W ell, yes , I am as a m atter of fac t.' 'A lex. I'm going with A lex, an old c ollege friend. S o there. Now you know.' 'A nd what's this A lex like?' 'T all, s lim , attrac tive.' S he paus ed and c huc kled. 'S he's very nic e.' 'Oh, it's a s he then?' I c ried, vas tly relieved. 'Of c ours e, it's a s he, s illy. I'm not likely to be going off s kiing with another m an, am I?' S he m oved c los er. 'I'm not that s ort of wom an.' 'Oh well, that's different,' I s aid. 'I jus t thought that we m ight have s pent a c ouple of days together over the Chris tm as break - the las t weekend before s c hools s tart again. T here's a really nic e hotel that David rec om m ended and -' 'I'm only going for a week, and will be bac k on the s ec ond,' s aid Chris tine quic kly. 'S o you'll c om e?' 'I'd love to.' 'Right then, that's great! ' I s aid, s ounding pretty pleas ed with m ys elf. 'B ut won't hotels be full up at this tim e of year?' 'I booked a c ouple of m onths ago,' I told her. 'I wanted to s urpris e you.' 'Y ou were pretty s ure of yours elf, Gervas e P hinn,' s he s aid. 'A nd where is this hotel?' 'W ell, it's not B arbados , Nic e, S t T ropez or P aris , I'm afraid. It's near S ettle.' 'I love S ettle,' Chris tine s aid. 'I'll really look forward to it.' 'Good, that's s ettled then,' I s aid. W e both laughed out loud. W innery Nook J unior S c hool was a m odern and attrac tive building c ons truc ted in the s am e honey-c oloured bric k as the Infant S c hool whic h was s ituated a c ouple of hundred yards away beyond a large s quare playground. It had the s am e low-angled roof of red pantiles and large pic ture windows but was c ertainly not as warm and welc om ing. I parked the c ar and Chris tine and I hurried up the path whic h was glis tening with rain in the light of the s treet lam ps . W e pas s ed a s eries of large blac k and white notic es : 'P roperty of Yorks hire County Counc il'; 'T res pas s ers will be pros ec uted'; 'No public right of way'; 'No dogs allowed on thes e fields '. A ttac hed ins ide on the glas s of the entranc e door was a further s eries of reques ts and ins truc tions : 'A ll vis itors MUS T report to Rec eption'; 'P arents m us t wait outs ide when c ollec ting their c hildren'; 'T he c ar park is s tric tly for the us e of s c hool s taff only'. T he plac e s ounded as welc om ing as a Minis try of Defenc e s hooting range, and the entranc e area of the s c hool had the am bienc e of a hos pital waiting-room . A few anaem ic prints hung on a pale yellow wall and three hard-bac ked c hairs had been arranged in a line fac ing them . On a s m all table were a c ouple of m agazines and an unhealthy-looking s pider plant, its green and white s hoots trailing to the floor. A s we headed for the s c hool hall, following the throng, a frec kly-fac ed boy of about s even ran up exc itedly. 'Hello, Mis s B entley! ' he c ried, obvious ly delighted to s ee her. 'T his is J ohn, Mr P hinn,' s aid Chris tine, turning to m e. 'He c am e up to the J uniors at the beginning of this term and he was one of m y s tar pupils , weren't you, J ohn?' 'Y es , m is s ,' nodded the c hild. W e m oved out of everyone's way. 'A re you in the play, J ohn?' as ked Chris tine. 'No, m is s , there's only a few parts and they went to the older ones . I'm helping with the program m es and s tac king the c hairs at the end.' 'Oh well,' s aid Chris tine, 'there's tim e enough. Y ou'll probably be in next year's play.' 'I hope s o, m is s ,' replied the c hild.

'A nd how do you like the J uniors ?' 'Oh, it's all right, m is s ,' replied the boy unenthus ias tic ally. W hen we had taken our s eats , the lights dim m ed, the hall fell s ilent and a fat m an with pale, fis hy eyes s trode to the front. T his was Mr Logan, the Headteac her. He waved his hands expans ively in front of him , explaining that the evening's perform anc e was a dram atic epis ode from the well-loved c hildren's c las s ic , A nne of Green Gables . He prattled on about there being s o few really good Chris tm as plays s uitable for c hildren thes e days and how he believed in good quality writing, traditional values and high s tandards . W hat all this had to do with a s c hool play was beyond m e. He then rem inded everyone that taking pic tures during the perform anc e was prohibited bec aus e the flas h lights would dis turb the ac tors , that there would be no interval and that there would be a retiring c ollec tion to s upplem ent the s c hool fund. A Chris tm as produc tion gives a s c hool the opportunity of s taging a large-s c ale dram atic event involving a great m any c hildren. It s hould be a lively, joyous affair, full of c olour, m us ic and often danc ing, c entred on a s eas onal them e. I had been in the audienc e the week before at W illingforth P rim ary S c hool, and had laughed and c heered with the parents and c hildren at the outs tanding perform anc e of 'S c rooge'. A ll the pupils in the s c hool had been involved in s om e way. T he evening before I had watc hed a nativity play at S t B artholom ew's Rom an Catholic Infant S c hool. T he s tar of the s how had been the Innkeeper, played with great gus to by a c heeky-fac ed little boy of s ix. In front of the c urtains on the m akes hift s tage there was a bed in whic h the Innkeeper was s leeping. He was s uddenly awoken by J os eph banging loudly on the inn door and as king for a room . E ac h tim e the Innkeeper c lam bered into the bed to go to s leep he was dis turbed: by the s hepherds looking for the baby, by the T hree K ings bearing gifts , by a great flas hing s tar and finally by a hos t of heavenly angels s inging 'A way in a Manger' loudly outs ide his window. Finally, he had had enough and s tam ped and s torm ed ac ros s the s tage. T he c urtains had opened to reveal a tableau at the c entre of whic h was a little Mary in blue and J os eph in a dres s ing-gown, white s oc ks and with a towel over his head, held in plac e by an elas tic belt with a s nake c las p. 'W hat's all this , then?' the Innkeeper had dem anded. Mary had held a finger to her lips . 'You'll wake the baby,' s he had s aid. T he grum py Innkeeper had peered angrily into the m anger. His fac e had s uddenly c hanged and a great beam ing s m ile had filled his fac e. 'A aaaaahhhhh, he's a bobby-dazzler! ' he had exc laim ed. 'W hat a luvverly little baby.' T hat evening there were tears in m any an eye. T here were only s ix c hildren in the s c hool produc tion of A nne of Green Gables . Five of them s truggled through the tedious , wordy and overly-s entim ental epis ode, delivering their lines as if reading from a s hopping lis t. In c ontras t, the lead part of A nne, played by a plum p, red-fac ed girl with protuberant blue eyes , was undertaken with great enthus ias m and c onfidenc e. Dres s ed in a bright blue and yellow gingham s m oc k (rather uns uitable for the tim e of year, I thought) and s porting huge bunc hes of hair tied in red ribbons , s he dom inated the s tage. S he dec laim ed her lines in a dreadful m oc k-A m eric an drawl at the rate of a Gatling gun and had the irritating habit of waving her hands in front of her as if c onduc ting s om e im aginary orc hes tra. I had s een s om ething s im ilar to this perform anc e before. T he play thankfully c am e to an end. S oon Chris tine was s urrounded by a knot of exc ited pupils eager to talk to her. I was c ontent to s it and watc h her as s he c hattered and laughed and ruffled hair, her blue eyes s hining and her beautiful fac e flus hed with pleas ure. My reverie was s hattered with the appearanc e of Mr Logan, ac c om panied by the large girl who had played the part of A nne. 'Good evening, Mr P hinn! ' he s aid. 'I trus t you enjoyed our little perform anc e?' 'Y es , the c hildren did very well,' I replied, tac tfully. 'Mr P hinn,' the Headteac her inform ed the girl, 'is a s c hool ins pec tor and he has c as t his c ritic al eye over m any a s c hool play.' A n expec tant expres s ion played about the girl's large blue eyes . 'Y ou were very c onfident,' I s aid, 'and did very well to rem em ber all thos e words .' 'I'm auditioning for the lead role in A nnie next week,' the c hild inform ed m e. A nnie, I thought to m ys elf. A nnie - the m us ic al about the wraith-like orphan. 'S he goes to dram a s c hool every S aturday,' announc ed the Headteac her waving his hands in front of him . 'S he's m y younges t daughter, is Leanne.' On our way out, Chris tine and I c aught s ight of the pale, s light girl who had delivered the opening lines of the play. S he would m ake a perfec t A nnie, I thought. 'Y ou were exc ellent,' I told her. 'Y ou were, Cathy,' agreed Chris tine. 'Really exc ellent.' 'I only had a few lines , m is s ,' replied the c hild, s m iling c oyly. 'A h,' I s aid, 'but you were the firs t pers on to s peak and it was you who s et the s c ene. W e heard every word c learly, didn't we, Mis s B entley, and if I had an Os c ar to award - you know, the prizes that very fam ous ac tors and ac tres s es s om etim es get - well, I would give it to you.' 'T hat was a lovely thing to do,' s aid Chris tine, s liding her arm through m ine as we walked down the path. 'A nd if you only knew what that will do for Cathy's c onfidenc e. S he was s uc h a s hy little thing when s he was with m e in the Infants .' 'S he des erved an Os c ar,' I s aid. 'A nyone who c ould go on to the s tage, before all the other ac tors , beneath all thos e bright lights , in front of a hundred people and deliver s uc h ridic ulous lines without m aking one m is take, des erves an Os c ar.' Under a s treet light, I c ons ulted m y program m e. 'I wrote down the lines . Do you rem em ber what s he had to s ay?' 'No,' replied Chris tine, 'I was thinking what an ordeal the whole evening was going to be. W hat did s he have to s ay?' I read the lines : ' "Is Farm er Hart's farm far from here?" I c an im agine S idney trying to s ay thos e lines after a few Chris tm as drinks .' W e laughed and laughed all the way to the c ar.

10

'S o what was S ettle like?' as ked S idney. It was the firs t week bac k after the Chris tm as break and a partic ularly c old and windy m orning. I was c ertainly not going to elaborate. T o do s o would have initiated one of his rigorous interrogations about m y love life, s o I replied c urtly, 'E xc ellent,' and c ontinued to s ort through the papers on m y des k. 'A nd was it full of ram blers , s c ram blers and danglers ?' 'P ardon?' 'Hikers , hill walkers and m ountain c lim bers ?' 'W e didn't go out m uc h,' I replied, putting a file into m y briefc as e. 'Really ? S ounds like you had a very intim ate tim e.' I did not reply. 'A nd the loc ket?' 'S he loved it.' 'Mm m m , and there was I thinking Mis s B entley was a wom an of tas te. Did s he help you c hoos e that frightful attire?' 'P ardon?' 'Gervas e, are you going deaf? Have the ic y gus ts and wintry gales of S ettle res ulted in a hearing problem ? I as ked about that horrendous s uit whic h you are wearing and whether Mis s B entley helped you s elec t it.' 'No, I bought it yes terday as a m atter of fac t,' I replied. 'S idney, I really do have to get on. I have an appointm ent.' 'A nd you are intending going into s c hools in it, are you?' 'Of c ours e, I am ,' I replied, looking up from m y papers . 'W hy s houldn't I?' 'B ec aus e you'll frighten the teac hers and terrify the c hildren, that's why.' 'W hat's wrong with it?' 'It's quite the loudes t, ill-fitting and garis h piec e of apparel I ever did s ee. Y ou look like a down-at-heel m us ic hall c om edian or s om e im poveris hed c ountry s quire. It's a dreadful s uit, outrageous ly tas teles s and flas hy and c om pletely out of c harac ter for you.' 'I take it you don't like it, then?' 'W herever did you get it?' 'It was in the J anuary s ales .' 'I as s um ed that m uc h,' s aid S idney. 'I s hould im agine that it has been in the J anuary s ales s inc e Queen V ic toria's tim e. I as ked from where did you purc has e the m ons tros ity?' 'From Fritters of Fettles ham .' 'Fritters of Fettles ham ! ' exc laim ed m y c olleague. 'Fritters of Fettles ham ! A re you aware that the only c us tom ers who frequent that antique em porium are dec repit old c olonels , elderly c lergym en and retired s c hoolm as ters ? W hy didn't you go to Mic hael S tewart of S elby or Hoopers of Harrogate and get yours elf s om ething m ore s tylis h - a tas teful, tailor-m ade herring-bone, or m odes t c hec k or pin-s tripe?' I had to adm it to m ys elf that the s uit was rather unus ual. It was a s ort of m us tardy brown with a dark-red, dog-tooth pattern, wide c urved lapels , heavy c uffs and large leather buttons . 'A re you wearing it for a bet?' pers is ted S idney. 'Look, this s uit m ay not be at the height of fas hion but it is inc redibly warm and was rem arkably c heap. W hat's m ore, the m an in Fritters as s ured m e it is the c os ies t s uit in the s hop.' 'Cos ies t! Cos ies t! ' exc laim ed S idney. 'Y ou are not a tea-c os y, Gervas e.' 'Look, S idney, I wanted s om ething whic h will ins ulate m e agains t the c old and wet this winter, and on m ornings like today, this s uit is ideal.' I pluc ked a label from the large s quare poc ket. ' "T his s uit," ' I began to read, ' "has a lining treated by a s pec ial proc es s to extend the durability of the item . Mos t people produc e approxim ately 3,000g of pers piration in a s tandard day and this lining is m ade to c ope with up to 4,000g a day." ' 'Y ou'll los e about two s tone in weight wearing that outfit,' rem arked S idney, s tretc hing ac ros s to feel the c loth. I c ontinued to read: ' "T he lining m aterial c ontains nine billion m ic ros c opic pores per s quare inc h, eac h one 10,000 tim es s m aller than a rain drop." ' 'W ow! ' c ried S idney, with m oc k s urpris e. ' "T hes e pores will allow pers piration to es c ape whils t preventing c old from penetrating the m aterial." ' 'It would take a harpoon to penetrate that fabric .' ' "T his treatm ent gives a very s pec ial feel to the m aterial providing the wearer with protec tion and c om fort -" ' 'I get the idea, Gervas e,' s aid S idney interrupting, 'but it's s till the uglies t s uit I have ever c lapped m y eyes on. A nyway, what are you going to be doing this m orning? Fell walking, s heep s hearing, c lim bing P en-y-ghent, exploring the c aves at Ingleton, trekking ac ros s the P ennines ?' 'T his m orning, if you m us t know, I am going to S ir Cos m o Cavendis h B oys ' Gram m ar S c hool to join the interview panel for the Head of Clas s ic s pos t. T he las t tim e I was at that draughty dungeon of a plac e I was frozen to the bone. T he interviews las ted all m orning and m os t of the afternoon with a gang of garrulous governors arguing about everything and nothing. I do not intend to s it in that ic e box of a c onferenc e room for three or four hours today, s lowly freezing to death. T his s uit m ay not be partic ularly s tylis h, S idney, but I'll be as s nug as a bug in a rug.' 'T hat's bec aus e it very probably was a rug before s om eone, with a bizarre s ens e of hum our, turned it into a s uit.' 'S idney, I do not intend to s pend any m ore tim e arguing with you about what I wear. T he las t tim e I vis ited the s c hool I ended up with the m os t dreadful running c old and rac king c ough. I didn't s top s neezing and wheezing for a good week. On this oc c as ion I will be well prepared.' 'A h,' s ighed S idney, 'but is the s c hool prepared for you?' A t this point J ulie bus tled in with the m orning m ail. 'A nd what is y our opinion of Gervas e's attire, J ulie, m y dear?' he as ked. 'He looks like m y Unc le Cyril,' s he inform ed us c as ually, m oving from one des k to the other filling the in-trays . 'W as he the doc tor?' I as ked. 'No, the bookie! ' s he replied. 'He was the bigam is t who ended up in pris on.' 'I'm off,' I s aid, heading for the door, not wis hing to prolong the c onvers ation a m om ent longer. 'A nd don't go near the c liffs , will you, Gervas e?' s houted S idney after m e. 'Y ou'd be a hazard to s hipping in that s uit! ' S ir Cos m o Cavendis h B oys ' Gram m ar S c hool was built at the turn of the c entury, paid for by the wealthy wool m anufac turer and philanthropis t from whom the s c hool had taken its nam e. It was a huge, ornate, os tentatious pile of a building with s quat, blac k turreted towers and m ullioned windows , long c old c orridors and dark c ram ped c las s room s . I had only been a s c hool ins pec tor for eight weeks when I had been dragooned by Harold into undertaking the ins pec tion of P E and gam es at the s c hool, in plac e of David P ritc hard who had broken his leg by tripping over a rais ed paving s lab at the Golf Club. T he ins pec tion its elf had gone pretty well but I had been dragooned a s ec ond tim e - on this oc c as ion by the Head of Departm ent, a broad, s olid, hard-looking S c ots m an c alled Mr A uc hterloonie - into refereeing a rugby m atc h after s c hool when the offic ial referee had failed to arrive. It had been dis as trous . My s ec ond vis it had been to attend the interview panel for the appointm ent of the Head of E nglis h, and the day was s pent in a refrigerated box euphem is tic ally known as the Conferenc e Room . I had s at there s hivering unc ontrollably and endeavouring to s top m y teeth from c hattering. Never again, I had thought. I now parked the c ar in the s pot res erved for vis itors at the front of the s c hool and c ollec ted the various papers I would need from m y briefc as e. I felt beautifully warm as I c lam bered from the c ar into the c old m orning air and am bled pas t the great bronze s tatue of the s c hool's founder whic h dom inated the m ain entranc e. S ir Cos m o s tood on a large plinth, hands on hips , legs apart and c hin jutting out like a m as tiff about to pounc e. 'E xc us e m e, s ir.' It was a s m all boy wrapped up like an E s kim o: thic k brown and yellow s c arf, leather gloves , fur-trim m ed anorak and woollen hat pulled down over his ears . He had a bright, open fac e. 'A re you here for the interviews , s ir?' 'Y es , I am ,' I replied. 'W ould you like to follow m e, s ir, and I'll take you to the adm inis tration bloc k.' 'T hank you,' I replied. 'Have you travelled far, s ir?' 'J us t from Fettles ham .' 'Roads ic y, s ir?' 'V ery.' 'Y ou have to take it eas y in this s ort of weather, don't you, s ir?' 'Y ou do indeed.' W hat joy to find s uc h politenes s , I thought to m ys elf. 'I c an't s ay that I like the s now and ic e, s ir,' s aid the boy, s c uttling along ahead of m e. 'Neither c an I, and it is partic ularly bitter this m orning, is n't it?' T he round fac e beneath the thic k woolly hat, now pink with c old, s m iled, 'W ell, s ir, never m ind, you look pretty warm in your winter c oat.' T hat m ade m e s ound dis tinc tly like a s heep. T he foyer of the adm inis tration bloc k was s partan and draughty. I pres s ed the buzzer on the rec eption des k and, as if on s om e s ort of trigger, the fros ted glas s s lid bac k im m ediately and I was c onfronted with a pinc h-fac ed wom an with half-m oon glas s es perc hed on the end of her nos e. S he s tared at m e for a m om ent with her s m all eyes . 'Y es ?' s he as ked s harply. 'May I help you?' 'I am expec ted.' 'W ho are you?' s he dem anded. T his wom an, I thought, c ould take a few les s ons in m anners and c om m on c ourtes y from the pupil whom I had jus t m et and who had returned to his vigil by the front door. 'A re you from Fos ters Floor Coverings ?' s he as ked, not giving m e the c hanc e to reply. 'To fit the c arpet in the Dram a S tudio?' I was tem pted to enquire if I looked like a c arpet fitter but res is ted the urge. 'No, I'm here for the interviews ,' I replied equally c oldly. 'My nam e is P hinn.' S he ran a long finger down a s heet in front of her. 'It's s pelt with a "ph".' 'W hat is ?' 'My nam e: P -h-i-n-n.' 'T here's no one on the lis t of that nam e.' I s ighed heavily. 'T here's no "f" in P hinn.' 'I beg your pardon?' 'Has it been s pelt with an "f"?' 'W hether it's a "p" or an "f" there is no one c alled P hinn on this lis t. Did you rec eive an invitation from the Chairm an of Governors to attend for interview?' 'No.' 'W ell, there you are then.' 'T hat is bec aus e I am on the Interview P anel. T he Headm as ter as ked m e to join him . I am not one of the c andidates . I am from the E duc ation Offic e.' 'Oh, I s ee. W ell, I do wis h you had s aid s o earlier.' S he ran her finger down another lis t. 'Y es , here you are. J arfac e P hinn.' I didn't bother c orrec ting her. 'T he P anel is c onvening in the Conferenc e Room . I'll arrange for a pupil to take you down.' 'P leas e don't bother,' I told her loftily. 'I do know m y way. I've been here before.' T he glas s abruptly s lid s hut in front of m y eyes . T he Headm as ter greeted m e at the door of the Conferenc e Room . Dr T rollop was a tall, c adaverous m an with unhealthy-looking, greyis h s kin. He was dres s ed in a dark s uit, dark tie and was draped in a long blac k gown; his m ournful c ountenanc e im m ediately rem inded m e of an undertaker. 'Good m orning, Mr P hinn,' he intoned, s urveying m e m oros ely and without a flic ker of a s m ile. 'It's good of you to join us .' To m atc h his appearanc e, Dr T rollop had the s oft, vaguely ec c les ias tic al-s ounding tone of voic e of a funeral direc tor about to give his c ondolenc es to bereaved relatives . I was us hered into the Conferenc e Room to join the Chairm an of Governors , Canon W illiam s , and the other m em bers of the P anel. A broad individual with an exc eptionally thic k nec k, vas t florid fac e and s porting a m op of unnaturally s hiny, jet blac k hair was in loud c onvers ation with Canon W illiam s , a thin c leric wearing s teel-rim m ed s pec tac les . A lready s eated at a long m ahogany table was Mr Mortim er, the know-it-all parent-governor, who was flic king eagerly through a pile of papers . On m y las t vis it to the s c hool for the interviews for the Head of E nglis h pos t, he had drawn out the dis c us s ions when I had as ked a c andidate about the im portanc e of s tudents reading the great writers of literature. A ll he had s eem ed bothered about was whether the s tudents c ould s pell and punc tuate and write 'a dec ent letter of applic ation'. T he final m em ber of the P anel was a quietly s poken and nervous -looking foundation-governor, Mr W right, who s m iled weakly at m e as I entered. A ll were dres s ed s oberly, whic h m ade m e s tand out all the m ore in m y s uit of m any c olours . I s urm is ed that thes e interviews were going to be as long and as tedious as on the previous oc c as ion. 'I m us t s ay,' s aid the m an with the vas t florid fac e when we had taken our s eats behind the large table, 'it's a dam n s ight warm er in 'ere than t'las t tim e I were in t's c hool. I were frozzen to deeath. It's pretty parky on t'tops where I farm s o I know all about bleak weather but, by 'ec k, t'room were ic y. I were fair s tarved. It took m e a c ouple o'brandies and a gret rooaring farm hous e fire to thaw m e out when I got bac k.' 'Yes , I agree,' s aid the c anon, 'it was dec idedly c hilly. Of c ours e, I'm quite us ed to the c old. I c an never get the c hurc h heating, s uc h as it is , to work and the rec tory rarely gets warm . I often wear a body-warm er under m y c as s oc k. I get them from Fritters of Fettles ham , you know.' He s m iled in m y direc tion. 'However, I think we will be c om fortable enough this m orning as the Headm as ter has kindly agreed to provide s om e heating for us .' He ges tured to a vas t m etal box of a heater in the c orner of the room , whic h was blowing out great gus ts of hot air nois ily and at an inc redible rate. Dr T rollop glanc ed at the heater with gloom y eyes and rubbed his c hin thoughtfully. He looked as if he had rec ently been exhum ed. 'I never s eem to feel the c old,' he m urm ured in a hus hed voic e. He's probably c old-blooded, I thought to m ys elf. 'W ell, c olleagues , s hall we m ake a s tart?' s aid the c anon brightly. 'I think we all know Mr P hinn from the E duc ation Offic e in Fettles ham , who is here to give us the benefit of his expert advic e - oh, perhaps with the exc eption of Counc illor P eters on.' 'I've not m et 'im but I've 'eard of 'im ,' s aid the m an with the vas t florid fac e. 'Mornin'.' 'Good m orning,' I replied, with a s inking heart. S o this was Counc illor George P eters on, the m os t voc iferous and tires om e m em ber of the E duc ation Com m ittee, and hus band of the form idable Headteac her of Highc ops e County P rim ary S c hool. 'Now, we are gathered here to interview for the pos ition of Head of the Clas s ic s Departm ent,' c ontinued Canon W illiam s rem oving his s teel-rim m ed s pec tac les . 'It is a very im portant pos ition in the s c hool. Las t tim e we interviewed it was for the Head of E nglis h pos t when, if you m ay rem em ber, our dis c us s ions were a tad prolonged, largely bec aus e we departed down a num ber of divers e avenues , all very lively and interes ting but im m ens ely tim e-c ons um ing. I do hope that thes e interviews will be rather m ore foc us ed.' He glanc ed c as ually in the direc tion of Counc illor P eters on and Mr Mortim er. I rec koned, as I lis tened to the well-m eaning, c heerful c lergym an, that thes e interviews would be no s horter. 'W e have three s trong c andidates for the pos t, all well-qualified and experienc ed -' 'Can I jus t as k s om ething before we go any further?' interrupted Counc illor P eters on. I c ould s ee a weary expres s ion c loud the c anon's fac e. 'I'd like s om eone to tell m e what's t'point of kids learnin' Latin and Greek? I m ean, I were never taught Latin at s c hool and it's not s um m at what's held m e bac k.' 'Oh, Counc illor P eters on,' res ponded Canon W illiam s as if s peaking to a naughty s c hoolc hild, 'it's very, very us eful for one to know Latin and Greek.' 'W hy?' dem anded the c ounc illor. 'I beg your pardon?' as ked the c anon. 'W hy is it im portant?' 'W ell, it is . I really do not want to go into the reas ons for -' 'I c an s ee it c om es in 'andy for s om eone in your line of bus ines s , you being a c lergym an an' all and 'aving to us e it at your s ervic es , but -' 'In ac tual fac t, Counc illor, I do not us e Latin at m y s ervic es . It's thos e of the Rom anis h pers uas ion who us e Latin. T he Churc h of E ngland s ervic es are in E nglis h and have been s o s inc e the s ixteenth c entury.' 'W ell, I wun't know abaat that, Canon, I'm c hapel m is elf and there's no c hanc e of our m inis ter us ing Latin, not by a long c halk.' 'Having s aid that,' c ontinued the c anon, 'I do feel that a good grounding in the c las s ic s s tands young people in good s tead.' 'W ell, I c an't s ee it, m is elf,' grum bled the fat c ounc illor, s haking his head. 'I feel c ertain that Mr P hinn here c ould m ount a very eloquent defenc e of the effic ac y of a c las s ic al educ ation,' s aid the c anon, looking longingly in m y direc tion but I felt it prudent to s ay nothing. 'Do you think we m ight get on?' s ighed Dr T rollop. 'I would be very interes ted to hear from Mr P hinn in what ways Latin and Greek are relevant in the m odern world.' T he know-it-all parent-governor now joined the dis c us s ion. Mr Mortim er c learly was not going to let things lie and launc hed into a lec ture on the futility of c las s ic s in the c urric ulum . 'It s eem s to m e to be a total and utter was te of tim e to s tudy c las s ic s . Latin and Greek are of no prac tic al us e. Frenc h and Germ an, yes , but a c ouple of old languages nobody s peaks - well, I jus t c an't s ee the point. In this day and age we want c aptains of indus try not relic s of a bygone age. W e want young people fluent in J apanes e and Chines e, c onvers ant with c om puters , able to enter the world of c om m erc e, international financ e and bus ines s . W e want m athem atic ians , linguis ts , engineers , phys ic is ts , c hem is ts , thos e highly s killed in c om m unic ations . I for one - and I've s aid it to Dr T rollop on m ore than one oc c as ion - feel that the s c hool would be better off em ploying a teac her of Inform ation T ec hnology rather than a c las s ic s m as ter.' Canon W illiam s looked extrem ely ill-at-eas e and turned to Dr T rollop for help. T he Headm as ter, however, als o felt it politic not to enter the debate and c ontinued to s tare at the heater with a s olem n c ountenanc e. He had obvious ly heard Mr Mortim er's views m any tim es before. Mr W right, the foundation-governor, s uddenly s poke up. 'I did Latin at s c hool,' he s aid c heerily. T he c anon, a great wave of relief s uffus ing his fac e, thought he had found an ally and looked to him for s om e s upport, but there was none forthc om ing. 'W e learnt a little poem . I rem em ber it to this day.' He then rec ited the vers e. Latin is a dead tongue, A s dead as dead c an be. Firs t it killed the Rom ans , A nd now it's killing m e. A ll are dead who s poke it, A ll are dead who wrote it. A ll are dead who learnt it. Luc ky dead they've earned it. 'T hat m akes m y point exac tly,' s aid Mr Mortim er, s m ugly.

'Oh dear m e,' s ighed the c anon, wiping his brow with the bac k of his hand. 'A nd I'll tell thee this , Canon,' boom ed the c ounc illor, quite determ ined to keep the dis c us s ion going, 'old Cos m o Cavendis h, him who founded this plac e, c ould 'ardly s tring two words together in E nglis h, ne'er m ind Latin. Only bit o' Latin he knew is the Yorks hirem an's m otto: "B ras s o, in c lutc ho, intac to." Made his m illions in c loth.' 'Our s c hool m otto,' piped up the parent-governor, 'was "V ideo, Dis c o, A udio", and I c an rem em ber -' 'My point is -' interrupted the c ounc illor, but he was interrupted him s elf by the Headm as ter. 'W hether we teac h Latin and Greek is not an is s ue here, gentlem en,' s aid Dr T rollop in a low, wearis om e tone of voic e. 'T he fac t of the m atter is we teac h c las s ic al c ivilis ation, we have Latin and Greek on our c urric ulum , s tudents are exam ined in thes e s ubjec ts and we require a head of departm ent. W e c an argue the pros and c ons of retaining the c las s ic s at the next full governors ' m eeting if you wis h, Mr Mortim er, but this m orning we are here to undertake an interview and I would be grateful if we c ould now proc eed.' 'E m inently s ens ible idea, Dr T rollop,' c hortled the c leric . 'S o let us m ove on.' T he firs t c andidate looked like a younger vers ion of Dr T rollop. He s tared over his thic k s pec tac les with great gloom y hooded eyes and, in ans wer to the ques tion why he had applied for the pos t, breathed out heavily and s aid that he found the public s c hool where he taught at pres ent a little too dem anding and was looking for a quieter life in rural Yorks hire in a s c hool with not s o m any pupils to teac h. W hen Counc illor P eters on tac kled him on the relevanc e of Latin and Greek in the m odern world, he nodded s agely and s aid he s om etim es wondered about that him s elf when fac ed with a c las s of adoles c ent boys m ore interes ted in football and pop m us ic . He went on to explain that Latin was a dis c ipline and part of our c ultural heritage and helped s tudents with their E nglis h. W hen it c am e to m y turn to as k a ques tion, I as ked the c andidate whic h of the c las s ic al s c holars had influenc ed him the m os t in his own life. 'I don't quite s ee the pertinenc e of that ques tion,' he ans wered wearily. 'Of what s ignific anc e is it to m y pos ition as a teac her who has influenc ed m e or not?' 'I feel it is very relevant,' I replied. 'W ere you applying for the Head of E nglis h pos t I would as k whic h is your favourite author or poet. It tells m e s om ething about you.' 'W ell,' he replied dis m is s ively, 'this is not for an E nglis h pos t, s o I really c annot s ay.' I dec ided not to purs ue the line of ques tioning any further. T here was enough heat in the room already without adding to it. T he Conferenc e Room was like a furnac e. T he huge m etal c ontraption was blowing out great blas ts of hot air, m os tly in m y direc tion, and I was beginning to feel like a s ide of beef on a s pit. T he next c andidate bore an unnerving res em blanc e to the firs t: the s am e thin angular fram e, funereal expres s ion, dark doleful eyes and s allow c om plexion. W hen as ked by the c anon why he had applied for the pos ition, he replied that he wanted s om ething m ore 'pedagogic ally c hallenging'. W hen as ked by the parent-governor about his s trengths , he replied that he had 'a fertility of intellec t' and that he enjoyed m ending c loc ks . In ans wer to Counc illor P eters on's ques tion as to the relevanc e of Latin and Greek he thought for a m om ent, c ros s ed his s pindly legs , folded his long arm s and s tared at the c eiling. 'Did you unders tand t'ques tion?' as ked the c ounc illor after an inordinately long paus e. 'Oh yes ,' replied the c andidate s till s taring heavenwards . 'I was jus t c ontem plating the bes t way of res ponding.' A fter another lengthy interlude he enquired, 'P erhaps , rather than ans wer that ques tion direc tly, I m ight be allowed to s et up a paradigm .' 'A what?' s napped the c ounc illor. 'A paradigm ,' repeated the c andidate, pronounc ing the word with s low deliberation. 'W ould it be ac c eptable for m e to s et up a paradigm ?' 'It's all right by m e,' replied the c ounc illor, 'but is this room going to be big enough?' 'It is quite in order for you to s et up your paradigm ,' s aid the c anon, his words ac c om panied by the s c raping of c hairs as the c ounc illor and the parent-governor m oved bac k to get a better view of what I s us pec ted they im agined to be the erec tion of s om e s ort of m arquee. I was tem pted to s ay that it m ight prove diffic ult ham m ering in the pegs . T he las t c andidate was a s m all, m iddle-aged wom an with dark hair s c raped bac k tightly on her head and tied in a neat bun. My heart m is s ed a beat when I s aw what s he was wearing. S he had on a s uit m ade in exac tly the s am e m aterial as m y own: m us tardy brown with a dark red, dog-tooth pattern. T here were no wide c urved lapels , heavy c uffs or large leather buttons but it was c ertainly m ade from the s am e c loth. B y the look on her fac e the c andidate was as s urpris ed as I when s he c aught s ight of m y attire. T he other interviewers c learly thought we were related in s om e way for their eyes flas hed bac kwards and forwards from the c andidate to m e. T he room was now like a s auna and I c ould feel the pers piration all over m y body and the heavy s uit s tic king to m y body. I wondered how the c andidate was feeling, but s he ans wered the ques tions with great s kill and flouris h until it c am e to Counc illor P eters on's turn. ''A ve you a fam ily?' he as ked. 'No, I'm not m arried.' 'Do you intend to?' 'Do I intend to what?' s he as ked s weetly. 'Get m arried.' 'Counc illor P eters on,' the c anon interrupted quic kly, 'I'm afraid that kind of ques tion c annot be put to the c andidate.' 'W ell, I jus t 'ave,' he replied. 'It is entirely irrelevant whether the c andidate is m arried or not.' 'It's very relevant,' he replied aggres s ively. 'W hat if this young lady gets m arried and then 'as a fam ily? S he'll 'ave to 'ave tim e off to 'ave the kiddies and then get s om ebody to look after them when s he's at work. T hat's not s atis fac tory at all, is it?' 'Y ou are not allowed to as k that,' joined in Mr Mortim er, 'bec aus e it's a non-P C ques tion.' 'A what?' exc laim ed the c ounc illor. 'It's not politic ally c orrec t,' he was inform ed. 'W ell, I think I know m ore abaat politic s than anyone here pres ent,' he s pluttered. 'I've been a c ounty c ounc illor for nearly twenty years .' 'S hall we m ove on, Mr Chairm an?' as ked the Headm as ter, fixing the c ounc illor with a look that brought to m ind the A nc ient Mariner and his glittering eye. 'I don't have any im m ediate plans to get m arried,' s aid the c andidate looking Counc illor P eters on in the eye, and with a s m ile playing about her lips , 'or indeed to have any c hildren.' 'Right then,' he s aid, leaning bac k in his c hair as if vindic ated. 'I'll m ove on. Do you rec kon you'd be able to c ope with t'big lads , you bein' a wom an an' all?' T he c anon breathed out nois ily. Dr T rollop s hook his head. 'I've never found any diffic ulty c oping with big or indeed little lads .' S he s m iled and looked direc tly at him . 'Oh.' Counc illor P eters on was los t for words . 'I generally find that they do exac tly as I s ay.' 'Oh.' 'Large boys pres ent no problem s for m e.' 'No,' m uttered the c ounc illor, rather c has tened, 'I don't s uppos e they do, I m ean don't, I m ean, I'm s ure they don't give you any trouble.' 'A nd your las t ques tion, Counc illor P eters on, about the relevanc e of the s ubjec ts ?' prom pted the c anon. 'Oh yes . W ell, I'm jus t a s im ple farm er what s c rapes a livin' from t'land and not knowing Latin's not 'eld m e bac k. A lot of t'lads at t's c hool will end up running their fam ily farm or m ebbe bec om ing es tate m anagers or land agents or working for t'Minis try of A gric ulture and Fis heries . W hat I'd like to know is , what's t'point of 'em s tudying Greek and Latin and all this c las s ic al s tuff?' T he c andidate c ontinued to s m ile s weetly. 'A knowledge of Latin helps us gain a good c om m and of the gram m ar and voc abulary of our own language. E ffec tive c om m unic ation is very im portant in the m odern world. It's always im pres s ive to hear E nglis h well s poken, don't you think?' S he paus ed and looked Counc illor P eters on s traight in the eye. 'I als o believe that we have s o m uc h to learn from s tudying the Greeks and the Rom ans . Take A ris totle, for exam ple. He wrote a great deal about logic , m etaphys ic s , phys ic s , as tronom y, m eteorology, biology, ps yc hology, ethic s , politic s , philos ophy and literary c ritic is m . His philos ophy bec am e the foundation for the Is lam ic religion and was inc orporated into Chris tianity. T hen there's S oc rates , s uc h a c lever, gentle and enigm atic m an, very like J es us .' 'Really?' s aid the c anon s uddenly s itting up. 'In what way?' 'W ell, their c ontem poraries found them both diffic ult to fathom . Neither of them wrote anything down and we have to rely on their dis c iples to know what they believed and what they s aid. W e do know that they were wonderful c om m unic ators , great teac hers , that they c ould us e words in s uc h a way that people's lives were c hanged for the better. S urely learning about s uc h m en helps young people to live good, hones t lives , to bec om e m ore c om pas s ionate, truthful and hum ane.' 'Fas c inating, fas c inating,' m urm ured the c anon. 'I would dearly like to debate this further, but I am afraid that tim e is of the es s enc e and I will now c all upon Mr P hinn, the repres entative from the E duc ation Offic e, to put a ques tion.' 'I was going to as k whic h c las s ic al s c holar has influenc ed you the m os t,' I s aid, looking into the c andidate's c hina-blue eyes , 'but I'd gues s from what you've s aid that it's either A ris totle or S oc rates .' 'It is n't ac tually,' s he replied. 'It would have to be S enec a.' S he turned in the direc tion of Counc illor P eters on. 'He was a Rom an playwright and author of m any es s ays and the teac her of Nero, one the m os t infam ous of Rom an em perors .' 'T 'c hap what fiddled when Rom e was burnin',' s aid the c ounc illor. 'T he very one,' agreed the c andidate. 'Des pite teac hing the young em peror and form ing what he thought was a c los e relations hip with his pupil, S enec a was forc ed by Nero to take his own life. He told the unvarnis hed truth, you s ee. It was a tragic end to a brilliant writer and philos opher. It was through reading S enec a that I dec ided to c om e into teac hing. You s ee, he never los t his optim is m and enthus ias m and delighted in the c om pany of the young. He s aid that part of his joy in learning was that it put him in a pos ition to teac h, and that nothing, however valuable, would ever give him any pleas ure if it were jus t for his benefit alone. "If wis dom were offered m e on the one c ondition that I s hould keep it s hut away and not divulge it to anyone," he onc e s aid, "I s hould rejec t it, for there is no enjoying the pos s es s ion of anything valuable unles s one has s om eone to s hare it with." Makes good s ens e, does n't it?' T here was a s ilenc e in the room . T he c anon nodded, Mr Mortim er s huffled his papers , the foundation-governor s tared at the c andidate as if s he were the Queen hers elf, Dr T rollop gave a brief s m ile and nodded, and I knew that this c andidate had c linc hed the job. Indeed, fifteen m inutes later, after a s urpris ingly brief and am iable dis c us s ion, Mis s Rebec c a B arnes was offered the pos ition of Head of Clas s ic s . B y this tim e I was s weltering and near to fainting with the s earing heat. T he wretc hed m ac hine was s till blas ting out fiery hot air, the windows were m is ted over with c ondens ation, the m etal fram es of the c hairs were s c orc hing, and the wretc hed s uit was s tic king to m e. T he s uit's lining c ontaining 'nine billion m ic ros c opic pores per s quare inc h, eac h one 10,000 tim es s m aller than a rain drop' was beginning to s team . I jus t had to get out. 'Canon W illiam s ,' I panted, 'if you would exc us e m e, I do have another appointm ent to get to.' 'Oh yes , of c ours e,' replied the c leric . 'A re you feeling quite all right, Mr P hinn? Y ou look dec idedly flus hed.' 'I'm fine, thank you, Canon,' I puffed, 'but I m us t be off.' 'W ell, that was a m os t s atis fac tory c onc lus ion to the m orning, don't you think? I jus t know that Mis s B arnes will be a great s uc c es s and I c an s ee that Dr T rollop is delighted with s uc h a keen and c om m itted addition to his s taff.' T he Headm as ter nodded his head lugubrious ly like a tortois e and gave a thin s m ile. Clearly heat had no m ore effec t upon him than extrem e c old. 'S he was c ertainly the bes t of the three,' the parent-governor s aid. 'S he very nearly c onvinc ed m e of the us efulnes s of c las s ic s and, of c ours e, when s he m entioned J es us , s he c ertainly had you hooked, Canon W illiam s .' 'W ell, s he s uited m e,' c onc luded Counc illor P eters on, s tres s ing the word 's uited'. 'W hen I fus t c lapped eyes on 'er I thowt s he'd not be up to t'job but s he 'as a lot about her, that young wom an, and I rec kon s he'll do c ham pion.' T hen he turned in m y direc tion and his fat fac e broke into a great s m ile. 'A nd I c ould s ee that Mes ter P hinn, here, liked the c ut of her c loth, didn't you, Mes ter P hinn?' I did not s ay anything but s m iled and headed for the door and the fres h air. A s I walked to the c ar I pas s ed again the great bronze s tatue of the s c hool's founder whic h dom inated the m ain entranc e. I paus ed and s tared up for a m om ent at S ir Cos m o, s tanding proudly on his large plinth, hands on hips , legs apart and c hin jutting out like a m as tiff about to pounc e. S om ething s eem ed s trangely fam iliar about the figure. I looked m ore c los ely. Y es , it was the s uit he was wearing. S ir Cos m o was dres s ed in a s uit with wide c urved lapels , heavy c uffs and large buttons . I gues s he had done his s hopping at Fritters of Fettles ham .

11

T he nam e, S unny Grove S ec ondary Modern S c hool, was s ingularly inappropriate. It was a grim , towering, blac kened building s urrounded by high bric k walls and s et in a depres s ing inner-c ity environm ent of dirt and nois e. From the high windows , s habby fac tory prem is es and derelic t land c ould be s een by thos e pupils tall enough to peer through the grim y glas s . Row upon row of terrac ed hous es s urrounded the s c hool; s treet after s treet of grey, gloom y buildings . T he few hous es that had been built in the las t twenty years had ac quired a look of drabnes s and neglec t. E ven the air had a s ooty, dus ty tas te. It was a depres s ing s c ene of litter-s trewn roads , graffiti-c overed walls , windowles s bus s helters - a lands c ape devoid of trees and em pty of c olour. T he bright m orning s uns hine did little to m ake the s c ene les s bleak. T he previous term I had m arvelled at the awes om e view from Hawks rill P rim ary S c hool - the great c raggy fells , s teep-s ided gorges , tric kling s ilver s tream s , lus trous pine fores ts , rolling green pas tures and purple m oors . It was a world away. S unny Grove would have been an ideal s etting for a film vers ion of a Dic kens ' novel. It res em bled one of thos e dark and forbidding ins titutions des c ribed in Hard Times or Nic holas Nic k leby . I c ould im agine Mr Mc Choakum c hild, the heartles s teac her, or W ac kford S queers , the brutal Headm as ter of Dotheboys Hall, feeling very m uc h at hom e here. I was direc ted ac ros s the s c hool playground by a large arrow, following the ins truc tions for all vis itors to RE P ORT T O RE CE P T ION. It was jus t after nine o'c loc k and the s c hool as s em bly was in full flow. Hearing the boys s inging the hym n bas ed on B lake's poem 'J erus alem ', I thought to m ys elf how apt were the lines : A nd was J erus alem builded here A m ong thos e dark s atanic m ills ? A s I turned a c orner, I bum ped into a s m all, grubby-looking boy of about eleven or twelve who was c reeping around the s ide of the s c hool, as if trying to es c ape from s om eone. He had long, lank hair, an unhealthy pallor to his s kin and was dres s ed in a dirty blazer and grey flannel trous ers far too big for him . T he boy looked up at m e with a frightened wide-eyed expres s ion - like that of a rabbit c aught in a trap. 'Hello,' I s aid. He c ontinued to gawp at m e. 'S houldn't you be in s c hool?' He nodded. 'W ell, c om e along then, you c an s how m e the way to the s c hool offic e.' I m otioned him to go before m e. Head down and dragging his feet, the boy turned reluc tantly towards the s c hool entranc e. T he window in the glas s -fronted rec eption des k s lid bac k. 'Good m orning, m ay I help you?' a wom an enquired. T hen, c atc hing s ight of the pupil s kulking behind m e, s he reac hed for a large, red book whic h s he flic ked open. On the c over was written in large letters : P UP ILS A RRIV ING LA T E . 'E xc us e m e a m om ent.' S he c raned her nec k to get a better view of the boy. 'T hird tim e late this week, J us tin,' s he dec lared, s haking her head and writing down his nam e. 'Y es , m is s .' 'A nd what's the exc us e this tim e?' 'Mis s , I had to run an errand.' 'A nd where s hould you be firs t period?' 'P E , m is s ,' whis pered the pupil. 'W ell, you've m is s ed as s em bly. Y ou had better go s traight to your firs t les s on.' T he little boy s c urried off. T he wom an turned her attention bac k to m e. 'I'm s orry about that. Now, m ay I help you?' 'Y es ,' I replied, 'I have an appointm ent with the Headteac her. My nam e is Mr P hinn and I'm from the E duc ation Offic e.' 'If you would like to take a s eat, Mr P hinn, I will s ee if Mr Fenton's available. I think he s hould be jus t about out of as s em bly by now.' A m om ent later the Headteac her em erged via the s c hool offic e and held out a large hand. I had s een his fac e over m any a drys tone wall, driving a hundred trac tors along the winding c ountry roads , s taring s tern-fac ed at s heep auc tions , herding s luggis h c attle along the farm trac ks . It was a Dales -m an's fac e: a thatc h of thic k, grey hair over a broad, c reas ed brow, weathered features , heavy m ous tac he and brown, good-hum oured eyes . 'Good to s ee you, Mr P hinn,' he s aid. 'Com e along in.' I followed the Headteac her into a large, c om fortable room . T he heavy, dark, wooden bookc as es lining three walls were c ram m ed with books , and the res t of the room was filled with a large oak des k and leather arm c hair, two threadbare eas y c hairs , three anc ient-looking filing c abinets and a s m all table piled high with reports and files . 'Com e in, c om e in,' he s aid, us hering m e ahead of him . He s kirted around the two eas y c hairs and s m all table and plac ed him s elf s quarely behind his des k on the large leather c hair. 'W ere your ears burning this weekend, Mr P hinn, by any c hanc e? I was preac hing at Hawks rill Methodis t Chapel las t S unday and Mrs B eighton and Mrs B rown - we c all them "the m erry widows " - were s inging your prais es . I'm a lay preac her, you know, for m y s ins . A nyhow, I was c hatting to them after the s ervic e and your nam e c am e up. I believe you vis ited the s c hool las t term . It's a lovely s pot up there, is n't it?' How s trange, I thought, when I had only been thinking of the plac e m ys elf five m inutes earlier. Mr Fenton c hatted on am iably and inc ons equentially for a further five m inutes , without s topping for a reply. T hen, when a paus e c am e and I endeavoured to res pond, he jum ped up, negotiated the c hairs and the table again and dis appeared out of the door. A m inute later he was bac k with a tray of c offee. 'I'd forget m y head if it was n't s c rewed on. Now then, Mr P hinn, you're not here to talk about Hawks rill and m y preac hing. S hall we get down to bus ines s ?' For the firs t part of the m orning I s at with the Headteac her to look through the exam ination res ults and dis c us s s trategies for im provem ent. T he pupils ' perform anc e was low c om pared with the gram m ar s c hool's ac ros s town, but it had been s teadily im proving over the pas t few years and Mr Fenton was jus tifiably proud of this ac hievem ent. I s oon found that he had s trong views whic h he was not afraid of expres s ing. W hen he s poke about his pupils , his dark eyes lit up with a s ort of m is s ionary zeal. T hen c am e the s erm on. 'T he boys arrive here at eleven, Mr P hinn, having failed their eleven-plus exam ination. T heir parents will have rec eived a letter from the E duc ation Offic e inform ing them that their s on has not reac hed the required s tandard to qualify for a plac e at the gram m ar s c hool. In effec t, thes e c hildren will have been deem ed to be failures . S om e parents have prom is ed their s on a bike ifhe pas s es , a s ort of m is guided inc entive to enc ourage him to work harder perhaps . T he bike is not now forthc om ing, of c ours e. Many of the boys arrive here, therefore, under-c onfident, with low s elf-es teem . S om e have s een their bes t friends heading up the hill in gram m ar s c hool blazer and gold badge while they have been heading downhill. Our job, Mr P hinn, firs t and forem os t, is to build up their c onfidenc e and s elf-es teem , c ontinue to have high expec tations for them and be s ure they know, give them m axim um s upport and enc ouragem ent, develop their s oc ial s kills and qualities of c harac ter to enable them to enter the world feeling good about them s elves . I want them to us e their tim e at S unny Grove s o they develop into well-rounded young people with c ourage, toleranc e, s trong c onvic tions , lively enquiring m inds and a s ens e of hum our.' He s topped s uddenly. 'I really am s orry, Mr P hinn,' he s aid, 'I got c arried away. I'm s ure you don't need to be told all this . I m us t s ound inc redibly pom pous . I don't m ean to be, but I do feel s o pas s ionately about this and if I have a c aptive audienc e... It's the Methodis t lay preac her in m e, I gues s .' 'T hat's quite all right, Mr Fenton,' I replied. 'I really do enjoy lis tening to s om eone els e holding forth about educ ation.' 'W ell, I am s ure you are not here for a s erm on from m e. You'll have to vis it Hawks rill Chapel for that. Let's have a tour of the s c hool and then I have arranged for you to join s om e E nglis h and m odern language les s ons for the rem ainder of the day. I believe you s aid in your letter that you would be reporting on the teac hing and learning.' S unny Grove S ec ondary Modern S c hool was built at the turn of the c entury. It was a s ubs tantial, three-s torey edific e of red bric k built around a c entral quadrangle. Movem ent about the s c hool was by m eans of a wide, green-tiled c orridor running round this quadrangle. Clas s room s , whic h form ed a s quare around the c entral paved c ourtyard on the ground floor, had hard wooden floors and high, beam ed c eilings . T he windows fac ing the c orridor extended down pas t wais t level, enabling the Headm as ters of old to patrol the s c hool eac h m orning, c ane in hand, and peer into eac h c las s room to ens ure the pupils had their nos es to the grinds tone. Invariably, they would have been hard m en who would im pos e hars h dis c ipline. P unc tuality, s ilenc e, obedienc e and c leanlines s would have been their bywords and if they c ould get the pupils plac ed in their c harge to learn to read and write, add up, fear God and know their s tation in life, s o m uc h the better. T he windows fac ing the s treet were high, thus preventing any inattentive pupil from s taring at the outs ide world and dream ing. T he s c hool was very different now. P aintwork was in bright blues and greens , and dis play boards , whic h s tretc hed the full length of the c orridor, were c overed in line drawings , paintings , photographs and c hildren's writing. Floors had a c lean and polis hed look, the bras s door handles s parkled and there was not a s ign of graffiti or litter. E verything looked c heerful and orderly. T he quadrangle was now an attrac tive and inform al lawned area with ornam ental trees , s hrubs and a s m all pond. T here were garden benc hes and pic nic tables and two large m odern s c ulptures . Following our tour of the building, I headed for the firs t les s on, to s ee Mr A rm s trong, Head of the Modern Foreign Language Departm ent, with a group of thirty thirteen-year-old boys . Mr A rm s trong was a pink-fac ed, weak-jawed individual of indeterm inate age. A s I entered the c las s room and took a s eat at the bac k, he s urveyed m e m oros ely with the pale grey eyes of a fis h glim ps ed at the bottom of a pond. He m oved to the blac kboard, s tooping heavily, as though c arrying s om e great invis ible weight on his s houlders . 'Now, where were we?' he as ked the apparently dis interes ted and extrem ely pas s ive group of adoles c ents , m os t of whom appeared to be s taring vac antly into s pac e or were s lum ped, as if drugged, over their des ks . 'A h, yes ,' he c ontinued, not getting or indeed expec ting a res pons e. He then began to c hant: 'J e v ais - I'm going nous allons - we're going tu v as - you're going v ous allez - you're going il v a - he's going ils v ont - they're going, m as c uline elle v a - s he's going elles v ont - they're going, fem inine on v a - one's going.' I've only jus t arrived, I thought to m ys elf, but I wis hed that this one was going, I really do. T he teac her c ontinued to drone on in s uc h a s oporific tone of voic e that I felt like joining the res t of the drooping lis teners . My m ind began to wander and m y eyelids bec am e heavy. I was brought out of m y reverie by a large, thin-fac ed boy who was s itting next to m e. 'Do you s peak any foreign languages ?' he whis pered. 'Y es , I do,' I replied in an undertone. 'Do you s peak Germ an?' 'Y es .' 'A nd do you s peak Frenc h?' 'Y es , I do.' He thought for a m om ent, s urveyed the teac her s till c hanting at the front, and then nodded in his direc tion. 'W hic h is this , then?' he as ked. T he s ec ond vis it of the day, to an E nglis h les s on with thirty-five eleven-year-old boys , proved to be as tedious as the firs t and, at tim es , quite bizarre. T he teac her, a Mr S wan, was an extrem ely frail-looking old m an with wild, wiry grey hair and a s trangely flat fac e. He was dres s ed in a threadbare s ports jac ket with leather patc hes , s hiny flannel trous ers and a m us tard-c oloured wais tc oat. T he pupils had been as ked to learn a lis t of c ollec tive nouns and were being tes ted on them . T his exerc is e s eem ed to m e to have very little relevanc e or value, bearing in m ind the low literac y level of the pupils . T hey would have been m uc h better oc c upied, in m y opinion, developing their s kills in reading and in writing c learly and ac c urately ins tead of c hanting the various c ollec tive nouns . 'T he c ollec tive noun for s heep?' barked the teac her, s trutting between the des ks . 'Floc k,' c horus ed the c las s . 'Cattle?' 'Herd.' 'S ailors ?' 'Crew.' T his went on for s om e tim e until the nouns bec am e rather m ore es oteric . 'T he c ollec tive noun for foxes ?' c ried Mr S wan. 'S kulk,' s houted bac k the c hildren. 'Cats ?' 'Clouder.' 'Leopards ?' 'Leap.' 'T he c ollec tive noun for s nipe?' s houted the teac her. T here was no res pons e. I had no idea either. 'W is p,' he inform ed us , writing the word in large c apital letters on the blac kboard. 'S kylarks ?' T here was another s ilenc e. 'E xultation.' T he word was added to the other. 'W hat about rhinoc eros ?' S till no res pons e. 'Cras h! ' he exc laim ed. 'Not a lot of people know that.' W ell, I c ertainly didn't, I s aid to m ys elf. 'Cras h' would be a very appropriate c ollec tive noun to des c ribe a group of bores , I thought. 'A c ras h of bores '. I im agined with horror a whole s c hool full of Mr S wans . W hen and how would thes e youngs ters ever apply this knowledge? 'Oh, look, our m am , there's a wis p of s nipe and an exultation of s kylarks flying over that c louder of c ats ! ' W hen the pupils had s ettled down to tac kle a very s im ple and deeply unins piring c om prehens ion exerc is e on glas s produc tion in S t Helens , I m oved around the c las s exam ining their books , lis tening to them read and tes ting them on their s pellings and knowledge of gram m ar and punc tuation. Mr S wan obs erved m e, s tony-fac ed, from behind his des k. S tandards were very low indeed. J us tin, the little late-c om er I had m et earlier that m orning, s at in the c orner, away from the others , looking nervous and c onfus ed. I s at down next to him . 'May I look at your book?' I as ked gently. 'Y es , s ir,' he whis pered, pus hing a dog-eared exerc is e book in m y direc tion. He watc hed m e with that frightened, wide-eyed look on his fac e. I read from the firs t page an ac c ount entitled 'Mys elf'. 'S ir, we had to write that for Mr S wan when we c am e up to this s c hool,' he explained quietly. 'S ir, s o he c ould get to know a bit about us , s ir. It's not very good. I'm not m uc h good at writing, s ir.' I found the des c ription of him s elf im m ens ely s ad. Im not m uc h good at anything really I like art but am not m uc h good. I am in the bottom s et for evrything and I've not really got eny friends . I dont really like s c hool, Id like a bike W hen I leave s c hool, Id like to work in a bread fac try. I like the s m ell of bread baking, you get free bread if you work in a bread fac try. T he m an next door told m e that. T he teac her's c om m ent at the bottom read: 'Untidy work. W atc h your s pellings . Rem em ber full s tops .' T he boy was given a grade of two out often. 'It's not bad at all this , J us tin,' I s aid, s taring into his large, wide eyes . 'You jus t need to do a bit of work on the s pellings and put in your full s tops .' He nodded s lowly. I went through his work with him . 'Now, tonight when you get hom e, you c opy out c arefully your next draft of this ac c ount. W ill you do that?' He nodded. 'Y ou know, I worked in a bread fac tory onc e, when I was a s tudent, and you're right about the s m ell of fres hly baked bread. It is a wonderful s m ell. My job was to take the tins out of a huge oven with a long pole. I was n't very good at it. A nd you are right, we did get free bread.' He s m iled. 'S ir, are you learning how to be a teac her?' 'No,' I replied. 'I've been a teac her though.' 'Can you c om e and teac h in this s c hool?' he as ked. 'No, I c an't do that,' I s aid. 'I'm a s c hool ins pec tor now.' 'I don't s uppos e you'd want to teac h in a plac e like this , anyway,' he told m e, gazing up with his wide-eyed look. I gave Mr S wan s om e rather blunt feedbac k at the end of the les s on when the pupils had departed for lunc h. T here was little evidenc e in the exerc is e books that his pupils had im proved at all in term s of s pelling, punc tuation and pres entation in their writing during the half a term he had been teac hing them . T here were a few s hort ac c ounts , an es s ay, a c ouple of s im ple c om prehens ion exerc is es and no poetry. W hils t there were plenty of c ritic al c om m ents in red biro at the end of the work, there were no s ugges tions about how the pupils m ight im prove. I explained that I s aw little value in teac hing the boys about c ollec tive nouns when they did not have the firs t idea what a noun ac tually was , and m any were inc apable of s pelling the very s im ples t of words or us ing the full s top c orrec tly. 'W ell, I don't agree,' he s aid, bris tling at the c ritic is m . 'I think that a knowledge of the different c ollec tive nouns is very im portant.' 'W hy?' 'It's us eful for them to know thes e things .' 'A nd when would the pupils be in a pos ition to apply this extens ive knowledge of the c ollec tive noun?' I was getting irritated by the m an's m anner. 'T hat's bes ide the point. It's part of our c ultural heritage. A nyway, Mr P hinn, thes e boys are very weak ac adem ic ally. I m ean, what c an you expec t?' 'T he m oon?' I replied. 'I beg your pardon?' 'S ir A lex Clegg, form er Chief E duc ation Offic er of the W es t Riding of Y orks hire, onc e s aid that "the good teac her expec ts the m oon".' Mr S wan s m iled c ynic ally and there was a long, deep in-drawing of breath. 'Did he indeed?' 'A nd do you s et hom ework?' I as ked. 'Hom ework? No, I do not s et hom ework. W hat is the point? T hes e boys would never do hom ework.' 'W ell, I would dis agree! ' 'Mr P hinn, have you ever taught pupils like this ?' 'Y es , I have.' 'W ell, I've taught them for rather longer, I think. T hey're not your gram m ar s c hool high-fliers , you know. T hes e lads will end up in m anual jobs , that's if they're luc ky, and not bec om e univers ity profes s ors and brain s urgeons . You c an't m ake s ilk purs es out of s ows ' ears . It's all very well s c hool ins pec tors c om ing in telling teac hers what they s hould and s houldn't do, they don't have to do it. A nyway, I'm only here to help the s c hool out.' 'In what way?' I as ked. 'I took early retirem ent a few years ago but was as ked to c om e in to take the c las s es of Mrs S im kins who is on m aternity leave. Y ou jus t c an't get teac hers to c om e in to take this s ort of pupil. I'm doing the s c hool a favour, if you m us t know, and prec ious little thanks I appear to be getting for it.' 'Really.' S om e favour I thought. 'A nd what is the developm ent of this les s on?' 'How do you m ean?' His fac e was white, his m outh tight with dis pleas ure. 'Having got the pupils to learn the various c ollec tive nouns , what do you do next?' 'I teac h them that the c ollec tive noun always takes the s ingular form of the verb.' He then launc hed into a diatribe. 'You hear s o m uc h m is us e of the E nglis h language on the televis ion and radio. P eople s eem inc apable of s peaking c orrec tly. News papers are full of s pelling errors . Teac hers c om e out of c ollege thes e days with no training in gram m ar. I blam e all thos e trendy m ethods teac hers have been forc ed to us e. I never took any notic e of the hare-brained ideas c hurned out by lec turers and ins pec tors .' I c ould s ee by his expres s ion that he felt I was part and parc el of this trendy m ovem ent. I s ighed. 'B ut you are dealing with a group of boys , Mr S wan, who have very lim ited language s kills . T hey need to develop their c om m and of bas ic reading and writing through c lear, s truc tured and appropriate work.' He s eem ed undaunted by m y c om m ents . 'W ell, that's what I've jus t been s aying, is n't it? T hey are inc apable. T hes e boys are very weak ac adem ic ally. In fac t, this c las s are the weakes t in the year.' 'Is ,' I c orrec ted.

'Is ,' I repeated. 'T his c las s is the weakes t in the year, "c las s " being a c ollec tive noun and taking the s ingular form of the verb.' 'If you will exc us e m e,' he s aid, as if he hadn't heard m e, 'it is lunc h-tim e.' W ith that he walked out of the c las s room .

12

T owards the end of the lunc h break I returned to the Headteac her's room feeling m os t depres s ed and wondering how Mr Fenton would reac t to the dam ning report I would, no doubt, be pres enting to him at the end of the day. T here was a broad, tweed-s uited individual with Mr Fenton. I rec ognis ed, with a s inking feeling in m y s tom ac h, the thic k nec k, florid fac e and s hiny m op of hair of Counc illor George P eters on. T he vis itor grinned like a frog on s eeing m e enter the room . 'A h, s o it's Mes ter P hinn, is it! ' he exc laim ed. 'W e m eet again.' 'Good afternoon, Counc illor P eters on,' I s aid, holding out a hand. 'I s ee you know eac h other,' s aid Mr Fenton, indic ating a c hair. 'Do s it down, Mr P hinn. I wondered where you had got to. I got you a s andwic h. I hope you like ham . Counc illor P eters on is one of our governors and als o an old boy of the s c hool.' 'He went to s ee the wife's s c hool las t term ,' Counc illor P eters on told Mr Fenton, 'and then we were interviewing for t'c las s ic s job ovver t'town at t'gram m ar. T hat were a rum do, and no m is take.' He paus ed to s c ratc h his m op of hair. 'S o what you doing in S unny Grove today, then?' 'Obs erving les s ons and as s es s ing the quality of the teac hing and learning,' I explained before taking a bite of the s andwic h. 'My wife were abaat as 'appy as a legles s donkey when s he got 'om e after your ins pec tion vis it to 'er s c hool. I 'ad to get m i own tea, s he was in s uc h a s tate. I don't know what yer s aid, bec aus e s he wouldn't tell m e, but it dint gu down too well, I c an tell thee that.' 'I'm s orry about that, Counc illor.' 'Nay, don't thee go apologis in', Mes ter P hinn. T ha's got nowt to be s orry abaat. T hy 'as a job o' work to do. I s aid to m y wife, I s aid, that's what ins pec tors do - pic k s pots , s ee what's goin' on, c hec k that everythin's as it s hould be and find out what's up. T hat's what they do - go round s c hools ins pec tin'. I s aid to 'er, it's like blam in' traffic wardens for c lam pin' yer c ar on a double yella line or a dentis t s ayin' you need a tooth out. T hat's what they're paid for, not to tell thee that everythink in t'garden's ros y. T hat dint gu down too well, neither.' 'I'm s orry that Mrs P eters on took m y report s o badly,' I told him . 'It really was pretty pos itive.' 'T hat's hum an nature, I'm afraid,' s aid the Headteac her. 'However m uc h prais e is given, it's the niggling little negatives whic h we tend to rem em ber.' A gain, I wondered how he would res pond to m y report. T here would be no 'niggling little negatives '. 'S he s oon c hanged 'er m ind after you'd gone in and s pent a bit o' tim e with the c hildren,' c ontinued the c ounc illor. 'T eac hin' 'em poetry, was n't it?' 'T hat's right.' 'A ye, s he c om e hom e well pleas ed after that.' 'I'm very relieved,' I s aid, and indeed I was . 'Don't s ee t'point of poetry m ys elf, Mes ter P hinn. Like Latin and Greek. I don't s ee the relevanc e. Never c ould. P oetry's not going to get thes e lads a job, is it? T hey need to be able to write dec ent letters of applic ation and add up.' I did not res pond but s aw in Mr Fenton's eyes a weary look of res ignation. I prayed that Counc illor P eters on would not be rem aining in the s c hool to hear m y report. 'S o, how's this m orning gone?' 'It's been very interes ting,' I s aid diplom atic ally. 'A ye, well it's a good s c hool, this . Cours e, the lads aren't going to break any rec ords when it c om es to exam s but they c om e out of this s c hool a grand s et of young m en. Don't they, A lfred?' 'I would like to think s o, George,' s aid the Headteac her. 'I'm very proud of them .' 'I've been m os t im pres s ed with the pupils ,' I s aid. 'S o, what teac hers 'ave you s een s o far?' Counc illor P eters on as ked, s tic king out a form idable bottom jaw and fixing m e with his large pale eyes . 'I obs erved Mr A rm s trong and Mr S wan this m orning,' I told him . 'He us ed to teac h m e, did Mes ter S wan when I was 'ere, bac k in t'dim and dis tant pas t. B y God, is 'e s till going?' 'He's filling in for the tim e being,' explained the Head-teac her, 'doing s om e s upply work during Mrs S im kins ' abs enc e. I m us t s ay, Mr S wan is finding it rather different from when you were at the s c hool.' ''e m us t be gettin' a bit long in t'tooth by now,' c ontinued Counc illor P eters on. 'I rec kon 'e were a fair old age when I was at s c hool bec aus e 'is 'air were grey then. He were a good teac her was Mes ter S wan. One of t'old s c hool.' 'B ut tim es have c hanged, Counc illor,' I s aid and, taking a deep breath, c ontinued, 'and a lot of the old s c hool m ethods and ideas are inappropriate in this day and age. I'm afraid I did not find Mr S wan a good teac her and s hall be des c ribing his very poor les s on in s om e detail in m y report.' 'Oh dear,' I heard Mr Fenton m urm ur. Counc illor P eters on's jaw dropped. 'B y the 'ec k, Mes ter P hinn,' he c huc kled, 'tha' dun't m inc e words . T har a regular Y orks hirem an and no m is take. I c an s ee what m i wife m eans .' * T he firs t les s on of the afternoon was a great im provem ent on the m orning's . T he teac her, a bubbly, enthus ias tic young wom an c alled Mis s Mullane, had prepared a les s on bas ed on a novel s et at the tim e of the S ec ond W orld W ar whic h the s ec ond-year pupils were reading. S he us ed well-c hos en illus trations and probing ques tions to develop unders tanding of ideas and m otives . 'W hat do you think it was like for the evac uee c hildren?' 'How would you reac t to leaving hom e to s tay in a s tranger's hous e in the c ountry?' 'W hat would you m is s m os t?' 'How would the parents feel?' 'Can you predic t what m ight happen next?' S he enc ouraged the boys to explore c harac ter in greater depth, whils t s ens itively s upporting the les s able, helping them to s tay interes ted and involved by the us e of ques tions m atc hed to their abilities and interes ts . S he required them to jus tify a point of view, refer to the text, relate to their own experienc es and exam ine the us e of language. T he atm os phere in the c las s room was warm and s upportive, and the boys res ponded well to the teac her, c learly enjoying her touc hes of hum our. Mis s Mullane had a real em pathy with, and res pec t for, the pupils and, unlike Mr S wan, had high expec tations of their s uc c es s . S he enc ouraged, direc ted, s ugges ted, ques tioned, c hallenged and developed the pupils ' unders tanding in an atm os phere of good hum our and enjoym ent. T he c las s room environm ent was wonderfully bright and attrac tive with appropriate dis plays of pos ters , photographs and artefac ts whic h gave the pupils a feel for the period in whic h the novel was s et. Children had talked to their grandm others and grandfathers about their war m em ories and there were poem s , s tories , c om m entaries , des c riptions , letters , diary entries and anec dotes - a whole range of writing related to the S ec ond W orld W ar. A s us ual, I s pent part of the les s on exam ining the pupils ' exerc is e books . T he work was varied and well pres ented and c arefully m arked in penc il. One pupil, im agining he had jus t arrived at his new hom e, had written his piec e in the form of a diary entry. A nother was c om pos ing a letter hom e des c ribing his experienc es . A third boy was bus y with a plays c ript bas ed on a c onvers ation between the billeting offic er and a villager who refus ed to take an evac uee. 'W hat are you writing?' I as ked a c heerful-looking boy s c ribbling away at the front des k. 'It's an ac c ount bas ed on the novel we're reading. I'm this evac uee, you s ee, s ent from the c ity into the c ountry to s tay with this old c ouple who are not us ed to c hildren. I'm writing m y s tory of the journey and m y fears and hopes and feelings .' I looked at the neat, c lear writing and nodded. 'T his is very good,' I s aid. 'Y ou really des c ribe things well. S om e good details in here. Y ou s eem to know a lot about the war.' 'T hank you,' s aid the boy s m iling. He s tared at m e for a m om ent before as king, 'W ere you an evac uee, s ir?' 'No, I was born jus t after the war. My brother was , though, and we have a photograph of him on the s tation platform at S heffield in his uniform , with his gas m as k in a c ardboard box and his little leather s uitc as e. He looked really s ad to be going.' 'W hy was he in uniform , s ir? W as he a s oldier?' 'No, no, but all the c hildren had to wear their uniform . T hey looked very s m art.' 'W as he in the Hitler Y outh, then?' 'S c hool uniform ,' I s aid laughing. T hings are looking up, I thought to m ys elf, as I headed for the final les s on of the day. I entered the s c hool hall to find two groups of large, aggres s ive-looking boys fac ing eac h other like s treet gangs ready for a fight. T here was no s ign of a teac her. I s tood frozen to the s pot. T he leader of one group thrus t his fac e forward, c urled his lip and s pat out the words , 'S o, are ya looking for a fight then? B ec aus e if ya are...' T hos e behind him s houted enc ouragem ent, ges tured and pulled fac es . T he leader of the other group m oved forward s lowly and threateningly, m aintaining a c arefully blank expres s ion on his fac e. 'No, I'm not looking for a fight,' he m outhed deliberately, s tres s ing eac h word, 'but, if I was , I c ould s ort you out. I c ould s pit on ya and drown ya. S o, if you fanc y your c hanc es ...' His s upporters jum ped up and down, jeering and roaring with laughter, taunting the other group with ges tures and s illy fac es . One s m all boy, with large glas s es and wielding a ruler like a s word, tried to intervene. 'Look! ' he s houted. 'S top! Y ou s houldn't be doing this ! T here's bound to be trouble. W e've been told not to fight again. Y ou've got to s top! ' A lad as large as a bear, with c los e-c ropped hair and hands like s pades , grabbed him by his c oat and pus hed him away. He m im ic ked his voic e. 'Oh s top, you'll get into trouble.' He then pulled what looked like a knife from his jac ket and waved it in the air, his fac e ballooning with anger. 'W hy was te tim e with words ?' he roared. 'Let's kill 'em ! ' T hat's when I entered the fray. 'S top! ' I yelled. 'S top im m ediately! W hatever's going on? W hat are you boys doing?' I c ould feel m ys elf trem bling. Rem arkably, the whole c las s froze and s tared unc om prehendingly in m y direc tion. 'W here's your teac her?' I dem anded. 'I'm here,' c am e a s oft, c alm voic e from behind m e. A t the bac k of the hall and out of m y view s tood a s m all, prim -looking wom an with s pec tac les on the end of her nos e. S he obs erved m e over her glas s es as if looking at s om e poor unfortunate s itting on the c orner of the s treet begging for c hange - a fac e full of dis tant pity. 'W hatever's going on?' I as ked again. I c ould feel m y heart thudding away in m y c hes t. 'S hakes peare,' s he replied s m iling and c learly enjoying m y dis c om fort. 'A c t 1, S c ene 1. T he boys are trying to get to grips with the m eaning of the text in Romeo and J uliet by ac ting it out in everyday language. It's the part where the s ervants of the Montagues m eet the Capulets in the c ity s quare and s tart fac ing up to eac h other for the fight. I'm s ure you know it well. A ll right, boys , relax a m om ent.' S he walked s lowly in m y direc tion and extended a s m all hand. A faint waft of s andalwood s oap floated up to m e. 'I'm J an Darlington, the dram a teac her, and you m us t be Mr P hinn.' 'T hat's right,' I s aid, attem pting a s m ile. 'I'm m os t awfully s orry about the interruption. I feel s o em barras s ed but I really thought -' 'P leas e don't worry about it.' S he turned to her c las s , laughing. 'Don't jus t s tand there with your m ouths open. S it down for a m om ent.' T he c las s obeyed ins tantly. 'If you c onvinc ed Mr P hinn that this was the real thing, I think you'll c onvinc e your audienc e next week. T here was s om e real aggres s ion and tens ion in that s c ene, your words fair c rac kled with energy. T here was plenty of c onvinc ing body language and fac ial expres s ions as well. Now, we want that s ort of ac ting when we get bac k to the text. Rem em ber to keep that deadpan fac e, W ayne, it really m akes you look far m ore intim idating, and P aul, even m ore of a dram atic paus e before you s ay that las t line. Really s pac e it out to get m axim um effec t. It's all to do with tim ing, you s ee.' T he teac her turned to m e. 'Do take a s eat, Mr P hinn, and we'll try the s c ene out on you, as S hakes peare wrote it. W e would all really apprec iate an objec tive view.' I s at for half an hour and watc hed the m os t gripping opening of Romeo and J uliet I had ever s een. T wo boys am bled down the s ide of the hall's s tage, c hewing and looking bored. T wo m ore boys walked s lowly down the oppos ite s ide. T hey eyed eac h other like fighting dogs . 'My naked weapon is out,' whis pered one, s tanding dis c reetly behind his c om panion and drawing a wooden dagger from his belt. 'Quarrel, I will bac k thee.' 'How - turn and run?' enquired the other, with a c ynic al c url of the lip. 'Fear m e not.' 'No, m arry,' s neered the other. 'I fear thee! ' T he other two boys s waggered forward with their hands in their poc kets . T heir eyes were like s lits and there were c old expres s ions on their fac es . 'I will bite m y thum b at them , whic h is a dis grac e to them if they bear it,' whis pered one. 'Do you bite your thum b at us , s ir?' as ked the other, artic ulating every word. T he verbal c onfrontation was elec tric , full of c urs es and threats , bravado and threatening ges tures . A nd then the fight began. T his was m im ed and every ac tion was s low and ac c entuated. W hen both s ides were loc ked together, their arm s and legs knotted in a violent em brac e, the s m all boy playing B envolio, with large glas s es and wielding a ruler like a s word, tried to intervene. 'P art, fools ! ' he c ried. 'P ut up your s words ; you know not what you do! ' T he large lad, T ybalt, gripped him by his c oat and pus hed him away. 'W hat, drawn, and talk of peac e! ' he roared. 'I hate the word as I hate hell, all Montagues , and thee.' He pluc ked a wooden knife from his jac ket and s tabbed the air, his fac e ballooning with anger. 'Have at thee, c oward! ' 'Let's s top there for a m om ent,' interrupted the teac her. 'Make the fight s c ene even s lower and m ore exaggerated. Curve your arm , S im on, in a great arc when you are throwing the punc h and, P eter, m ake that kic k s lower and m ore deliberate and s how the intens e fury in your expres s ion. Rem em ber there s hould be no phys ic al c ontac t. T his part is m im ed. You als o need to rem em ber that you are thugs s poiling for a fight. It's hot, dus ty, you are feeling s tic ky, there is a tens ion in the air. T ry and c apture that. You kept that deadpan fac e really well, W ayne, well done, and, P aul, even m ore of a dram atic paus e at the end of the line: "Do you bite your thum b at us - s ir?" T he word "s ir" is not a s ign of res pec t. It is s aid as an ins ult s o s tres s it.' Mis s Darlington then turned to m e. 'W ell, let's as k our theatre c ritic what he thought of the s c ene.' I only had one word to offer: 'S uperb.' T he bell s ounded for the end of s c hool. T he pupils , without being told, pac ked away the props and s tac ked the c hairs before putting on their jac kets and s houting their 'goodbyes ' to Mis s Darlington. I s pent ten m inutes talking through the les s on with her before s etting off, in m uc h better s pirits , to deliver an oral report to the Headteac her. Mr Fenton lis tened to m y prelim inary report in s ilenc e. I c onc luded by s aying that whils t I had obs erved s om e outs tanding les s ons from Mis s Darlington and Mis s Mullane, there were s ignific ant weaknes s es in the teac hing of Mr A rm s trong. A s for Mr S wan, I was of the s tronges t opinion that he s hould return to retirem ent as s oon as pos s ible. I referred to the Headteac her's earlier c om m ents about building up the pupils ' s elf-es teem and s elf-c onfidenc e, the need for c hallenge, pac e and s trong teac her s upport and enc ouragem ent. 'T hes e pupils are not em pty ves s els to be filled up with a few arid fac ts about c ollec tive nouns . T hey des erve better,' I s aid. 'Now it's m y turn to s ound pom pous . I don't m ean to be but, like you, I do feel s trongly about pupils who think they are failures .' 'T hat's quite all right, Mr P hinn,' the Headteac her replied. 'I, too, enjoy lis tening to s om eone els e holding forth about educ ation. A nd you are c orrec t, of c ours e. T he purpos e of educ ation is to c hange an em pty m ind into an open one. Mr A rm s trong has been with us for a long tim e and it's very diffic ult to get a leopard to c hange its s pots . He has attended c ours e after c ours e but with little apparent benefit. His les s ons are s till exc eptionally tedious , I have to adm it. He is a well-m eaning m an and hard working and the boys do have a c ertain affec tion for him , but I think the tim e has c om e for m e to have a s tronger word with him about his m ethods . T he other teac her c onc erned, as you are aware, is c overing Mrs S im kins ' m aternity leave. W e had an exc ellent teac her lined up but s he s ec ured a full-tim e pos t and pulled out at the las t m inute. I'm afraid I jus t c ould not get anyone els e at s uc h s hort notic e. I have to agree, however, the pupils do des erve better. I s hall m os t c ertainly ac t on your advic e and do everything I c an to find a different teac her to fill in before Mrs S im kins returns .' I nodded, pleas ed that Mr Fenton was prepared to deal with the problem quic kly. 'A s for Mis s Mullane and Mis s Darlington,' he c ontinued, 'your as s es s m ent of them c om es as no s urpris e either, and I am delighted that you found their teac hing s o refres hing. W hen I was a lad, we plodded through the text in m axim um , pleas ure-des troying detail. T hat was the reas on, I s uppos e, that I never took to S hakes peare, not, that is , until I c am e ac ros s J an Darlington. S he brings the words to life, as you quite rightly obs erve. Y ou know, Mr P hinn, you s hould pay us another vis it for the perform anc e next week. P erform ing Romeo and J uliet in an all boys , s ec ondary m odern s c hool is quite a c hallenge, I c an tell you.' 'I would very m uc h enjoy that, Mr Fenton.' 'S adly, Mis s Mullane will not be with us m uc h longer. S he's joining the E nglis h Departm ent at W es t Challerton High S c hool next term as s ec ond in c harge. I s hall be very s orry to s ee her leave.' 'I will s end a full written report, Mr Fenton,' I s aid, m aking ready to go. 'Now, if there is nothing els e?' 'It's been a great pleas ure to m eet you, Mr P hinn,' s aid the Headteac her, walking with m e to the door. 'It's very reas s uring to have ins pec tors who are s o keen about c hildren. I do really believe, you know, that thos e of us in educ ation c an really m ake a differenc e, partic ularly in the lives of les s fortunate c hildren, thos e who are labelled failures .' 'I know that, Mr Fenton,' I s aid, s haking his hand and looking into the dark, s inc ere eyes . 'I know that.' 'My father was a m iner, Mr P hinn, and I rem em ber him returning from the pit in Maltby where I was brought up, weary and c aked in blac k c oal dus t but always s m iling and good-hum oured. He had no degrees or diplom as but he was a well-read and intelligent m an and always wanted m e to do well at s c hool. He'd never had the c hanc e, you s ee. My m other was a s c hool c leaner and s he too gave m e every bit of s upport and enc ouragem ent. S he worked hard and long to buy m e the gram m ar s c hool blazer and everything els e I had to have, and to keep m e on at s c hool. I try to m ake S unny Grove like the good hom e that I was brought up in, a plac e where there is work and laughter, hones ty and fairnes s . I think I owe it to m y parents .' A s I walked ac ros s the playground towards the dingy rows of terrac ed hous es , s habby fac tory prem is es and derelic t land, I looked bac k at the grim , towering, blac kened building with high bric k walls . I thought of Mr Fenton and his m is s ionary zeal, and the words of B lake's poem c am e again to m ind: I will not c eas e from m ental fight, Nor s hall m y s word s leep in m y hand, T ill we have built J erus alem , In E ngland's green and pleas ant land.

13

'E xc ellent news , gentlem en! ' Harold Y eats c ras hed through the door m aking the three of us s hoot up from our c hairs as if given a s harp elec tric s hoc k. 'For goodnes s s ake, Harold! ' c ried S idney, retrieving the bundle of papers whic h he had s c attered ac ros s the offic e floor in his alarm . 'I wis h you wouldn't do that - exploding into the room like s om e m aniac al genie from the m agic lam p and nearly giving everyone a heart attac k! ' 'It's jus t that I have s om e really wonderful news ! ' exc laim ed Harold, s howing his m outhful of teeth and vigorous ly rubbing his large hands . 'Is it a pay ris e?' as ked David lugubrious ly. 'It's about tim e we had an inc reas e in our m is erable s alaries . W e ought to get a rais e when the teac hers do. Four years it is s inc e m y inc om e -' 'No, not a pay ris e, David, but it is s om ething whic h will, I have no doubt, bring a s m ile to that aus tere W els h c ountenanc e of yours .' 'Mrs S avage has been given the s ac k?' announc ed David gleefully. 'Now that w ould bring a s m ile to m y fac e. W hen I think of that wom an, I genuinely warm to Luc retia B orgia.' 'No, no.' Harold rum pled his hair, frowned, s ighed and s hook his head. 'W e're m oving into a new offic e?' I s ugges ted. 'No, we are not m oving into a new offic e.' 'Connie is retiring?' ventured S idney, leaning bac k in his c hair, plac ing his long fingers behind his head and s taring at the c eiling. 'That would bring a s m ile to my lips .' 'If you three would jus t lis ten for a m om ent and let m e get a word in, I'll tell you. Dr Gore has agreed, with the E duc ation Com m ittee's approval, for us to expand! ' 'E xpand! ' exc laim ed David. 'A ppoint another ins pec tor, one to c over s c ienc e and tec hnology.' 'Oh, be s till m y danc ing feet! ' exc laim ed David. 'Y ou m ean I will no longer be res pons ible for s c ienc e and tec hnology?' 'I thought that would pleas e you,' s aid Harold, again s howing his s et of tom bs tone teeth. 'It is abs olutely s uperb news , Harold,' c hortled David. 'Of c ours e, it's about tim e too. I've had to c over s c ienc e and tec hnology for far too long. It will be a bles s ed relief to pas s on all that work in phys ic s and c hem is try to s om e bright young thing. W hen will he s tart?' 'It will be after E as ter,' announc ed Harold pleas antly. 'S om e tim e after the s tart of the S um m er term . T he advertis em ent goes into the E duc ation S upplement next Monday, then there will be the us ual few weeks to rec eive applic ations and referenc es . T hen, of c ours e, there will be the interviews and the s uc c es s ful c andidate will have to give a c ouple of m onths ' notic e to his em ployer.' 'He! His ! ' exc laim ed S idney. 'Don't you two think, in this age of equal opportunities , that it m ay very well be a wom an who is appointed? W hy is there an as s um ption that the new ins pec tor will be a m an?' Harold took a deep, s teadying breath. 'Y es , of c ours e,' he replied. 'Y ou are quite right. It was a s lip of the tongue. It's jus t that m os t s c ienc e ins pec tors s eem to be m en.' 'A ll the m ore reas on for appointing a wom an, I would have thought,' I added. 'It would, of c ours e, be s plendid if we were able to appoint a wom an,' replied Harold. 'A c tually, when we were s hortlis ting for the E nglis h pos t we all thought that Gervas e was -' 'A wom an! ' exc laim ed S idney. 'W ell, er, yes ,' Harold s tuttered. 'I'm s ure Gervas e will be the firs t to adm it he has a m os t unus ual nam e and it does s ound... oh dear... I'm digging in deeper, aren't I?' 'It's all right, Harold,' I laughed, 'I'm us ed to it. I often get letters addres s ed to Ms P hinn.' 'B ut s erious ly, Harold,' pers is ted S idney, 'I think it would be an extrem ely s ens ible m ove to have a wom an on the team . T he thing is , a wom an ins pec tor would offer a very pos itive role m odel for all the fem ale s c ienc e and tec hnology teac hers and fem ale s tudents in the c ounty and, of c ours e, an attrac tive, intelligent, bubbly young wom an would add a little verve and c olour to this drab c ubic le we euphem is tic ally des c ribe as an offic e. Y ou c ould go in for a bit of pos itive dis c rim ination.' 'Now, who's being s exis t?' s pluttered David. 'W hy has s he got to be an attrac tive, intelligent, bubbly young wom an? It's not a beauty c ontes t s he's c om peting in, you know.' 'Oh, I don't think there will be any pos itive dis c rim ination,' s aid Harold thoughtfully. 'I think not. T he CE O and the E duc ation Com m ittee would not go along with that. T his is Y orks hire after all. T hey will want the bes t c andidate for the job, regardles s of s ex.' 'Gender,' c orrec ted S idney, 'regardles s of gender.' 'Look! ' s aid Harold. 'I c am e in today really exc ited about the pros pec t of another m em ber for our team . I do wis h you would s top nit-pic king, S idney. Now, if you c ould all bear with m e for one m om ent, without interrupting, I s hall go through the new proc edures .' 'W hat new proc edures ?' as ked David. 'If you would give m e the c hanc e,' c ried Harold, 'I will tell you! T hank you. Now, things will be rather different from when Gervas e was appointed las t year.' 'Did they think they got it wrong, then?' as ked S idney, giving m e a wry s m ile. 'Not at all, it's jus t that Dr Gore feels we need to refine the proc es s and update it. Mrs S avage -' David grim ac ed dis tas tefully. 'I thought s he would be lurking in the bac kground s om ewhere, like the Ghos t of Chris tm as P as t,' he growled. 'Is s he going to appoint the s c hool ins pec tors now? It wouldn't s urpris e m e in the leas t. S he has thos e long, red-nailed fingers in every other pie.' 'Not at all! ' s aid Harold. 'I really do think that you are rather hard on Mrs S avage, David. S he's a very indus trious and effic ient wom an, a little on the s harp s ide with people, m aybe, but that's the way with her. Underneath that very s teely exterior -' 'T here beats a heart of iron?' c onc luded David. 'T he wom an is irritating beyond enduranc e,' agreed S idney. 'Y ou as k Gervas e about the indus trious and effic ient Mrs S avage.' 'P leas e don't bring m e into this ,' I s aid. 'T he las t pers on I wis h to talk about is Mrs S avage.' 'S he was s uppos ed to s end Gervas e all the inform ation for another Fee-Fo m eeting and, for the s ec ond tim e, deliberately withheld it from him to m ake him look a fool.' 'No, S idney,' I began, 'it was n't exac tly like that and I c ertainly didn't s ay that I was m ade to look a fool. In fac t -' 'A nd he had to attend the m eeting with all thes e big-wigs ,' c ontinued S idney oblivious ly, 'bereft of the nec es s ary papers . For the s ec ond tim e running. W hen he phoned her up, rather than being apologetic , the vixen s aid that s he had been under the im pres s ion he was going to c ollec t them . Furtherm ore -' 'S idney,' I interrupted, 'I am quite c apable of explaining what happened m ys elf.' I turned to fac e Harold. 'It was jus t a m is unders tanding, Harold. Mrs S avage s aid that s he would s end m e the m inutes , new agenda and all the ac c om panying papers for las t week's planning m eeting jus t as s oon as s he rec eived them , but then later denied this and s aid s he had as ked m e to c ollec t them from her offic e and -' 'Look, c an we hear about the new proc edures ?' s aid David in an exas perated voic e. 'It has gone s ix and I was hoping to get hom e before m idnight.' 'Y es , yes , of c ours e,' s aid Harold. 'B ut that has jus t rem inded m e. I would like to have an update from you s om etim e, Gervas e, about how the Feoffees ' event is progres s ing -' 'T he new proc edures , Harold,' s ighed David, drum m ing his fingers on his des k. 'W ell, as I was about to s ay, Mrs S avage has rec ently attended a c ours e on s elec tion proc edures and has c om e bac k with s om e ideas whic h Dr Gore is really taken with. He's going to try out s om e m odern and rigorous tec hniques . I will be drawing up the s hortlis t of the final five c andidates as us ual, but I s hall als o be attending the interviews m ys elf this tim e. For the firs t part of the day, the c andidates will s it a s hort s oc iom etric tes t before m eeting a s elec tion of prim ary s c hool headteac hers in an inform al s etting. A t this point, s om e prelim inary judgem ents will be m ade. I thought perhaps S is ter B rendan and Mis s P ilkington and three others c ould be invited along. A fter m orning c offee, eac h c andidate will m ake a fifteen-m inute pres entation to the interview panel of c ounc illors , Dr Gore and m ys elf. It will be on s om e topic al is s ue related to s c ienc e educ ation. Following this , he - or s he - will be as ked a s eries of pertinent ques tions on his or her pres entation. Lunc h will be with three s ec ondary headteac hers and the c andidates will again be as s es s ed in an inform al s etting. In the afternoon they will s it a written paper and this will be followed by the form al interviews . It s hould all be over by about five-thirty and the s uc c es s ful c andidate will be inform ed at the end of the day.' 'Is that all they have to do?' as ked S idney. 'W hat about hang-gliding from the c loc k tower at County Hall while s inging s elec tions from Ok lahoma or m aking a m odel of B uc kingham P alac e out of us ed m atc hs tic ks whils t perform ing a lim bo danc e beneath the CE O's des k?' 'I have to adm it that it does s ound like the S panis h Inquis ition! ' exc laim ed David. 'I'm c ertainly glad I didn't have all that c arry-on to go through when I was appointed in the dim and dis tant pas t. If you were warm and breathing, then they gave you the job. I was in and out of the interview room in no tim e at all.' 'W hen I was interviewed,' S idney told us , 'I tripped over the c arpet going into the Counc il Cham ber, tottered forward, gripped the firs t hand in s ight to get m y balanc e - whic h happened to belong to a m ilitary-looking c ounty c ounc illor with a bright red fac e - and after that it was all plain s ailing. I think he thought I was giving him s om e kind of Mas onic hands hake.' 'I'm c ertainly glad I didn't have to go through all that las t year,' I s aid. 'T he s ingle interview was s tres s ful enough.' 'I agree,' s aid David s adly. 'I don't think I'd get over the firs t hurdle if I was put through all the things you've planned for thes e poor s ouls , Harold.' 'W e have to m ove with the tim es ' s aid Harold. 'Now, I would like you all to arrive at the S taff Developm ent Centre at about five-thirty on the day of the interviews on Marc h 1s t. Could you jus t c hec k in your diaries that you are available?' 'S t David's Day! ' exc laim ed our res ident W els hm an. 'W ell, I hope we are not going to be long. W e're having a W els h evening at the Golf Club. A nyway, Harold, why do w e have to be there? A re the c andidates to get a further grilling from us ? Do I twis t the thum bs c rews , turn the rac k or pour the boiling oil?' 'J us t be a good c hap, David, and look in your diary,' s aid Harold. 'Do you hear that, Gervas e?' announc ed S idney, s m iling broadly. 'Y ou are to attend another interview and have the opportunity to wear that red and yellow m ons tros ity you fanc ifully c all a s uit.' 'Don't m ention the s uit,' I warned him , flic king through m y diary. 'W hy do you want us there, Harold?' 'It's for you three to m eet the s uc c es s ful c andidate,' Harold told us . 'Gervas e, after you were appointed, you m entioned that it would have been rather nic e if you had been given the opportunity of m eeting your new c olleagues , s o I intend to put that s ugges tion into prac tic e. A nd another thing you m entioned was that you would have welc om ed the c hanc e of vis iting s om e s c hools prior to taking up your pos t. I s hall be arranging that for our new c olleague as well. B efore he - or s he - s tarts , I would like you, David, to take him - or her - into s om e s ec ondary s c ienc e les s ons and you, Gervas e, to s pend a day with him - or her obs erving s om e prim ary des ign tec hnology work.' Harold bent down to retrieve his briefc as e from the floor. 'W ell, I think that's everything unles s s om eone has s om ething to as k.' J ulie, who had been s tanding by the door lis tening, rais ed her hand. 'Could I as k s om ething, Dr Y eats ?' 'Of c ours e, J ulie, what is it?' 'W here is he, s he or it going to s it? On top of the bookc as e? In a filing c abinet? On the window s ill? T his offic e is already overc rowded. Y ou'll never get another des k and c upboard in here. T om T hum b would have diffic ulty finding a plac e to s tand.' 'P erhaps you c ould pos itively dis c rim inate in favour of the s m alles t c andidate, Harold,' s ugges ted S idney flippantly. 'S om eone about four foot tall and as thin as a rake.' 'A nd what about all the added typing and filing,' c ontinued J ulie, ignoring the interruption, 'and all the extra running about I'll have to do, with another ins pec tor filling up m y in-tray? A nd then there's the c offee -' 'J ulie, J ulie,' Harold reas s ured her, 'let's try and be pos itive. W e are in des perate need of s om eone to take on the extra work. I am c ertain that all thes e little internal diffic ulties c an be overc om e. I s hall have a word with Mrs S avage and s ee if s he c an arrange a little extra s ec retarial help and s ort out the room s ituation.' 'Oh, well, if you have a word with Mrs S avage, the fount of all knowledge,' s aid David s arc as tic ally, 'all our problem s will be s olved. S he'll jus t wave her m agic wand or, m ore appropriately, wiggle her witc h's broom s tic k, and everything will be fine. One c ould not hope for a kinder, m ore c ons iderate, c o-operative, eas y-going, invariably c heerful and generally all-round likeable pers on than the ever-helpful Mrs S avage.' Harold gave a great heaving s igh. 'I jus t hope our new c olleague has a s ens e of hum our, a thic k s kin and the patienc e of a s aint.' T he day of the interviews arrived. Harold was in the offic e early, as were we all that m orning to find out who had been s hortlis ted for the pos t. Harold was dres s ed in an extrem ely s m art dark blue s uit, a c ris p white s hirt and c ollege tie, highly polis hed blac k s hoes , and he c arried a leather-bac ked c lipboard. 'My goodnes s , you look very debonair, Harold,' rem arked S idney. 'Y ou look like a gam e s how hos t with that c lipboard,' added David. 'S o, who have you c alled for interview then?' 'W ell, I c an't s tay long bec aus e I need to be at the S DC for eight-thirty to m eet the c andidates but, briefly, there are five up for the pos t, inc luding, you will be pleas ed to hear, S idney, s om e wom en. T here's a Mr Carey P ric e-W illiam s -' 'Oh, well, he m us t be all right with a nam e like that,' interrupted David. 'Can't be doing with folk who adopt double-barrelled nam es ,' s aid S idney. 'In m y experienc e, they are inevitably pom pous and s elf-opinionated people who c an't m ake up their m inds . A nd one W els hm an in this team is quite enough. Get two of you lot together and you s tart s inging "Men of Harlec h" and talking in W els h.' 'W els h is a m os t m ellifluous language,' David told us . 'It ought to be c om puls ory in s c hools .' 'T he other m orning when you were rabbiting on to your wife on the phone, in that guttural, s pluttery language of yours , I nearly gave you the kis s of life. I thought you'd got a bone s tuc k in your throat.' 'S idney,' s aid David in a patient tone of voic e, 'your analogy about m y s peaking W els h has bec om e rather hac kneyed now. I have heard that little wittic is m of yours a good few tim es now.' 'Gentlem en,' c ried Harold, trying to s uppres s a s m ile, 'if I m ay c ontinue. T here's a Mr T hom as W ils on, a Mis s - er, Ms J ennifer B lac k, a Dr Gerry Mullarkey -' 'I bet you any m oney we get the c rus ty old doc tor,' s ighed S idney, leaning bac k expans ively in his c hair and putting his hands behind his head. 'I c an jus t pic ture the old buffer. He'll be a dry, dus ty phys ic is t with glas s es like the bottom s of m ilk bottles and grey frizzy hair s tic king up like wire wool and he'll have as m uc h c onvers ation as a dead s heep -' 'May I rem ind you, S idney,' I s aid, 'what you thought I would look like. Didn't you have a bet on that, with a nam e like m ine, I would be a huge, red-headed Iris hm an?' 'E xac tly,' began Harold. 'One c annot judge a pers on by his or her nam e -' 'T ake the nam e Clam p, for exam ple,' interpos ed David. 'Now what s ort of pers on does that c onjure up? Clam p? S om ething hard, m etallic and with jaws like a s hark.' 'A nd you c ouldn't be m ore m is taken about Dr Mullarkey,' Harold c ontinued. 'T he applic ation was very im pres s ive. Dr Mullarkey is extrem ely well qualified, with a range of experienc e and exc ellent referenc es .' 'A nd no s ens e of hum our.' 'Not at all, S idney,' began Harold, 'Dr Mullarkey s ounds extrem ely lively and enthus ias tic -' 'W as n't Dr Mullarkey a villain in S herloc k Holm es , Gervas e?' as ked S idney s uddenly, going off on one of his c us tom ary tangents . 'No, that was P rofes s or Moriaty,' I s aid. 'I wonder if he really exis ts . It's a very s trange nam e is Mullarkey. It s ounds a tad s us pic ious to m e. It c ould be a ps eudonym .' 'Y ou s aid the s am e thing when Gervas e applied, if I rem em ber rightly,' rem arked David, 'and, des pite his nam e, he's turned out not too bad.' 'T hank you for thos e few kind words ,' I s aid. 'Look,' interrupted Harold, 'I c am e in here for five m inutes , not for a detailed analys is of eac h c andidate. I m us t be off.' 'Hang on a m inute, Harold! ' c ried S idney. 'Y ou have only m entioned four, only one of whom is a wom an. W ho's the fifth c andidate?' Harold c ons ulted his c lipboard. 'A Mis s Gloria Goodwood.' 'Now that's m ore like it! ' c hortled S idney. 'Gloria Goodwood. S he s ounds like the heroine in a rom antic novel: young, s ylph-like, alluring, with a m as s of auburn hair falling like a burnis hed c as c ade over her alabas ter s houlders . I bet you Gloria would add a little s ophis tic ation and glam our to the offic e. W hat's s he like?' 'If s he is s uc c es s ful,' replied Harold, his voic e non-c om m ittal, 'you will s ee Mis s Goodwood at five-thirty at the S taff Developm ent Centre. I look forward to s eeing you all later this afternoon to m eet your new c olleague.' W ith that Harold departed. * I s pent the day working on the plans for thos e events for whic h I was res pons ible at the Feoffees P ageant whic h was to be held at Mans ton Hall at the end of May. S c hools had provided m e with a m ountain of c hildren's poetry and s tories bas ed on fam ous c harac ters from his tory. I s orted out a good s elec tion and at lunc h-tim e took it over to W illingforth P rim ary S c hool where the Headteac her and s taff had agreed to m ount the m aterial on dis play boards . P upils from three different s c hools were to perform s om e s hort plays on his toric al them es , and I s pent the afternoon c alling into eac h s c hool to s ee how things were going. S idney had arranged for an exhibition of c hildren's art, David a gym nas tic s dis play and the County Y outh Orc hes tra would give a perform anc e on the lawn at Mans ton Hall s o the E duc ation Departm ent would be well repres ented. I was s ec retly relieved that m y efforts to organis e the es s ay and public s peaking c om petitions on the them e of c us tom s and traditions had not been required. I had s o m uc h on, I really had not relis hed organis ing s uc h a c om plic ated and tim e-c ons um ing initiative. W hen headteac hers had explained that the s tudents would be up to their eyes in exam inations and would not have the tim e to prepare, I s eized the c hanc e to wriggle out of the tas k. A ll c om m unic ation with Mrs S avage about the Feoffees P ageant had been undertaken by notes and m em oranda. I had been very c areful to rec ord all the arrangem ents we had agreed upon and I had m ade c ertain Dr Gore had been s ent a c opy. My prom is e to liais e had been kept - even if I had duc ked m eeting with the S now Queen in pers on. A s ins truc ted, I arrived at the Centre at the appointed tim e. Connie, wearing her predic tably flat expres s ion, was s tanding as us ual in her fam iliar pos e with arm s folded in the c entre of the entranc e hall like s om e night-c lub bounc er. S he was fac ing up to S idney and David who had obvious ly arrived only s ec onds before. 'T op o' the evenin' to you, Connie,' S idney was s aying effus ively. 'How are we on this beautiful, m ild S t David's Day? A nd here c om es Mr P hinn, look you.' 'I'm very well, thank you. I hope you've parked your c ar well away from the front doors , Mr Clam p, and you as well, Mr P hinn, bec aus e it's a health and s afety hazard to bloc k m y entranc e. W ipe your feet, pleas e, Mr P ritc hard, I've jus t done that floor.' 'I would not dream of bloc king your entranc e, Connie! ' exc laim ed S idney. 'I've had to rem ind you before now. A nd, if you're expec ting s om ething to drink, you're out of luc k bec aus e there's no m ilk and I'm all out of bis c uits . A ll thos e c ounc illors and c andidates have gone through four pints of gold top and two boxes of Garibaldis .' 'It's s o good to find you in s uc h a c heerful m ood, Connie,' rem arked S idney, 'and for us to rec eive s uc h a hearty welc om e on S t David's Day. It warm s the c oc kles of m y heart.' W ith that, he s et off at a hearty s peed in the direc tion of the lounge area. 'S peaking of c oc kles , Mr Clam p,' s aid Connie purs uing him , 'when are you intending m oving them s hells , pebbles , dried s eaweed and s tuffed s eagulls you were us ing on your art c ours e las t Chris tm as ? T hey're taking up room . It's like B lac kpool beac h in-there.' 'I s hall rem ove them this very day,' replied S idney, s wivelling round with a great beam ing s m ile on his fac e. 'Now, what are the c andidates like, Connie? Do tell.' 'W ell, there's a big, hairy m an who has a lot to s ay for him s elf.' S he dipped her head to the s ide in S idney's direc tion. 'A bit like you, Mr Clam p, but he's W els h.' 'E ver the flatterer, Connie,' s m iled S idney. 'T here's a nic ely s poken wom an of about forty-five and a very s our-fac ed individual in a s hiny s uit.' 'Dr Mullarkey,' added S idney knowingly. 'I don't know what he's c alled,' c ontinued Connie, 'but he was very off-hand with m e when I as ked him to hextinguis h his pipe. I c an't s ee how he c ould m ake a very good ins pec tor when he c ouldn't read any of the "No S m oking" s igns I have around the Centre. I've even got them on the bac k of the door in the m en's toilets , s o he c ouldn't m is s them . I told him he was a health and s afety hazard and he gave m e s uc h a look - the s ort of look m y little grands on us ed to m ake when he c ouldn't have an ic e c ream . "A fac e like a s m ac ked bottom ", as m y m other us ed to s ay.' S idney threw him s elf into a c hair and s ighed heavily. 'A nd the other c andidates ?' I enquired. 'T here was a very friendly young wom an. T he only one to offer to help m e dry the dis hes . V ery c hatty and c heerful, with a lot about her. I took to her.' 'T hat will be Glorious Goodbody,' purred S idney.

'A nd what about the las t one?' as ked David. 'Look, Mr P ritc hard! ' s napped Connie. 'I don't s pend all day s tanding about watc hing people, you know.' 'Of c ours e, you don't, Connie,' s ighed S idney. 'P eris h the thought.' 'A nyway, I hope they're not going to be m uc h longer. I've got to do the toilets before I finis h. A nd would you three m ove into the s taff room ? I have the c arpet to vac uum in here yet. It's thos e c ounc illors leaving all them c rum bs .' A s the hand on the Centre c loc k tic ked towards s ix, S idney, David and I were s till huddled in the s m all s taff room , getting inc reas ingly im patient. 'Y ou would think that after nine hours of interrogation, they would have pic ked s om eone by now,' c om plained S idney. 'I have the annual general m eeting of the W es t Challerton A rtis ts ' S oc iety at s even-thirty and I need to get hom e, have a s hower, m ake s om ething to eat and go through m y report.' 'A nd I don't intend s taying m uc h longer,' s aid David. 'I've got a c om m ittee m eeting at the Golf Club tonight and I want to rais e the m atter, yet again, of uneven paving s labs . A fter the m eeting - it being S t David's Day - I am introduc ing the Cwm bran Male V oic e Choir and I need to be there in good tim e.' 'A nd I am s peaking to the P arent-T eac her A s s oc iation at B rindc liffe,' I added. 'T he appointm ent is a foregone c onc lus ion anyway,' rem arked S idney c as ually. 'I c ould tell by the way Harold was s o depres s ingly enthus ias tic when he got the applic ations . His little blac k eyes lit up like a ferret with a c ornered rabbit when a c ertain c andidate was m entioned. I bet you a pound to a penny we get the dry old s tic k with the funny nam e.' 'I think you m ay very well be right, S idney,' agreed David, looking at his watc h and s haking his head. 'He s aid m ore about that Mullarkey fellow than all the others put together.' 'Y ou don't think you two are pre-judging this poor pers on a little?' I c him ed in. 'He's probably a very dec ent s ort. J us t bec aus e he's got an unus ual nam e does n't m ean -' 'I s uppos e s o,' agreed S idney wearily, 'but it would have been rather nic e to have Glorious Goodbody at the next des k.' 'It's nearly s ix o'c loc k, you know,' David announc ed. 'I have to get hom e and c hange.' 'W ell, that s ettles it then,' exc laim ed S idney. 'W e s hall depart and find out tom orrow who was appointed.' A s we all s tood to go, Harold Y eats c ras hed through the door, m aking the three of us jum p bac k as if hit in the s tom ac h. 'For goodnes s s ake, Harold! ' c ried S idney. 'I do wis h you wouldn't do that - burs ting into the room like s om e jealous hus band in a W hitehall farc e.' 'It's jus t that I have s om e news ! ' exc laim ed Harold. 'W e have appointed.' 'I s uppos e it's P rofes s or Moriaty?' s ighed S idney. 'A s a m atter of fac t, it is Dr Gerry Mullarkey,' replied Harold, 'who is , at this very m om ent, looking forward to m eeting you all. If you would c are to m ake your way down to the lounge area while I de-brief the uns uc c es s ful c andidates , you c an c ongratulate Dr Mullarkey and introduc e yours elves .' 'I jus t hope you have pic ked s om eone who is going to fit in, Harold,' s aid David m ournfully. 'I hope he has a s ens e of hum our.' 'Oh, I think I c an as s ure you of that on both c ounts ,' replied Harold, s howing a m outhful of teeth and vigorous ly rubbing his large hands together. 'In fac t, I think getting on with you lot is alm os t as im portant as having the right ac adem ic qualific ations .' T here was no s ign of Dr Mullarkey in the lounge. B ehind the kitc hen hatc h Connie c ould be heard banging pans with s uc h forc e that they s ounded like the c langing of dis c ordant gongs . T he room was em pty s ave for an extrem ely pretty, s lender young wom an with s hort raven-blac k hair, a pale, delic ately boned fac e and great blue eyes with long las hes . 'E xc us e m e, we are looking for a Dr Mullarkey,' announc ed David. 'W e were told he was in here.' 'Oh yes ,' replied the young wom an, turning and s m iling broadly at him . 'A re you by any c hanc e Mis s Goodwood?' enquired S idney, approac hing her eagerly. 'No, you've jus t m is s ed her.' 'Have you s een him by any c hanc e?' I as ked. 'Dr Mullarkey, that is ?' 'Could you des c ribe him ?' 'W ell, he's m iddle-aged, I gues s , greying hair, s erious s ort of c hap, probably in a dark s uit. S m okes a pipe. A c tually, I've not even m et the m an. I'm jus t going on what others have s aid.' 'T here was a Mr W ils on here for interview, who fits that des c ription, but I think he's s peaking to Dr Y eats at the m om ent,' s aid the young wom an. 'T hat's very s trange,' s aid S idney, turning to m e and frowning. 'I did s ay when I firs t heard the nam e m entioned that I had s erious doubts whether this pers on exis ted. I s aid it s ounded s us pic ious .' 'I wonder if he's already left,' s ugges ted David, 'but it s eem s odd that he s hould jus t up and go.' 'He's a figm ent of Harold's im agination,' c onc luded S idney. 'I don't think there is a Dr Mullarkey.' 'Oh but there is ,' s aid the young wom an. W e all looked at the beautiful s m iling fac e. 'I'm Dr Mullarkey, Geraldine Mullarkey, but m os t people c all m e Gerry. I as s um e you gentlem en are m y new c olleagues ?' Our m ouths fell open and we s tared wide-eyed and s peec hles s . 'Oh, I s ay,' m urm ured S idney, s taring into the blue eyes . 'Oh, I s ay. Good grac ious , m y goodnes s . I thought you were a m an. I m ean I thought Dr Mullarkey was a m an, not a wom an like you. I m ean... oh, I don't know what I m ean.' 'Good afternoon,' s aid David form ally, s tepping forward and offering his hand. 'I'm David P ritc hard, Ins pec tor for Mathem atic s , P E and Gam es . T he hairy, inartic ulate, ram bling one is S idney Clam p, the Ins pec tor for V is ual and Creative A rts and our s elf-appointed s pokes pers on on equal opportunities . T he lifeles s , open-m outhed c olleague, inc apable of s peec h and who looks , at this m om ent, as if the ham s ter is dead but the wheel is s till turning, is Gervas e P hinn, the Ins pec tor for E nglis h and Dram a. It is good to have you with us , Gerry. May I c ongratulate you on getting the job. I am s ure you will fit in s uperbly.' 'Oh, I s ay,' s aid S idney, quaveringly. 'Oh, I s ay.' 'How do you do,' I s aid, taking her s m all c old hand in m ine. 'It's er... s plendid to, er... have you join us .' 'A nd if there is anything we c an do for you, pleas e as k,' s aid David. 'T here is s om ething, ac tually,' replied our new c olleague. 'I have to c atc h a train from Fettles ham at jus t after s even. I wonder if one of you c ould give m e a lift to the s tation - that's if it's not too far out of your way.' 'No problem ,' s aid David, 'I c an eas ily drop you off' 'Nons ens e! ' c ried S idney, who had jus t about gained his c om pos ure. 'Y ou're going in the oppos ite direc tion, and anyway, you have your Celtic knees -up this evening, if you rem em ber. I c an eas ily drop Geraldine off at the s tation.' 'I thought you had your artis ts ' m eeting tonight?' res ponded David tartly. 'It would be m uc h eas ier for m e to drop Gerry off,' I interrupted. 'My talk this evening is at B rindc liffe P rim ary S c hool, whic h is direc tly oppos ite the s tation.' 'W ell, that's s ettled,' s aid Dr Mullarkey, c ollec ting her handbag and briefc as e. 'I'm s orry to have to rus h. I'm really looking forward to working with you all.' S he gave m e a s tunning s m ile. 'S hall we go, Gervas e?'

14

'W ell, I would have thought the idea was to keep them quiet and knuc kling down to their reading and writing, and not enc ouraging them to s pend their tim e talking.' I was in the kitc hen at the S taff Developm ent Centre helping Connie dry the c ups and s auc ers . W e were c learing up after the day's c ours e I had been direc ting on 'E nc ouraging T alk in the Clas s room '. Connie, as was her wont, was giving m e the benefit of her views . 'W hen I was a girl you only s poke when you were s poken to. Y oungs ters have far too m uc h to s ay for them s elves thes e days , in m y opinion. T hey've got an ans wer for everything.' Connie was a wom an who did not m inc e her words and was , as they s ay in Y orks hire, 'not bac kwards in c om ing forwards '. 'Children learn a great deal by talking things through, Connie,' I endeavoured to explain. 'T hey s ort out all the c om plex ideas they have in their heads , s hare their views , try out their opinions on others , dis c us s diffic ult c onc epts . T alking is very im portant in learning.' 'Mm ,' s he m outhed, entirely unc onvinc ed. 'W ell, I think they'd be better off keeping their opinions and ideas to them s elves . In m y day, c hildren were s een and not heard. If I s o m uc h as opened m y m outh at s c hool without Mis s P ears on's perm is s ion, s he'd have that leather s trap out of her drawer as s oon as look at you. A nd if anyone dared to as k her a ques tion, woe betide them . S he didn't enc ourage c hildren to as k ques tions . Mis s P ears on liked them to lis ten, keep quiet and get on with their work.' 'T im es have c hanged, Connie,' I s aid, putting the las t of the c ups in the c upboard. 'More's the pity,' s he replied. 'Now, take m y s is ter's grands on, Robbie. A lways in trouble at s c hool, always got s om ething to s ay for him s elf, always ans wering his parents bac k. T hey don't know they're born, young people, thes e days . T hey want a s pell in the arm y. I s aid to m y s is ter, I s aid, "Your grands on wants a dam n good hiding, c heeking his parents like that." ' 'How old is he?' I as ked. 'Fourteen and as broad as a barn door and as thic k as a plank of wood.' 'He's a bit old for good hidings , Connie.' 'T hey s hould have s tarted when he was s m all. He was a little dem on, he was .' 'W ell, a lot of lads go through that s tage, you know, when they reac h adoles c enc e. It's probably his horm ones .' Connie s topped what s he was doing abruptly and turned to fac e m e. 'I beg your pardon?' s he s napped. 'It's probably his horm ones ,' I repeated. 'E xc us e m e,' s he replied c urtly. 'T here's no his tory of horm ones in our fam ily.' I quic kly c hanged the s ubjec t. 'A nd how's that little grands on of yours ?' T he tight lips relaxed, her eyes began to s parkle with pleas ure and a great s m ile s uffus ed her fac e. 'Oh, he's a little c harm er, he really is . In his s ec ond year at s c hool now and on the top table. B right as a button is our Dam ien. W raps his granddad round his little finger he does . Las t week he s ays to Ted: "Granddad, your fac e needs ironing." T he things he s ays . He's s taying with m e and T ed at the m om ent bec aus e his s is ter is poorly. S he's off s c hool with s ic knes s and diarrhoea. It's all down her s treet.' W hen I direc ted m y firs t c ours e at the S taff Developm ent Centre, Connie had watc hed m y every m ove like s om e great, hungry vulture. I would glanc e up from m y notes during the lec ture to s ee her peering through the door. A t c offee s he hovered in the bac kground, tea-c loth in hand, m aking s ure we returned our c ups and s auc ers to the hatc h in the kitc hen. A t the end of the c ours e s he watc hed, arm s folded, to m ake c ertain I left the room as I had found it. Later, in the c loakroom , I heard the door pus hed open and a great boom ing voic e ec hoed around the tiled walls . 'Have you finis hed in there yet bec aus e I want to do them urinals in a m inute! ' 'A nd talking about tim es c hanging and taking a turn for the wors e,' s aid Connie, vigorous ly wiping around the s ink, 'what about that nun?' 'Nun?' 'T hat little nun who was on your c ours e.' 'Oh, S is ter B rendan.' 'I had no idea s he was a nun. I was talking to her as if s he was a norm al pers on. I c ould have s aid anything. In the olden days nuns wore big, blac k outfits right down to the ground and blac k headgear and wim ples that c overed up half their fac es . I m ean, you c ouldn't tell that s he was a nun. S he had this blue s uit on.' Connie's voic e took on an alm os t affronted tone. 'I m ean, her s kirt was nearly up to her knees . In m y day you never s aw s o m uc h as a glim ps e of ankle. S he looked like an air hos tes s . A nd s he had nothing on her head s ave for that bit of a s c arf. I thought nuns had c ropped hair. W ell, J ulie A ndrews did in "T he S ound of Mus ic " and A udrey Hepburn c ertainly had her head s haved in "T he Nun's S tory". T hat S is ter B rendan had a perm by the looks of it. S he'll be having highlights put in and wearing high heels and m ake-up next. A nd another thing,' s he prattled, and I leant agains t the kitc hen door to lis ten to her, 's he had three c ups of tea and m os t of m y Garibaldis . T hey take vows , don't they? T hey're s uppos ed to give up all them luxuries . You don't know where you are thes e days , you really don't. It's jus t the s am e with the vic ar. He only looks about s ixteen and when he c am e into the Centre to rehears e his pantom im e when his pipes had frozen up, he was wearing denim jeans and a leather jac ket, and arrived on a thundering great m otor bike. He s ays to m e, "Call m e Des ". I m ean, it's not right, is it? No s ign of a dog-c ollar or a has s oc k. In m y day, vic ars were vic ars and nuns were nuns . You knew where you were. "Call m e Des ", I as k you! S oon, they'll be letting nuns drive c ars and get m arried.' 'Have you ever thought of taking the veil then, Connie?' I as ked m is c hievous ly. 'W hat?' 'B ec om ing a nun?' 'Me, a nun? Cours e, I haven't,' s he s norted. 'I'm not that religious ly inc lined and you know full well I c an't s uffer fools gladly. You m us t have the patienc e of J ove to be a nun. I'd find it very diffic ult to turn the other c heek when I s ee the m es s s om e people m ake in the Centre. T hat Mr Clam p leaves behind a trail of des truc tion and debris every tim e he runs a c ours e here, and Mr P ritc hard is forever getting his equipm ent out and forgetting about it. A nd another thing, don't nuns have this vow of s ilenc e? I c ouldn't keep quiet for m ore than two m inutes . Mind you, that s eem s to have gone out of the window as well. T hat S is ter B rendan c ould talk for B ritain.' S o c ould Connie, I thought to m ys elf as I took m ys elf off hom e, and s he would c aptain the team . S is ter B rendan was Headteac her of S t B artholom ew's Rom an Catholic Infant S c hool in Crom pton, a darkly depres s ing northern indus trial town. S he was a s light, fine-featured wom an with s m all, dark eyes and a s harp beak of a nos e. W hen I firs t m et her s he rem inded m e of a hungry blac kbird out for the early worm . Her s m all s c hool was s urrounded by tall, blac kened c him neys , derelic t building s ites , dilapidated warehous es and row upon row of red-bric k, terrac ed hous ing. T he s c hool its elf, adjac ent to the little c hurc h, was a c om plete c ontras t. Like the Headteac her, it was bright, c heerful and welc om ing and on m y firs t vis it I had been im m ens ely im pres s ed by the high quality of the educ ation. T he walls were ablaze with c hildren's paintings and poem s ; pos ters , pic tures and book jac kets were on various dis play tables , while in c abinets were s hells , fos s ils , oddly s haped pebbles , c lay figures and other s m all artefac ts . T he s tandard of reading was high and thos e c hildren I heard, and who c am e to m e in the Reading Corner, one after the other, were obvious ly keen to dem ons trate their s kill. A ll read fluently and with great expres s ion. T he num ber work was als o very good, as were the s inging and the art work, the his tory and the geography. W hen I was c om piling m y report, I had had diffic ulty in finding any is s ues for the Headteac her and her s taff to addres s . One area I did m ention, however, was a greater enc ouragem ent of c lear s peaking and attentive lis tening. T he c hildren s poke with enthus ias m and interes t but s om e had s trong ac c ents . I s ugges ted that the s taff, whils t not denigrating the c hildren's natural way of talking, m ight teac h the pupils to s peak with greater c larity. One m eans of doing this , I s ugges ted, was through dram a. A nd that was why S is ter B rendan had attended m y c ours e. A c ouple of days after m y c onvers ation with Connie, I rec eived a telephone c all from the very s ubjec t of our dis c us s ions . S is ter B rendan thanked m e for 'a m os t enjoyable, interes ting and us eful c ours e' and m ade a reques t. 'W e would like s om e m ore advic e on dram a, Mr P hinn. Could you c om e in for an afternoon, do you think?' 'Y es , of c ours e, S is ter,' I replied. 'I c ould drop off s om e helpful books with ideas for various dram a ac tivities and I'll happily talk things through with you and your s taff.' 'I was thinking m ore of a prac tic al dem ons tration,' s he s aid. 'P ardon?' 'Of you taking the c hildren for a dram a les s on and s howing us .' 'W ell...' 'I'm s ure, Mr P hinn, that you would be the firs t to agree that it's one thing telling teac hers what to do and it's quite another s howing them . I really think we would benefit from s eeing you working with the c hildren and putting thos e ideas you are s o keen on into prac tic e.' W hat c ould I s ay? 'Of c ours e, S is ter,' I replied, trying to s ound enthus ias tic , 'I'd be delighted.' It was like a re-run of Highc ops e S c hool when Mrs P eters on had inveigled m e into teac hing a poetry les s on. W ell, that had gone well enough, I thought to m ys elf, and I had no reas on to think that a dram a les s on at S t B artholom ew's would be any les s s uc c es s ful. I s oon found out, however, that things were not as I had im agined. I arrived at S t B artholom ew's a c ouple of weeks later on a c old but bright Friday m orning. S is ter B rendan s aw m y c ar pull up outs ide the s c hool and was at the entranc e to greet m e in s ec onds . 'My goodnes s , Mr P hinn, you're the early bird,' s he s aid beam ing widely. 'Com e along in.' I followed her down the bright c orridor and into the Headteac her's room . 'It m us t be over a year s inc e you were las t here.' 'T hat's right,' I agreed. 'I rem em ber it well.' On m y las t vis it, S is ter B rendan had guided or rather 'nunhandled' m e in the direc tion of the s c hool entranc e towards the end of the afternoon, pleas ed, no doubt, to s ee m e on m y way. S he had been, therefore, s om ewhat s urpris ed when I had inform ed her that I intended rem aining for the s c hool as s em bly. I s hould have left when I had the c hanc e. T he as s em bly had been an ordeal I would not wis h to undergo again. I had been us ed as a s ort of vis ual aid with S is ter B rendan c ons tantly referring to m e. I had not known the prayers or the hym ns and had tried uns uc c es s fully to m outh m y way through, m uc h to everyone's am us em ent. Y es , it had been a m em orable vis it. I was brought out of m y reverie by S is ter B rendan's voic e. 'Now, the plan this m orning, Mr P hinn, if it is ac c eptable to you, is that we will have our as s em bly and then you c an have the two top infant c las s es for the m orning for dram a.' 'T wo whole c las s es ! ' I exc laim ed. 'A nd for the whole m orning?' 'W ell, I thought we ought to take full advantage of your kind offer to work with the c hildren. Is there a problem with that?' 'No, no problem , S is ter,' I replied, feeling a nervous c hurning in m y s tom ac h at the thought of c ontrolling s ixty or s o lively s ix- and s even-year-olds for the m orning. 'A s s em bly this m orning will be taken by Mons ignor Leonard. He c om es in every Friday to s pend a little tim e with us . I believe you know Mons ignor Leonard, Mr P hinn?' S is ter B rendan's s m all, dark eyes twinkled. 'Y es , we've m et a few tim es , S is ter,' I replied. I had c om e ac ros s Mons ignor Leonard on a num ber of oc c as ions on m y travels around the c ounty's s c hools . He was a gentle and unas s um ing m an who loved the c om pany of c hildren and took a deep and ac tive interes t in educ ation. I had not s een him for s om e tim e. In fac t, the las t oc c as ion had been jus t before the Chris tm as holidays the previous year and he had watc hed m e s truggling to tell the s tory of the nativity to a group of very lively infants in the s m all Rom an Catholic s c hool at Netherfoot. One c hild in partic ular, a m as s ively frec kled little boy with s piky ginger hair, had c ons tantly interrupted m y ac c ount with the m os t s earc hing ques tions . On m y way out that m orning, Mons ignor Leonard had s m iled benignly, plac ed his hand gently on m y arm and rem inded m e of an old proverb: 'Here's to the c hild and all he has to teac h us .' 'He's partic ularly looking forward to m eeting you again,' c ontinued S is ter B rendan. 'W hen I told him you would be in s c hool he got quite anim ated and wondered if he m ight s tay to watc h the dram a s es s ion?' 'Y es , of c ours e,' I replied. 'He'll be bringing with him Mis s Fenoughty who is his hous ekeeper and the c hurc h organis t. S he has s tepped into the breac h to ac c om pany the c hildren's s inging during Mrs W ebb's abs enc e. Of c ours e, s he jus t c om es in with Mons ignor Leonard for his weekly as s em bly and we m ake do with a tape the rem aining days . I know it s ounds a little unc haritable but I don't think I c ould c ope with Mis s Fenoughty every day of the week.' 'Is Mrs W ebb not well?' I as ked. 'S he's off s c hool at the m om ent after her unfortunate ac c ident in the Holy Land.' 'Oh dear. W hat happened?' S is ter B rendan s ighed audibly. 'J us t before Chris tm as s he went with the UCM - the Union of Catholic Mothers - on a pilgrim age to J erus alem . It was c alled "W alking in the Foots teps of J es us ". A nyhow, s he s et off walking in the foots teps of J es us and fell down a pothole and broke a leg.' S is ter B rendan s tudied m y expres s ion for a m om ent before c ontinuing. 'You are one of the few people, Mr P hinn, who has not found that am us ing. W hy, even Mons ignor Leonard, Mrs W ebb's paris h pries t, rem arked that had s he worn m ore appropriate footwear, s uc h as the kind of s andals worn by Our Lord, ins tead of high-heeled s hoes , s he m ight not have ended up in a J erus alem hos pital with her leg in plas ter.' 'W ell, give her m y very bes t. I do hope s he is bac k at s c hool s oon.' 'I am on m y knees every night praying for that, Mr P hinn,' s ighed the nun. 'T he s ooner Mrs W ebb is bac k at the piano and Mis s Fenoughty bac k to her hous ekeeping the better will be m y s tate of m ind. S he ham m ers on the keys as if there is no tom orrow. T he piano fairly s hudders when s he s tarts banging away. S he's rather deaf, you s ee, and, des pite m y efforts to get her to play m ore quietly, s he will ins is t on c ras hing along the keyboard as if s he's c rac king nuts with a ham m er. It's the s am e in c hurc h on S unday. P eople have taken to wearing ear m uffs , it's that bad. Las t week the A ve Maria s ounded like the "1812 Overture". A nd, of c ours e,' S is ter B rendan c ontinued, 'her m em ory is not all that good either and s he gets the hym ns m ixed up. Las t year at the E as ter Mas s I as ked for "A ll in an A pril E vening" and we were treated to a s low, ear-s plitting rendering of "T hrough this Night of Dread and Darknes s ". A t one wedding s he played at, the c ouple wanted "Hills of the North Rejoic e" but c am e down the ais le to a thunderous rendition of "Clim b E very Mountain".' 'It c ould have been wors e,' I s aid. 'S he c ould have played "Fight the Good Fight".' B y now, I jus t c ould not s top m ys elf from s m iling. 'I c an s ee you find it funny, Mr P hinn, but let m e as s ure you Mis s Fenoughty would try the patienc e of a s aint.' S is ter B rendan peered through the window. 'A nd s peaking of s aints , here c om es Mons ignor Leonard, who has to put up with Mis s Fenoughty, m orning, noon and night.' Down the path to the s c hool c am e the pries t, a tall s tic k of a m an in a s habby-looking, ill-fitting c as s oc k, and a s m all, rotund bundle of a wom an of indeterm inate age. S he c ould have been s ixty, s he c ould have been eighty. I followed S is ter B rendan to the s c hool entranc e to m eet them . 'Good m orning, S is ter. Good m orning, Mr P hinn,' boom ed the pries t before s tooping and s houting in his c om panion's ear: 'T his is Mr P hinn, Mis s Fenoughty. Do you rem em ber, I m entioned him this m orning at breakfas t?' 'I knew a B ernadette Flynn who us ed to go to Notre Dam e High S c hool,' rem arked the old lady, s c rutinizing m e. 'V ery talented girl.' 'It's P hinn, Mis s Fenoughty, Mr P hinn,' c orrec ted the pries t. 'I als o knew a Father Flynn, paris h pries t at S t Hilda's . He was a lovely m an. I s pent hours in the c onfes s ional box with him . A wonderful lis tener was Father Flynn.' S he looked up at m e with s m all bright eyes . 'A re you any relation?' Mons ignor Leonard s hook his head and s m iled and S is ter B rendan gave m e a look of noble res ignation. 'It's P hinn, not Flynn, Mis s Fenoughty! ' roared the pries t. 'Mons ignor Leonard,' s aid his c om panion quietly, 'there's no need to s hout in m y ear. It's enough to deafen m e.' 'I do apologis e,' s aid the pries t in a m uc h m ore res trained voic e. 'T his is Mr P hinn, he's an ins pec tor of s c hools . His nam e is P hinn, Mis s Fenoughty, not Flynn.' 'P ardon?' as ked Mis s Fenoughty. S is ter B rendan, like the s tatue of the V irgin Mary whic h dom inated the entranc e hall, rais ed her eyes s aint-like to heaven. S is ter B rendan had not exaggerated. Mis s Fenoughty's rendition of 'A ll T hings B right and B eautiful' m ade the ground s hake and the windows trem ble. I thought of another s et of lyric s for the hym n, beginning 'A ll T hings Loud and V oluble' as s he banged away on the keys . Quite a num ber of the c hildren c overed their ears . Mons ignor Leonard gave a s m all hom ily about kindnes s to others , loving your neighbour and s howing c harity to thos e les s fortunate. I notic ed S is ter B rendan giving Mis s Fenoughty a s ideways glanc e. A prayer was s aid and the as s em bly was over. W hile S is ter B rendan explained to the c hildren what was to happen that m orning and organis ed them for m y dram a s es s ion, I approac hed Mis s Fenoughty and thought I'd s how a little kindnes s to the les s fortunate. 'Y ou c ertainly play with gus to, Mis s Fenoughty,' I s aid c heerfully. 'W ho m us t go?' s he s napped. 'I thought I was going to s tay and watc h the dram a. Mons ignor Leonard s aid he was s taying to watc h the dram a. I have no trans port s o I s hall have to wait until he goes .' 'No, I m eant your playing,' I s aid. 'It was very rous ing.' I had rais ed m y voic e an oc tave. 'Oh, well, I c an't be doing with thes e whis pery little m odern hym ns , Mr Flynn. I like a good old s tirring, robus t tune. Y ou s hould hear m e when I play "W hen the S aints Go Marc hing In". S is ter s ays I'm a bit heavy-handed on the piano, you know, and the c hildren think I'm a bit loud.' 'Really?' 'I overheard one little boy las t week refer to "that old plonker on the piano".' 'Really?' 'I do tend to plonk, I have to adm it.' S he c huc kled to hers elf. A t this point S is ter B rendan approac hed and res c ued m e. 'Mis s Fenoughty,' s he s aid s lowly and loudly, 'would you like to s it in the s taff room while you wait for Mons ignor Leonard? He's going to watc h the dram a.' 'I know he is , S is ter B rendan,' s he replied. 'Mr Flynn s aid it would be all right if I watc hed too.' 'W ouldn't you rather wait in the s taff room ?' 'No thank you, S is ter,' s he s aid firm ly. T he nun pulled a fac e. 'W ell, will you take a s eat at the bac k of the hall? Mr P hinn is about ready to s tart.' 'I was jus t telling Mr Flynn, S is ter, that the c hildren think I'm a bit of a plonker.' S is ter B rendan's fac e rem ained im pas s ive and s he did not s ay a word, but as I turned to m ake m y way to the front of the hall, I s wear I heard a little c huc kle.

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T he two top infant groups rem ained s eated while the res t of the c hildren returned to their c las s room s . Mons ignor Leonard and the s upply teac her joined Mis s Fenoughty who had ens c onc ed hers elf at the rear of the hall on the only c hair with arm s . T he three of them s at in a row like the judges in a talent c ontes t. 'Now, c hildren,' s aid S is ter B rendan, fac ing the s ea of s m iling fac es , 'we have with us this m orning Mr P hinn. W e are very fortunate, bec aus e Mr P hinn has taken tim e out of his very bus y life as an ins pec tor to teac h a dram a les s on.' 'S is ter B rendan,' as ked a s m all fair-haired boy, 'what does Mr P hinn c ollec t?' 'Mr P hinn does n't c ollec t anything, S ean,' replied the nun s m iling. 'He's not a c ollec tor, he's an ins pec tor. He ins pec ts things .' 'S is ter B rendan,' pers is ted the c hild, 'what does Mr P hinn ins pec t?' 'Oh, lots of things to do with s c hool, but he's not here this m orning to ins pec t. Mr P hinn's here to take you for dram a.' 'Could he ins pec t the gerbil, S is ter?' 'Of c ours e not, S ean. Now be a good boy, s it up s traight and leave the ques tions until later.' T he nun s wivelled round and gave m e a dis arm ing s m ile. 'W e have a poorly gerbil, Mr P hinn. W e think he's eaten a piec e of orange peel s om ebody put in his c age.' S he m oved c los er and whis pered, 'K eep an eye on S ean.' S he then joined the audienc e at the bac k of the hall. 'Good m orning, c hildren,' I s aid. 'Good m orning, Mr P hinn,' they c horus ed. B efore m e was a s ea of bright-eyed, eager infants ready for ac tion. 'P eople who perform dram a are ac tors and they take on ac ting parts ,' I explained. 'T hey pretend to be other people and us e their bodies , fac es and voic es to m ake up a s tory for other people to watc h, jus t like in a theatre or in the c inem a or on the televis ion. Later this m orning we s hall be ac ting out a s tory but firs t we are going to do a few warm -up ac tivities to get us in the right fram e of m ind. In a m om ent, I want everyone to find a s pac e in the hall and then look this way. A ll right, everyone find a s pac e.' T he c hildren did as I as ked quietly and without any fus s . 'Good,' I s aid. 'Now, for a s tart, let's s ee if you c an all lis ten really, really well. S om e of you m ight have played "S im on S ays " at your birthday party.' A num ber of the c hildren nodded exc itedly. 'W ell, this exerc is e is a bit like that. You jus t have to do exac tly as I s ay. S o, let m e s ee. E veryone ready? Hands on heads .' A ll the c hildren plac ed their hands on their heads . 'Good. Hands on s houlders .' T wo c hildren hugged eac h other. 'No,' I s aid, 'your own s houlders . Don't put your hands on anyone els e's . Hands on elbows . Hands on knees .' T his c ontinued for a few m inutes . T he c hildren followed m y ins truc tions and things were going really well until I s aid, 'Hands on thighs ,' and all the c hildren c overed their eyes . I dec ided to m ove on. 'In a m om ent I will be as king you to walk around in the hall us ing all the s pac e, but whenever I s ay the word "Freeze! " I want you to s top what you are doing im m ediately and im agine you are frozen. You m us t rem ain as s ilent and as s till as the s tatue of S t B artholom ew who looks down on you from the front of the hall.' A ll eyes exam ined the large, olive-wood figure of the benign-looking m an, with arm s outs tretc hed, who s tood on a plinth. 'T hen, when I s ay "Relax! " I want you to return to norm al. A ll right, is everybody ready?' T he c hildren s tood to attention. 'You are walking through the woods on a bright, s unny day. T he s un is s tream ing through the trees and you c an hear the birds s inging and the rus tling of the leaves and the c rac kling of the branc hes underfoot. Freeze! ' Mos t c hildren s tood s toc k s till but a few s huffled their feet, others s c ratc hed their heads and one large girl began to s uc k her thum b. 'T hat was good for a firs t attem pt, but let's s ee if, when we do it again, we c an all rem ain perfec tly s till.' I repeated the c om m entary of the walk through the woods and this tim e all the c hildren froze. 'V ery good. Relax! ' 'Mr P hinn, when we freeze, c an we breathe?' as ked the s m all fair-haired boy who had enquired earlier if I c ould 'ins pec t' the gerbil. 'Yes , S ean, you c an breathe, but you m us tn't m ove. Now, this tim e we are on a c old, c old s treet. T he c ris p s now c runc hes under our feet and the ic y wind m akes our ears and c heeks tingle. W e s tart to s hiver and we rub our hands to m ake ours elves warm . Cars and lorries are whoos hing along the road and you are s plas hed by a big bus . Freeze! ' T he c hildren froze. 'Relax! ' A ll the c hildren relaxed with the exc eption of S ean who rem ained inert, as if c aught in am ber. 'Y ou c an relax now, S ean,' I told him . 'I c an't,' he replied through tight lips . 'My feet are frozen in a s nowdrift.' 'He m ight have got fros tbite,' c hirped up a s m all girl. 'My grandpa s ays you c an get fros tbite in s now.' 'No, he has n't got fros tbite,' I explained, 'bec aus e the s now has now m elted and that's why S ean c an m ove.' T he little boy relaxed and began to rub his feet dram atic ally. 'T his tim e we are in a far-off des ert,' I c ontinued. 'T he hot, hot s un is burning down on our heads . W e wipe the pers piration from our foreheads and we s tart to pant. Our m ouths are as dry as the s and and we feel faint with the heat. Freeze! ' E very c hild froze exc ept fair-haired S ean. 'B ut, Mr P hinn, you wouldn't freeze in a des ert. Y ou'd burn up or m elt.' 'A nd m ight get s unburn,' piped up the s m all girl for a s ec ond tim e. 'My grandpa s ays you c an get burnt in the s un.' 'Y es , that's true, S ean, but this is a m agic des ert and we are freezing. S o freeze, pleas e. Right everyone, relax! ' 'My A untie J une c am e out in blis ters in Majorc a,' the s m all girl inform ed m e, nodding s erious ly. 'Freeze! ' I barked and s he turned to s tone. Until m orning playtim e I took the c hildren through a s eries of different ac tivities and they res ponded really well. W e vis ited dark dungeons and dus ty attic s , braved s torm s and s wam rivers , c lim bed m ountains and c rawled through c aves , dug gardens and threaded needles - a whole range of m im ed perform anc es whic h they c learly enjoyed undertaking. A t break-tim e in the s taff room , S is ter B rendan s eem ed happy at the way things were going, as did Mons ignor Leonard. 'T he c hildren are doing very well,' c om m ented the pries t, taking a s ip from a large m ug of c offee. 'I wonder if I m ight rem ain for the res t of the m orning to s ee how the work develops ? I jus t need to drop Mis s Fenoughty off in town but I'll be bac k, if that is all right.' B efore I c ould ans wer, Mis s Fenoughty, whos e hearing s eem ed to have undergone a rem arkable im provem ent, plac ed her c up down c arefully before s aying, 'I think I m ight s tay, if that's all the s am e to you, Mons ignor. I'm c ertainly enjoying this m orning. It's better than the bingo.' S is ter B rendan rais ed her eyes to heaven. 'Is there a bis c uit to go with the c offee, S is ter?' as ked Mis s Fenoughty s weetly. I was feeling a great deal m ore c onfident after playtim e. T he c hildren had been exem plary and taken part in the ac tivities with genuine interes t and exc item ent. I explained to them that we had us ed our bodies to m im e various ac tions , our fac es to expres s our feelings and now we were going to add s om e words . A s the foc us of our dram a I pic ked the poem by Robert B rowning, 'T he P ied P iper of Ham elin'. T he poem has fifteen long vers es and, as I was lim ited for tim e and the text is s om etim es quite diffic ult, I dec ided that I would read a little of the original to give the c hildren a feel for the ric hnes s of the language but retell the s tory to m ove things along. T he c hildren gathered around m e in a half-c irc le and I began. Ham elin T own's in B runs wic k, B y fam ous Hanover c ity; T he river W es er, deep and wide, W as hes its wall on the s outhern s ide; A pleas anter s pot you never s pied; B ut, when begins m y ditty, A lm os t five hundred years ago, T o s ee the towns folk s uffer s o From verm in, was a pity. Rats ! T hey fought the dogs , and killed the c ats , A nd bit the babies in their c radles , A nd ate the c hees es out of vats , A nd lic ked the s oup from the c ooks ' own ladles , S plit open kegs of s alted s prats , Made nes ts ins ide m en's S unday hats , A nd even s poiled the wom en's c hats , B y drowning their s peaking W ith s hrieking and s queaking In fifty different s harps and flats . A t this point I s aw Mons ignor Leonard give S is ter B rendan a knowing look before s taring at Mis s Fenoughty, who was s ublim ely oblivious to the unintended referenc e to her - 'drowning their s peaking in fifty different s harps and flats '. I then related the exc iting s tory to m y hus hed and fas c inated little audienc e: how the people c rowded into the Counc il Cham ber dem anding ac tion from the Mayor and Corporation, how the s trange, tall figure with 'the s harp blue eyes and light loos e hair', draped in his c oat of yellow and red, agreed to rid the town of the rats for the s um of a thous and guilders , how he blew his pipe until his lips 'wrinkled' and the rats em erged. A nd ere three s hrill notes the pipe uttered, Y ou heard as if an arm y m uttered; A nd the m uttering grew to a grum bling; A nd the grum bling grew to a m ighty rum bling: A nd out of the hous es the rats c am e tum bling. Great rats , s m all rats , lean rats , brawny rats , B rown rats , blac k rats , great rats , tawny rats , Grave old plodders , gay young fris kers , Fathers , m others , unc les , c ous ins , Coc king tails and pric king whis kers ... I then told the c hildren how the people rejoic ed and how the piper danc ed on and on, playing his s hrill notes , through the narrow s treets and ac ros s the s quare, followed by a s ea of s quealing rats . I told them how he took the rats to the river's edge and des c ribed how the c reatures des perately, blindly, hurled them s elves into the m urky waters . I told them how the P ied P iper c am e for his m oney and how the Mayor laughed in his fac e. T he c hildren lis tened with wide eyes and open m ouths when I related how the P ied P iper's fac e had darkened with anger and how he s hook his fis t at the c ity and the s kies c louded over and an ic y wind began to blow. A nd s o we c am e to the dram atic c onc lus ion to the tale: how the P ied P iper lifted his pipe to his lips and blew three long c lear notes . T hen the c hildren c am e out of the hous es , laughing and c hattering, lifting their little feet, s kipping and running and danc ing and c lapping their hands . You c ould have heard a pin drop when I c onc luded the s tory of how the little c hildren followed the s trange m an in his c oat of yellow and red up to the m ountains ide where a great door opened and s wallowed them all, all exc ept for the little lam e boy who was left behind. A las , alas for Ham elin! T here c am e into m any a burgher's pate A text whic h s ays that heaven's gate Opes to the ric h as at eas y rate A s the needle's eye takes a c am el in! 'Now, there's a c ouple of diffic ult words in this vers e,' I explained. ' "P ate" is the old word for head and a "burgher" is -' A boy with large, round eyes and equally large round glas s es waved his hand m adly in the air. 'Mr P hinn! Mr P hinn! ' he c ried. 'I know that. It's s om ething you eat with c hips . Y ou c an have c hic kenburgers , beefburgers and ham burgers .' A nother c hild, with m ore interes t in the im pending lunc h-tim e than the P ied P iper, enquired loudly if they were having burgers for dinner. 'T hat's another kind of burger,' I told her. 'In "T he P ied P iper", a burgher is a s ort of c ounc il offic ial, a bit like a m ayor, a very im portant pers on who m akes all the laws . It was the burghers who refus ed to give the P ied P iper his thous and guilders .' T he c hildren did not look as if they were any the wis er but I pres s ed on. I organis ed the c hildren into various groups to ac t out s c enes from the s tory: the s c urrying, s queaking rats , the m others and c hildren, c ooks and c ounc illors , s hopkeepers and c hattering wom en, the Mayor and, of c ours e, the P ied P iper. E verything s eem ed to be going s m oothly. E ven the rather s ad-looking girl, who as ked m e if s he c ould be a c ow rather than a rat, went away appeas ed when I explained that there were no c ows in the s tory and s he c ould be a c at. I as ked s everal of the groups to perform their part of the poem for the others to watc h. T he c hildren c am e out to the front of the hall jus t as the dinner ladies entered to s et the tables out for dinner, the c aretaker to help them , the c ros s ing patrol warden to c ollec t her 'S top! ' s ign and a num ber of parents to wait for their c hildren. T he rear of the hall was full of interes ted adults who were obvious ly greatly entertained by the c hildren's perform anc es . T he las t group was to ac t out that part of the s tory when the Mayor refus es to give the P ied P iper his thous and guilders . T he little boy playing the P ied P iper was the c hild with the great, round eyes and enorm ous pair of glas s es , who had volunteered the ans wer about the burghers earlier. Now, with all eyes upon him , he looked extrem ely s hy and nervous . T he Mayor was none other than S ean, and if he was nervous he c ertainly did not s how it. 'W ell, P ied P iper, what do you want?' he c alled c onfidently from the c entre of the hall. 'I have c om e for m y m oney,' m um bled the P ied P iper who had s idled nervous ly ac ros s the floor towards him . 'W ell, you're not having it! ' s houted the Mayor. 'OK ,' s aid the P ied P iper and walked quic kly away. 'No! No! No! ' s houted the other c hild. 'T hat's not what you do! ' He appealed to m e. 'Mr P hinn! Mr P hinn! T hat's not right, is it? He wouldn't jus t s ay "OK " and walk off, would he? He'd go barm y! ' T he little boy was getting into a real s tate him s elf, his fac e red with rage. 'Freeze! ' I c om m anded. It was as if a m agic s pell had been put on him . T he c hild was trans form ed and bec am e c om pletely m otionles s . 'Relax! ' I turned to the c hild with the large glas s es . 'You would get quite angry, you know,' I s aid. 'You have got rid of all the rats and the Mayor prom is ed you the thous and guilders . Now he has refus ed to pay s o you would not be very happy about that, would you?' T he c hild s hook his head. 'Let's try it again.' For the s ec ond tim e the Mayor s tood c onfidently in the c entre of the hall. 'W ell, P ied P iper, what do you want?' he dem anded. T he P ied P iper m oved ac ros s the hall to him . 'I have c om e for m y m oney,' he s aid with not m uc h m ore c onvic tion than the previous effort. 'W ell, you're not having it! ' s houted the Mayor. 'W hy?' 'B ec aus e you're not, that's why. I've c hanged m y m ind.' 'Go on, give m e m y m oney. Y ou s aid you would.' 'W ell, you're not having it! ' 'B ut that's not fair.' 'T ough luc k! ' 'I'll blow m y pipe then.' 'Y ou c an blow your pipe until you burs t but you're not having any m oney and that's that! ' 'OK then,' s ighed the P ied P iper walking away, 'but you'll be s orry.' S ean's fac e went c rim s on with fury. 'No! No! No! ' he s houted again. 'T hat's not what you do! ' He appealed to m e for a s ec ond tim e. 'Mr P hinn! Mr P hinn! T hat's not right, is it? He's s till s aying "OK " and walking away! He'd go bonkers ! ' 'Freeze! ' I c ried again. It was as if the c hild had been turned to s tone. 'Relax! Now look, P ied P iper,' I s aid to the c hild with the large glas s es , 'it was a lot better than las t tim e but you do need to s how how annoyed you are with the Mayor. T ry again, and this tim e when you leave the Counc il Cham ber, you m us t s how how angry you are.' T he c hild s tared up at m e vac antly through the large glas s es . 'T ry and think of a tim e when you were m ad with s om eone. Can you do that?' He nodded. 'Las t go then, bec aus e it's nearly dinner-tim e.' A ll fac es were turned to the P ied P iper as he s tam ped into the Counc il Cham ber. His eyes were now s lits behind the large glas s es , his lips were pres s ed tightly together, his little body looked s tiff and he held up a fis t threateningly. 'W ell, P ied P iper, what do you want?' dem anded the Mayor for the third tim e. 'I have c om e for m y m oney,' s houted the P ied P iper. 'W ell, you're not having it! ' retorted the Mayor. 'Go on, give m e m y m oney. Y ou s aid you would.' 'W ell, I've c hanged m y m ind. Y ou're not having it! ' 'B ut that's not fair.' 'T ough luc k! ' 'I'll blow m y pipe then.' 'Y ou c an blow your pipe until you burs t, pal, you're not having any m oney and that's that! ' 'Give m e m y m oney! ' 'No! ' 'Y ou s aid you would.' 'W ell, you're not having it! ' 'I want m y m oney! '

'Clear off! ' boom ed the Mayor. 'W ell, you c an s tuff your thous and guilders ! ' roared the P ied P iper. 'Y ou're a tight-fis ted old bugger! ' I did not need to s ay 'Freeze! ' E veryone in the hall had already fallen into a s tunned, frozen s ilenc e. Mons ignor Leonard, S is ter B rendan, the s upply teac her and Mis s Fenoughty were like a tableau at the bac k. None of them m oved a m us c le. T hen, into the deathly s ilenc e, the s m all boy with the large glas s es and a s m ile like a Ches hire c at, piped up. 'Is that better, Mr P hinn?' he as ked. Later, as I s aid m y farewells in the s c hool hall, I attem pted to direc t the c onvers ation away from the m orning's dram a but without s uc c es s . Mis s Fenoughty was determ ined to dis c us s proc eedings . 'Dram a is like s inging, is n't it, Mr Flynn? It gives the c hildren a c hanc e to expres s them s elves through their voic es . I did enjoy this m orning. I do s o love that poem . I thought the little ones did very well, didn't you?' 'I did,' I replied, s m iling weakly. 'A nd that little boy who played the part of the P ied P iper, he was a natural little ac tor. My goodnes s he really did s ound the part, didn't you think?' 'I did,' I replied again. 'Fanc y rem em bering that word.' 'W ord?' I repeated. 'T he word he as ked you about.' 'I'm s orry, Mis s Fenoughty...' ' "B urgher". He rem em bered the word "burgher". Don't you rec all at the end, didn't he s hout at the Mayor, "Give m e m y m oney, you m ean old burgher"?' I heard Mons ignor Leonard s plutter bes ide m e, has tily pluc king a handkerc hief from his poc ket and burying his fac e in it. E ven S is ter B rendan had to s uppres s a s m ile. T heir obvious enjoym ent, however, was very s hort lived. 'Y ou know, S is ter,' exc laim ed Mis s Fenoughty, with a wild gleam in her eye, 'I've been thinking. I've got the s c ore s om ewhere for the m us ic al vers ion of "T he P ied P iper". W ouldn't it be a good idea to perform it for the parents ? I would, of c ours e, be pleas ed to ac t as m us ic al direc tor and perhaps Mr Flynn here c ould deal with the ac ting. W hat do you all think?' W e were as m otionles s as the s tatue of S t B artholm ew of W hitby, who looked down upon us s ym pathetic ally from his plinth at the front of the hall. It was the s am e S t B artholom ew, the herm it, who betook him s elf to the Farne Is lands in the twelfth c entury to es c ape the s trident nois es of the world and to s pend his life in c om plete peac e and quiet m editation. I s urm is e we all envied him at that m om ent.

16

Harold and S idney were in anim ated c onvers ation when I walked into the offic e one m ild, m is ty m orning a week before the end of the S pring term . T hey were fac ing eac h other ac ros s S idney's des k like aggres s ive c hes s players . 'I'm afraid not, Harold,' S idney was s aying. 'I have got m ore than enough work to keep m e fully oc c upied for the res t of the year without taking all that on.' He paus ed to wis h m e 'Good m orning' before c ontinuing in a loud and c om bative voic e, 'T here's the ins pec tions , three c ours es to direc t, the "A rts in S c hool P rojec t", the Fee-Fo exhibition of c hildren's art to organis e, adjudic ating that wretc hed A rt Com petition at Fettles ham S how yet again. I c ould go on and on.' 'Y ou are going on and on,' replied Harold, quietly. He gave m e a toothy s m ile and wis hed m e 'Good m orning' before returning to S idney. 'Now look, S idney, we all have to take on extra res pons ibilities from tim e to tim e.' He opened his large hands like the P ope about to give a bles s ing. 'Gervas e and David have the c ore s ubjec ts to deal with. It would be unfair to as k them . W ithout denigrating your c urric ulum area, I am s ure you will agree that m athem atic s and E nglis h do take up far m ore tim e than art and des ign.' 'I would be abs olutely hopeles s ,' retorted S idney, s haking his head vigorous ly. 'I'd be about as s uc c es s ful as a garlic s ales m an at a vam pires ' c onvention. I am tem peram entally uns uited and I have no intention whats oever of agreeing.' 'W hat is it you are as king him to do, Harold?' I enquired, hanging up m y c oat. 'T o c om pletely redefine m y role, that's what! ' c ried S idney. 'W ell, I'm not doing it.' 'W hat nons ens e, S idney! ' s aid Harold. 'I am m erely as king you to take on a little extra work.' 'A little extra work? A little extra work? Is that how you would des c ribe it? Y ou are as king m e to pic k up all the hot potatoes on the c urric ulum , all the c om plex, vexatious , troubles om e, tric ky and c ontrovers ial s ubjec ts of whic h I have no experienc e and in whic h I have no expertis e. T here is s im ply no ques tion of -' 'I wis h one of you would tell m e what it is S idney has been as ked to do,' I s aid. 'Harold,' S idney told m e, s c owling in the direc tion of the S enior Ins pec tor, 'has as ked m e, in addition to c reative and vis ual arts and all the other m ultifarious jobs I have to do, to be res pons ible for s ex educ ation, drugs awarenes s and anti-bullying.' I was unable to s uppres s a s m ile. 'I am s ure you find this highly am us ing, Gervas e, but -' 'Look, S idney,' interrupted Harold, rubbing his heavy bulldog jaw, 'I c an't was te any m ore tim e arguing with you. I'm s eeing Dr Gore at half-pas t eight and I need to s ort out the briefing papers . S om eone has got to do it and you are bes t plac ed.' 'B es t plac ed! ' exc laim ed S idney. 'Oh, I am bes t plac ed all right. W ith m y head beneath the guillotine, you m ean? Up agains t a wall fac ing a firing s quad? On the s c affold waiting for the trap to open? S itting on a bloody land-m ine! ' 'Y ou would think I was as king him to s ell his s oul,' s aid Harold wearily, turning in m y direc tion. He s tood up to go and peered at S idney with his large pale eyes . 'T he fac t is , S idney, there is no one els e.' 'W hy c an't our new c olleague, the m ulti-talented and m as s ively qualified Dr Mullarkey, take it on? I am s ure s he knows far m ore than I do about s ex, drugs and violenc e.' A t that very m om ent a head appeared around the door. 'Did I hear m y nam e m entioned?' Dr Mullarkey was due to take up her pos t as County Ins pec tor for S c ienc e in early J une and Harold had organis ed s om e s c hool vis its before s he s tarted s o s he c ould get a feel for things and m eet a few people. A t pres ent, s he was a lec turer in educ ation and had as ked if this prelim inary vis it c ould be before the end of the S pring term rather than early next term when s he would be frantic ally bus y preparing her s tudents for their end-of-year exam inations . T hat m orning it was m y turn to ac c om pany Gerry, and I had arranged to take her into three prim ary s c hools to obs erve s om e des ign and tec hnology work. 'Y ou'll get us ed to S idney,' I s aid as we walked towards the c ar park. 'He's a s ort of extravagant, larger-than-life c harac ter, but a m arvellous c olleague. E verything is a dram a with S idney. T he one thing about our offic e is that it's never dull.' 'I'm really looking forward to s tarting,' s aid Gerry, as we s kirted the grey exterior of County Hall and headed ac ros s the narrow gravel path through the form al gardens . I gave her a quizzic al look. 'Really,' s he s aid, laughing. 'Of c ours e, I've got to find s om ewhere to live, s o c ould do with a bit of advic e about loc ation and hous es .' 'I'm the las t one to as k. I began s earc hing for a plac e when I s tarted eighteen m onths ago but am s till in m y rented bac helor flat on the High S treet. I jus t don't s eem to have found the tim e for hous e hunting.' 'S o you're not m arried?' 'No.' 'I'll probably do that at the outs et,' s he s aid. 'Rent a flat or a little c ottage, I m ean. I s uppos e a plac e in Fettles ham is the m os t c onvenient?' 'Y es , it's pretty c entral.' W e walked in s ilenc e for a while. 'S o, you've no fam ily?' A s m ile c am e to the delic ately boned fac e. 'No, jus t m e. Footloos e and fanc y free.' 'Really?' I s aid. T he c loc k on the County Hall tower s truc k eight o'c loc k as I drove down Fettles ham High S treet whic h was jus t bec om ing bus y with early m orning traffic . I was s oon on a twis ting, em pty road, bordered by c raggy grey lim es tone walls and verges fringed by las t year's dead, m urky-brown brac ken and tus s oc ky gras s . B eyond the walls was an aus tere, s till s c ene, a vas t undulating world of dark fields c overed in a light, fleec y m is t, em pty s ave for the s m all c lus ter of barns and s quare farm hous es , and the oc c as ional twis ted hawthorn tree. T he s hadowy green foreground lay ahead of us , bac ked in the dis tanc e by the s om bre, pale blue peaks . B ars of purple c loud s tretc hed ac ros s the s ky. Gerry didn't s peak until the pale s un, s hining through the c louds with an alm os t lum inous warm th, m ade the whole lands c ape before us glis ten with the s plendour of a gem s tone. 'It's m agnific ent,' s he s aid quietly. 'It is , is n't it? I c an never get us ed to it.' T he s m all s tone prim ary s c hool we were to vis it firs t was nes tled in the very heart of the village of Tarnc liffe. It was s andwic hed between the pos t offic e-c um -general s tore and the s quat, grey P rim itive Methodis t c hapel and looked like a private dwelling at firs t glanc e. From the pavem ent the door opened direc tly into the one large c las s room and pas s ers -by c ould peer through the leaded windows to s ee the pupils at work. W e were given a warm welc om e by the Headteac her, Mis s Drayton, and her as s is tant, Mrs S tandis h, who both s hook our hands vigorous ly and us hered us into the c las s room . Gerry and I s tarted with the junior-aged c hildren who were behind a large partition, working indus trious ly on various m odels and c ons truc tion work. In the c orner of the am azingly c luttered and bus y c las s room were two girls of about ten or eleven, their s c hool c lothes s hrouded by large m en's s hirts . T hey explained to us that they had been as ked to des ign and produc e a labour-s aving devic e for us e in the hom e. T hey had c om e up with the idea for a gadget whic h would tell the m ilkm an the num ber of pints required eac h day. T heir firs t, not very novel idea had been to des ign a c loc kfac e with num bers from one to eight around the rim and a hand whic h c ould be adjus ted to point to the num ber of pints needed that partic ular day. 'B ut then,' explained one of the girls enthus ias tic ally, 'what if you wanted s om e c ream as well as m ilk?' 'Or orange juic e?' added the other. 'Or eggs or yoghurt?' 'A nd s om e m ilkm en s ell potatoes as well.' 'S o the problem has bec om e very c om plic ated,' obs erved Gerry, looking at their plans . 'Have you m anaged to res olve it?' 'One s olution would be to have s ix different fac es , eac h one for a different thing - m ilk, c ream , eggs , orange juic e, yoghurt and potatoes - but Mrs S tandis h s aid our des ign has to be s im ple, c lear, eas y to us e and c heap to produc e.' 'T his is a real problem , is n't it?' s aid Gerry. 'Have you found the s olution?' 'Oh, yes ! ' exc laim ed one of the girls . 'Tes s a had a brainwave.' S he pluc ked a piec e of paper from her folder and pus hed it in Gerry's direc tion with a trium phant look on her fac e. Gerry exam ined the s ketc h, s m iled, nodded and obs erved, 'Ingenious ' before pas s ing it to m e. T he des ign was for a s m all s quare of thin plywood on whic h was written in bright c apital letters : 'MILK MA N! S E E NOT E IN B OT T LE .' In another c orner of the room a large boy was hum m ing quietly and c ontentedly to him s elf, his body m oving bac kwards and forwards in tim e to the tune as he filed away at a long piec e of wood. 'A nd what are you doing?' as ked Gerry c heerfully. He looked up for a m om ent. 'Oh, I'm jus t ras pin', m is s ,' he replied s im ply, before returning to his work. I left Gerry with the 'ras per' and m oved into the infant s ec tion of the c las s room . 'W ould you like m e to read to you?' as ked a s m all girl, with wide, c ornflower-blue eyes and a m as s of blonde hair whic h was gathered in two large c andyflos s bunc hes . 'Y es ,' I replied, 'I would like that very m uc h.' 'I'm a very good reader, you know,' s he c onfided in m e, while s he s earc hed in her bag for her book. 'A re you?' 'I read with expres s ion.' 'Do you?' 'A nd I c an do different voic es .' 'Really? I expec t you us e dram atic paus es as well,' I s aid m is c hievous ly. S he looked up for a m om ent and then added s erious ly, 'I don't know what they are, but I probably c an.' S he was indeed a very ac c om plis hed little reader and s ailed through her book c onfidently and fluently. 'I am good, aren't I?' s he announc ed when s he had c om pleted three pages . 'V ery good,' I s aid. 'I'm good at writing as well.' 'I im agined you would be.' 'W ould you like to s ee m y writing?' 'I'd love to.' 'P oetry or pros e?' 'P oetry, pleas e.' 'I keep m y poem s in a portfolio.' 'I gues s ed you would,' I s aid, s m iling. Her writing was neat, im aginative and ac c urate. 'I am good at writing, aren't I?' 'V ery good,' I agreed. 'I'm good at talking as well.' 'I c an tell that. I think your m um m y's got a little c hatterbox at hom e.' 'Oh, no! ' exc laim ed the c hild. 'My granny has as thm a and I'm not allowed to keep pets .' 'I s ee,' I s aid c huc kling. I c ouldn't im agine what s ort of anim al s he thought 'a little c hatterbox' was . 'My granny c alls m e her "bright little button".' 'T hat's a lovely nam e,' I told her. 'T hey're very s pec ial are grannies and we m us t really look after them .' 'My granny wobbles , you know,' the little c hatterbox c ontinued. 'Does s he?' 'S he has a s pec ial dis eas e whic h m akes her wobble and forget things .' 'I'm s orry to hear that.' 'Y es ,' s aid the little girl, nodding s agely. 'It's c alled "Old T im ers ' Dis eas e".' Gerry, who had joined m e a few m om ents before, jus t in tim e to hear the end of m y interes ting exc hange with the 'bright little button', whis pered in m y ear. 'You know, Gervas e, if I get A lzheim er's Dis eas e when I'm feeble, old and grey, I think I would like m y c hildren to s ay that I have got "Old T im ers ' Dis eas e". It s ounds m uc h m ore friendly and hum ane, don't you think?' 'I thought you s aid you didn't have a fam ily?' I replied, s urpris ed at the revelation. 'I don't - yet,' s he told m e, throwing her head bac k and laughing, 'but I intend to one day.' 'E xc us e m e,' s aid the 'bright little button', patting m y arm , 'would your girlfriend like to hear m e read?' A t the s ec ond s c hool, S heepc ote P rim ary, Gerry looked through the c hildren's work and dis c us s ed the s c ienc e c urric ulum with the teac her while I m oved around the c las s room talking to the c hildren about the tas ks they were undertaking that m orning. On the table, tuc ked in a c orner, were two boys bus y s ewing. One looked as if he had been dragged through a hedge bac kwards . He had s piky hair, a round red fac e and large ears . His nos e was running and a front tooth was m is s ing. His s hirt was hanging out, his s oc ks were c onc ertinaed around his ankles , his legs were c overed in c uts and bruis es , and his s hoes were s o s c uffed I c ould not tell whether they were originally blac k or brown. His hands and fac e were both entirely innoc ent of s oap and water. His c om panion looked as healthy as a prize-winning bull. He was a very large, am iable-looking boy with a round m oon of a fac e, great dim pled elbows and knees , and fingers as fat as s aus ages . B oth boys were s urrounded by threads , c ottons , fabric s , an as s ortm ent of needles , boxes of pins and s c is s ors and both were s ewing furious ly, their arm s ris ing and falling like pis tons . 'Hello,' I s aid brightly. 'Hello,' replied the larger boy. His c om panion c ontinued to s ew with a vengeanc e, his eyes narrowed in c onc entration. 'A nd how are you?' 'Middlin' well,' replied the large boy. 'A nd what are you two up to?' I as ked am iably. 'S am plers ,' he ans wered. 'S am plers ?' 'V ic torian em broidery,' the toothles s one inform ed m e, s till vigorous ly s ewing. 'For Mother's Day on S unday,' added the other. 'I s ee,' I s aid, bending over them to get a c los er look at their work. 'May I s ee?' 'Can't be s topping,' s aid the toothles s one, c ontinuing to s ew with great determ ination, forc ing the needle s avagely through the c anvas . 'Got to get it finis hed.' He turned to his friend. 'P as s us t'pink will tha, Dean?' His c om panion s earc hed through the as s ortm ent of c oloured threads . 'A ll gone,' he replied bluntly. 'A ll gone! ' exc laim ed the toothles s boy. 'A ll gone! T ha's gone and us ed all t'pink?' 'I needed it for m i ros es .' 'A nd tha's us ed all t'purple, an all?' 'T hat were for m i lilac .' 'A nd t'yella?' 'T hat were for m i daffs ,' s aid the large boy apologetic ally. 'A nd tha's left m e wi all t'blac ks and t'browns and t'greys . T hanks very m uc h, Dean! ' T he boys , entirely oblivious of m y pres enc e, res um ed pus hing the large needles through the fabric as if their lives depended upon it. 'J us t s top a m om ent, will you, pleas e,' I told them . T he toothles s one paus ed, looked up, wiped the dewdrop from his nos e with the bac k of his hand and then returned to his s ewing as if he had not heard m e. 'I c an't s top,' he told m e. 'I've got to gerrit done.' His c om panion, c learly very pleas ed with his effort, held up a pale s quare of c ream fabric . In large, uneven letters were the words : A MOT HE R'S LOV E IS A B LE S S ING. T he border was ablaze with a whole hos t of large, unrec ognis able but extrem ely vivid flowers . 'I've jus t got m i nam e to put at t'bottom and I'm all done,' he announc ed proudly. 'A nd tha's us ed up all t'pink,' grum bled his c om panion, who was s till s titc hing away m adly. T he large boy s traightened his s am pler with a fat, pink hand and adm ired his handiwork before as king, 'A re you one of thes e s c hool ins pec tors Mis s was on about?' 'I am ,' I replied. 'W hat do you rec kon to m i s am pler, then?' 'W ell, it's very bright and original but, you know, if I had c om e into your s c hool a hundred years ago, you'd have been in real trouble.' 'How old are you, then?' as ked the toothles s boy. 'W hat I m eant is that if a s c hool ins pec tor had vis ited your s c hool at the tim e it was built, you would have been in trouble.' 'W hy's that then?' 'B ec aus e your s titc hes are too big. If you look at the V ic torian s am plers , you will notic e that the lettering and des igns are very delic ate and very c arefully s titc hed.' T he toothles s boy s topped s ewing abruptly, exam ined his s am pler and c arefully put down his needle and thread, before turning to look m e s traight in the fac e. 'A ye, well, if I did 'em all s m all and delic ate like what you s ay, m i m um 'd nivver gerrit, would s he? I've been on this for four week and I'll be luc ky to get it done for next year's Mother's Day, way things s tand.' 'I'll get m ine done,' Dean c him ed in s m ugly. 'A ye! ' s napped the toothles s one. 'A nd we know why, don't we?'

'W hy?' I as ked. 'B ec aus e, when Mis s give out all thes e different V ic torian s ayings and proverbs , I was off poorly and when I got bac k I was s tuc k wi' t'one nob'dy wanted. Dean got s hortes t - A MOT HE R'S LOV E IS A B LE S S ING - and I got t'longes t! ' He dis played his piec e of fabric with a grubby finger. It read: T HE RE IS NOT HING S O P URE , T HE RE IS NOT HING S O HIGH, A S T HE LOV E Y OU W ILL S E E IN Y OUR MOT HE R'S E Y E . 'I've only jus t s tarted m i border,' he m oaned. 'A nd Dean's us ed all t'pinks and t'yellas and t'purples and I'm s tuc k wi t'blac ks , t'browns and t'greys ! ' 'Y ou c ould do anim als ins tead of flowers ,' s ugges ted his c om panion with a s elf-s atis fied s m irk on his round red fac e. 'Y ou don't need c olours for s heep and c ows and goats ...' 'I'd need s um m at for t'pigs , though, wouldn't I?' c ried the toothles s one. 'A nd tha's us ed all t'pink! ' 'I'm s ure that, however it turns out, your m other will love your s am pler,' I reas s ured him . 'If s he gets it! ' he barked. 'W ell, I m ay s ee you boys later,' I s aid m oving away. 'Later?' they exc laim ed in unis on. 'I thought I'd pop into the S inging c las s during the lunc h-hour,' I told them . 'S inging! ' the toothles s one exc laim ed. 'S inging! W e don't gu to no S inging c las s ! T hat's for t'c is s ies ! ' T he other boy, putting the finis hing touc hes to his large pink ros e, nodded in agreem ent before ec hoing his c om panion's s entim ents : 'A ye, c hoir's for t'c is s ies and t'las s es . Y ou wunt c atc h us theer.' A s I headed to another des k, I heard a plaintive c ry from the c orner table, 'Mis s , m is s , c an I have s om e pink thread, pleas e? W e're c lean out ovver 'ere! ' A fter lunc h, on our way to the Headteac her's room , Gerry and I paus ed for a m om ent at the door of the s c hool hall to watc h a little of the S inging c las s . T here was no s ign of the two em broiderers . T he juniors , c onduc ted by a very expres s ive young m an in a red c orduroy s uit, great s potted bow-tie and m us tardc oloured wais tc oat, were s inging with great gus to. T here was an old lady who s wallowed a fly. I don't know why s he s wallowed a fly. P erhaps s he'll die. On our way out of the s c hool a little later, we c am e ac ros s a very dis tres s ed-looking girl s tanding c rying in the c orridor. Great tears rolled down her c heeks and her s m all body was s haking piteous ly. 'W hat is it?' as ked Gerry quietly, s quatting in front of the weeping c hild and gently touc hing her arm . 'I'm going to die! ' wailed the little girl. 'I'm going to die.' 'No, no,' c om forted Gerry, giving her a c uddle. 'W hatever m akes you think that?' 'I jus t know it! I'm going to die! ' T he c hild wiped her tears away with s m all round fis ts , leaving long s treaks ac ros s her red c heeks . 'W ho s ays you are going to die?' as ked Gerry gently. 'E veryone! ' exc laim ed the c hild. 'E veryone! I know I am . I'm going to die! ' 'How do you know?' 'B ec aus e I s wallowed a fly, that's why. On the c am ps ite las t year in Franc e. I s wallowed a fly! ' m oaned the c hild. 'T hey were s inging in the hall. T hey s aid I'd die! ' Gerry finally m anaged to reas s ure the little girl that what s he had heard was jus t a funny s ong and that s he was not going to die. T he c hild departed down the c orridor with the m ournful words , 'A nd I need to s wallow a s pider to get the fly.' W e left S heepc ote S c hool, both s m iling, and headed further up the dale. My c om panion s aid very little, s he jus t s tared in wonderm ent out of the c ar window at the s weeping panoram a, c lum ps of early prim ros es s heltering under the hedgerows bright in the afternoon s un, the dark, far-off wooded fells , rough m oorland, great s tone outc rops and hazy peaks . Gerry was c ertainly going to fit in well, I thought to m ys elf. S he had an eas y natural way with c hildren, related well to teac hers and was good-hum oured and friendly. I jus t wondered what s he would m ake of the four of us in the Ins pec tors ' Offic e, and whether s he would be able to c ope with the c ons tant verbal badm inton between David and S idney. My leis urely drive was brought to an abrupt halt. 'S top! ' Gerry s uddenly c ried. 'W hatever is it?' I exc laim ed, s kidding the c ar to a halt. 'Look.' I had s een m any anim als and birds in m y firs t year travelling around the dales : s quirrels das hing s uic idally ac ros s the road in front of the c ar to find s afety in the trees , the white s c uts of rabbits rus hing for their burrows , c ovies of partridges zinging down the headlands , pheas ants am bling by the s ide of the road, s o fat one wondered how they c ould ever get off the ground, the red brus h of a fox s lipping s hadow-like into the brac ken, herons flying lazily over wide, ros e-grey rivers , and, onc e, a fam ily of s toats playing in the quiet s unlit lane. S om etim es I would s top the c ar and lean agains t a gate to watc h the s c ene in the fields falling away below m e: a trac tor c hugging along a trac k, lam bs twitc hing their tails and jum ping high in s pring s uns hine, c res ted lapwings wheeling and plunging in a great em pty s ky and s om etim es , bes t of all, I would lis ten to the c all of the c urlew. I had never witnes s ed, however, what I s aw then on that Marc h day. In the field to the s ide of the road two hares , with long, lean bodies and great erec t ears , s quared up to eac h other and began boxing. W e watc hed fas c inated as they punc hed and pum m elled eac h other. T he s parring c ontinued until the tired and defeated anim al was c has ed away and the vic tor ros e high on his hind legs , obs erved us with indifferenc e, and loped away trium phant and unafraid. Crags ide P rim ary, our third and final port of c all, s at in the s hadow of the m as s ive s phinx-like Cawthorne Crag. T here was a m outh-watering arom a of baking pas try perm eating the building. 'T he c hildren learn to c ook in this s c hool, Mr P hinn,' explained the Headteac her. 'I feel it is im portant that all c hildren, and partic ularly boys , s hould know how to bake a loaf, m ake a pie, even c ook a whole m eal. T hey won't always have their m others looking after them . Of c ours e, it us ed to be c alled baking-tim e when I s tarted teac hing, then it was c ookery c las s , then hom e ec onom ic s and now, I believe, it's c alled food tec hnology. It's all the s am e in m y book. T oday, we are trying our hand at pas try and our s c hool c ook, or c atering m anager as the E duc ation Offic e will ins is t on c alling her, is overs eeing our efforts .' T he s c hool kitc hen was a hive of ac tivity. T wo boys , s m art in white aprons , were helping a large wom an with floury hands take their c ulinary efforts out of the oven. One boy had s uc h a dus ting of flour on his fac e that he looked like Marley's ghos t. 'Do you like tarts ?' he as ked as I approac hed. 'P ardon?' 'T arts . Do you like tarts ?' 'J am tarts ,' added the wom an with the floury hands , winking at m e. 'Oh, I'm very partial to tarts .' 'Do you want one of m ine?' 'I think our vis itor m ight enjoy one of your tarts , Ric hard, at afternoon break with his c up of tea.' T here was a look on the wom an's fac e whic h rec om m ended m e not to eat one of the tarts on offer. 'B ut I want to know what he thinks ,' the boy told her. 'Y ou have to wait until they are c ool, Ric hard.' 'T arts are better when they're hot, m is s ,' pers is ted the boy. He then looked at m e with a s hining, innoc ent fac e. 'Don't y ou think hot tarts are better than c old ones ?' 'I do,' I agreed, 'and I will have one of your tarts now.' T he c ook's fac e took on an expres s ion whic h told m e that I had been warned. T he boy s elec ted the bigges t on the baking tray - a large, c rus ty-looking, m is s hapen lum p of pas try. In the c entre was a blob of dark red whic h I s uppos ed was jam . It looked the m os t unappetis ing piec e of pas try I had ever s een, but I c ould not go bac k now. T he boy watc hed keenly as I took a m as s ive bite. 'W hat do you think?' as ked the boy eagerly. It was extrem ely diffic ult to s peak as the dried-up c onfec tion c oated the ins ide of m y m outh. I c oughed and s prayed the air with bits of pas try and dried jam . 'I have never tas ted a tart like this in m y life,' I as s ured him hones tly, between s plutters . A great s m ile s pread ac ros s the boy's fac e. 'Really?' 'Really.' 'W ould you like another?' 'No, thank you,' I replied quic kly, 'one is quite enough.' 'Does your wife want one?' 'No, thank you, Ric hard,' replied Gerry, trying to s uppres s her laughter. 'I've jus t had m y lunc h.' A t the end of the afternoon, as we were heading for the door, the little c hef appeared with a brown paper bag in his hand. 'I've put one of m y tarts in here for you, m is s ,' he s aid to Gerry, 'to have with your tea tonight.' 'T hat's very kind,' s he s aid. 'T hank you very m uc h.' 'A nd another one for you, s ir,' he added. 'T hank you,' I replied. 'Funny thing is baking, is n't it?' the boy pondered, holding out his hands in front of him the better to exam ine them . 'Y ou know, m y hands were dead m uc ky before I s tarted m aking m y tarts and jus t look how c lean they are now.' Gerry plac ed the brown paper bag c arefully in her briefc as e and s m iled. A m ile or s o from the s c hool I pulled off the road. My intention was to dis c us s the day with Gerry, s hare our obs ervations and for m e to explain a little of what I c ons idered the job of s c hool ins pec tor involved, but s he was s ilent and onc e m ore awe-s truc k by the view, now s oftened in the late afternoon s un. 'It's like s itting on the roof of the world,' s he m urm ured. In front of us s tretc hed a grim , prim itive, endles s land. Nothing broke the s ilenc e: no c om plaining s heep or yapping c ollie dog, no lus ty c oc k c row or c urlew's fitful c ry, no roar or babble of falling water or s ighing wind. A ll was s till. T hen, high above, a pair of c irc ling buzzards , their great wings outs tretc hed, s oared alone in an em pty s ky. 'I'm going to love this job,' Gerry s aid quietly. 'I'm s ure you will,' I replied. S he looked at m e with her dark blue eyes . 'Do you think I'll fit in?' 'Oh, yes , definitely.' S he s tared out of the window and s ighed. 'However, there's s om ething very im portant I've got to as k you,' I s aid s erious ly. 'Y es ?' her brow furrowed s lightly. 'W ould you like your tart now or s ave it for later?'

17

T he firs t s c hool I vis ited in the S um m er term was Ugglem atters by County J unior S c hool where I had agreed to take the as s em bly and s pend the day vis iting c las s es . T he s c hool was s ituated in the very c entre of a dark, brooding village, s andwic hed between the Mas onic Hall, a s quare and s olid box of a building in rus ty-red bric k, and the public hous e, built of a s laty lim es tone turned a greas y grey, with windows like blac k c old eyes . T he overc as t s ky and s lanting A pril rain m ade the s c hool and its s urroundings even m ore bleak and unwelc om ing. T he area c irc ling the village was a s trange and des olate land of s weeping grey m oors . It was a wet and barren lands c ape, naked s ave for a few anc ient oaks and a c ouple of c enturies -old farm s teads . A few hardy s heep, nibbling at the wiry gras s es as thin as the whis tling wind, were watc hed by a pair of hooded c rows perc hed in the gaunt arm s of a dead tree like vultures awaiting a death. T here were two wom en in the drab entranc e hall of the s c hool. One was large, with a pale, perfec tly s pheric al fac e, c rim s on adhes ive lips tic k and heavy rounded s houlders . T he other was a s tern, dis agreeable-looking wom an with s m all deep-s et eyes , a tight little m outh and bright peroxide hair whic h s tuc k up like a brus h - not an agreeable c om bination. T hey s topped talking when I entered and eyed m e s us pic ious ly. 'Good m orning,' I greeted them c heerfully. 'Mornin',' they replied in unis on. 'Dreadful weather, is n't it?' 'Dreadful,' they replied together. I was about to pres s the buzzer on the s m all rec eption des k when the larger of the two addres s ed m e. 'If you're 'ere to c om plain, get to t'bac k o' t'queue.' 'No, I'm not here to c om plain. I have an appointm ent with the Headteac her.' I pres s ed the buzzer and a m om ent later a s m all, haras s ed-looking wom an s c urried out. B efore s he c ould as k who I was and what I wanted, the large wom an pus hed forward m enac ingly. 'Have you told 'im we're 'ere?' s he barked. 'I have, Mrs W ilm ott. Mr S harples will be with you in one m om ent.' 'I've been s tood 'ere the bes t part o' ten m inutes .' 'A nd m e, an' all,' added the s m aller of the two wom en. 'I'll be purrin roots down if I wait 'ere m uc h longer.' 'I apprec iate that, Mrs W ilm ott, but it is always very hec tic on a Monday, and it is always bes t to m ake an appointm ent to be c ertain that the Headteac her is available. Mr S harples is bus y at the m om ent -' 'He's alw ay s bus y when I c om e into s c hool. W ell, I'm not goin' until I've s een 'im .' 'If you c ould jus t bear with m e for one m om ent, Mrs W ilm ott, until I find out what this gentlem an wants -' 'He wants to s ee Mr S harples ,' announc ed the large wom an. 'He's got an appointm ent with 'im ,' added the other. 'Mr P hinn,' I s aid, s m iling at the s m all rec eptionis t. 'I think the Headteac her is expec ting m e.' 'A re you the book repres entative?' 'No. Mr S harples will know who I am when you tell him .' I thought it bes t to keep m y identity s ec ret from m y two aggres s ive c om panions . T he rec eptionis t hurried away without a word and was bac k in quic k tim e, ac c om panied by an exc eptionally thin and s allow-c om plexioned m an in a s hiny s uit and highly polis hed s hoes . W hen he c aught s ight of the large wom an and her c om panion with the bright hair, the Headteac her s m iled the res igned s m ile of a m artyr about to fac e the s take. 'Good m orning, Mr P hinn. I will be with you in one m om ent.' He turned to the wom en. 'Now then, Mrs W ilm ott, Mrs Leec h, what c an I do for you both?' 'It's our Mandy! ' s napped the large wom an. 'I gues s ed it would be,' replied the Headteac her wearily. 'W hat is it this tim e?' 'S he c om e hom e Friday with nits - and they're not 'ers ! ' 'Not hers ?' repeated the Headteac her. 'Not 'ers ! S he m us t 'ave gor 'em from s om ebody in this s c hool bec aus e there's no nits in our 'ous e.' 'W ell, I am m os t grateful that you have pointed that out to m e, Mrs W ilm ott. I will alert the other parents .' 'S he s houldn't be c om in' 'om e with nits whic h aren't 'ers ,' c ontinued the large wom an. 'Indeed no,' replied Mr S harples , retaining his c onc erned c ountenanc e. 'I've brought 'er in this m ornin' and I don't want 'er c om in' 'om e with another 'eadful of nits tonight! ' 'I take it you have been to the c hem is t for a s pec ially treated s ham poo for head lic e?' as ked the Headteac her. 'Y es , I 'ave! S he's 'ad three good dous in's .' 'V ery wis e. I will write to all parents as king them to c hec k their c hildren's hair and ens ure that they s end them to s c hool with c lean s c alps .' 'W ell, I 'opes that's the end of it! S he s houldn't be c om in' 'om e with nits what aren't 'ers .' 'I did s end a c opy of the leaflet c onc erning the prevention and treatm ent of head lic e to eac h parent or guardian las t term , if you rec all, Mrs W ilm ott. It rec om m ended the us e of a fine-tooth c om b on wet hair and s pec ially prepared lotions or rins es obtainable from the pharm ac is t.' 'I know all that! ' s napped the wom an. 'B ut m y Mandy has s hort 'air and it's kept c lean and c om bed regular.' 'Head lic e are not fus s y about hair length or c ondition of the hair, Mrs W ilm ott,' explained Mr S harples . 'Clean hair is no protec tion.' T he Headteac her then turned his attention to the other wom an. 'A nd have you c om e about head lic e, Mrs Leec h?' he as ked the s m aller wom an in an exc es s ively patient tone of voic e. 'Or is it s om ething els e?' 'I've c om e about knic kers ! ' 'I beg your pardon?' 'Crys tal's c om e hom e wearing knic kers what aren't 'ers ! ' 'I s ee,' s ighed the Headteac her. He turned to m e and dis played his m artyr's s m ile. 'Do go on into m y room , Mr P hinn.' He ges tured before him . 'I have a feeling this will take a little tim e.' T hrough the open door I heard him attem pting to pac ify the two m others . Ten m inutes later he entered the room , lowered him s elf into his c hair, s ighed heavily, s tared at m e for a m om ent with great doleful eyes and then rem arked, 'I bec am e a headteac her, Mr P hinn, to educ ate the young, to teac h c hildren, but what do I have to deal with, day in and day out? Nits and knic kers , that's what. T hos e two wom en are the very bane of m y life. T hey s pend m ore tim e in the s c hool than the teac hers whom they purs ue with the relentles s fervour of two hungry foxhounds . W hen I s ent the form s out for the new intake of c hildren, under the s ec tion where s he had to write her hus band's nam e, Mrs W ilm ott entered: "Father not yet known". I had a dreadful prem onition when I read it that Mandy's m other would not be the eas ies t of parents to deal with.' He s hook his head and grim ac ed. 'A nd as for Mrs Leec h -' 'Mr S harples ,' I interrupted, glanc ing at m y watc h, 'I think it m ay be about tim e for the as s em bly.' 'Oh, good grac ious m e, s o it is , s o it is . Do c om e this way, Mr P hinn.' T he junior c hildren were all waiting quietly in a plain, dark s c hool hall with heavy brown drapes fram ing long windows whic h looked out upon the c old and lonely m oor. Row after row of c hildren, with s erious fac es , s at quietly, c ros s -legged on the hard wooden floor, watc hed by their s erious -fac ed teac hers who s tood, arm s folded, around the s ides . 'Good m orning, c hildren,' s aid the Headteac her. 'Good m orning, Mr S harples , good m orning, everyone,' they replied with little enthus ias m . 'W e will s tart with the hym n "A ll things bright and beautiful, A ll c reatures great and s m all",' the Headteac her told them s olem nly. T he tired-looking teac her at the piano, who had been watc hing him with a glum expres s ion on her long pale fac e, s truc k up the tune in s uc h a s low and laboured way that the joyous hym n s ounded like a funeral dirge. T here was little verve or volum e in the s inging and no effort on the part of the teac hers to enc ourage the pupils by s inging them s elves . I thought of the c hildren at S t B artholom ew's who had s ung s o lus tily and in s uc h a heartfelt way, alm os t c om peting with the boom ing rhythm s of Mis s Fenoughty plonking away on the piano. 'T his m orning,' s aid Mr S harples , when the hym n had finally ground to a halt, 'we have a gues t in s c hool. I am s ure it will not have es c aped your notic e that there is a gentlem an with us .' A ll eyes foc us ed upon m e. 'Mr P hinn is a s c hool ins pec tor and he is going to take our as s em bly before joining you in the c las s room s for the day. If Mr P hinn as ks you anything, ans wer him in your us ual polite m anner and s hould he look los t I am s ure you will be able to tell him where to go.' W ith that, the Headteac her joined his c olleagues at the s ide of the hall and folded his arm s . 'Good m orning,' I s aid and began the as s em bly. I attem pted to get a res pons e by as king the c hildren about E as ter - what had they done over the holidays , had they been anywhere interes ting, had they rec eived any E as ter eggs ? - ques tions whic h us ually s tim ulate lively res pons es . In this c as e little was forthc om ing. Clearly, as s em blies in this s c hool involved lis tening and not c ontributing. T he only m ovem ent I notic ed am ongs t the s olem n rows of c hildren was random s c ratc hings at s c alps . Rows of s erious fac es obs erved m e quietly as if waiting for a perform anc e to begin s o I pres s ed on. I read them the very poignant c hildren's s tory, The S elfis h Giant by Os c ar W ilde, whic h c onc erns the m ean-m inded Giant who owns a large and lovely garden with s oft green gras s , beautiful flowers like s tars , and peac h trees c overed in delic ate blos s om s of pink and pearl. One day he finds s m all c hildren playing in his garden and angrily c has es them away. 'My own garden is m y own garden,' he s ays and he builds a high wall s o none c an enter. W hen s pring arrives , the Giant's garden is em pty of birds , the trees have forgotten to blos s om , s now c overs the gras s with a great white c loak, and fros t paints the trees s ilver. T he Giant s its s adly at his window and looks down on his garden whic h is in perpetual winter and he wonders why the s pring did not return. T hen, one m orning, he hears the birds s inging and s ees the m os t wonderful s ight. T hrough a little hole in the wall, the c hildren have c rept in and they are s itting in the branc hes of the trees whic h are now c overed in blos s om s . Only in one c orner is it s till winter. T here s tands a little boy weeping bitterly for he is too s m all to reac h up to the branc hes of the tree. T he Giant's heart m elts . 'How s elfis h I have been,' he s ays . S o he c reeps downs tairs and into his garden. He takes the little c hild gently in his hands and puts him in the tree. A nd the tree burs ts into blos s om and the birds c om e and s ing in it. T he Giant takes a great axe and knoc ks down the high wall s o all the c hildren c an c om e to play in his garden. E very day they c om e to play but the little boy the Giant loves m ore than any other, the one he put into the tree, is never with them . Years pas s and the Giant grows very old and feeble. One winter m orning he looks from his window to s ee in the farthes t c orner of the garden a tree c overed in lovely white blos s om s . Its branc hes are golden and s ilver fruit hangs from them . Underneath s tands the little boy he loves . Downs tairs runs the Giant with great joy. A c ros s the gras s he runs until he c om es c los e to the c hild. A nd then his fac e grows red with anger. 'W ho hath dared to wound thee?' he c ries , for on the palm s of the c hild's hands are the prints of two nails and the prints of two nails are on the little feet. 'Tell m e,' roars the Giant, 'and I will take m y big s word and s lay him .' 'Nay,' ans wers the c hild, 'thes e are the wounds of love.' 'W ho art thou?' as ks the Giant, and a s trange awe falls on him and he kneels before that little c hild. A nd the c hild s m iles . 'Y ou let m e play onc e in your garden. T oday you s hall c om e to m y garden, whic h is P aradis e.' A nd when the c hildren ran into the garden that afternoon to play, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, c overed in white blos s om s . I had barely finis hed the s tory when a num ber of hands s hot up. T his is m ore like it, I thought. T he c hildren are beginning to res pond and I c an now talk about the s tory and relate it to the them e of being kind and c ons iderate to others . T he owner of one of the hands waving at m e was a large, red-c heeked boy with hair the c olour of s traw. 'Y es ?' I s aid, pointing in his direc tion. 'I'm a Methodis t,' he announc ed loudly. 'Really?' I replied. 'A nd I'm going to P aradis e! ' 'I'm s ure you are.' 'Mr P hinn! ' A nother boy alm os t identic al to the firs t in s ize and c olouring s houted from the bac k, 'I'm Churc h of E ngland and I'm goin' to P aradis e an' all! ' 'I'm c ertain you will get in as well,' I replied. T hen a large girl with a c hubby fac e, rounded s houlders and wild, woolly hair ros e to her feet and announc ed dram atic ally, 'I'm nowt - but I'm s till gerrin' in! ' 'I'm s ure you'll be the firs t in the queue, Mandy,' the Headteac her told her before ins truc ting the c hildren not to c all out. I m et Mandy later in her c las s room . S he was s itting next to a s m all, s ad-looking girl of about ten or eleven with a tight little m outh and bright blonde hair. I gues s ed that I had m et her m other earlier that m orning. T he two girls s topped talking when I approac hed and eyed m e s us pic ious ly. 'W ould you like to tell m e what you're doing?' I as ked pleas antly. 'W hy?' dem anded the larger c hild. 'W ell, I would like you to.' 'B ut why?' 'I'm a s c hool ins pec tor,' I s aid. 'Don't you rem em ber? Mr S harples m entioned in as s em bly that I would be c om ing into c las s room s . I'm here to look at your work.' T he girl s hrugged, s c ratc hed her s c alp and pus hed her book ac ros s the des k. 'W e're writing,' s he explained. 'A bout what?' 'W hat we did ovver t'weekend.' 'I s ee. W ould you like to tell m e what you did?' 'Not partic ularly,' s he replied, s c ratc hing her s c alp again. 'S he been wes hing her 'air all weekend c os s he 'ad nits ,' announc ed the s m aller girl. 'S hurrup, Crys tal! ' c ried the larger girl, elbowing her. 'Y ou don't 'ave to tell everybody, tha knaws .' 'E verybody knaws ,' s aid the other c as ually. 'Y er m am broadc as t it.' A t the next table s at the youthful Methodis t with two other large boys . 'Could I have a look at what you're doing?' 'A ye tha c an, if tha likes .' He pus hed his book ac ros s the des k in m y direc tion. In large untidy writing was an ac c ount of his vis it to a S aturday s heep auc tion with his grandfather. 'S o you live on a farm , do you?' I as ked. 'A ye, that's reight.' 'A nd you have s heep?' 'W ell, I rec kon we wunt be goin' to a s heep auc tion if we kept pigs , now would we?' 'No, I s uppos e you wouldn't.' I had learnt quite a bit about farm ing in m y firs t year travelling around the Dales ' s c hools and found that, by engaging c hildren in a dis c us s ion about the things they were interes ted and often expert in, I c ould break the ic e and very s oon get them talking. From there I would m ove on to as k them what they liked doing bes t in s c hool, talk about their writing, lis ten to them read and tes t their s pelling. 'S o what breed of s heep do you have?' I as ked. 'Mos tly S waledales but we're thinkin' o' divers ifyin'.' 'Really?' 'T hat's why we were at Fettles ham m arket. Granfether were lookin' at t'T exels .' 'I s ee. S o what do S waledale s heep look like?' 'T ha dun't know owt abaat s heep then?' 'Not a lot.' He s hifted in his c hair the better to fac e m e. 'W ell, tha c an allus s pot a S waledale. It 'as c urly 'orns on its 'ead, s ort of a blac k fac e wi' a white s nout, s om etim es wi' a bit o' s pec klin' on and it 'as a fairly light c arc as s . Now yer Dales -bred s heep are an 'ardy breed and fare well on this s ort o' land and in this s ort o' weather. It c an ger a bit parky up 'ere and rain fair teem s dahn s o you need s um m at wi' a bit o' gum ption. S om etim es we c ros s 'em wi' B lue-fac ed Leic es ters to produc e a m ule breeding s heep. A nyroad, we've 'ad a bit o' trouble wi' s heep dip flu and blow fly this year and we're looking at Texels to s ee what they c an do.' 'A nd what do T exels look like?' 'T hey're not m uc h to look at - bit like a bull terrier, fat white bodies , s hort wool, legs wide s pac ed but they're pretty doc ile and give a lot o' m ilk. T hey give extra lean m eat an' all and there's m ore fat on t' c arc as s . T hey're eas y to m aintain are Texels . Mi granfether rec kons there'll be a s ight m ore of a profit in 'em . T ha s ees they have higher kill-out perc entage and better c onform ation and grading than yer S waledales .' 'Do they really?' I had not the firs t idea what the boy was talking about. I c hanged the s ubjec t. 'A nd you are a Methodis t?' 'A ye. Mi granfether's a lay preeac her at t'c hapel in Ugglem atters by. His s arm ons is fam ous , tha knaws . P eople c um for m iles to 'ear 'im s peyk. He s ays he gives Divil a reight run for his m oney when he gets gooin. I m ight ger 'im that book what yer were reading. A s tagorritwithi?' 'P ardon?' 'B ook. A s tagorritwithi, s o's I c an m ek a note on t'title?' I took the book from m y briefc as e and watc hed as he c opied down the title in his large, untidy writing. 'Cham pion,' he s aid when he had finis hed. 'It'll do fer Granfether for 'is birthday.' T hen he inc lined his head in the direc tion of Mandy who was bus y s c ratc hing away at her s c alp on the next table, and whis pered, 'S ee that las s , 'er wi' gob on 'er, well s he's 'ad nits , tha knaws . B y looks in it s he's s till gorrem . T ha wants to keep a fair dis tanc e, otherwis e tha'll be tec kin' 'om e s um m at tha nivver bargained fer.' Mr S harples heard m y c ritic al prelim inary report at the end of the day with the s ort of im pas s ive expres s ion a profes s ional m ourner would have s pent a lifetim e perfec ting. 'Firs tly, Mr S harples , I have to tell you that the quality of teac hing and learning and the s tandards of attainm ent in the s c hool are jus t not high enough. Reading and writing s tandards are low in relation to the c hildren's ages and the bas ic s kills of s pelling are uns atis fac tory. T he c hildren arrive from the Infants with a reas onable c om m and of language and read s oundly enough but their progres s from then on is s low.' I referred to m y notes . 'I have s een no enthus ias tic and optim is tic teac hers today and no les s on whic h I c ould judge to be good. Indeed, there was no purpos e to two of the les s ons I obs erved, no c lear objec tives or c areful planning, and the range of teac hing s trategies was very narrow. Do you wis h to c om m ent on that?' 'No,' replied the Headteac her bluntly. 'T he exterior of the building is very drab and uninviting - s om ething you c annot do m uc h about - but the ins ide is little better.' 'W hat's the s tate of the building got to do with educ ation?' he as ked. 'P rovided the plac e is c lean and warm , we don't need to turn the plac e into s om e exotic s howc as e.' 'Do you not think c hildren work better in a bright, attrac tive and welc om ing environm ent where their efforts are dis played around them rather than in a s eries of drab c las s room s c ontaining little to interes t or c hallenge them ?' 'I don't plac e m uc h im portanc e on that s ort of thing,' he replied dis m is s ively.

'T he book s toc k is poor, there are very few dic tionaries in the building and the work as a whole needs to be far better direc ted. I really feel there needs to be m ore enjoym ent, m ore exc item ent and fun in the c urric ulum , to get the c hildren interes ted and wanting to learn.' Mr S harples s ighed heavily when I had finis hed, s tared at m e for a m om ent with his great doleful eyes , and then rem arked: 'I bec am e a headteac her, Mr P hinn, as I m entioned to you when you arrived, to educ ate the young, to teac h c hildren, but what do I have to deal with, day in, day out?' Nits and knic kers , I thought to m ys elf, rec alling the earlier c onvers ation. 'Diffic ult parents , interfering governors and c ritic al s c hool ins pec tors , that's what. T hey are the very bane of m y life. I'm jus t not allowed to get on with m y job in peac e and quiet. It's very eas y to s it in judgem ent for a day, Mr P hinn, but I have to be here day in and day out.' He m ade his c hos en profes s ion s ound like a pris on s entenc e. 'T his job gets m ore and m ore diffic ult. T he s tres s es and s trains , the pres s ures and problem s I have to c ope with. P eople jus t don't realis e. T hey have no idea. You've s een the c hildren who attend this s c hool. If I had the raw m aterial then I m ight be able to get the res ults you s ay I s hould be getting. B ut look at where thes e c hildren c om e from . I m ean, what c an you expec t?' 'Mr S harples ,' I s aid s lowly, 's urely that is what good teac hers do - they have high expec tations . T hey expec t the m oon. Now I apprec iate the m any pres s ures and s tres s es in educ ation at the m om ent, but anyone who bec om es a headteac her m us t realis e that dealing with diffic ult parents , interfering governors and c ritic al s c hool ins pec tors is part and parc el of the job. I will, of c ours e, be s ending a detailed written report to the s c hool, outlining the is s ues you need to addres s and giving s ugges tions on how you m ight im prove. I s hall als o be arranging to m ake a further s eries of vis its .' 'S o I take it you are not entirely happy with what you have s een?' s aid the Headteac her wearily, s tudying his fingernails . 'No, Mr S harples , I am not. I would not be doing m y job if I told you that everything in the garden was ros y.' T he Headteac her looked up at this point and glowered. 'W ell, s peaking of gardens , Mr P hinn, that s tory you read to us at as s em bly about a giant who dropped dead under a tree did not exac tly put us all in a good-hum oured m ood, did it? It c ertainly didn't bring a s m ile to m y fac e.' He got to his feet. 'I don't have to lis ten to any m ore of this ,' he s aid. 'J us t put in your offic ial report. A nd now, if you don't m ind, I've had a very hard day.' W ith that, he walked ac ros s his offic e and held open the door, c learly indic ating that the ins pec tion was over. Cold wind and s lanting rain s wept about the c ar as I left the dark, brooding village. T he overc as t s ky, dark des olate m oors and great loom ing fells m ade m e feel extraordinarily depres s ed. I never liked giving a poor report but s om etim es it was needed. A few s heep were s till nibbling at the wiry gras s , and the hooded c rows perc hed in the branc hes of the dead oak did not look as though they had m oved all day. One of the s heep looked up as I drove s lowly pas t. It was a fat ram with c urly horns , a blac k fac e with a white s nout and great doleful eyes . It s tared im pas s ively and rem inded m e s o m uc h of the Headteac her of Ugglem atters by County J unior S c hool.

18

Mrs S avage appeared very m uc h at hom e in the entranc e hall of Lord Marric k's s tately hom e and blended in beautifully with the pale c olours of the room . S he was dres s ed in an elegant c ream c oat beneath whic h s he wore a flowing blue c hiffon dres s and her fingers , wris ts , ears and nec k had a generous as s ortm ent of s howy gold jewellery. S tanding before the huge and m agnific ently c arved c him ney-piec e and below the oil painting of s om e m ilitary anc es tor of Lord Marric k's , s he looked like the Lady of the Manor waiting for a photograph to be taken, with her im perious expres s ion and hands c las ped form ally before her. 'A h, Mr P hinn,' s he s aid, advanc ing and c lic king nois ily with her heels on the white inlaid m arble floor. 'Y ou are here at las t.' I glanc ed at m y watc h. 'It's only jus t gone eight,' I replied. 'I didn't want to get here too early.' 'A s you know,' s he replied haughtily, 'I like things to be done effic iently and thoroughly and not leave anything to c hanc e. I want to m ake c ertain that every final detail has been taken on board.' It was the S aturday of the Feoffees P ageant and the weather was perfec t, the s ky a c loudles s blue and it was warm for the end of May. Marquees and m ulti-c oloured tents were s c attered on the green s ward of parkland to the front of Mans ton Hall. T he event was to s tart at 11.00 am when the Feoffees would proc es s in full regalia and Lord Marric k would offic ially open proc eedings . A lready the area around the hall was a hive of ac tivity. T he polic e bands m en had arrived and were bus y s etting up their c hairs and m us ic s tands near a s m all s tone obelis k, an offic ious arm y s ergeant with a bris tling m ous tac he was berating a s quad of young s oldiers bes ide three huge, s hiny tanks and as s orted arm y vehic les , and an RA F dog handler was putting his s avage-looking beas ts through their pac es . A juggler, in a c olourful patc hwork outfit, was entertaining a knot of little boys in s urplic es , red c as s oc ks and s tiff white c ollars . S tallholders were bus y arranging their wares , jewellery, pottery, c akes , books , bras s ware and all m anner of item s on long tres tle tables . I had s pent the previous m orning with Mrs S avage, no longer being able to avoid a fac e-to-fac e m eeting. Her brief had been m erely to deal with the adm inis tration but, true to form , s he had expanded her role and had ins is ted on m arc hing around the park, c hec king item s off agains t a large c lipboard of notes held offic ious ly in front of her. S he had m ade c ertain that the E xhibition m arquee was abs olutely as ordered, that the s taging had been c orrec tly as s em bled for the dram a produc tions , that the c overed area for the gym nas tic s area c onform ed to all the s afety regulations , and that the Orangery was properly s et up for the Y outh Orc hes tra. T he various group organis ers were obvious ly well in c ontrol and regarded Mrs S avage with a m ixture of irritation and am us em ent. 'I m ay be s om ething of a s tic kler, Mr P hinn,' s aid Mrs S avage now, 'but I do like everything to be -' S he s topped m id-s entenc e when a barrel-bodied, bow-legged bulldog with pinky-white jowls and pale unfriendly eyes appeared from the direc tion of the library. 'W hat a rem arkably ugly-looking c reature,' s he s aid. T he dog m ade a low rum bling nois e and dis played a s et of s harp teeth. Mrs S avage s trode towards it. 'S hoo! ' s he s napped. T he dog s tared at her with its c old grey button eyes . 'S hoo! ' s he repeated, s m ac king her hands together s harply, her heavy jewellery jangling. T he dog hes itated for a m om ent in dis belief, then s lunk away whining. Laetitia had m et her m atc h. I followed Mrs S avage's rapid progres s down the s tone s teps of the hall and towards a large m arquee, outs ide whic h was a big s ign announc ing E DUCA T ION E X HIB IT ION. W e were jus t about to enter the tent when a s m all m an in a blue boiler s uit approac hed. He addres s ed Mrs S avage. 'I've been looking for you.' S he gave him one of her fam ous c ondes c ending looks . 'Really?' 'W here do you want it, love?' 'I beg your pardon?' 'Y our tent?' 'T ent?' S he arc hed an eyebrow. 'Y our tent,' he repeated. 'W here do you want it putting?' 'W hat are you talking about?' s he s aid irritably. 'I don't know anything about a tent.' 'W here you're doing your fortune-telling.' 'Do I look rem otely like a fortune teller?' s he as ked in a s harp and s trident tone of voic e, her eyes s hining with intens ity. 'I was told to look for a wom an in blue and yella wi' lots o' bangles and beads .' W ith a c las h of brac elets , s he pointed in the oppos ite direc tion. 'W ell, I s ugges t you look els ewhere. I am c ertainly not Gyps y Ros e Lee.' 'S orry, I'm s ure,' s aid the m an as Mrs S avage dis appeared into the m arquee. T he art exhibition was m agnific ent. S idney had worked hard the afternoon before and produc ed a dazzling dis play of work. T here were delic ate waterc olours , bold oil paintings , detailed line drawings , portraits in c halk and c harc oals , rural s c enes in inks , s c ulptures , em broideries , tapes tries and c ollages . It was a m as s of c olour. On large boards a range of poetry and tidy handwritten ac c ounts of his toric al events had been dis played. B ehind the E duc ation m arquee, teac hers were preparing for the dram a produc tion, going over final details with their young c harges , while a troop of junior gym nas ts was prac tis ing on large blue m ats . In the Orangery m em bers of the Y outh Orc hes tra were rehears ing for their perform anc e whic h would take plac e later that m orning. 'W ell,' s aid Mrs S avage, s m iling unc harac teris tic ally, as we headed bac k towards the hall, 'I think everything is in order.' I had to hand it to the wom an. T hings had been organis ed extrem ely well. S he had c ontac ted s c hools and arranged for the c hildren's work to be c ollec ted for m y exhibition. I had done very little, apart from s ugges ting the various ac tivities and inviting teac hers to take part. 'Y es ,' I s aid. 'Y ou've worked very hard.' S he s tared at m e for a m om ent. 'T hank you,' s he s aid. 'I think we both des erve a c up of c offee.' S he ges tured in the direc tion of the Refres hm ent T ent. 'S hall we?' T he Feoffees P ageant went like c loc kwork. A t eleven o'c loc k on the dot, Lord Marric k, as Greave and Chief Lord of the Feoffees , dres s ed in a long s c arlet gown and heavy gold c hain, followed the Mac e B earer and led a line of largely elderly m en in dark s uits and bowler hats . T hey proc es s ed up the s teps of Mans ton Hall where Lord Marric k m ade a s peec h and offic ially opened the pageant to c elebrate the Feoffees ' five hundredth annivers ary. T he polic e band s truc k up a rous ing tune and the park was s oon full of people, pus hing and jos tling through the exhibitions , watc hing the perform anc es , lis tening to the m us ic or jus t s itting relaxing in the warm s uns hine. 'S plendid! S plendid! ' s aid Dr Gore later that m orning as he entered the m arquee where the c hildren's work was dis played. He was dres s ed in a c harc oal grey s uit with his bowler hat perc hed rakis hly on the s ide of his head. I s uppres s ed a s m ile. 'It really does look im pres s ive in here. W onderful work. Quite delightful. T he Youth Orc hes tra are going great guns in the Orangery and the gym nas tic s are about to begin s o I m us t pop bac k and s ee thos e. I jus t wanted to c all in to s ay how well everyone has done. I think we c an s ay that the E duc ation Departm ent has held its own, eh?' B efore I c ould res pond, he s trode off, rubbing his hands and repeating enthus ias tic ally, 'S plendid! S plendid! ' 'I think the old m an's pleas ed,' rem arked S idney phlegm atic ally. Mrs S avage s tood at the door to the offic e, dres s ed in a wildly s triped m ulti-c oloured s m oc k, long c ream s ilk s c arf, pale grey boots and the us ual as s ortm ent of heavy c lanking jewellery. Her hair was c urled up in long tendrils on her head and held in plac e by a great s ilver c las p in the s hape of a s pider. It was well before nine o'c loc k on the firs t m orning of the following week. Mrs S avage rarely ventured into the Ins pec tors ' Offic e at the bes t of tim es and to s ee her at the c rac k of dawn was entirely unexpec ted, not to s ay dis c onc erting. 'I c ould hear the nois e from the bottom of the s tairs ,' s he s aid to no one in partic ular, in that s harp, dis approving voic e of hers . 'W e were laughing,' s aid S idney, s m iling in s uc h an exaggerated fas hion that he looked quite m anic . 'W e were s haring an am us ing s tory, a funny little anec dote, a whim s ic al m om ent, an engaging little ac c ount.' He was rather labouring the point. 'S c hools are funny plac es , you know, m y dear Mrs S avage.' 'Really?' replied our vis itor, retaining her s our expres s ion and c learly irritated by S idney's exaggerated good hum our. 'Mr P ritc hard was telling us about his rec ent vis it to an infant s c hool,' Harold told her. 'W eren't you, David?' His c olleague nodded s lightly and it was c lear he was not going to relate the s tory for the benefit of Mrs S avage, of whom he had an abiding dis like. 'Yes ,' c ontinued Harold am iably, 'it was a m os t entertaining little tale. Mr P ritc hard had as ked this s m all boy if he had been anywhere interes ting over the E as ter holiday and the little c hap told him he had been to S c arborough for the day. "A nd did you go on a donkey?" Mr P ritc hard as ked him . "Oh no," the c hild replied, "I went in m y dad's c ar." ' Harold c huc kled. 'T he things c hildren s ay nowadays .' 'Y es , well I'm s ure that's all very am us ing, Dr Y eats ,' s aid Mrs S avage, without the trac e of a s m ile. 'A nd how m ay we help you?' enquired Harold. 'I have c alled over for two reas ons . Firs tly, Dr Gore, to whom I s poke on S unday, was very pleas ed with everyone's efforts with regard to the Feoffees P ageant and as ked m e to c onvey his apprec iation. He will be writing to you form ally to expres s his thanks . T hings went extrem ely well and Lord Marric k was partic ularly grateful for all the hard work that had been expended.' 'T hat is very good to hear, Mrs S avage,' Harold told her. Mrs S avage turned in m y direc tion. 'I would apprec iate it, Mr P hinn, if you c ould c om e ac ros s and s ee m e s om e tim e.' I heard S idney s tifle a laugh. S he gave him a quic k glanc e. 'W e need to put our heads together to c om pile a report on the Feoffees P ageant for Dr Gore's annual report to the E duc ation Com m ittee.' 'Y es ,' I s aid, 'I'll give you a ring.' 'It would be m ore c onvenient for m e if we c ould do it now. Have you a window in your diary?' 'I'll have a look,' I s aid. W hile I was flic king through the pages in m y diary, s he turned her attention to Harold. 'T he s ec ond and m ore im portant reas on for m y vis it, Dr Yeats , c onc erns a m uc h les s pleas ant m atter.' David rolled his eyes and S idney adopted his us ual pos e, plac ing his hands behind his head, leaning bac k in his c hair and fixing his gaze on the c eiling. Mrs S avage c ontinued undeterred. 'I've c om e up es pec ially early before you all dis appear off on s c hool vis its . I need to talk to you all together.' David drew in a long weary breath, s ighed dram atic ally and s hook his head. S idney c ontinued to look heavenwards . Mrs S avage fixed them with a venom ous s tare. 'T hat s ounds om inous ,' s aid Harold in the m os t pleas ant of voic es and no doubt hoping to defus e a potentially explos ive s ituation. 'Do enlighten us , Mrs S avage.' David looked abs trac tedly out of the window, S idney didn't m ove a m us c le and I feigned interes t in a diary entry, s o s he had no one exc ept Harold on whom to foc us her ic y s tare. 'A s you will be aware, Dr Y eats , part of m y rem it is to rec ord all the weekly forec as ts that the ins pec tors c om plete when they are s ent to m e eac h Friday afternoon. T his proc edure is s o Dr Gore knows where all the ins pec tors are during the following week. I'm s ure I don't have to tell you that.' 'No, Mrs S avage, you do not have to tell us that,' ec hoed David in a weary voic e. 'I have been filling in thos e engagem ent s heets for tim e im m em orial.' 'W ell,' s he c ontinued, unperturbed by the interruption, 'I have to s ay that s om e of the weekly program m es from this offic e, s ent to m e las t term , were of tim es inc om plete, s om etim es inac c urate, frequently illegible and, on a growing num ber of oc c as ions ' - s he paus ed and tried to gain S idney's attention by glaring pointedly in his direc tion - 'I have rec eived no program m es at all. Now, it is es s ential that Dr Gore knows exac tly where all the ins pec tors are during the week.' 'W hy?' as ked David, s uddenly turning from the window. 'I beg your pardon, Mr P ritc hard?' 'W hy exac tly does Dr Gore need to know where we all are every m inute of the day?' 'B ec aus e he m ay wis h to c ontac t you in an em ergenc y.' S idney s uppres s ed a s nort rather ineffec tually. 'W e are s c hool ins pec tors , Mrs S avage, not the air-s ea res c ue.' 'Nevertheles s , he needs to know where you are.' 'In all m y twenty-odd years as a s c hool ins pec tor,' David s aid, 'there has been not one, s ingle oc c as ion when any s ort of em ergenc y has aris en whic h dem anded m y im m ediate and undivided attention and there has been nothing s o very im portant that it c ould not wait until the next day.' 'S uppos e a m em ber of the E duc ation Com m ittee requires an urgent ans wer to a query?' S he was c ertainly pers is tent. 'He or s he s hould be able to wait until the following m orning, s urely,' s tated Harold with am us ed detac hm ent. 'It is our bus ines s to res pond prom ptly and effec tively,' c ontinued Mrs S avage with lofty dis dain, 'and to m ake the s ys tem m ore effic ient, I have, with Dr Gore's full approval, dec ided on a new proc edure.' 'Oh dear, oh dear,' groaned David, 'not another m as s of paperwork and m ore wretc hed form s to fill in?' 'W hat about next T hurs day?' I s ugges ted, hoping to c urtail the lively and inc reas ingly belligerent exc hange. 'P ardon?' as ked Mrs S avage. 'For m e to c om e ac ros s to s ee you. A t about five o'c loc k?' 'Y es , yes , that s ounds fine. Now about thes e new proc edures . Dr Gore has as ked m e to get you up to s peed,' announc ed Mrs S avage, adjus ting the s ilk s c arf as s he c aught s ight of her reflec tion in the glas s of the door. 'Get us up to what?' dem anded S idney. 'Up to s peed,' repeated Mrs S avage, s lowly and deliberately. 'Fully c onvers ant with the c hanges .' Over the pas t few m onths Mrs S avage had been attending a c ours e for educ ation offic ers . Returning from her weekly lec tures and s em inars and filled with new ideas and c onc epts , s he had initiated a num ber of c hanges in the adm inis tration of the E duc ation Departm ent. T he m odule s he had undertaken on s elec tion proc edures , for exam ple, had res ulted in new and c om plic ated proc edures for appointing s taff. Gerry Mullarkey had been the firs t on the rec eiving end of that. A nother trans form ation was in Mrs S avage's voc abulary. S he had adopted a c om pletely new language, a language full of jargon, ps yc hobabble and gobbledygook. A foreigner with a good gras p of E nglis h, on m eeting Mrs S avage, would as s um e that s he was from another planet, s uc h was the inc om prehens ible nature of her language. David had entertained us one afternoon with an ac c ount of the rec ent m eeting of the s tanding c om m ittee c onc erned with pupils who had been expelled from s c hool, whic h he c haired. Mrs S avage had been 'deputed', as s he inform ed him , 'to ac t as rapporteur'. 'S he m anaged to trans late perfec tly c lear, readable and s uc c inc t c om m ents into the m os t m eaningles s twaddle that I have ever heard. T here was one lad, who had been expelled from s c hool for ans wering bac k and s houting at the teac hers . He was a dam n nuis anc e, that's what he was , and needed a few days off s c hool to c ool off - or m ore likely, "a good, tidy s lap", as m y old W els h grandm other us ed to s ay. In the m inutes , Mrs S avage, who is now, after her DIY educ ation c ours e, s om ething of an expert on diffic ult c hildren, as well as every other bles s ed thing, had it rec orded in a s ort of gibberis h.' He had reac hed ac ros s his des k and pluc ked a piec e of paper from his out-tray. 'Here, lis ten to this for c om plete and utter nons ens e: "One behaviourally c hallenged s tudent with A DHD (attention-defic it-hyperac tive-dis order) and ODS (oppos itional-defianc e-s yndrom e) c am e from a m ulti-delinquent fam ily with s iblings high on the inc arc eration index." In s im ple E nglis h it m eans he was loud-m outhed and troubles om e and his brothers were behind bars . W hen I enquired of our "rapporteur" if s he were now our res ident ps yc hologis t, s he gave m e that look whic h would turn you to s tone. T he wom an's going off the rails or, as s he m ight term it, s he has "m anic epis ode s tres s -induc ing dis order" or, as I m ight des c ribe it, "pain in the nec k s yndrom e".' 'A s I was s aying,' c ontinued Mrs S avage now, 'I am here at the behes t of Dr Gore to explain the new proc edures and to get you all up to s peed. W e do not want anyone off-m es s age, do we? I would like, s tarting now, for all the ins pec tors to c om plete a blue Form IMF.' 'A what?' s napped David. 'International Monetary Fund,' explained S idney. 'T he Ins pec tors ' Monthly Forec as t form ! ' exc laim ed Mrs S avage. 'T his will replac e the green Form I W F, the Ins pec tors ' W eekly Forec as t form , whic h you s end to m e at pres ent. I will now know well in advanc e where you are during the days and evenings and then -' 'E venings ?' interrupted David. 'W hat's this about evenings ? Y ou want to know what we are doing in the evenings ? Good grac ious m e, this gets wors e and wors e.' Mrs S avage gave a twis ted little s m ile. 'Only if it's offic ial County bus ines s , Mr P ritc hard. I am not the s lightes t bit interes ted in what you get up to in your own tim e.' 'J us t as well,' s aid S idney, looking in m y direc tion. 'I am s ure Gervas e would not wis h to rec ord the m any as s ignations he has with a c ertain young headteac her.' 'Now, s hould there be any c hanges you wis h to m ake,' c ontinued Mrs S avage, ignoring him , 'you will need to c om plete a yellow Form A IMF, an A m endm ent to the Ins pec tors ' Monthly Forec as t form . A ll vis its to s c hools need to be rec orded ac c urately and c learly and, s hould there be any c hanges , the am endm ents noted. B oth the IMF and the A IM F s hould be s ent to m e direc tly s o I c an m ake the nec es s ary alterations and adjus tm ents to your program m es .' 'In triplic ate?' as ked S idney s arc as tic ally. 'I have brought over a batc h of the new form s ,' s he c ontinued undeterred, 'whic h I have left in your s ec retary's offic e and I would like them returned to m e c om pleted, A S A P .' S he s tared pointedly again in S idney's direc tion. 'Now, it is im portant that we all c om e aboard on this .' 'Mrs S avage -' began David ris ing to his feet. 'W ell, we will s ee how it goes , Mrs S avage,' interrupted Harold with the unruffled gentlenes s of the peac em aker. T hen, without c onvic tion, he added, 'It s ounds very reas on-able to m e.' 'No, Harold! ' c ried David. 'It does not s ound at all reas onable. I have better things to do than c om plete a lot of s illy form s . I do not wis h to "get up to s peed", to be frank, nor to "c om e aboard". I am quite c ontent working at m y own s teady pac e. I am not on a running trac k nor in a rac ing c ar. I well rec all s om e of Mrs S avage's other hare-brained ideas and wonderful initiatives , s uc h as wearing thos e idiotic lum inous identity badges , putting ridic ulous ly c om plic ated c odes on the photoc opier or m aking us park in rem ote areas of the County Hall m iles away from this offic e. A ll abandoned, as I rec all. I have no intention whats oever of s pending m y tim e on forec as ts or filling in am endm ent s heets whether they be blue, green, red or ps yc hedelic pink! I have m ore bum f on m y des k than a B elgian bureauc rat. Now, if you will exc us e m e, I have a s c hool to vis it bec aus e that is what I do for a job - ins pec t s c hools and not s it around pus hing c oloured paper bac kwards and forwards ! ' W ith that David s natc hed up his briefc as e and departed. 'A nd m uc h as I would like to debate the effic ac y of your form s , Mrs S avage,' S idney told her, m aintaining his c arefully blank expres s ion, and heading for the door at the s am e tim e, 'I too have an appointm ent at nine o'c loc k in the far dis tant Dales .' Mrs S avage looked like a s tartled os tric h. 'W ell...' was all s he c ould m us ter to s ay in a s trangled s ort of voic e. 'I will have a word with them , Mrs S avage,' Harold told her gently, 'and, as I s aid, we will s ee how it goes . I feel c ertain -' 'I have to s ay I find your two c olleagues very offhand, Dr Y eats ,' s aid Mrs S avage, regaining s om e c om pos ure and readjus ting the c hiffon. 'I am only endeavouring to m ake the s ys tem m ore effic ient, that's all. I do have a job to do and it m akes it exc eedingly diffic ult if the people who -' 'I'm s ure you are only doing what you feel is for the bes t,' reas s ured Harold, s howing his s et of tom bs tone teeth. 'A nd I s hall be m entioning their oppos ition to Dr Gore.' S he looked in m y direc tion. 'Have you anything to s ay, Mr P hinn?' s he as ked c urtly. 'W ell, now you as k, Mrs S avage, I really do think that we have quite enough paper arriving on our des ks . T he pres ent s ys tem s eem s to m e to work well and -' 'I am s ure there will be no problem s ,' interpos ed Harold, rubbing his large hands together. 'It s houldn't take all that long to c om plete your forec as ts . J ulie c an c hec k through m y c olleagues ' des k diaries , fill in the details and bring the form s over later today or tom orrow.' 'W here is your s ec retary, by the way, Dr Y eats ?' as ked Mrs S avage s uddenly. 'I as ked her to take our new c olleague over to the m ain building and s how her where everything is - pos t room , res ourc es area, library, that s ort of thing.' 'I s ee.' T here was a c lattering of s hoes on the s tairs and a few m om ents later J ulie arrived ac c om panied by the new s c ienc e ins pec tor who had arrived that m orning. 'A h, I s ee you have arrived,' s aid Mrs S avage, ignoring J ulie and addres s ing hers elf direc tly to Gerry Mullarkey. S he did not wait for any res pons e. 'I was expec ting you this afternoon, but s inc e you are here, I'll explain a few things if you would like to ac c om pany m e over to m y offic e.' Gerry s m iled an eas y s m ile. 'A nd who are you?' s he enquired. 'I am Mrs S avage, Dr Gore's pers onal as s is tant,' s he res ponded tartly. 'I'm pleas ed to m eet you, Mrs S avage,' s aid Gerry in a quite c harm ing voic e. 'W hat is your s horthand like?' as ked Mrs S avage. 'Non-exis tent.' 'Y our typing s peed?' 'A bout a word a m inute, I s hould think.' 'W ell, this does not s ound at all enc ouraging. Can you us e a dic taphone?' 'No.' 'Have you any qualific ations at all?' 'W ell, I have a degree in phys ic s , a m as ters degree in m ic robiology, a P h.D., and I'm a Fellow of the Royal Ins titute of Chem is ts .' 'Oh! ' exc laim ed Mrs S avage. 'I thought you were the tem porary c leric al as s is tant, from the agenc y in Fettles ham .'

'No, no,' interpos ed Harold, 'this is Dr Mullarkey, the new s c ienc e ins pec tor, who has jus t s tarted. I believe you were on one of your c ours es at the tim e of the interviews .' 'Oh, I s ee. S om eone m ight have s aid s om ething earlier, Dr Y eats . I as s um ed that Dr Mullarkey was a m an.' 'Mos t people do,' replied Gerry. Mrs S avage looked, for onc e, dis tinc tly unc om fortable and I c ould not wait to rec ount the epis ode to S idney and David. 'W ell, perhaps when you have a m om ent, Dr Mullarkey,' s aid Mrs S avage, 'you c ould c all up and s ee m e in m y offic e. It's in the A nnexe to the rear of County Hall. W ell, I have work to do,' s he told us with s tiff finality, as though we were wilfully detaining her, and with that s he s wept in the direc tion of the s tairs . S he reappeared a s ec ond later. 'A nd I would apprec iate thos e form s , Dr Y eats , as s oon as pos s ible.' 'S he is the m os t objec tionable, unpleas ant, ill-m annered, s our-fac ed old trout I have ever m et! ' exc laim ed J ulie when Mrs S avage had finally m ade her grand exit. 'S wanning about in that ridic ulous c oloured tent of a dres s like Florenc e of A rabia, treating everybody like yes terday's left-overs . Never s aid one word to m e. Did you notic e that? Not a word. A nd did you s ee the hair? S he looks like s he's been frightened by a firework. A nd as for that plas tic s urgery s he's had, it didn't work, I c an tell you that. W hen you get c los e up, the s kin that's been s tretc hed right bac k off her fac e is tuc ked under her c hin like a gerbil's pouc h. I rec kon the s urgeon m us t have been left-handed.' 'J ulie,' I s aid, 'don't hold bac k. T ell us what you really think about Mrs S avage.' Laughter returned to the offic e.

19

'Y ou never told m e s he was beautiful.' Chris tine and I were walking down the drive to Cas tles nelling High S c hool on a warm Friday evening on our way to the final perform anc e of the s taff and s tudents ' produc tion of the m us ic al Oliv er!. Chris tine looked s tunning. Her hair s hone golden, her blue eyes s parkled like ic e in the m oonlight and the lightc oloured, c los e-fitting c oat s howed off perfec tly her s lim figure. S he looked like a m ovie s tar. I felt s o proud to be with her. 'I didn't think it was im portant,' I replied c as ually. 'Y ou jus t s aid s he was very c lever, you never m entioned that s he had looks as well as brains .' Our c onvers ation had got around to Dr Gerry Mullarkey, who had vis ited W innery Nook S c hool that day. 'S he was c ertainly s inging your prais es . S he s aid how helpful you had been.' 'Really?' I replied in a non-c om m ittal tone of voic e. 'T aken her around s c hools , introduc ed her to all the im portant people, helped her s ettle in, even s hown her s om e of the wonderful s c enery. Y ou m us t have s een quite a lot of her.' 'W ell, it's the leas t I c an do. A fter all, s he is a new c olleague and everyone was really friendly when I s tarted.' B y this tim e we had arrived at the entranc e and a good opportunity for m e, I thought, to c hange the s ubjec t. 'I hope this produc tion is going to be all right,' I s aid, opening the door for Chris tine. 'T he las t play I s aw here was awful.' 'Is s he m arried?' 'W ho?' 'Geraldine Mullarkey.' 'No, s he's not m arried.' I tried again to c hange the s ubjec t. 'It was a grues om e produc tion of Hamlet they did here las t year. T he s tage at the end looked like a s c ene from the Firs t W orld W ar, full of people wounded and bleeding and dying and dead -' 'A nd is s he c om ing tonight?' s he as ked, walking ahead of m e. 'Chris tine, will you s top going on about Gerry. No, of c ours e s he is n't c om ing tonight. S he's the s c ienc e ins pec tor. W hat would s he be doing at a s c hool play? If I didn't know you better I'd s ay you were jealous .' 'W ell, s he is very attrac tive.' 'S o you keep telling m e.' 'A nd you've been s pending a great deal of tim e with her. S he s aid you had been partic ularly helpful by attending a diffic ult m eeting with her a week ago. W as that when you c anc elled our night out at the theatre?' 'Y es , it was , as a m atter of fac t.' 'Mm m m .' 'W hat's "Mm m m " s uppos ed to m ean? Chris tine, there is nothing going on between m e and Gerry Mullarkey. S he's jus t a c olleague.' 'B ut a v ery attrac tive c olleague with whom you have been out quite a few tim es now.' 'I've not been going out with her, as you put it. Ours is a purely profes s ional relations hip.' 'Has s he got a boyfriend?' 'No, I don't think s he has .' 'Mm m m .' 'T here you go again.' W e found our s eats , s m ac k in the c entre of the front row and Chris tine c ontinued the c onvers ation. 'Y ou s eem to be s urrounded by good-looking wom en.' 'Chris tine, m os t of m y tim e is s pent with s m all c hildren, s potty adoles c ents , ageing wom en teac hers , m arried m en, c rus ty c ounty c ounc illors and nuns . I don't know where you get this idea that I s pend m y whole day with the c ontes tants for Mis s W orld. You m ake m e s ound like s om e s ort of Cas anova. A nd, as for the E duc ation Offic e, it's like a m en's c lub. T here's hardly a wom an in s ight.' 'T here's your s ec retary.' 'S he's not m uc h m ore than a teenager and s he's engaged.' 'T here's that very attrac tive wom an with the expens ive c lothes .' 'W hic h very attrac tive wom an with the expens ive c lothes ?' 'S he was with Dr Gore earlier this week when he c am e to s peak to the infant s c hool headteac hers . S he was wearing this inc redible s ilk s ari affair with m as s es of s ilver jewellery.' 'Y ou m ean Mrs S avage! ' I exc laim ed. 'S he's very unus ual and s triking.' 'Chris tine, the lim es tone c averns beneath Malham Tarn are very unus ual and s triking, P en-y-ghent in winter is very unus ual and s triking, Hopton Crags are very unus ual and s triking, but I don't want to s pend all m y tim e down a c ave, up a m ountain, or hanging off a c liff. Mrs S avage would be the las t wom an on earth I would have any des igns on. I'd s ooner play pos tm an's knoc k with the bride of Frankens tein. Mrs S avage is the m os t dis agreeable pers on I have ever m et. A nd,' I added hotly, 's he's old.' 'Mm m m ,' hum m ed Chris tine, s m iling, 'I do s eem to have touc hed a raw nerve.' I had been hoping for a pleas ant, s tres s -free evening and a c hanc e to forget about the hec tic c ouple of weeks I'd jus t had, but things were not turning out like that. Following m y vis it to Ugglem atters by County J unior S c hool, I had taken great c are over m y written c ritic al report and then s hown it to Harold. He had s ighed, s haken his head and told m e to take a c opy over to Dr Gore, who he felt needed to s ee it. I had arrived at the CE O's offic e firs t thing the next m orning, des pite knowing full well that there would be very little pos s ibility of getting a direc t audienc e with the great m an him s elf. Mrs S avage, no doubt, would be keeping vigil. S ure enough, s he had s potted m e c reeping down the top c orridor, had s hot out of her room like a keen-eyed guard dog and had im peded m y progres s , ins is ting that Dr Gore was very bus y. I had then been as ked to c om plete one of her wretc hed piec es of paper - Form S IN 1: S c hools in Need - and I had s pent a tedious ten m inutes tic king a s eries of little boxes , while s he hovered over m e like a m align pres enc e. Later that day I had been c alled to the telephone and inform ed by Mrs S avage that the CE O, having read m y report, was very c onc erned about the obvious weaknes s es at Ugglem atters by S c hool and a full ins pec tion was to be organis ed and that I s hould get on with it. I em erged from m y reverie about the tires om e day when the m an who had jus t c om e to s it on the next s eat engaged m e in c onvers ation. 'Good evening, Mr P hinn.' I turned to fac e the florid c ountenanc e and great walrus m ous tac he of Lord Marric k. 'Oh, good evening, Lord Marric k,' I replied. 'I'm a governor here, you know,' he s aid, explaining his pres enc e at the s c hool play. 'Like to s how the flag, s upport the s c hool and all that. A c tually, I'm glad I've bum ped into you. J us t this week s ent a letter off to Dr Gore thanking you and your c olleagues for all the help with the Feoffees P ageant. W ent off really well.' 'Y es , it s eem ed to be a great s uc c es s ,' I s aid. 'Crac king day! ' he exc laim ed. I put m y arm around Chris tine's s houlders and nudged her forward. 'Lord Marric k, m ay I introduc e you to Chris tine B entley, Headteac her of W innery Nook Nurs ery and Infant S c hool?' Lord Marric k leaned ac ros s m e, took Chris tine's hand in his , patted it gently and s m iled warm ly. 'V ery pleas ed to m eet you, Mis s B entley.' A t this point we both c aught s ight of a large figure am bling towards the front of the hall. I rec ognis ed the thic k nec k, vas t red fac e, purple pitted nos e and m op of unnaturally s hiny, jet blac k hair. It was Counc illor P eters on. 'Good God! ' exc laim ed Lord Marric k, turning towards m e. 'I hope George P eters on is n't going to inflic t him s elf on us . I've never m et a m an who c an talk like him . Cas e of verbal diarrhoea. P ain in the proverbials , he is .' T he c ounc illor s potted us , waved and headed in our direc tion. 'He's s een us ! He's c om ing over. B rac e yours elf, Mr P hinn.' J us t at that m om ent the lights began to fade, the orc hes tra s topped tuning up and the c onduc tor, a dapper little m an in a dinner jac ket, m ade his entranc e. Counc illor P eters on thought better of c om ing over to us and found a s eat further along the row. B oth Lord Marric k and I s ighed with relief. 'Have you m et Counc illor P eters on?' Lord Marric k whis pered. 'Y es ,' I replied, 'I've m et him .' I had s een um pteen s c hool produc tions of Oliv er! but this was the firs t where live anim als form ed part of the c as t. I had advis ed the Head of Dram a, when he telephoned m e before E as ter to invite m e to the perform anc e, that it was extrem ely ris ky to have anim als on s tage. Children were unpredic table enough, but anim als ! He told m e that the c at and dog he planned to us e were very well trained and that he wanted this produc tion to be as authentic , different and m em orable as pos s ible. He ignored m y advic e. A ll went well in the firs t half of the s how. In A c t I, W idow Corney's c at behaved im pec c ably, purring and m ewing at jus t the right m om ents to the delight of the audienc e. W hen Mr B um ble s troked its head, it m eowed and yawned widely as if it had rehears ed this very m ovem ent; it rec eived a well-des erved flutter of applaus e. T he fat, bow-legged bull terrier, B ulls eye, pulled on to the s tage by the fears om e-looking Head of the P E Departm ent playing the part of the villain, B ill S ikes , als o behaved rem arkably well. It s at obediently when c om m anded, growling on c ue and even s narling when Fagin appeared. It was a vic ious looking c reature with a body like a s m all white barrel and when it yawned it dis played a s et of s errated teeth of frightening proportions . T he Head of P E really took on the part of the bullying thief with a vengeanc e. He was a huge, hairy, s warthy c om plexioned individual with a great boom ing voic e and a twis ted s neer. He roared and threatened, banging his c udgel s o hard on tables , c hairs and anything in his path that the very s tage s et s hook. T he c hildren in Fagin's gang looked genuinely terrified of him . It happened in the very las t ac t. Nanc y (the Head of the Food Tec hnology Departm ent) had jus t finis hed a rous ing rendering of 'A s Long A s He Needs Me'. S he had put her heart and s oul into the s inging bec aus e it was the las t night and all her fam ily and friends oc c upied a large bloc k of s eats in the m iddle of the hall. T hey had s hown loud apprec iation every tim e s he had m ade an appearanc e on s tage. It was the denouement of the dram a. Nanc y had brought Oliver to the m eeting plac e on London B ridge to return him to his fam ily but s he had been followed by B ill S ikes . He entered a darkened s tage dragging the fat, s narling brute behind him . T he s tum py little tail was tuc ked down (not a good s ign, I learned later), the barrel body was quivering and the s m all, grey, s hark eyes looked dis tinc tly s inis ter. 'W hat you doin' on London B ridge at this tim e o' night, Nanc y, m y gel?' growled B ill S ikes . T he dog m ade a deep, low, rum bling s ound. 'B ill! ' c ried the Head of the Food T ec hnology Departm ent in a plaintive voic e. 'W hy do you look at m e like that?' T he Head of P E glowered, c urled his top lip, s hook his c udgel m enac ingly and m oved towards his vic tim . T he dog s narled, as if on c ue. 'It's dark 'ere under the arc hes , aint it, Nanc y, m y gel, but there's light enough for wot I got to do.' 'W hadaya m ean, B ill?' 'Y ou've opened them pretty red lips of yours , Nanc y, onc e too often but you'll not be opening 'em again... hever.' He then gave a great tug on the piec e of rope attac hed to the dog. B ulls eye had planted his bow legs firm ly on the boards , however, and did not m ove an inc h. 'Com e on, B ulls eye! ' c om m anded the Head of P E in a voic e as rough as gravel and gave the rope another great tug. T he dog lifted its fat, round head s lightly and fixed him with its c old button eyes . T hen it s hot like a c annonball s traight for him , s narling and s lavering. 'B loody hell! ' s hrieked the Head of P E and, dropping his c udgel, s hot off s tage right, leaving the dog c entre s tage and Nanc y frozen at the other s ide. T he anim al eyed her vic ious ly and began to m ove s lowly in her direc tion. T he c onduc tor, with great pres enc e of m ind, took c harge of the s ituation and, tapping his baton on his m us ic s tand, led the orc hes tra into a repris e of 'A s Long A s He Needs Me'. T he Head of the Food Tec hnology Departm ent, in a frightened little voic e, quavered the s ong to a hus hed audienc e. T he dog am bled ac ros s the s tage, s urveyed her for a m om ent, growled and then dis played his m agnific ent s et of teeth. T here was a voic e offs tage. 'Here, Dais y, here, girl! Dais y, c om e on, Dais y, here, girl! ' T he dog rem ained rooted to the s pot, s narling and s napping its jaws . T he Head of the Food T ec hnology Departm ent s topped s inging and, terrified, s tared at the beas t as it edged c los er. 'T his is no bloody good at all! ' Lord Marric k s aid loudly; ris ing to his feet. He s trode to the s ide of the s tage, m ounted the s teps , s kirted round the trem bling Nanc y and took hold of the dog's c ollar. 'Now then, Dais y! ' he c om m anded s taring down into the anim al's s him m ering eyes . 'S it! Down! ' T he dog returned the gaze for a m om ent, then flopped flat to the floor. 'Com e to heel! ' ordered Lord Marric k. T he dog s c rabbled to its feet obediently and was led offs tage to loud, apprec iative c lapping. A rather s ham e-fac ed B ill S ikes reappeared, quic kly des patc hed Nanc y by s trangulation and m ade an em barras s ed exit. 'W ell, that were a rum do,' obs erved Counc illor P eters on, s c ratc hing his head as we headed for the exit at the end of the perform anc e. 'T hey jus t need to know who's the m as ter,' s aid Lord Marric k, looking pretty pleas ed with him s elf. Following the play, Chris tine and I went out to dinner in Fettles ham . B y the tim e we reac hed the res taurant we were both in high s pirits . Re-living the play's unus ual c lim ax, we laughed until we c ried. Over c offee, I looked ac ros s the table at her. S he looked s o beautiful. P erhaps this was the m om ent to tell her that I had fallen for her in a big way. 'Gervas e,' s he s aid s uddenly, 'there's s om ething I feel I have to tell you.' 'Oh,' I s aid. T his s ounded horribly om inous . 'W ell, it's rather em barras s ing, but I really do have to tell you.' 'W hat?' My heart s ank. S he was going to tell m e s he did not want to s ee m e again, that s he was not prepared to s hare m e with Gerry, that s he'd heard about offic e affairs , that there were other fis h in the s ea, that s he had m et s om eone els e. 'W hat?' I as ked again. 'W hat is it?' 'W ell,' s he paus ed and glanc ed away from m y pierc ing gaze. It looked to m e as if there was a s light s m ile on her lips . 'It's really very diffic ult but s om eone has to tell you.' 'T ell m e, tell m e,' I ins is ted. 'Now it's not s om ething you s hould feel at all as ham ed about.' 'For goodnes s s ake, Chris tine, put m e out of m y m is ery.' 'It is quite em barras s ing but -' 'Chris tine! W ill y ou tell me?' 'Y ou have s om e little lodgers .' 'Lodgers ?' I was utterly perplexed. 'In your hair.' 'In m y hair?' 'P leas e s top repeating m e,' s he s aid. 'It's diffic ult enough as it is .' S he took a deep breath before whis pering, 'Y ou've got nits .' 'Nits ! ' I c ried. S everal heads turned in our direc tion. 'Y ou've been, um , s c ratc hing all night. It's quite c om m on for thos e who work with c hildren to get head lic e. Y ou've probably been in a s c hool where a c hild has them . I s ee lots of c as es . Now, tom orrow you m us t go s traight to the c hem is t and get s om e m edic ated s ham poo and a very thin m etal c om b.' 'Y es , m is s ,' I s aid quietly. 'Is there anything els e you wis h to tell m e?' 'W ell, I think you're free of s c abies ,' s he replied laughing. 'W ill you s till go out with m e?' 'W hen you have got rid of the little lodgers ,' s he s aid s m iling warm ly. I was outs ide the c hem is t's bright and early the next m orning. W hile I waited for the s hop to open, I c ons idered where I m ight have pic ked up the nas ty nits . It c ould not have been from m y firs t vis it to Ugglem atters by S c hool bec aus e that had been over a m onth before. However, I had rec ently paid the s c hool a s ec ond vis it and now rem em bered that the s elf-s am e Mandy W ilm ott had been s c ratc hing away at her wild and woolly hair when I had s at in on her c las s to s ee if any im provem ents had been m ade. A young wom an in a bright white nylon overall opened the door at nine o'c loc k, and s m iled at m e as I entered. T his is oh s o em barras s ing, I thought to m ys elf. 'May I help you, s ir?' s he as ked brightly. 'Y es , I'd like... s om ething... for... for...' S he detec ted m y em barras s m ent. 'S om ething for the weekend?' 'No, no! ' I exc laim ed. 'I'd like... er...' 'W ould you prefer a m ale as s is tant to help you, s ir?' 'P ardon?' 'Is the item you wis h to purc has e of a pers onal and intim ate nature? W ould you prefer the m anager to s erve you?' S he s m iled knowingly. 'Oh, well yes , it is of a pers onal nature. I want s om ething for lic e.' 'Is that for head lic e?' s he as ked. 'Oh yes , definitely head lic e.' 'Right,' s he s aid and dipped down behind the c ounter. 'T here's this very good s ham poo and you need a fine m etal c om b as well. Is it for your little girl? Long hair often proves very attrac tive.' I nodded. 'P oor thing. You need to put plenty of c onditioner on her hair and c om b it thoroughly when it's wet. Nits c an't s tic k to hair with c onditioner on.' 'I s ee.' 'Is there anything els e?' 'No, no, that's all,' I s aid, paying for the item s before beating a has ty retreat. Mos t of the weekend was s pent was hing and s howering and s c rubbing and c om bing and by Monday m y vis itors had gone. I arrived at the offic e to find m y c olleagues in very high s pirits . 'I c ould hear the nois e from the bottom of the s tairs ,' I s aid as I entered. 'Y ou s ound jus t like Mrs S avage,' S idney told m e with tears in his eyes , and that s et everybody off into paroxys m s of laughter. 'Don't c om e in! ' s houted David. 'S tay at the door.' 'Oh no, no, you c an't c om e in yet, Gervas e,' c om m anded S idney. 'W hatever is going on?' I as ked from the doorway. 'Oh, do tell him , S idney! ' c ried David. 'Do tell him ! ' 'T ell m e what?' I dem anded. 'T hey c ouldn't have found a m ore des erving hom e,' c huc kled David.

'W hat are you talking about?' I as ked, getting irritated. 'For goodnes s s ake, let him in,' s aid Harold. 'I think you s hould tell him , David, and s avour the m om ent,' s aid S idney. T here was a great gas ping in-drawing of breath and then David, trying to keep a s traight fac e, announc ed: 'Mrs S avage has got nits ! ' 'W hat?' I c ried. 'S he s ent over one of her bits of c oloured paper this m orning,' explained J ulie with s m ears of m as c ara down her c heeks . 'K nown from this day on as Form NIT 1,' s aid David. 'A nd on it s he s ays -' 'No! No, wait a m inute, let m e read it! ' c ried S idney, pluc king a pink s heet of paper from his in-tray. T hen he read the m em o in a m oc k-s erious tone. ' "Mem bers of s taff s hould note that there has been an outbreak of head lic e in the E duc ation Departm ent at County Hall. E m ployees s hould take the nec es s ary prec autions , c hec k their hair and s c alp and, s hould they dis c over any infes tation, rem ain off work, us e the appropriate m edic ated hair treatm ent from a c hem is t and only return to duty when c lear. Head lic e, P edic us humanus , are s m all ins ec ts and feed by s uc king blood through the s c alp." J ulie, will you s top laughing, I'm trying to read this . "Lic e find it diffic ult to es c ape wet hair when c om bed bec aus e it is s lippery and they c an't get a grip s o -" ' B y now everyone was bent double in paroxys m s of laughter. 'Oh, I give up! ' roared S idney. 'J ulie phoned Marlene on the m ain s witc hboard,' s pluttered David, 'and found out that Mrs S avage has been infes ted along with m os t of the top c orridor. E veryone rec kons s he's the c arrier. S he was s een s c ratc hing her way into the CE O's room firs t thing this m orning. E vidently Dr Gore has now banis hed her until s he's got rid of them .' 'I do think you are all being a little unkind to Mrs S avage,' s aid Harold, attem pting to s uppres s his laughter. 'I'm s ure that s he is not as bad as s he is painted. S he c an be quite c harm ing and it c an't be nic e to have lic e.' 'I m us t rem em ber that little phras e the next tim e s he c om es over here with her s illy bits of paper,' s aid David. 'It c an't be nic e to have lic e.' 'A nd before you c an enter here, dear boy,' s aid S idney to m e, holding up his hand like a c ros s ing patrol warden, 'you have to be thoroughly c hec ked. W e have our own res ident expert on ins ec ts , m inibeas ts , paras ites and wildlife. I give you Dr Geraldine Mullarkey.' Gerry jum ped up from her des k, direc ted m e to a c hair, tilted bac k m y head and peered at m y s c alp. S he m oved a few s trands of hair with her long fingers . 'A ll c lear,' s he announc ed. 'Cleanes t hair I've s een in m onths .' 'A h, Gervas e,' s ighed S idney, leaning bac k in his c hair and putting his hands behind his head. 'W hat a way to s tart the week - to have a beautiful young wom an run her s oft fingers through your hair. It's worth having nits for.' I turned very very red - and prayed that m y c olleagues would think the blus h em anated from being s o c los e to the enc hanting Dr Mullarkey rather than for the real reas on. A s I fiddled with s om e papers on m y des k, I rec alled that in the m iddle of the previous week I had been ac ros s to the A nnexe to dis c us s m y s ec ond vis it to Ugglem atters by with Dr Gore and that I had had to wait for s om e tim e in Mrs S avage's offic e until he c ould s ee m e. I now had a very nas ty s us pic ion that I had been the original c arrier of the little lodgers to the top floor.

20

T here was a s harp rap on the glas s . A large, round, red-fac ed polic em an peered into the c ar and ges tured for m e to wind down the window. 'May I help you, offic er?' I as ked. 'Y es , s ir, I think you c an,' was the reply. 'W hat exac tly are you doing?' 'P ardon?' I was quite taken abac k by the s harpnes s of his m anner. 'I as ked you what exac tly are you doing?' 'Nothing,' I replied. Help! W as m y tax dis c out of date or were m y tyres worn down to an illegal s tate? 'Is there s om ething wrong?' 'W e have had a num ber of c alls from s everal c onc erned res idents in this vic inity, and from a teac her reporting a s us pic ious -looking c harac ter parked outs ide the s c hool and watc hing the c hildren as they enter. A nd, furtherm ore,' he em phas is ed the words , 'm aking notes in a blac k book.' 'Oh, I s ee.' I s ighed with relief. 'I c an explain.' 'I hope you c an, s ir. W ould you m ind s tepping out of the c ar?' 'Y es , yes , of c ours e.' 'I have been obs erving you for the las t five m inutes and your behaviour does give ris e to a num ber of ques tions .' He took out his notebook and flic ked it open. 'Now, s ir...' 'I'm a s c hool ins pec tor,' I explained. 'I s ee,' he s aid, looking dec idedly unc onvinc ed. 'S c hool ins pec tor.' He wrote it down. 'A nd you have s om e m eans of identific ation, do you, s ir?' 'Of c ours e,' I replied, reac hing for m y wallet and produc ing m y County Hall identity c ard whic h was prom ptly pluc ked from m y hand. He then c arefully s c rutinized the photograph, looked earnes tly at m e, c opied down the details and s napped the book s hut. 'Is everything in order, offic er?' I as ked. 'It appears to be, s ir, but if I m ay s ay s o, it is unwis e to s it outs ide a s c hool watc hing the c hildren go in and out. It does lend its elf to s pec ulation. Muc h better to go in and m ake your pres enc e known to the Headteac her.' 'Y es , offic er, quite right,' I ans wered s heepis hly. 'It won't happen again. It's jus t that I arrived rather early for m y appointm ent. I s hall, of c ours e, take your advic e in future. It jus t never oc c urred to m e.' T he polic em an nodded s erious ly but m ade no effort to m ove. 'S o, if that's all -?' 'I'll ac c om pany you on to the prem is es , s ir, if I m ay.' S o I was es c orted ac ros s the road, down the s c hool path and to the entranc e of T upton Road P rim ary S c hool, watc hed with interes t by as s orted c hildren, a gaggle of whis pering parents and a large, s olem n-fac ed c ros s ing patrol warden who held her S T OP ! CHILDRE N CROS S ING! s ign like s om e W agnerian operatic heroine wielding a s pear. I was greeted at the door of the s c hool by a lean m iddle-aged wom an with a pale, indrawn fac e. B ehind her s tood her s m all, nervous -looking c om panion who c lutc hed an um brella like a defens ive weapon. T he taller of the two had large dark eyes whic h looked even darker nes tling as they were in heavy blac k m akeup. T he pale fac e and blac k eyes gave her the appearanc e of a rac oon. 'Is there s om ething wrong, offic er?' s he exc laim ed. 'A re you the Headteac her?' as ked the polic em an. 'Y es , I am ,' s he replied in an anxious voic e. 'Mrs Daphne W ils on. Has there been an ac c ident?' T he polic em an ignored the ques tion. 'Do you know this gentlem an, m adam ?' 'Never s een him before in m y life,' s he s aid, s taring intently at m e. 'He was the m an in the c ar outs ide the s c hool, Mrs W ils on. T he one I telephoned the polic e about,' added the s m all wom an with the um brella. 'Oh, was he?' s aid the Headteac her. My heart s ank. T he s c hool s ec retary em erged from her offic e and s c rutinized m e as if trying to put a nam e to a fam iliar fac e. A m om ent later the c aretaker appeared from the s c hool hall, arm ed with a s weeping brus h, and glared at m e as if I had walked ac ros s his wet floor. 'I'm Gervas e P hinn! ' I announc ed to the knot of obs ervers . 'T he s c hool ins pec tor.' My audienc e c ontinued to gape. 'From the E duc ation Offic e in Fettles ham . I have an appointm ent.' 'Oh yes , of c ours e,' s aid the Headteac her, reddening with em barras s m ent. S he turned to the polic em an, who was flic king open his notebook again, and s aid, 'It's quite all right, offic er. I am expec ting an ins pec tor, but I never im agined that he would c om e with a polic e es c ort.' T he s ec retary and the c aretaker dis appeared and the polic em an, having s atis fied him s elf of m y identity, departed, paus ing at the gates of the s c hool to reas s ure the group of anxious onlookers . 'Mr P hinn,' s aid Mrs W ils on holding out her hand and s m iling to c over her dis c om fiture, 'I'm pleas ed to m eet you.' 'I am terribly s orry, Mrs W ils on...' I began and then attem pted to explain that I always gave m ys elf plenty of tim e to find the s c hools I vis ited and that if I arrived early I s at in the c ar - but that this was s om ething I would never do again. 'It's not you who s hould be s orry, Mr P hinn,' s aid the Headteac her, turning in the direc tion of her c olleague and glowering. 'I do wis h you had c ons ulted m e, Marion, before telephoning the polic e. T his is a very unfortunate s tart to the day. I c annot begin to im agine what Mr P hinn m us t be thinking.' 'W ell, I'm s orry, Mrs W ils on, I'm s ure,' the s ec ond wom an replied, c learly s tung by the rebuke, 'but I thought he m ight be a c hild m oles ter. One has to be very vigilant thes e days .' 'T his is Mrs T hic kett,' s aid the Headteac her s om ewhat c oldly. 'S he's in c harge of the junior c las s .' 'How do you do,' I s aid, attem pting a s m ile. 'I m ean, you c an't be too c areful,' s aid the infant teac her, twis ting the ring on her finger nervous ly. 'Not where vulnerable little c hildren are c onc erned. Y ou read all the tim e in the papers about thes e abus ers , s ex offenders and c hild m oles ters . T here was a terrible program m e on the televis ion las t week about -' 'Mr P hinn hardly looks like a c hild m oles ter, Marion,' interrupted the Headteac her s harply, s till glaring at her. 'Oh, they don't all wear dirty rainc oats , you know, Mrs W ils on. S om e of them c om e in s uits .' 'W ell, there's no harm done.' I s m iled reas s uringly at Mrs T hic kett. 'Mis takes do happen. A nyway, I was at fault not c om ing into s c hool as s oon as I arrived. P erhaps now that things have been c leared up...' I endeavoured to m ove the c onvers ation on by beginning to explain what I wis hed to do during the m orning vis it but the little wom an would not let it lie. 'Y ou have to be s o c areful when it c om es to the s m all ones . Y ou hear all thes e dreadful s tories of c hildren being dragged into c ars and driven off. It's a terrible world we live in, a terrible world.' Oh dear, I thought, this does not bode well. I eventually m anaged to have ten m inutes alone with the Headteac her to explain the foc us of m y vis it. I was there to m onitor the teac hing and learning of E nglis h and agreed to s tart the m orning in her infant c las s . Mrs W ils on's c las s room was c lean, orderly and dec orated with bright pos ters and paintings . A few piec es of young c hildren's firs t writing attem pts were pinned alongs ide lis ts of key words , the alphabet and various arithm etic al tables . Ranks of s m all m elam ine-topped tables were grouped together, eac h with a tray c ontaining penc ils , rulers , c rayons and s c is s ors . T here was a s m all Reading Corner with a s quare of c arpet, two large c us hions and a bookc as e full of as s orted books , als o a play area - the Hom e Corner - whic h had been s et out as a c afe with a c ounter, plas tic till, a table and a c hair. T he room s m elt of bleac h and lavender floor polis h. I pos itioned m ys elf at the rear of the c las s room and watc hed as the c hildren entered. T hey eyed m e s us pic ious ly as they filed pas t and took their s eats . W hen they were all s ettled and fac ing the teac her, Mrs W ils on began. 'Good m orning, c hildren,' s he s aid jovially. 'Good m orning, Mrs W ils on, good m orning, everyone,' the c hildren c horus ed. 'T his m orning, c hildren, we have a s pec ial vis itor.' 'It's the m an in the c ar,' c hirped up a c heeky-fac ed youngs ter s wivelling round to get a better look at m e. 'My m um phoned the bobbies about him .' Oh dear, oh dear! I thought, this little inc ident is not going to go away. A ll eyes were now trained on m e. I s m iled wearily. 'T hat was bec aus e your m other thought that Mr P hinn was a bad m an, S hane,' s aid the teac her in a s im pering voic e. 'B ut Mr P hinn is not a bad m an. He's a nic e m an.' I winc ed. 'W hy did m y m um phone the bobbies then, m is s ?' pers is ted the c hild, glanc ing again in m y direc tion. 'B ec aus e s he thought that Mr P hinn was s om ebody els e.' 'A kidnapper, m is s ?' 'No, not a kidnapper.' 'A m urderer?' T he c hild's voic e ros e in exc item ent. 'Don't be s illy, S hane. S he thought Mr P hinn was a s tranger and jus t to be on the s afe s ide telephoned the polic e. Rem em ber that parents and teac hers tell you not to talk to s trangers s o you all have to be very c areful. B ut Mr P hinn is not a s tranger bec aus e I know him .' 'B ut I don't know him , m is s ,' s aid the c hild. 'W ell, you s oon will,' replied the teac her, with a s harper ring to her voic e. 'Now, let's hear no m ore about it. Mr P hinn's a s c hool ins pec tor, here this m orning to s ee how well you are doing and to look at all the lovely work you do. S o, don't be afraid to s peak to him and ans wer his ques tions . He's very friendly.' I didn't feel at all friendly. 'My m um m y s ays I haven't to s peak to s trangers ,' announc ed a frightened-looking little girl at the front des k. 'Mr P hinn is not a s tranger, Melanie,' Mrs W ils on s aid s lowly and deliberately. 'I know him , Mrs T hic kett knows him and I s ay it is all right to talk to him .' Following the m orning's unfortunate epis ode, I rather expec ted a quiet, nervous group of young c hildren when I s tarted m y tour around the c las s room but the c ontrary was true. During the c ours e of the m orning, I m oved from des k to des k s peaking to the c hildren about their s tories , exam ining their work and lis tening to them read. I found them lively and interes ted and full of ques tions . T hings s eem ed to be taking a turn for the better. In the Hom e Corner, s et out as Fred's Cafe, I m et a s toc ky, s ix-year-old boy dres s ed in a large blue apron. He was playing the part of Fred, the proprietor. A ll around him were notic es and s igns : NO DOGS A LLOW E D, S P E CIA L OF T HE W E E K , COD 'N' CHIP S , NO S MOK ING! W A IT E R S E RV ICE . I s eated m ys elf at the s m all table and looked at a blank piec e of paper at the top of whic h was written in bold lettering: ME NU. T he little boy s idled up and s tared at m e intently. I looked up. 'W hat's it to be?' he as ked. 'Oh,' I s aid, taking on the role of a c us tom er, 'I think I'll jus t have s om ething to drink.' 'A nything to eat?' 'No, I don't think s o.' 'S o you jus t want a drink?' 'Y es , pleas e.' 'W hat about s om e fis h 'n' c hips ?' 'No, I'm really not that hungry.' 'J us t a drink?' 'T hat's right.' T he boy dis appeared and returned a m om ent later with a s m all, em pty plas tic beaker whic h he plac ed before m e. T hen he watc hed intently as I drank the im aginary liquid, lic ked m y lips and exc laim ed, 'T hat was the nic es t c up of tea I have had in a long while.' 'It's an 'arf o' bitter,' he told m e bluntly and walked off. On m y tours of s c hools , I have vis ited m any Hom e Corners : doc tors ' s urgeries , optic ians , banks , fis h and c hip s hops , V ic torian s c hoolroom s , dentis ts , floris ts , libraries , garages , c orner s hops , travel agents , c lothes s hops , s trange planets and s ec ret c aves - a whole range of im aginary plac es where the s m all c hildren enter m ake-believe worlds and where their language is often at its ric hes t and m os t c reative. I have s een infant c hildren taking on a whole hos t of roles , im itating m others and fathers , brothers and s is ters , teac hers and other adults with whom they c om e in c ontac t. On one oc c as ion I vis ited a Hom e Corner s et out as an es tate agents . Rac hel, the s ix-year-old rec eptionis t, was s itting behind a des k on whic h had been arranged pens , penc ils , a tape m eas ure, a c alc ulator, a plas tic telephone and a toy c as h dis pens er. S he had a nam e c ard bearing the nam e 'Mis s R. P rentic e' pinned to her dres s and a pair of large s pec tac le fram es on the tip of her nos e. On a s m all table a range of broc hures had been arranged, s om e m ade by the pupils them s elves . 'Good m orning,' s he s aid c heerfully when I entered. 'May I help you?' 'I'm looking for a hous e,' I s aid, 'a big one.' S he pointed to the s m all table. 'T here are lots to c hoos e from ,' s he s aid c onfidently. 'Have a brows e.' 'I like the look of this hous e,' I s aid, pointing to a photograph of the larges t and the m os t expens ive. T he girl s hook her head. 'S old,' s he replied, 's ubjec t to c ontrac t.' 'W hat about this one?' I s aid, pic king up a photograph of another large res idenc e. It had turrets and big bay windows , a great s weeping drive and tall iron gates . S he leaned forward and in a c onfidential voic e inform ed m e that 'B ig hous es c os t a lot of m oney, you know. W hy don't you buy a little one?' S he thrus t a pic ture of a s m all red-bric ked terrac ed hous e into m y hand. S he c learly thought that big hous es were way out of m y league. 'T his one s hould do you.' I rec all the tim e during m y firs t year as an ins pec tor when I had found a Hom e Corner s et out as a baby c linic and a s m all girl c lutc hing a large doll to her c hes t. S he had been s urrounded by s c ales , towels , feeding bottles , a plas tic bath and a toy c ot. A s I approac hed s he had looked up alarm ed. 'Go away! ' s he had c ried. 'I'm breas t feeding! ' T he m os t m em orable and dram atic inc ident in a Hom e Corner had taken plac e in a large infant s c hool in the town of Crom pton. It had been s et out as a little pos t offic e and there were two s m all girls , c lutc hing s hopping bags , waiting to be s erved by a s m all pixie-like boy with enorm ous glas s es that m ade his eyes look larger than ever. S uddenly a bruis er of a little boy had burs t in brandis hing a large plas tic gun. 'T his is a s tic k up! ' he had s houted. 'Get them 'ands up in the air and let's be 'aving yer c as h! ' T he two little girls had looked unperturbed and had readily obliged and the c hild behind the c ounter had em ptied various bits of paper, repres enting the takings , into the paper bag whic h had been held out to him . T he little bank robber had s natc hed the papers that the two little girls had been holding and m ade a quic k get-away. 'Is n't it terrible?' one little girl had c om plained, s haking her head. 'He's gone and nic ked m i fam ily allowanc e.' 'Ne'er m ind, love,' the other c hild had c ons oled her, 'we'll c all at t'S oc ial on t'way 'om e and you c an get a c redit note.' A s I left Fred's Cafe that m orning, I m et another c us tom er. It was S hane, the c heeky-fac ed youngs ter whos e m um had telephoned the bobbies about m e. T here was a s m all plas tic polic em an's helm et on his head. 'Mornin',' he s aid. 'I wants a word wi' you.' Oh dear, oh dear! I thought, and beat a c oward's retreat to the s taff room for c offee. A fter m orning break, I joined Mrs T hic kett in the junior c las s room and began by hearing the c hildren read. T he firs t c hild, J anine, was a s trikingly pretty little blac k girl with long beaded hair and a bright, open s m ile. 'I love reading,' s he announc ed in a m atter-of-fac t voic e. 'Do you indeed?' 'I read all the tim e at hom e, you know.' 'Do you?' 'A nd Mum m y reads to m e and Daddy and Gram pa and Grannie.' 'Really? Y ou are a luc ky girl.' 'A nd I get books for m y birthday and at Chris tm as , and we go to the library every S aturday m orning.' 'S o you read a great deal?' 'My daddy c alls m e a bibliom aniac . He s ays it's bec aus e I'm m ad about books . A nd I am . I love books .' I s m iled and looked into the s hiny open fac e. 'A nd you probably have a lot of your own books , do you?' 'E nough to s tart a library. T hat's what m y m um m y s ays .' 'W ill you read to m e, then?' 'I'd love to.' S he was indeed a very good reader: c lear and expres s ive and with all the s elf-as s uranc e and high s elf-es teem of the ac hieving c hild who has experienc ed nothing but enc ouragem ent throughout her s hort life. 'Do you think I'm a good reader?' s he as ked when s he had finis hed. 'No,' I replied, 'you're not a good reader.' T he c hild's s anguine expres s ion dis appeared in an ins tant, and s he looked quite s tartled ins tead. 'Y ou are a brilliant reader! ' T he s m ile returned, in triplic ate. 'Y ou are one of the very bes t readers I have ever heard.' Later in the m orning I c am e ac ros s S am .. He was a s m all ros y-c heeked boy with wiry blond hair, a round little bis c uit barrel of a body and a doleful expres s ion. He was not lively and interes ted and full of ques tions like J anine, and was unwilling to c om e with m e into the Reading Corner with his book. 'I c an't go on t'c arpet,' he announc ed flatly. 'Y ou c an,' I replied. 'No, I c an't. I c an't go on that c arpet.' 'Did Mrs W ils on s ay you c ouldn't go on the c arpet?' 'No, but I'm not goin' on! ' 'W hy?' 'B ec aus e I'm not! '

'Is there s om e reas on why you c an't go on the c arpet?' I pers is ted. 'A ye, there is .' 'W ell, why c an't you go on the c arpet?' 'B ec aus e I've got s hit on m i s hoe.' 'Oh no! ' I exc laim ed dram atic ally. 'Y ou m us t not s ay that word.' T he c hild m aintained his c arefully blank expres s ion. 'W hat word?' he as ked c as ually. 'T hat firs t word.' 'W hy?' 'B ec aus e it's not a very nic e word for a little boy to us e.' 'W hy?' 'W ell, it's jus t not a nic e word to us e, that's all.' 'W ell, what word s hould I us e then?' 'J us t s ay you've got dirt on your s hoe.' 'B ut it's not dirt, is it? It's s hit.' Oh dear, I thought for the um pteenth tim e that day, another fine m es s I have got m ys elf into. Mrs T hic kett, who had obvious ly been privy to this exc hange, s uddenly appeared at m y s ide and whis pered in m y ear, 'P erhaps he c ould s ay "exc rem ent on his s ole" or "faec es on his feet" or "poo on his s hoe". I feel c ertain it will be s om ewhere in that ins pec tors ' handbook of yours , Mr P hinn.' T here was a hint of s arc as m in her voic e. I dec ided to pers evere and turned bac k to S am . 'W hat does your m um s ay if you have it on your s hoe?' 'Have what on m i s hoe?' 'Y ou know what.' I pointed to his feet. 'S he m akes m e tek m i s hoes off.' 'W ell, take them off, S am , get your reading book and c om e into the Reading Corner with m e.' W hen I had finally prevailed upon him to c om e on the c arpet, he s tood c los e to m e with an expres s ionles s fac e. 'Y es ?' he as ked. 'W ould you like to read to m e?' 'Not partic ularly.' 'W ell, I would really like you to.' S am took a blus tering breath. 'No, I don't think s o. I've bin heard reading already today by Mrs T hic kett and I'm not in t'm ood for another s es s ion at t'm om ent. Mebbe later on.' W ith that he walked away, retrieved his s hoes , exam ined the s oles c ritic ally and returned to his des k. J us t before lunc h S am arrived with a rather dog-eared reading book with a grey c over. It was c alled Dan and Nan hav e Fun. 'I'll read to you now if you want,' he announc ed. 'B ut I'm not reight good. I'm a s low reader tha knaws and I'm s till on the Reading S c hem e books . Mos t others in t'c las s are free readers . I don't know why, but I jus t don't s eem to tek to reading.' 'Don't worry about that, S am ,' I s aid, pleas ed to s ee him , 'jus t try your bes t.' 'I'll c om e on t'c arpet an all, c os I've s een to m i s hoes .' 'Right,' I s aid. 'Mrs T hic kett let m e s c rape off all the s h -' I jum ped in as quic k as a s udden c rac k of a whip. 'T hat's all right, then.' His book was one in a s eries c alled the Funtim e Reading S c hem e. J udging by the c over, it did not appear to jus tify its title. T here were other books in the s eries about pirates and princ es s es , gyps ies and wizards , fairs and pic nic s , holidays and fes tivals . P erhaps the dreary c over of Dan and Nan hav e Fun belied a fas t-m oving s tory of adventure and exc item ent, but I s trongly doubted it. W hen S am , s c rewing up his eyes and furrowing his brow, s tarted to bark out the words , I realis ed that the grey c over reflec ted the c ontents ac c urately. He read the text with s teady determ ination, quic kly flic king through the pages without paus ing to look at the pic tures in an effort to get it over with. Here is Dan. Dan is a boy. Here is Nan. Nan is a girl. Dan is a boy. Nan is a girl. Dan is Nan's brother. Nan is Dan's s is ter. T hey have fun. Here is a hous e. Dan and Nan live in the hous e. T hey live near a river. T hey have fun. Dan has a c anoe. Dan and Nan go in the c anoe. T hey go on the river. Dan paddles the c anoe. T hey have fun. Nan s ings a s ong. Dan c atc hes a fis h. Dan c hops s om e wood. Dan lights a fire. Nan c ooks the fis h. T hey eat the fis h. T hey have fun. T he pic tures depic ted a s parklingly c lean little boy dres s ed in his s c hool blazer and c ap. He wore a s potles s white s hirt, neatly knotted tie, highly polis hed s hoes and knee-length s oc ks - rather inappropriate attire for a fis hing trip in a c anoe, one would have thought. He was beam ing from the page. Nan, too, was gleam ing, dres s ed in a c olourful floral froc k, bright blue s hoes , dazzling white s toc kings and s he was s porting great red ribbons in her long blonde plaits . S he, like her brother, looked ec s tatic ally happy. 'Y ou read that very well, S am ,' I s aid when he had finis hed. 'A ye, I try,' he replied philos ophic ally. 'Y es . Y ou do try very hard,' I s aid, but thinking to m ys elf what a pity that the m aterial was s o dry and dreary. 'W hat do you think of the s tory?' I as ked. 'B loody s tupid! ' I was jus t about to repeat the earlier exc hange of 'Don't s ay that word' but thought better of it. T he book w as 'bloody s tupid'. He c ould not have des c ribed it better. He s hook his head before c ontinuing. 'I m ean going in a c anoe on a fas t-flowing river is as king for trouble. A nd you'd never c atc h a c arp in them waters wi that rod. He wunt c atc h a c old wi' that. A nd as for c hopping wood up with that gret axe. He c ould have taken his fingers off. I wouldn't let 'im loos e wi penknife never m ind a ruddy gret 'atc het. A nd another thing, tha s hould never light fires near a fores t. T hey wants to get s om e work done them two ins tead of prattin' abaat all day havin' fun. I have to c ollec t eggs on our farm , feed s ows , fill troughs and c oop up hens afore m i tea.' He paus ed and looked around him and s niffed the air. 'Can tha s m ell owt, Mes ter P hinn?' he as ked. 'No,' I replied. 'I c an. I rec kons I didn't do s uc h a good job on m i s hoe.' W ith that he walked away. A s I drove bac k to the offic e in Fettles ham that balm y early s um m er afternoon, I thought of J anine returning to a warm , loving world of books and reading and I thought of S am who would be about to s tart his m any c hores on the farm . W hat a different life thos e c hildren led. I determ ined to find that little boy s om e books s im ple enough for him to read but with lively, realis tic c harac ters and an interes ting s toryline. He des erved better than Dan and Nan.

21

T he view from the Headteac her's room in S t Catherine's S c hool was one of the m os t m agnific ent I had ever s een. B eneath a s hining blue s ky s tretc hed a lands c ape of every c onc eivable c olour: light purple m ountains , brilliant green pas tureland, s wathes of yellow and red gors e whic h blazed like a bonfire, dark green hedgerows s pec kled in pinks and whites , twis ted blac k s tum ps , s triding s ilvered lim es tone walls and the grey s nake of a road c urling up the hill to the far dis tanc e. Light, the c olour of m elted butter, danc ed am ongs t the new leaves of early s um m er. 'It's quite a pic ture, is n't it?' s aid the Headteac her. Mrs T hom as was a s m all, am ple, quietly s poken wom an with a kindly pres enc e and a gentle m anner, the s ort of teac her who s ees good in every c hild. 'It is ,' I agreed. It was at tim es like this that I realis ed how fortunate I was to have a job whic h enabled m e to s ee s uc h beauty day after day. S uc h s ights never failed to fill m e with awe. It was Monday and the s tart of a two-day ins pec tion of a s c hool for phys ic ally dis abled c hildren. David, Gerry and I were undertaking what is c olloquially known am ongs t ins pec tors as a 'dip s tic k' ins pec tion. I was to look at the E nglis h and the arts in the s c hool, David the m athem atic s and Gerry the s c ienc es . W e had form ed a very favourable im pres s ion only five m inutes after we had entered the building. W e had arrived at the m ain entranc e to be greeted by large lettering: W E LCOME T O S T CAT HE RINE 'S S CHOOL above the door. A welc om ing party of four s m art, s m iling c hildren s igned us in and gave us badges . T he building was im m ac ulate: c lean, bright walls , c arpeted floors , dis plays of work well m ounted. T here was an atm os phere of c alm about the s c hool, a tranquillity whic h I had c om e ac ros s s everal tim es before in s c hools for the phys ic ally and m entally dis abled. 'Y ou know, I c an s m ell a good s c hool,' obs erved David as we headed for Mrs T hom as 's offic e. 'T he m inute I walk through the door I c an s ens e, in the very atm os phere and environm ent, whether it is a good or a bad s c hool. I have a very pos itive feeling about this plac e.' Not long after, with c lipboard in hand, I m ade m y way to the firs t les s on: dram a. T he teac her, Ms P inkney, a s trapping, jolly wom an with long red hair gathered up in a tortois es hell c om b, and dres s ed in a bright pink and yellow Lyc ra outfit whic h c lung to her as if s he had been poured into it, greeted m e c heerfully and c onfidently. 'Com e along in, Mr P hinn. S hoes by the door, jac ket on a peg. T here's a s pare leotard if you want to s lip into it.' S he beam ed. 'Only joking about the leotard, but you do need to get rid of the c oat and s hoes . I hope you ins pec tors have a s ens e of hum our. You'll need it in here.' B efore I c ould res pond s he rattled on regardles s . 'T he c hildren will arrive in a m om ent. T his is m y s tar group you are about to s ee, full of beans and keen as s harpened knives . You're in for a real treat this m orning. Quite a num ber of c hildren in this c las s are partially s ighted or blind, and three have c erebral pals y. T here's a c ouple with Down's s yndrom e, an autis tic c hild - brilliant artis t he is - and a dys praxic boy. W onderful athlete is P hillip. None of their dis abilities holds them bac k one jot, as you'll s ee. T hey're an extrem ely talented group. In m y opinion, what s tops c hildren like this ac hieving is not lac k of ability but other people's low expec tations of them . Don't you think?' 'It's us ually m e who as ks the ques tions , Ms P inkney,' I replied, 'but now you c om e to m ention it, I c ouldn't agree m ore. I think what you s ay, however, applies equally well to all c hildren, whether dis abled or not. High expec tation and high s elf-es teem s eem to m e to be the keys to s uc c es s in learning.' 'S pot on! ' s he c ried. 'I c an s ee we're going to get on, Mr P hinn. In the dim and dis tant pas t,' the teac her c ontinued, 'm any dis abled people lived at hom e c os s eted and protec ted, away from others , and dependent on well-m eaning but indulgent parents . S c ant dem ands were m ade upon them , you s ee. S om e, of c ours e, were pac ked off to ins titutions and given m indles s tas ks like m aking lam ps hades or weaving bas kets . Few had proper jobs and were not expec ted to do m uc h with their lives . "W ell, of c ours e, he's handic apped," they us ed to whis per. "I m ean, what c an you expec t of her?" T hat's what they us ed to s ay about m e, s o I know how it feels . I had polio at five, wore c allipers right the way through prim ary s c hool, was c alled "a s pas tic " by the other c hildren and was wrapped up in c otton wool by m y parents - and then I m et this fantas tic teac her, Mrs Towns end, and this brilliant phys iotherapis t c alled Mis s P ierpoint and they c hanged m y life. T hey built up m y s elf-c onfidenc e and believed in m e. A nyhow, m y dram a group is due. I c an't go on philos ophis ing all m orning, Mr P hinn, jus t get your kit off and find a c hair.' S m iling to m ys elf, I dives ted m ys elf of s hoes and jac ket and headed for the c orner to s it unobtrus ively to obs erve the les s on. T he firs t c hild to arrive was a s m all fair-haired girl. Her eyelids were c los ed and s he was , of c ours e, unaware of m y pres enc e in the s hadows . S he was one of the pupils who had been in the welc om ing party when we had arrived that m orning. 'Hi, Ruth! ' s houted the teac her. 'Y ou're here nic e and early.' 'Mis s ,' as ked the girl, heading in the direc tion of the voic e, 'will we be having one of thes e s c hool ins pec tors in with us this m orning?' 'W e will indeed,' ans wered the teac her, putting her arm round the girl's s houlder. 'A re you s ure, m is s ?' 'P os itive, Ruth.' 'Do you know who it will be, m is s ?' 'His nam e's Mr P hinn.' 'Oh, I m et him this m orning, m is s ,' c ried the girl. 'He's from Y orks hire s o he s hould be all right, s houldn't he, m is s ?' 'I'm s ure he will be jus t fine.' Ms P inkney c as t a s ideways glanc e in m y direc tion. 'W hat does he look like, m is s ?' 'A ll thes e ques tions , Ruth Hardc as tle. Now c om e along, s hoes off, plim s olls on and c ardigan on the peg.' 'I've never m et a s c hool ins pec tor before,' c ontinued the girl pulling off her s hoes . 'W ell, now's your c hanc e.' 'Go on, m is s , tell m e what he looks like. I want to put a fac e to his voic e.' 'W ell,' s aid the teac her drawing out the word and glanc ing again in m y direc tion with a m is c hievous s m ile on her lips , 'he's young, hands om e, elegant, c ultivated and very well dres s ed.' Ruth thought for a m om ent before replying, 'A nd he's als o in the room , is n't he, m is s ?' 'He is indeed, Ruth,' laughed Ms P inkney. 'He's over by the s ound dec k in the c orner. P erhaps you would like to take him your work and s how him what we were doing las t week.' A t this point the res t of the c hildren began to arrive. T hey c hanged their s hoes , hung up their c oats and s at in a c irc le in the m iddle of the s tudio. I watc hed Ruth as s he felt her way to a large c upboard and her fingers trac ed the nam es on the top of s everal large folders . A m inute later s he was by m y s ide. 'Hello, Mr P hinn,' s he s aid c heerfully. 'Hello, Ruth.' 'W ould you like to s ee m y work?' 'I'd love to.' 'B ec aus e that's what s c hool ins pec tors do, is n't it, you look at c hildren's work?' 'T hat's right.' 'T o s ee how they are getting on.' 'A nd how do you think you're getting on, Ruth?' I as ked. 'I think that's for you to s ay really,' s he replied. 'I m ean, you're the ins pec tor.' 'W ell, let m e s ee then.' 'It's a m onologue. Do you know about m onologues , Mr P hinn?' 'I do, yes .' 'W e all had to write about our inner thoughts , what we feel. T hen we perform ed them in front of the res t of the group. Mine's a s ort of poem .' S he plac ed the large folder in m y hands , s tood bac k and waited. T he pages were full of B raille: page after page of intric ate dots . A s part of a diplom a c ours e I had taken s everal years ago, I had learnt B raille. It is a s im ple, unc om plic ated s ys tem of s ix dots in two vertic al lines of three and while it is relatively eas y to unders tand, B raille is im m ens ely diffic ult to read. T he problem is trying to dis tinguis h the c onfigurations of the s m all dots on the page. I took Ruth's folder, res ted it on m y lap and proc eeded, at a s nail's pac e, to try and dec ipher the writing. 'My... thoughts ... about... being... blind,' I read very s lowly, trying to dec ode the dots on the page, 'by... Ruth... Hardc as tle.' 'Y ou're not too good a reader, Mr P hinn, are you?' 'No, Ruth, I'm not. I'm a bit rus ty, I'm afraid. P erhaps you c ould help m e out.' S he took the folder from m y hands , s at at m y feet and read to m e in s uc h a quiet, expres s ive voic e that I bec am e c om pletely enthralled and totally oblivious of nois e around m e, of the teac her and the res t of the pupils . I s ee with m y ears . I hear the leaves in the tall trees , whis pering in the night. I hear the s ea, dark and deep, and the s plas h of the dolphin's leap. I hear the flam es c rac kling and the window fram es rattling in the wind. I s ee with m y ears . I s ee with m y nos e. I s m ell the blos s om s pearly-grey and hay new m own. I s m ell the ploughed earth, c ows in the byre, the s m oky fire. I s m ell Grandpa's pipe, Gran's lavender room and Mum 's faint perfum e. I s ee with m y nos e. I s ee with m y m outh. I tas te the s trong blac k c offee and the thic k brown toffee between m y teeth. I tas te the yellow of the lem on, the green of the m elon and the red of the tom ato. I tas te the orange of the c arrot, the purple of the plum , the gold of the s un on m y fac e. I s ee with m y m outh. I s ee with m y hands . I feel the s harp edges , s lippery floors , s m ooth ledges . I feel lem onade in c old c anis ters , hard wooden banis ters . I feel hands to hold, arm s on s houlders , fac es to touc h. I s ee with m y hands . 'Oh, that was exc ellent, Ruth,' I s aid gently when s he c los ed the folder. 'I think it was one of the bes t m onologues I have ever heard.' 'Really?' 'Y es , really. Y ou are a very talented writer.' 'I like writing,' s he s aid. 'W ould you like a c opy?' 'I'd love one.' Ms P inkney, like s om e large s lic e of B attenberg c ake, was at m y s ide. 'Com e along now, Ruth, and join the res t of the group.' W hen s he had gone s he turned to m e. 'S he's a lovely little poet, is n't s he?' 'S he is ,' I replied quietly and, I have to adm it, there were tears in m y eyes . T he next teac her I m et that m orning lac ked Ms P inkney's c onfidenc e. Mis s T aylor's whole body s eem ed to trem ble when I appeared at the c las s room door and there was a dis tinc t quavering in her voic e. 'Oh... oh... the ins pec tor... I never... oh dear... I thought... do c om e in.' T he art room s he worked in was as c olourful as the lands c ape outs ide. T he tables were c overed c arefully in c lean news print, and brus hes and penc ils , c halks and c rayons were neatly arranged in trays . W alls were dec orated with s ketc hes and line drawings , bold outlines and pale watery s c enes , c ollages and abs trac ts . T here were c lay m odels , s c ulptures and lino prints . In a breathles s and hurried voic e s he attem pted to explain what the eleven-year-olds in her c are were doing. 'T hey're... er... painting... us ing pos ter paints ... trying to m ix the different c olours to paint a s c ene... they are experim enting with different c olours and s hapes and textures . S om e are us ing brus hes , others palette knives or other objec ts to get an effec t.' S he wrung her hands nervous ly. 'I s hould s ay, Mr P hinn, that I'm not a s pec ialis t.' I s m iled reas s uringly and whis pered, 'Neither am I.' S quatting before one little artis t, I watc hed, fas c inated by the c hild's dexterity and c onc entration. He was a s m all boy, with dark heavy eyes and long las hes , and a dis arm ing s m ile. His s m all twis ted body was hunc hed over the table and his thin legs were tuc ked beneath the s turdy c hair on whic h he s at. He plac ed a s m all, s oft rubber ball into a bowl of c rim s on paint and then, with delic ate fingers , he rolled the ball ac ros s the s heet of dark blue paper c reating the m os t s triking effec t. 'It's a s uns et,' he explained. 'S om etim es when you look at the s ky, it looks as if it's on fire. It's full of reds and yellows and oranges in long s treaky flam es .' He im m ers ed the ball in a bowl of orange paint and repeated the proc es s . 'I've us ed different things to get the different effec ts , you s ee,' he explained. I c raned forward to get a better view. T he boy s uddenly s neezed. T he ball he was holding, whic h was c overed in thic k s tic ky orange paint, s hot out of his hand and, like a bullet from a gun, hit m e s m ac k between the legs . It fell to the floor, leaving behind a bright golden s unburs t on m y trous ers . A deathly s ilenc e followed. A faint voic e s aid, 'I'm s orry, s ir, it jus t s ort of s lipped.' T he teac her arrived, fluttering a large c loth like a flag and not having the firs t idea what to do with it. 'Oh dear, oh m y goodnes s , oh how unfortunate.' S he s tared in dis belief at the s tain for a m om ent and thrus t the c loth into m y hands . Out of the c orner of m y eye, I s aw a c are as s is tant take a handkerc hief from her handbag and s tuff it in her m outh in an attem pt to s tifle her laughter. B y the door, another c are as s is tant turned away, wiping her eyes . T hen the c hildren, who had been rem arkably quiet, began to giggle, then c huc kle and finally everyone was laughing: c hildren, teac her, as s is tants and m e. I s tood there, the c entre of attention - a grey-s uited figure with a great s plas h of gold like s om e m agnific ent c odpiec e. My attem pts , later in the privac y of the gents , to rem ove paint proved fruitles s . If anything I m ade it wors e. T he bright orange had been trans form ed into a m uc h larger s ic kly brown blotc h. W ith the aid of m y c lipboard, I c overed the m ark and headed for the next les s on, a lower junior E nglis h c las s , c onfident that I c ould hide the blem is h. If I rem ained s eated at the bac k of the c las s room with the c lipboard pos itioned s trategic ally on m y lap there was little c hanc e of anyone s eeing the s tain. A t lunc h-tim e I planned to nip into the nearby town and buy a pair of grey flannels . I had not banked, however, on m eeting Little Mis s E agle E yes . A s I entered the c las s room , a s m all girl of about s even or eight, with Down's s yndrom e, m us t have s potted the m ark on m y trous ers and no s ooner had I pos itioned m ys elf at the rear of the room out of everyone's way than s he approac hed m e. I s m iled warm ly at the s erious fac e. S he c ontinued to obs erve m e as if I were s om e rather s trange s pec im en in a m us eum c as e. T hen s he gently lifted the c lipboard and peered underneath. S he looked up. T hen bac k at the s tain and then bac k at m e. Rec ognition s uddenly dawned and s he s houted the full length of the c las s room . 'Mis s ! Mis s ! T his m an's done a runny poo! ' E very head in the c las s room turned in m y direc tion. 'I... er... had a ac c ident with s om e paint in the previous c las s ,' I explained, m aking m y has ty apologies to an as tonis hed teac her and an open-m outhed c las s , before s c urrying from the room . W ith c lipboard c las ped to m y s tom ac h, I headed quic kly for the s c hool offic e, intending to explain the s ituation to the s c hool s ec retary and s ay I would be out of s c hool for a s hort while. B ut Lady Luc k was not with m e. Halfway down the c orridor I m et Mrs T hom as hers elf, beam ing m adly. 'Oh, Mr P hinn, I heard what happened from Mis s Taylor.' S he s tared at the s tain. 'Oh dear, it does look rather c ons pic uous , does n't it? Not to worry, it's only pos ter paint and will not be hard to rem ove. It's not unc om m on for s om e of our c hildren to have a little ac c ident now and again and we have a laundry on the prem is es . I'm s ure we c an s oon find you a c hange of c lothes if you would like to follow m e.' T he c hange of c lothes c ons is ted of a pair of white c otton trous ers . T hey looked ridic ulous worn with m y grey jac ket, white s hirt and c ollege tie s o I put on the m atc hing white c otton jac ket, and was s oon dres s ed in the s ort of outfit worn by phys iotherapis ts , c are as s is tants , s upport s taff and anc illaries . T he s uit was rather s m all and tight-fitting but I felt a great deal m ore at eas e and, pic king up m y c lipboard, headed for lunc h in the dining-room . T he firs t les s on of the afternoon was a m us ic c las s with the older juniors . On m y way there I pas s ed s everal people, all dres s ed in the s am e white attire as m e. I found the m us ic teac her hovering outs ide the m us ic room , looking furtively in eac h direc tion. S he had a long, pale, worried fac e and was twitc hing nervous ly as I approac hed. 'Good afternoon -' I began. 'Quic k! ' s he s napped, pulling the s leeve of m y jac ket. 'Quic k! Com e in! ' S he glanc ed over m y s houlder and then down the c orridor before pus hing m e into an em pty c las s room on the other s ide of the c orridor. S he pus hed the door to, and whis pered in a c onfidential tone of voic e, 'Did you s ee any?' 'S ee any?' I repeated. 'Ins pec tors . Did you s ee any s c hool ins pec tors ? W e've got ins pec tors in.' 'Y es , I know, I'm -' I tried to explain but with little s uc c es s . 'I'm terrified, I don't m ind telling you. I've s een the old one prowling about in the m athem atic s bloc k this m orning. He looks as if he's been dug up.' 'W ell, you s ee -' 'I've got the piano tuner in the m us ic room m ending two broken keys on the baby grand, a whis tling window c leaner up a ladder outs ide, the c las s room as s is tant off ill, a really lively group of c hildren arriving any m om ent and you c an bet your bottom dollar I'll have a s c hool ins pec tor watc hing points and tic king his little boxes .' 'If I m ight -' 'T hey des c end on you like hungry vultures , you know. T hey look into everything - folders , files , des ks , drawers , books , bags , s toreroom , c upboards . I wouldn't put it pas t them to rootle through m y handbag.' 'Oh no, they -' 'It's a nightm are. T hen they interrogate you, as k you all s orts of ques tions before s itting at the bac k of the room s c ribbling away, and you never know what they write. It's all very ups etting. I've not had a wink of s leep for a m onth.' 'It's not that bad,' I reas s ured her. 'W ell, how would you know?' s he s aid s harply, but did not wait for a reply. 'You s hould have it done to you andyou'll find out how s tres s ful it is . Have you ever been obs erved?' S he did not wait for an ans wer to that either, but rattled on regardles s . 'I m ean, m y job is on the line here. I jus t know I'll get one in with m e at s om e point today. I have a s ort of prem onition. I c an feel it in m y bones . A re you s ure you didn't s ee anybody heading this way?' 'W ell, no, I didn't, but if I m ight explain why I am -' 'T hank God for that! I m ight jus t be luc ky.' S he peered out of the door. 'A nyway, the c hildren are arriving now.' I followed her as s he darted ac ros s the c orridor into the m us ic room where s he s poke to a group of very ebullient c hildren who were finding their plac es . 'Lis ten a m om ent, everyone, and that inc ludes you, Mic hael T hom ps on.' T he c hildren s topped their c hatter and fac ed the teac her. 'Did any of you s ee a s tranger heading this way?' 'No, m is s ,' the c las s c horus ed. 'B ec aus e we m ight be having a s c hool ins pec tor with us this afternoon and I want everyone on their bes t behaviour.' T he teac her flouris hed a hand in m y direc tion. 'Here's your phys io, P eter, s o you c an get s traight off.'

A young m an in a wheelc hair approac hed m e. 'Is it hydrotherapy today, s ir?' he as ked. 'I've no idea,' I replied. 'It's us ually hydrotherapy on a Monday, s ir, if the pool's available.' 'T his is a new phys iotherapis t, P eter, and he's probably not aware of all the -' 'A c tually, I'm not,' I interrupted quite forc efully. I c ould not let this dec eption c ontinue. 'Y ou're not? W ell, who are you then?' as ked the teac her. 'Y ou need to wear your badge s o if you do m eet an ins pec tor, he'll know who you are.' I reac hed into m y poc ket for m y badge and pinned it on m y lapel. In bold blac k lettering it read: G. R. P hinn, Inspector of S chools. A t firs t the teac her did not regis ter and then her fac e drained of c olour. S he s tared at the badge as if m es m eris ed, before whis pering, 'Y ou never are. Oh Lord, you never are.' 'I'm afraid s o.' I s m iled weakly. 'I have been attem pting to tell you.' 'I feel faint,' s he m urm ured, and then added, 'I never knew ins pec tors c am e inc ognito.' T hen, turning to the window, s he ges tured at the whis tling window c leaner, polis hing away outs ide. 'Is he one as well?' s he as ked faintly. Onc e we had got over that little traum a, the les s on was fine. T he c hildren were keen and interes ted and dem ons trated their not inc ons iderable s kills on various ins trum ents . W hen the teac her s aw the s m iles and heard the eas y, pleas ant c onvers ations between us , s he vis ibly relaxed. It was towards the end of the les s on that a pale, gentle-eyed boy with long delic ate hands and an as hen c om plexion wheeled him s elf towards m e. Matthew, I later found out, had Mus c ular Dys trophy, a c ruel and debilitating dis eas e whic h was tes away the m us c les in the body. 'W ould you like m e to s ing?' he as ked s im ply. I had never been as ked s uc h a ques tion in a c las s room before. Children often offered to read to m e or s how m e their writing or tell m e about the work they were undertaking but never s ing. 'I s hould like that very m uc h,' I replied. T he boy s ang a haunting m elody in a high, c lear and perfec tly pitc hed voic e. T he c las s room fell utterly s ilent. Not a c hild m oved. T he window c leaner s topped his whis tling and froze on his ladder, the piano tuner - who had s tayed behind to hear the les s on - had an expres s ion of utter as tonis hm ent and I felt tears beginning to well up in m y eyes for the s ec ond tim e that day. W hen he had finis hed, the teac her s ighed loudly. 'Oh Matthew,' s he s aid, putting an arm around his s houlder, 'that s ong always m akes m e c ry.' A s hy s m ile c am e to the boy's lips , the s m ile of one who has unexpec tedly s c ored the winning goal, who has finally reac hed a s um m it. It was a s m ile of pure s uc c es s . I s pent the rem ainder of the afternoon obs erving the E nglis h les s ons . In one c las s I c am e upon an earnes t-looking young m an of about s ixteen drafting an es s ay whic h was plac ed on a tray fixed ac ros s the front of his wheelc hair. His tongue s tuc k out of the c orner of his m outh, his fac e was fierc e with c onc entration. 'Good afternoon,' I s aid, s itting down next to him and looking over his s houlder. 'Oh, hi! ' he replied, s taring up and s m iling. 'W ould you like to tell m e what you are doing?' 'E xc us e m e?' 'T ell m e what you're doing?' I repeated. 'W ell, as you c an s ee, I'm writing.' T here was a m is c hievous glint in the bright, intelligent eyes . 'W riting what?' He plac ed his pen down c arefully in front of him . 'W ho are you?' 'I'm Gervas e P hinn, a s c hool ins pec tor,' I told him . 'Really? I thought you were a c are as s is tant or one of the m edic al s taff. Do all s c hool ins pec tors us ually dres s like dentis ts ?' 'No, they don't. It's a long s tory.' 'I like s tories ,' he s aid, plac ing his elbows on the des k and propping his c hin in his c upped hands . 'I want to be a profes s ional writer. I've got a plac e at Oxford to read E nglis h next year.' 'W ell done,' I s aid. 'If I get the grades . S o, what's the s tory with the white outfit, then?' 'I s pilt s om ething on m y s uit and henc e the c hange of c lothes ,' I explained. 'A nd here I was thinking there was s om ething s inis ter about it - that you were c reeping round c las s room s inc ognito, dis guis ed as a c are as s is tant to s py on the teac hers . It would m ake a good s tory that, don't you think?' 'Y ou'll have to write it and s end m e a c opy,' I told him , s m iling. 'Now, would you tell m e what you are doing?' He explained to m e that the texts he was s tudying for his exam s were The Cherry Orc hard by A nton Chekhov and Othello by W illiam S hakes peare. 'A nd whic h do you prefer?' I as ked. He looked down at his des k for a m om ent in thoughtful s ilenc e. 'T he Chekhov, I think,' he eventually replied. 'T hat's an interes ting c hoic e,' I rem arked. 'W hy do you s ay that?' he as ked. 'I would have thought that a boy of s ixteen would have preferred Othello.' 'Really?' 'P erhaps you would tell m e why you prefer Chekhov to S hakes peare?' I as ked. 'P erhaps before I do that, Mr P hinn,' he replied, 'you would explain why you think it is s urpris ing that a boy of s ixteen m ight prefer the S hakes peare?' T here was a s light s m ile playing on his lips . 'W ell, I s uppos e it's bec aus e there's m ore exc item ent and ac tion in the S hakes peare. It's m ore of a boy's play, I would have thought.' 'I gues s m os t people, like you, would as s um e that a boy would prefer a play with m ore ac tion, intrigue and violenc e rather than the m ore c ontem plative and thoughtful Rus s ian dram a but I'm rather pervers e in that I like the Chekhov. B oys c an be s ens itive as well, you know.' 'Y es , of c ours e,' I replied, feeling firm ly put in m y plac e. A t the end of the day David, Gerry and I s at in the Head-teac her's room giving s om e feedbac k. My c olleagues , like the pupil to whom I had been s peaking, were greatly intrigued as to why I was dres s ed 'like a trainee doc tor' but I explained to them that all would be revealed later. 'W ell, as for m athem atic s , Mrs T hom as ...' David began. His voic e bec am e fainter and fainter as I s tared through the window at the great s weep of the fells , the tum bling woods and dis tant m oorland. I c ould feel the warm th of the m ellow afternoon s un on m y fac e and c aught a waft of ros es from the garden. I was in another world. 'W ould you like to s ay a few things about E nglis h and the arts , Mr P hinn?' David's voic e broke into m y reverie. B efore I c ould res pond, there was a knoc k on the door and what appeared like a delegation entered the room . T he little artis t pres ented m e with his painting of the s uns et, Ruth gave m e a c opy of her poem and Mis s Taylor held out a pair of c lean, neatly pres s ed trous ers . T he Headteac her s m iled broadly, Gerry frowned in obvious puzzlem ent and David's eyes popped out, as we s ay in Y orks hire, like c hapel hat pegs . 'Here are your trous ers , Mr P hinn,' s aid Mis s T aylor, s uppres s ing a s m ile. 'W e wouldn't want you to leave without them .'

22

It was a glorious early s um m er day when I vis ited S c arthorpe P rim ary S c hool. I s at unc om fortably in an already hot c ar, parked in a gateway, bec om ing inc reas ingly frus trated. It was as well that I had s et off early that m orning bec aus e I had been over hill and dale in a futile s earc h for the elus ive little s c hool. I had c hec ked the route to the village of S c arthorpe on the Ordnanc e S urvey m ap before s etting out and it had s eem ed s im ple enough. Indeed, the route via quiet, s naking lanes was quite s traightforward until I had arrived at s om e c ros s roads where none of the old, pointed wooden s igns m ade any m ention of S c arthorpe. It was as if the village had been s uddenly s wallowed up. I tos s ed a m ental c oin, turned right and drove for a c ouple of m iles until I c am e to a s ign for S c arthorpe pointing in the oppos ite direc tion. I retrac ed m y route, c ros s ed over the original c ros s roads and c am e to m ore c ros s roads with another s et of s igns but, again, none with the nam e of the village I wanted. I turned left and arrived at a s ign whic h indic ated that S c arthorpe was , yet again, in the direc tion from whic h I had jus t c om e. S o, bac k I went and after a c ouple m ore m iles , with no s igns in s ight, I pulled off the road. I was now s itting, fum ing, in the c ar, dec iding whic h way to go next. I pus hed the totally unhelpful road atlas as ide - its s c ale was far too s m all - and s tared through the winds c reen at the m agnific ent view whic h s tretc hed before m e. B eneath a vas t, blank c urve of blue there s tretc hed the brilliant greens of the pas tureland, rolling and billowing up to the ric her, darker hues of the far-off fells . Fat, c ream y s heep grazed lazily behind the white-s ilvered lim es tone walls in fields , while their lam bs fris ked and rac ed. In the s till, windles s s ky a wedge of birds m oved s lowly s outh, high above a trem bling kes trel. T here was the heady s c ent of m ay blos s om and butterc ups blending with the s m ells of earth and gras s . I returned to the m ap and followed with m y finger the route whic h I had taken from Fettles ham earlier that m orning: the s traight road to Hawks rill, over B utterwic k Fell, through W his terton, by Cas tle Crags , pas t the United S tates A irforc e B as e at Ribbon B ank, into W ar-grave village, on to the T hres herton road, to arrive at the firs t enigm atic c ros s roads . I leaned bac k in the hot s eat, the s un on m y fac e, wiped m y brow and s ighed aloud. 'W here, in heaven's nam e, am I?' I realis ed that it would have been far m ore s ens ible if I had s topped to as k direc tions at the pub a c ouple of m iles bac k or at a hous e c los e to the road. Now, with tim e tic king on, I was in the m iddle of nowhere. I s ighed and wondered what to do next. A c ros s the road an anc ient m ills tone announc ed the entranc e to P rovidenc e Farm and a long, narrow, pot-holed trac k led to a dis tant c lus ter of buildings . If only I had brought the Ordnanc e S urvey m ap with m e; it would have s urely s hown the farm and pinpointed m y whereabouts . T he road atlas was us eles s . T here's nothing for it, I thought, I will have to as k. T he trac k looked good only for trac tors and jeeps s o I dec ided to walk. T he m uddy trac k s eem ed endles s , and it was a long, hot trek to the farm . In a field bes ide the trac k, a herd of blac k and white c ows s tared with elaborate indifferenc e as I pas s ed, and c ontinued to s wis h their tails s lowly and c hew m ethodic ally. In the field on the other s ide, s tanding alone, was a huge, s quarebodied bull with a bras s ring through its nos e. It looked like a box on legs . T he c reature regarded m e with utm os t s us pic ion as I c am e c los er and when I was level it bellowed loudly and lengthily. On c los er exam ination it looked abnorm ally large. Its bac k was as wide as a tres tle table and its nec k as thic k as the s entinel c hes tnut tree whic h c as t a s hadow over the farm hous e. A s I approac hed the c attle grid and the buildings , I bec am e aware I was being obs erved. T wo m en were s tanding at the entranc e to a barn watc hing m e as bright-eyed c ats m ight watc h a m ous e. T he older of the two had a s tern, weathered fac e the c olour of bruis ed parc hm ent, grizzled, s m oky-grey hair and a s harp beak of a nos e. He was dres s ed in a c lean, long-s leeved, c ollarles s s hirt, open wais tc oat and anc ient wellington boots . His c om panion was a fair, thic k-s et young m an with an equally weathered fac e and tight, wiry hair. He was dres s ed in a T -s hirt and s horts but, inc ongruous ly, he wore large heavy m ilitary-s tyle boots . His arm s and legs were wind-burned to the c olour of c opper. 'Can't tha read?' dem anded the older of the m en. 'P ardon?' 'S ign on t'gate. Can't tha read? Feed reps only by appointm ent.' 'I'm not a rep,' I panted. 'I'm a s c hool ins pec tor.' 'W ell, tha'll not find any s c oil up 'ere and that's for s ure.' 'I gather that,' I s aid, getting m y breath, 'but I'm well and truly los t.' T he younger m an s c rewed up his fac e, s urveyed the s ky, em pty apart from s kim m ing s wallows , and s uc ked in his breath. 'W hat s c oil are tha looking fer?' 'S c arthorpe P rim ary S c hool. Do you know where it is ?' ''appen I do.' 'W ell, would you be s o kind as to tell m e?' T he young m an pointed ac ros s the fields . 'S ee yonder s pire. T hat's t'c hurc h. S c oil's next door.' 'T ha'r a bit on t'early s ide to go a-vis itin',' s aid the older m an. 'It's jus t pas t eight. T here'll be nob'dy theer at this tim e.' 'W ell, I always s et off early to m ake c ertain I get there.' T here was no reply, jus t a c ouple of s low nods of the head. 'A s you m ight have gues s ed, I'm not too good at direc tions and, I have to s ay, the road s igns around here are very c onfus ing.' 'B een t's am e s inc e tim e o' t'V ikings . T hey had diffic ulty finding their way around this part o' t'dale, I'll be bound. W e don't go advertis in' ours elves up here, tha knaws .' 'Nay,' agreed his young c om panion. 'W e don't want rooad full o' c aravans ! ' 'A nd c oac hes .' 'A nd ram blers c lim bin' ovver t'walls and knoc kin' 'em down.' I felt it politic to m ake a has ty retreat. 'W ell, thank you for your help. I'll be on m y way. J us t head in the direc tion of the c hurc h, you s ay?' 'Nay, it's not quite as eas y as that,' explained the older m an. 'Rooad c om es bac k on its en at t'bottom o' yonder 'ill. W hen tha gets to t'c ros s roads , tek s ign for W his terton, and you pas s T hres herton Hall on yer right. T urn left at Holloway Farm , s tay on t'rooad and you'll get to t's c oil.' 'T hank you,' I s aid, trying to m em oris e the ins truc tions and turning to go. ''old on,' s aid the older m an, 'we'll walk to t'gate wi' thee and s ee thee off t'prem is es .' I was thus ac c om panied by the two farm ers , in s ilenc e, down the long m uddy trac k whic h s eem ed to s tretc h endles s ly to the road. Our pac e was leis urely to s ay the leas t and they kept their eyes s us pic ious ly on m e from the s tart. T he farm er s topped when we c am e level with the fears om e bull. T he beas t eyed us m alevolently, s c raped and s tam ped the ground with a c udgel of a hoof, s norted c ontem ptuous ly and filled the air with loud and m ournful bellowing. 'Telling us who's t'bos s ,' announc ed the older m an, his fac e s c rewing up with pleas ure. 'S howing off for t'benefit o' t'c ows .' A ll the c ows I c ould s ee in the fields s urrounding us c eas ed their s wis hing and c hewing and s tared in the direc tion of the bull. 'Leads a life of owd Riley, does S am s on. S pends all t'winter ins ide in t'warm , eatin' and drinkin' and s leepin', and all s um m er in t' field, in t's un, eatin' and drinkin' and s leepin' and m ekkin love. Not a bad old life, is it?' 'I c ould im agine wors e,' I agreed. 'Mind you,' c om m ented the younger m an, 'm any a bull nivver gets t'c hanc e of any o' that, eh, Dad?' 'T hey don't,' agreed his father s erious ly. 'Mos t of 'em get c as trated and end up as beefburgers .' 'Really,' I s aid. 'T ha'd be 'ard pus hed to im agine owt wors e than that, wun't tha?' 'Y ou would,' I agreed, with feeling. 'Gerrin c as trated and endin' up beefburgered. B ut that's the way o' things . A ye, that's the way o' things .' 'How m any c ows do you have?' I as ked, attem pting to get on to les s delic ate ground. 'Near on three 'undred,' replied the older m an as we s et off down the trac k again. 'A nd do you have s heep?' 'W e do. Up on t'fells .' 'A nd pigs ?' 'No, we don't keep pigs . Not a lot o'm oney in pigs thes e days . Not a lot o'm oney in owt, if truth be told. P oor relations are yer farm ers . Hardly worth keeping lives toc k what wi pric e o'feed.' 'A nd how m any ac res have you?' 'I c an s ee tha'r an ins pec tor,' s aid the farm er s topping in his trac ks . 'T ha'r full o' bloody ques tions , aren't tha?' W e walked on without another word. However, after a m inute or two, I found the s ilenc e rather em barras s ing s o I c om m ented c heerfully, 'T he farm 's a fair old dis tanc e from the road.' 'A ye, it is that,' agreed the older m an. 'Y es , quite a dis tanc e,' I s aid, not expec ting a reply. 'T hat's what t'loc al MP s aid when he c om es up 'ere a-c anvas s in' las t year. "A ye," I s aid to 'im , "it is a fair dis tanc e, but if it were any s horter it wun't reac h, would it?" ' A t getting on for a quarter to nine, I finally arrived at S c arthorpe P rim ary S c hool. T he s m all s tone building was tuc ked away behind the anc ient Norm an c hurc h and half-hidden by a huge, s tunted oak tree, its twis ted roots gras ping the thin s oil like arthritic fingers . T he s c hool was further obs c ured by the overhanging branc hes of laurel and s yc am ore. Mrs Fox, the Headteac her, was a vas t and jolly wom an with a s hoc k of s treaky c urls and large friendly eyes behind enorm ous c oloured fram es . S he wore a bright tartan s m oc k, a rope of large, blue glas s beads and yellow dangly earrings . Mrs Fox had the s ort of voic e whic h would penetrate bric ks and m ortar. 'My. goodnes s , Mr P hinn, you are the early bird,' s he c hortled. I explained that I would have arrived even earlier had I not taken s o m any wrong turnings at the m ys terious c ros s roads . I was als o foolis h enough to m ention that I had broken m y journey at P rovidenc e Farm and related the c onvers ation with the two farm ers about the bull. 'Oh, you m et Mr P urvis and his s on, J ac k, did you? I was at s c hool with the one and taught the other. B oth are real c harac ters , aren't they?' 'T hey are indeed,' I agreed. 'W ell, Mrs Fox, what I intend to do this m orning -' 'He dotes on that bull of his . S oft as a brus h when it c om es to S am s on. W e often take the c hildren up to P rovidenc e Farm as part of our environm ental s tudies work.' A t this point I attem pted for a s ec ond tim e to explain what form m y day's ins pec tion would take, but Mrs Fox c ontinued blithely. 'My great-unc le B eec ham had the land adjoining P rovidenc e Farm and knew his grandfather really well. Old Mr P urvis - lived right up to his ninety-eighth birthday he did, without a day's illnes s - didn't have the patienc e of his grands on when it c am e to bulls . My great-unc le B eec ham always us ed to tell the tale whic h never fails to bring a s m ile to m y lips .' 'W hat I hope to be doing today, Mrs Fox -' I tried again. 'His bull was c alled Caes ar. He was a great, fat, pom pous c reature, no good at all exc ept for breeding purpos es . He looked like the em peror him s elf the way he s trutted round the field and proc eeded to... er... do his duty to the c ows , as one m ight s ay. B ut he had a really vic ious s treak had Caes ar, and m any's the tim e Old Mr P urvis s tam ped bac k to the farm hous e, c urs ing and s wearing, and blac k and blue with bruis es . T he bull broke his arm a c ouple of tim es when he was trying to get hold of him . A nyway, when Young Mr P urvis was about eleven, as the s tory goes , he rus hed into the farm hous e kitc hen one m orning s houting blue m urder. "Grandfather! Grandfather! " he c ries . "Caes ar's gone! He's not in his field! S om ebody's s tolen Caes ar! " His grandfather didn't bat an eyelid but c arried on drinking his tea. T hen he nodded in the direc tion of the window. In the field beyond was poor old Caes ar yoked to a plough pulling away down the furrows , with two of the farm hands flic king his haunc hes with s harp s witc hes . Caes ar s norted and bellowed and puffed and heaved and looked very hard done by. "I'll s how him that there's m ore to life than love-m aking! " s aid Old Mr P urvis .' Mrs Fox c huc kled loudly, her body heaving and her eyes filling with tears of pleas ure. 'W hat I hope to be doing today, Mrs Fox -' I attem pted a third tim e. 'Did Mr P urvis tell you about the inc ident when that poor young vet was c alled out to s ee to S am s on?' I took the bull firm ly by the horns . 'Mrs Fox, I really would like to m ake a s tart, if I m ay.' 'W hy, of c ours e you do, Mr P hinn,' s he replied s m iling broadly. 'T hat's why you're here. Com e along and I'll let you look through our planning doc um ents while the c hildren arrive. I'll tell you about S am s on, the vet and the bottle of liquid paraffin later, if you like.' I thought it would be the las t tim e that day that I would hear about bulls but s adly I was m is taken. In the junior c las s room later that m orning, I joined two boys of about ten or eleven. B oth were m iniature vers ions of the farm ers I had m et at P rovidenc e Farm : plain, s toc ky individuals with s turdy legs , brown fac es , tightly c urled hair, s hort, s andy eyelas hes and bright eyes . Neither was a very good reader but eac h tried hard and barked out the words with grim determ ination. T he reading book depic ted an idyllic town with s parkling s hops , gleam ing hotels , brightly painted hous es with well-tended gardens and white gates , and a m anic ured park with a friendly, waving park-keeper s tanding at the entranc e. T here were no trac es of litter or graffiti and not a s ign of a public hous e, betting offic e, job c entre or c harity s hop. E veryone in this Utopia looked happy and well dres s ed, from the jolly polic em an to the beam ing vic ar to the s m iling s hoppers . T he m os t exc iting things that happened in the s tory were a walk round the lake to look at the duc ks and a ride on the bus . It c am e as no s urpris e therefore to dis c over that it was c alled Merrytown. 'Do you enjoy reading?' I as ked one of the boys when he finis hed and had s napped the book s hut with a vengeanc e. He lifted a s andy eyebrow. 'No.' 'Do you read at hom e?' 'No.' 'W hy is that?' 'Don't 'ave t'tim e.' 'Do you have any books at hom e?' 'A few.' 'A nd what are they about?' 'T rac tors .' 'Do you like reading about trac tors ?' 'Not partic ularly.' It was like extrac ting blood from a s tone but I pers is ted and tried, by c hanging tac k, to get him to open up a little. 'Y ou live on a farm , do you?' 'I do.' 'I vis ited a farm on m y way here this m orning.' 'Oh, aye.' He appeared a little m ore interes ted. 'P rovidenc e Farm . Do you know it?' ''appen I do.' T he other boy looked up from his work at the m ention of the farm . 'Did tha s ee S am s on?' 'I did indeed,' I replied. ''e's a c ham pion beas t is S am s on, 'e is that.' 'Do you live on a farm as well?' 'A ye.' 'Do you have a bull?' 'Nay, only bull we 'ave on our farm is t'bull wi t'bowler 'at.' 'P ardon?' 'A I m an.' 'I'm s orry?' T he boy s ighed and gave m e s uc h a world-weary look. T hen, as a teac her m ight explain to a partic ularly s low c hild, he artic ulated, 'A rtific ial Ins em inator. 'e c om es round and s ees to t'c ows .' 'I s ee,' I s aid s om ewhat unc ertainly. 'S o, there's no need for t'bull.' T he firs t boy dec ided to c ontribute to the dis c us s ion. 'Frenc h s perm 's bes t, tha knaws .' 'Really?' I s ighed. 'A nd do you have a bull on your farm ?' 'Nay, we 'ave all our c ows done, like on Roger's farm . W e did 'ave two bulls but they're both deead now. One were c alled E ric , he were an 'ols tein and t'other were c alled Os c ar and he were a B elgian B lue. S am s on's a Lim os an and not near as big.' 'Y ou m ean there are bulls whic h are bigger than S am s on?' I gas ped. 'Oh aye, B elgian B lues c an weigh owt up to a ton and an 'arf Double-m us c led, tha s ees . B red for their m eat.' He was now quite anim ated. 'Y er B elgian B lue 'as m us c les on m us c les and is s o big tha c an only deliver a c alf through a Caes arean. T ha knaws what a Caes arean is , dus t tha?' 'I do.' 'Can't gerrem out natural way, B elgian B lues . V ets jus t zip 'em oppen down t'belly.' His c om panion added, 'If tha was to c ros s 'em wi' a Fres ian you'd 'ave a fair c hanc e of a natural birth, J ac ob.' He turned to m e. 'T ha s ees m os t B elgian B lue c ows bred wi' another breed, s o it m eks it eas ier for 'em to c alve.' 'S till large, though,' s aid the other s erious ly. 'A nyroad, we dun't bother wi' bulls any m ore. B es t bull is t'bull out of a tes t tube.' 'W hat a pity,' I s aid. 'T o think that thos e wonderful c reatures , thos e great, s norting, bellowing beas ts with their m as s ive bodies and s harp horns m ight not be s een again.' 'T hey don't 'ave 'orns ,' J ac ob told m e bluntly. 'T hey don't? B ut I thought all bulls have horns ?' 'T hey 'ave 'em tekken off after three m onth. You de-bud 'em . B urn off their 'orns . B ulls are bad enough wi'out 'orns on. T ha dun't go lookin' fer trouble. It's 'ard enough gerrin' 'em in from t'fields as it is . Old S am s on's a devil. B elgian B lues are plac id us ually, but your Lim os an, they c an be reight fris ky. Tos s you up in t'air or butt thee as s oon as look at thee.' 'A nd tha's talkin' m oney,' interrupted Roger. 'B es t o' breed at Fettles ham S how this year, P ride o' B rus s els 'e were c alled, fetc hed fotty thous and quid. S erious m oney is that, tha knaws . A nd o' c ours e, if owt 'appens to 'em like if they 'ad an ac c ident or c om e down wi s um m at and tek badly, then they're no good to m an nor beas t.' 'T hat's what 'appened wi' Os c ar and E ric , weren't it, J ac ob?' 'A ye,' replied the boy s agely. 'W hat s ort of ac c ident did they have?' I enquired innoc ently.

'W ell, E ric were feeling a bit lively like and m ade a m ove for c ows in t'next field. 'e went through a thic k 'awthorn 'edge, a drys tone wall and two gates afore m i dad bloc ked him wi' trac tor. A nyroad, E ric c harged trac tor and bus t a few bones . Got an infec tion and had to be put down.' 'I thought the idea was for the bull to get to the c ows ?' I c om m ented. B oth boys looked at m e with dis dainful expres s ions . 'W e're talkin' big bulls 'ere. A ton and an 'arf - 'ed have brok every c ow's bac k.' 'I s ee,' I s aid feebly. 'W ell, s hall we look at your books ?' 'In olden days , when Mr P urvis 's granddad up at P rovidenc e Farm had Caes ar, he us ed to dig a pit, put t'c ow in it and lower t'bull on with two reight big, thic k leather s traps .' 'I s ee,' I s aid weakly. 'Could you get your E nglis h books out, pleas e?' 'Nowadays it's all m ec hanis ed,' the boy c ontinued regardles s . 'T hey put t'bull in a s erving c age and lower him on and lift him off, lower him on and lift him off.' 'My granddad s ays it's not a bad old life,' rem arked Roger, ec hoing the c om m ents I had heard earlier that m orning at P rovidenc e Farm . I tried again to m ove the c onvers ation away from what was bec om ing an inc reas ingly em barras s ing c onvers ation. 'S o what have you been doing in E nglis h this week?' 'Now, t'other bull, Os c ar, 'e went and 'ad t'ac c ident.' 'W hat ac c ident was that?' I as ked s om ewhat s tupidly. 'A c c ident what B elgian B lues 'ave.' 'A nd what is that?' 'T ha knaws ,' s aid the boy, eyeing m e s erious ly. 'I don't.' 'T ha' does .' 'Really I don't. W hat ac c ident did he have?' T he boy gave his c om panion another knowing look, the tired, long-s uffering look of the expert attem pting to explain a s im ple c onc ept to an ignoram us . 'W ell, Mes ter P hinn, s om etim es when a bull gets to t'fus t c ow, he's very keen...' A t this point I wis hed I had s tayed with the fantas y world of Merrytown and its c ardboard inhabitants , for I antic ipated that what was to follow would be as blunt as a s um p ham m er. 'A nd 'e gets a bit c arried away like and s om etim es 'e overdoes it and 'is willy s naps .' I c ould hear m y great in-drawing of breath and feel a red flus h c reeping up m y nec k. I retreated to the c las s room window and s tared at the view outs ide, attem pting to regain m y c om pos ure. I felt dec idedly weak at the knees and was entirely at a los s for words . A flood of s unlight poured into the room , s lanting in long bars ac ros s the dus ty air. A ll was s till. T hrough the window the vas t, green rolling fells s him m ered in the bright light, the narrow road c urled endles s ly between the fields , and far off an invis ible bird c alled plaintively from the s un-warm ed gras s . I was brought bac k to reality by J ac ob, who tapped m e gently on the arm and looked up with a twinkle in his bright eyes . 'It's all reight, Mes ter P hinn,' he s aid winking, 'it only 'appens wi' bulls ! '

23

I was in love. S inc e the firs t m om ent I had s et eyes on Chris tine, appearing round the s ide of W innery Nook Nurs ery and Infant S c hool like s om e vis ion, with thos e deep blue eyes and the s oft m as s of golden hair, I had been s m itten. Over the twenty-one m onths I had known her, that love had bec om e s o powerful that it felt like a wearying s ic knes s . S he was always in m y thoughts . I was like a love-lorn s c hoolboy, day-dream ing at the bac k of the c las s room during a rather tedious les s on and s taring vac antly out of the window whils t thinking of Chris tine. In the m iddle of m eetings at the E duc ation Offic e, m y thoughts would inevitably drift to a pic ture of her s m iling or laughing or hum m ing to hers elf as s he frequently did. On a c ours e, the words of the s peaker would flow over m e as m y m ind would be fixed on Chris tine, vis ualis ing her s itting in the m iddle of a group of happy infants , s haring a book with them or reading a poem or s inging a nurs ery rhym e in that s oft, hypnotic voic e. A nd people were beginning to notic e. Late one afternoon towards the end of the S um m er term I s topped foc us ing on the report I was s uppos ed to be reading and began to dream of the wom an I loved. 'Gervas e! ' s napped S idney. 'A re you entirely with us this afternoon? Y ou look as if you are wired up to a bric k! ' 'P ardon?' 'I have jus t as ked you an im portant ques tion and, rather than do m e the c ourtes y of res ponding, you c om pletely ignored m e and c ontinued to peer into the m iddle dis tanc e like Mac beth upon s eeing the ghos t of B anquo.' 'I'm s orry, S idney, I was m iles away.' 'Indeed you were. Now, what do you think?' 'W hat do I think about what?' S idney gave a great heaving s igh. 'I was as king about the arrangem ents for the Creative A rts Cours e in Oxford next weekend.' 'W ell, what about them ?' 'Give m e s trength! ' Following her vis it to the S taff Developm ent Centre las t Dec em ber, Mis s de la Mare had written to s ay how im pres s ed s he had been with the training and had invited S idney and m e to be tutors on a Minis try of E duc ation c ours e the weekend before the end of the S um m er term . W e had both been very flattered to have been as ked and readily agreed. It had s eem ed s o far ahead then that I had put it to the bac k of m y m ind. Now the c ours e was about to happen, I realis ed that I had not given a s ingle thought to it. Help! My m ind was c om pletely oc c upied with higher thoughts . 'I s aid that it would be a s ens ible idea if we both travelled down to Oxford together.' 'P ardon?' 'W hat is the m atter with you? A re you s ic kening for s om ething? I as ked if we s hould travel down to Oxford together?' 'Y es , that's fine, S idney.' 'It would be better, I think, if we went in your old V olvo es tate. I will have to take all m y m aterials , eas els and equipm ent, dis play boards and, of c ours e, the s tuffed anim als .' David, who had been working quietly until this point, rais ed his head s lowly like a weary tortois e, peered over the top of his s pec tac les and s aid, 'Y ou are not taking thos e wretc hed s tuffed anim als with you, are you, S idney?' 'Of c ours e! T hey are the next bes t thing to firs t-hand experienc e. I always take m y s tuffed anim als with m e when I run a c ours e. I would be los t without them .' David s hook his head. 'W ell, I'm glad I'm not travelling down to Oxford with you and a c ar full of flea-ridden, dead c reatures glaring and s narling out of the window.' 'I never glare and s narl out of windows ,' s aid S idney c alm ly. 'A nyway, I don't hear Gervas e c om plaining.' He turned to m e. 'Y ou have no problem with m y s tuffed anim als , do you, Gervas e? Gerv as e!' Onc e again, I was only half-lis tening to the offic e c hatter. 'I s aid you don't have a problem , do you?' 'W ho s aid I had a problem ?' 'I give up,' s ighed S idney. 'W e will talk about this when you em erge from the c atatonic tranc e.' 'Y ou are unus ually unforthc om ing this afternoon, Gervas e,' rem arked David. 'Not your old s elf at all. Is there s om ething on your m ind?' 'No, no, there's nothing on m y m ind.' 'Is it that dreadful dragon of a headteac her from Henders on Road S c hool?' as ked S idney grim ac ing. 'S he c om plains about all the ins pec tors s o I s houldn't worry.' 'No, nothing like that.' 'T he Ugglem atters by ins pec tion?' 'No, no, that's all been done and dus ted and the governors ac c epted the report and Mr S harples is taking early retirem ent.' 'It'll be Mrs S avage, then,' announc ed David alm os t gleefully. 'T hat Ic e Maiden would put the wind up a bans hee. S he's been after m e about thos e ridic ulous c oloured form s of hers . Has s he been c has ing you?' 'No, it's not Mrs S avage.' 'W ell, what is it?' both m y c olleagues as ked in unis on. 'I c an't s ay. It's ... it's ... I need to s ort it out m ys elf.' 'Now c om e along, Gervas e! ' exc laim ed S idney, turning his full attention on m e. 'W e are your friends as well as your c olleagues . You c an tell us whatever it is . I've been on the c ounty's c ouns elling c ours e and was s ingled out for m y ability to lis ten s ym pathetic ally, s o if you want to c onfide in m e, get things off your c hes t, I'm all ears . I've als o done art therapy and a s tres s m anagem ent weekend s o I am well equipped to help.' 'Help! ' s norted David. 'W ell equipped to help! You forget, S idney, that I was als o on that dis as trous c ouns elling c ours e and you were s ingled out, as I rem em ber, for your c om plete inability to lis ten to other people and the total ins ens itivity of your advic e. A fter c ontac t with you, the people in your group were s uic idal at the end. A s I rec all, your s olution to whatever problem that aros e was to look the pers on in the eye and tell them to pull them s elves together, s top whinging and s nap out of it. I well rem em ber that poor tutor's words : "W ith you, Mr Clam p, a trouble s hared is a trouble doubled." A nd on the s tres s m anagem ent weekend I heard that the tutor went down with s evere depres s ion hers elf, rem arking that you did not s o m uc h s uffer from s tres s , you were m ore of a c arrier. S he headed for her c ar a gibbering wrec k.' 'I s hall c hoos e to ignore thos e s landerous c om m ents , David, bec aus e m y dear friend here is in need of s om e help and s upport. Now, Gervas e, what is the m atter? T ell, tell.' 'I'm in love! ' I blurted out. T here was a s tunned s ilenc e. 'In love?' repeated S idney, after what s eem ed a long, long paus e. 'Oh, that is s erious . Is it s om eone we know?' 'Y es , of c ours e it is ! ' I s napped, already regretting m y c onfes s ion. 'Is it a c ertain des irable doc tor of philos ophy, with alluring Iris h eyes and a s m ile like a rainbow?' 'No, it's not Gerry. I hardly know her.' 'Is it a c ertain well-pres erved, power-dres s ed widow with a predatory look and a s m ile like a s hark?' 'Mrs S avage? Do m e a favour! ' 'T he femme fatale with the feather dus ter in the c rac kling nylon overall who inhabits the S DC?' 'S idney, will you be s erious ! ' 'T hen it m us t be the Nordic beauty, the blonde bom bs hell, the delec table Mis s B entley of W innery Nook.' 'Y ou know full well it is .' 'I don't s ee a problem , m ys elf.' 'W hat did I s ay?' announc ed David s haking his head. 'A ll the s ens itivity of a s ledge ham m er.' 'W ell, I don't,' c ontinued S idney. 'He's been taking her out for the bes t part of two years .' He turned his attention bac k to m e. 'I m ean, it's hardly a whirlwind rom anc e.' 'I've not been taking her out for the bes t part of two years ,' I s aid. 'I only s tarted s eeing Chris tine las t s um m er.' 'W ell, you want to look s harpis h. S he's an extrem ely attrac tive young wom an. V ery m arriageable. If you don't s tart pulling your finger out, being a bit m ore dynam ic , proac tive and determ ined, you'll be getting a "Dear J ohn" letter. S he'll go bac k to that dreadful s oldier and give you the old heave-ho! ' 'Now, does that m ake you feel a lot better, Gervas e?' as ked David s arc as tic ally. 'Has that wonderfully s ym pathetic advic e helped you with your little problem ? Y ou know, S idney, with s uc h obvious s ens itivity and unders tanding, you ought to work for the S am aritans .' 'I am only telling him to gird up his loins and go for it. I m ean, look at him . He's like a s ic k c alf, m ooning about the offic e. I c ertainly do not relis h a weekend in Oxford with him in this powerles s s tate.' 'W ell, that's what love does for you,' s aid David. 'I rec all s om eone s aying that love was like the m eas les - that it is s om ething we all have to go through. I know I did.' 'More like the m um ps with m e! ' exc laim ed S idney. 'Inc redibly painful and all the m ore s o when you're older. Y ou s ee, David, the problem with Gervas e is -' 'E xc us e m e, S idney, would you m ind not talking about m e as if I'm not here?' I s aid. 'Y ou s ee, your problem , Gervas e, is what I was s aying about the m um ps . It's happening to you late in life s o it's affec ting you far wors e.' 'Late in life! ' I c ried. 'I'm jus t over thirty, not in m y dotage! ' 'B ut as you get older, you get m ore pic ky, m ore diffic ult to pleas e. My advic e, if you really love Chris tine, is to fac e up to things , take the bull by the horns , gras p the nettle and be dec is ive. S top s hilly-s hallying, as k her s traight out to m arry you.' My s tom ac h gave a great lurc h at the very word 'm arry'. 'A nd pull yours elf together, s top whinging and s nap out of it,' added David m im ic king S idney's voic e. 'Y ou s ee what I m ean about S idney's s ens itive approac h to a problem ? A s tac tful as a c harging elephant.' 'It's not as eas y as that, S idney,' I s aid s ighing. 'S he m ight not be ready for... er... m arriage. S he's s o involved with her work in s c hool. W e've never dis c us s ed any future together and s he m ight not feel the s am e way about m e. S he m ight not be the m arrying s ort. S he's a very independent wom an is Chris tine. I know s he likes m y c om pany and we enjoy the s am e things but -' 'Have you told her how lovely s he is and that you c an't s top thinking about her?' as ked S idney. 'No.' 'Have you told her that when s he s m iles the birds begin to s ing and the s un begins to s hine?' 'No.' 'Have you told her that you c an't live without her?' 'No.' 'Have you told her that you love her?' 'No.' S idney s norted. 'T hen how, in heaven's nam e, is s he to know how you feel? S he m ight think that y ou are the one who is n't ready for m arriage. S he m ight think that y ou are too involved with your work to think about anything els e. S he m ight think that y ou don't feel the s am e way about her as s he m ight think about you. S he m ight think that y ou are not the m arrying s ort.' 'Muc h as I am loath to adm it it,' ventured David, who had been lis tening intently, 'S idney, des pite his bluntnes s , is perfec tly right. Y ou have to let her know how you really feel about her.' 'You, of all people, Gervas e,' c ontinued S idney, 'are s uppos ed to pos s es s the higher order language s kills , the ability to us e words at their ric hes t and m os t pers uas ive. Can't you pen her a poem and write it in c halk down the path to W innery Nook S c hool? - s om ething along the lines of "Oh deares t heart, c om e kis s m e gently, B e m y love, m y Chris tine B entley." ' 'I'd s tic k to painting and s tuffed anim als if I were you, S idney,' s aid David. 'He does n't want to frighten her off with that s ort of doggerel, or get arres ted for defac ing s c hool property.' 'I'll have you know it worked with m y wife,' retorted S idney. 'W hen I painted m y Lila a poem on the wall of her flat s he was putty in m y hands .' 'P robably drunk,' s aid David, before turning his attention bac k to the topic under dis c us s ion. 'I think Gervas e ought to take Chris tine out for a really rom antic dinner in a rem ote c ountry inn,' he s aid. 'Cham pagne, ros es , s oft m us ic . T hat's the way it's done. A nd I know the very plac e. A delightful Frenc h res taurant with s uperb food and m agnific ent views , not too far from here.' 'Is that the way you propos ed?' I as ked. 'W ell, no, ac tually,' replied David. 'I as ked Gwynneth in a bus s helter on a rainy S unday afternoon in P ontypool. W e were having a little c w tc h and -' 'A little what?' exc laim ed S idney. 'W hat in the world is a c utc h?' 'A c w tc h - W els h for a c uddle,' explained David. 'A nd I s aid, "W hat about it, Cariad?" S he s aid it was quite unexpec ted and s he would have to think about it as her m other had not taken to m e at all. T hirty years later and her m other's s till not too s ure about m e. It took her three m onths - Gwynneth, that is , not her m other - to m ake up her m ind and then s he s aid s he would have to iron out m y irritating habits .' 'S he was s ingularly uns uc c es s ful on that c ount,' m urm ured S idney. 'You s ee, that's jus t what I m ean,' I s aid. 'S uppos e Chris tine s ays s he likes m e but c ouldn't m arry m e. It would be the end of everything. I c ouldn't go on s eeing her. If I delay it a bit, c arry on as we are, s he m ight grow to love m e in tim e - like your wife, David. I jus t think it m ight be better to do nothing for the tim e being.' 'Faint heart, dear boy, faint heart! ' exc laim ed S idney. 'S he m ight think you are trifling with her affec tions and get tired of waiting about. Have you ever thought of that? I m ean, it's been getting on for two years , well, over a year anyway, that you have been taking her out. S he won't go on waiting for ever. A nd you're no s pring c hic ken. T he s um m er holidays are nearly upon us . S he'll be gadding off to s om e exotic loc ation full of ric h, eligible, unattac hed m en who will buzz around her like bees around a honey pot. Y ou've got to go for it. B e dec is ive. Y ou c ould s tart by giving her a quic k c lutc h in a bus s helter.' 'A c w tc h! ' s napped David. 'A nd it worked for m e! ' 'Look, Gervas e, do you love her?' as ked S idney, s uddenly turning very s erious . 'Y es , I do,' I replied. 'W ell, why don't you as k her to m arry you?' 'I'm frightened s he'll s ay no. I haven't got m uc h m oney s aved, I drive an old c ar and I live in a rented flat. It wouldn't be an offer s he c ouldn't refus e.' S idney got up from his des k and c am e and perc hed on the c orner of m y des k. 'T hat's not the real reas on though, is it?' he c ontinued. 'W hat?' I replied. 'T he fac t that you've not m uc h m oney and live in a rented flat.' 'No,' I replied. 'I'm jus t frightened that s he does n't love m e.' S idney s ighed and put his hand on m y s houlder. 'W ell, old boy, there's only one way to find out, is n't there?' S idney was right, of c ours e. I c ould not delay any longer. I dec ided that when I returned from the c ours e in Oxford I would take Chris tine out for that rom antic dinner s ugges ted by David and as k her to m arry m e. I arrived at S idney's hous e early on the S aturday m orning as arranged, to find m y c olleague dres s ed like an ageing pop s tar in wildly bright T -s hirt and jeans . He was in the garage, c ollec ting together an as s ortm ent of s tuffed anim als and equipm ent. He s topped what he was doing when he c aught s ight of m e heading down the path towards him . I was about to as k him the ques tion he put to m e. 'Gervas e, what are you wearing?' 'A s uit. W hy?' 'Do you always have to wear that dreadful grey outfit? W e are c ontributing to a c reative arts c ours e, not attending a Foreign Offic e funeral. Relax, get c as ual. It's a res idential c ours e for lively teac hers , not an undertakers ' c onvention. You want to look c olourful, expres s ive, exc iting, artis tic . You're not ins pec ting this weekend, you know! ' 'I didn't s top to think about what to put on, to be hones t. My m ind was on other things .' 'Oh dear, I do hope this is not a tas ter of things to c om e. I s inc erely hope that you are not going to m ope around Oxford like s om e m edieval m ys tic c ontem plating the m eaning of life. Y ou really will have to as k her, you know.' 'I know.' 'T his weekend will give you a perfec t opportunity to get your thoughts together and rehears e what you will s ay to her when you get bac k and pop the ques tion. I'll give you the benefit of m y extens ive experienc e with the oppos ite s ex. W e will have s om e rehears als . Now, c om e and help m e load up.' W e pac ked the c ar with S idney's boxes of paints and brus hes , great plas tic bags of c lay, folders and files , eas els and dis play boards , drapes and c anvas s es , dried flowers and gnarled lum ps of driftwood and, on the very top, we wedged a feroc ious -looking s tuffed s toat s avaging a rabbit, a s narling fox, a pair of fat hedgehogs and as s orted s harp-beaked birds . 'I s hall c arry the badger on m y knee,' announc ed S idney. 'He is very prec ious is B arry.' W e s aid goodbye to his long-s uffering wife, Lila, who s m iled and s hook her head as I pulled away and headed for the m ain road. S idney s pent the firs t part of the journey c hattering inc ons equentially and the s ec ond part in deep s leep with his arm s wrapped lovingly round the s tuffed badger. T he s ight of him in an am orous em brac e with the blac k and white c reature drew m any a s tare from other m otoris ts . W hen we arrived in Oxford, S idney rubbed his eyes , s tretc hed, yawned and peered through the window. 'Drop m e off at the c ollege, will you, Gervas e,' he direc ted. 'I s hall unpac k and find Mis s de la Mare and tell her we've arrived. You park the c ar s om ewhere and then would you book us in while I s ort out the works hop room s ? I'll s ee you in an hour for lunc h.' During the s um m er m onths , after the undergraduates have gone down for the Long V ac , the univers ity bec om es available for a huge variety of outs ide c ours es and c onferenc es . Mis s de la Mare's art c ours e was to take plac e at one of the oldes t, m os t beautiful and pres tigious of the c olleges . Having dropped off S idney and parked the c ar as ins truc ted, I m ade m y way to the entranc e of W entworth College, a large, s quare, im pos ing building of honey-c oloured s tone. Moving round various touris ts who were peeking through the s m all opening s et in a vas t anc ient door s tretc hing ac ros s an entranc e arc hway, I arrived at the P orter's Lodge. I peered through a leaded window for a s ign of life, and found m ys elf s taring into the fac e of a gaunt, lugubrious -looking porter with a hatc het of a nos e. T he nos e c ould have c ut a roc k in two. A few s ec onds later the funereal figure em erged through the portal like s om e blac k beetle c reeping out from a hole. 'Good m orning, s ir,' he intoned. 'May I be of as s is tanc e?' 'Good m orning,' I replied c heerily. 'I'm here for the m eeting.' 'Y ou will find your c olleagues in the S tafford Cham ber.' He ges tured with a long s tic k of a finger ac ros s the quadrangle. 'I'll enter your nam e, s ir, if I m ay.'

'Gervas e P hinn,' I replied. 'T hank you, Dr P hinn. P re-prandial drinks are at pres ent being s erved.' 'A nd I am expec ting m y c olleague, s o if you c ould direc t him to where the m eeting is taking plac e?' 'Of c ours e, Dr P hinn,' replied the porter, s m iling like a frog. I walked out from under the arc hway and into the quadrangle, in the m iddle of whic h was s et a large beautifully m own s quare of lawn. T he hum of the traffic outs ide hardly perm eated this peac eful s anc tum . I m ade m y way ac ros s the quadrangle to the S tafford Cham ber. It was a m agnific ently ornate room with dark oak wains c oting, a great dom ed c eiling, and an uneven but highly polis hed floor. P ortraits of form er E arls of W entworth lined the walls , and a great im pos ing portrait of Charles I on hors ebac k, res plendent in s ilver arm our and flowing blue c loak, hung at the head of the room . T here was a pleas ant s m ell of old wood and bees wax. A s m all gathering ofform ally dres s ed people was c hatting away am iably and s ipping s herry, but I c ould s ee no s ign of Mis s de la Mare. E veryone s eem ed to be rem arkably relaxed. I was relieved to be in a s uit. I would have been entirely out of plac e in one of S idney's s ugges ted outfits and wondered if he would be allowed in when he arrived. A dis tinguis hed, elderly gentlem an, with the fac e of a Rom an s enator, approac hed m e. 'Have we m et?' he as ked am iably. 'I don't think s o,' I replied, holding out m y hand. 'I'm Gervas e P hinn.' 'J ohn Morton, E m eritus P rofes s or of Medieval His tory. I am very pleas ed to m eet you. I onc e knew a bis hop c alled Gervas e. A very s aintly m an. Y ou are a new fac e at our gathering, are you not?' 'Y es , and very honoured to have been invited.' 'W hereabouts are you from ?' 'Y orks hire.' 'A h yes , I did detec t a c ertain northern burr in the voic e. You'll know P rofes s or de Longue, of c ours e. He's a Halifax m an. A nd David W illett-S m ith is from your part of the c ountry, S heffield I think.' A s I c as t m y eyes around the throng, I had an uneas y feeling that this augus t gathering was not a group of prim ary s c hool teac hers on a weekend c reative arts c ours e. My s us pic ions were s trengthened as m y friendly c om panion took m e round and introduc ed m e to one dis tinguis hed pers on after another. T hey were c onfirm ed when a large begowned individual appeared and announc ed: 'Fellows of the College, lunc heon is s erved.' I had gate-c ras hed a m eeting of the Fellows of W entworth College. 'S o you are Dr Finn, are you?' I turned to fac e a rather portly, elderly m an with grey nibbled eyebrows and s kin as white and s hiny as a waxwork figure. 'I'm Herbert Rawns ley and have been s o looking forward to m eeting you.' I s hook a c old hand. 'Y ou have?' I replied nervous ly. 'Y es , indeed. I was s o delighted to hear that you had been elec ted one of our Honorary Fellows . Y ou are a Cam bridge m an, are you not? T rinity, was it?' 'E r... well... I...' 'Y our book on Multi-Dim ens ional S c aling and Log-Linear Contingenc y A nalys is was refres hingly readable. W e m us t get together after lunc h.' 'Y es , we m us t,' I replied, thinking how, in heaven's nam e, was I to get out of this plac e. 'I m us t s ay, you have los t your Canadian ac c ent,' c ontinued the wax-fac ed individual. 'Gervas e is from Y orks hire, Herbert,' s aid P rofes s or Morton who had jus t joined us . 'I thought you were Canadian? It is Mauric e Finn, is n't it, author of S tatis tic al M eas urements in S oc ial S c ienc e?' 'I'll jus t was h m y hands , if I m ay,' I replied, turning in the direc tion of the exit. 'T here's a lavatory through here,' m y c om panion s aid helpfully and, gras ping m y arm , he added, 'I'll c om e with you. W e'll s it together at lunc h and c om pare notes . I'm working on s om e ec onom ic m odels in whic h you m ay very well be interes ted.' I hid in a toilet c ubic le for a few m inutes , then c rept away unobs erved. Onc e outs ide in the quadrangle, I breathed great gulps of air in relief. I found S idney pac ing up and down near the m ain entranc e. 'T here you are! ' he c ried. 'I thought you'd thrown yours elf in the river or s om ething. W here have you been?' B efore I c ould ans wer, he rattled on. 'Never m ind, it's all s orted. I've s een Mis s de la Mare, found where we are to work and have c opies of the program m e. I've taken the larger room bec aus e I need the s pac e. Y ou'll be all right in the little annexe, won't you? Y es , of c ours e, you will, you don't need equipm ent for poetry, do you? Now, let's go and have s om e lunc h.' Mis s de la Mare was waiting for m e in the entranc e to the s em inar room where I was to lead the poetry works hop later that afternoon. S he was wearing a beige c otton s afari c onc oc tion, with poc kets and zips everywhere. Her s um m er ens em ble ended with a pair of pink plim s olls . T here was a broad grin on her plum p fac e. 'Mr P hinn, Gervas e! ' s he c ried, gras ping m y hand and s haking it vigorous ly. 'How very nic e to s ee you. A lways a great relief to know that the s peakers and tutors have arrived. I s aw Mr Clam p earlier and he s aid you'd found the c ollege without too m uc h diffic ulty. Now, c om e along in and s ee if you've got everything you need. T here's a flip c hart, s c reen, overhead projec tor, plenty of paper and m aterials .' Mis s de la Mare s eem ed m ore nervous than I. 'It's fine, Mis s de la Mare,' I reas s ured her, glanc ing around the s m all room . 'B ut is the room big enough, do you think?' 'It's fine,' I repeated. 'B ec aus e I c ould s ee if there is s om ething a little larger if not.' 'It really is fine,' I s aid laughing. 'Good s how! ' s he c ried, rubbing her hands together. 'I'm s ure your s es s ion will go really well.' My afternoon works hop did, in fac t, go well. T he teac hers were good-hum oured and interes ted and produc ed s om e s plendid poem s . S idney's s es s ion, however, did not turn out quite as planned. I was s itting in a s m all ros e garden, enc los ed by hands om e wrought-iron railings , to the rear of the c ollege, when I c aught s ight of him s triding ac ros s the quadrangle with the s tuffed badger tuc ked under his arm and a thunderous look on his fac e. I c alled to him and a few m om ents later he banged nois ily through the gate, flopped on to the s eat next to m e and rather unc erem onious ly, I thought, dum ped the badger at his feet. 'I was harangued by a m ad wom an! ' he exc laim ed, eyes blazing and beard bris tling. 'A m ad wom an in c rim s on dungarees with bright red hair and c lanking m etal jewellery. Com pared to her, Mrs S avage is a veritable Mother T eres a.' 'W ho was s he?' I as ked, trying to s uppres s a s m ile. 'S om e anim al rights ac tivis t, by the way s he behaved. S he took agains t m y s tuffed c reatures from the s tart and refus ed to put brus h to c anvas . "How would you like to be m urdered, gutted, s tuffed and m ounted and then painted by all and s undry?" s he s c reec hed at m e, as I was arranging the heron. T he whole s es s ion went from bad to wors e and deteriorated into a debate on the rights and wrongs of s tuffed anim als .' S idney's eyes were now fairly c rac kling with anger. 'I endeavoured to explain to her that the anim als were not deliberately killed, but had been found dead, but would s he have it?' My c olleague c aught s ight of the s light s m ile on m y lips . 'Y ou m ay find this am us ing, Gervas e, but that s m ile will rapidly dis appear when I tell you that, at m y s ugges tion, B oadic ea in the red dungarees and battle jewellery is m oving to the poetry works hop with you tom orrow m orning. I s ugges ted that s he m ight find poetry m ore to her liking.' 'W ell, thanks a bundle, S idney! ' 'W e are doing pottery tom orrow and I c ertainly don't intend having that red s he-devil s avaging m e for digging up the environm ent, s tripping c lay from river beds , dis turbing the natural habitat of s nails and generally ruining the planet. I'll tell you this , Gervas e -' 'E xc us e m e, s ir.' It was the gaunt, lugubrious -looking porter. 'Y es ?' s napped S idney. 'W hat is it?' 'Y our voic e is c arrying ac ros s the quadrangle - s ir.' 'Really?' 'It's ec hoing.' 'Y ou don't s ay.' 'T his garden is res erved for the Fellows of the c ollege.' He s c rutinized S idney as if looking for dirt and then his eyes res ted on the s tuffed badger. 'A nd pets are not allowed.' 'P ets ! ' exc laim ed S idney. 'It's not a pet, it's a s tuffed badger.' 'I c an s ee what it is , s ir.' S idney patted the c reature on the head. 'A nd it's dead.' 'I take it you are not a Fellow of the c ollege, s ir?' c ontinued the m an unperturbed. 'Do I look like a Fellow of the c ollege?' exc laim ed S idney wearily. He was dres s ed in a c oloured T -s hirt and bandanna, paint-s pattered jeans and m ulti-c oloured plim s olls . 'No, s ir, you do not.' 'Y ou are c orrec t! I am not a Fellow of the c ollege.' 'W ell, would you m ind vac ating the garden then, pleas e, s ir, taking the anim al with you?' 'A m I doing any harm ? A m I doing anything heinous ly wrong in m erely s itting on a benc h in the s uns hine, m inding m y own bus ines s ? Is m y s tuffed c om panion ripping up the lawn or s avaging the flowers ?' 'T he garden is for the exc lus ive us e of Fellows of W entworth College,' the porter pers is ted. 'I m us t as k you to leave.' W ith a great exhalation of breath, S idney got to his feet angrily, s natc hed up the badger and s trode away. I got up to follow him . 'I am s orry that you were dis turbed, Dr Finn,' s aid the porter. 'W e do get all s orts of uns avoury itinerants over the s um m er who s lide in when m y bac k is turned. I trus t you were not too inc onvenienc ed?' W ithout waiting for an ans wer he walked away but turned as if he had s uddenly forgotten s om ething. 'Oh, by the way, Dr Finn, P rofes s or Rawns ley has been looking for you.' 'B ringing the s tuffed anim als was a c om plete and utter dis as ter,' growled S idney as I helped him load the c ar the following afternoon. 'I feel like throwing the blas ted badger in the river. It's brought m e nothing but grief. I s hould have got them to paint ins ipid waterc olours of the c ollege and the gardens , do pretty little s ketc hes of flowers . Mind you, we would have been banned no doubt by that gatekeeper from Hell from drawing anything in his wretc hed Fellows ' garden.' B efore I c ould ans wer, a s tately, c rim s on-gowned figure entered the quadrangle. It was the elderly don with the fac e of the Rom an s enator whom I had m et the previous day. He s m iled benignly at m e. 'Y ou m is s ed a very good lunc h yes terday, Gervas e,' he s aid, approac hing m e. 'W e all wondered where you had got to. Herbert is very keen to s peak to you.' 'I was feeling a little unwell,' I replied s heepis hly. 'Oh, I am s orry. I trus t you are now rec overed?' 'Y es , I feel fine today.' 'T hat's good. A re you c om ing?' 'Com ing?' I repeated. 'T o E vens ong in the c hapel. It's the s pec ial s ervic e for the Fellows .' 'I'll be along in a m om ent,' I replied, s m iling weakly. 'I look forward to s eeing you there.' T here was a s wis h of red gown and P rofes s or Morton was gone. 'W ho the devil was that?' as ked S idney. 'Oh, jus t s om eone I m et yes terday.' 'W ell, what was all that about lunc h and a m eeting of the Fellows ? You are a dark hors e, you know. T here are one or two ques tions I want ans wering, Gervas e, s tarting with why you were not as ked to vac ate the Fellows ' garden when I was evic ted, who are thes e im portant people that you s eem to know and, m ore im portantly, how you c oped with the wild wom an in the red dungarees .' 'Com e along, S idney, let's go. A ll will be revealed on the journey hom e. I need to get bac k to Fettles ham . T here's a very im portant ques tion I need to as k and it really c an't be put off any longer.'

24

I had booked a table at Le B on A ppetit res taurant in the little m arket town of Ribs dyke for the S aturday after m y return from Oxford. Chris tine would be in a good m ood bec aus e term would have ended and s he would be looking forward to the long s um m er break. T here would be s oft m us ic , s ubdued lights and, from our s ec luded table, we would look out along the dale and watc h the s un go down behind the noble fells . I would reac h out and take Chris tine's hand in m ine. Our eyes would loc k. I would gaze into thos e deep blue eyes and whis per, 'Chris tine, I think you know how I feel about you. Over the year, I've grown c los er and c los er to you. Y ou're always in m y thoughts , you're forever in m y dream s . I love you.' I would paus e for effec t. 'Darling, will you m arry m e?' Her eyes would fill with tears . 'Of c ours e,' s he would s igh. T hat is what I had c arefully rehears ed in Oxford but it did not quite work out like that. T he taxi arrived late. I thought it would s et the s c ene m uc h better if I arrived at Chris tine's hous e in a s leek blac k taxi rather than in m y old, dis tinc tly grubby, V olvo es tate. It would als o m ean that I c ould have m ore than one glas s of wine. I m ight need s om e Dutc h c ourage, I thought, im agining the ordeal ahead of m e. My heart s ank when I s aw the vehic le whic h s pluttered to a halt outs ide T he Rum bling T um c afe. It was without a doubt the oldes t and s m ellies t in the fleet, reeking of dies el and s tale c igarettes . 'I didn't know I were pic kin' up t'P rinc e of W ales ,' s aid the driver fac etious ly, when I c om plained about the s tate of the interior. 'Y ou s hould have as ked for t'lim ous ine.' W hen we finally arrived at Chris tine's parents ' hous e, I c ould s ee m y future bride s taring anxious ly through the window. 'I'm really s orry,' I s aid as I hurried her down the path, 'the taxi was late.' 'I thought you'd s tood m e up,' s he s aid s m iling. T hen s he c aught s ight of the vehic le. 'A nd we're going by taxi. How nic e.' Le B on A ppetit was heaving. W e s queezed through a c rowd of loud young m en in s m art s uits holding pints of lager who were bloc king the door, to be greeted by the head waiter. He was a s m all, dark-eyed, Gallic -looking individual, who eyed m e s uperc ilious ly as I pus hed m y way forward, c learing a path for Chris tine. He as ked, in a s trong Frenc h ac c ent, if I had a res ervation and, hearing that I had, ran a fat finger down a lis t in his hand. 'A h, oui, Mees ter and Mees is P inn.' 'P hinn! ' I c orrec ted. 'Mees ter P hinn. E ef you would like to c om e zees way, I will s how you to your table.' W e followed him through a nois y, c rowded res taurant to a s m all table pos itioned between two larger tables full of loud, laughing people and direc tly oppos ite the doors to the kitc hens . 'Is there s om ewhere whic h is a little m ore private?' I as ked, im m ediately regretting that I had not as ked for a quiet table when I had booked. 'P rivate?' he repeated, arc hing a thic k, blac k eyebrow. 'P rivate?' 'More s ec luded, quieter.' 'Oh, no, no, no! I am afraid not. Le B on A ppetit ees always ver' bus y at zer weekend. Y ou 'ave to book early for zer bes t tables .' He gave m e a look whic h c learly s aid, 'It is this table or nothing.' 'It's fine,' s aid Chris tine s queezing into a c hair. 'A peritif?' dem anded the waiter, before I c ould s it down. 'In a m inute! ' I s napped, attem pting to get into the c hair. A fter we had ordered them , the drinks took an age to arrive and, try as I m ight to have a c onvers ation with Chris tine, m y voic e was drowned by the nois e of the other diners , the banging of the double s wing doors to the kitc hen, the s houts of the c hef and over-loud bac kground m us ic . To m ake m atters wors e, the waiter, another s m all, dark-eyed, Gallic -looking individual, ins is ted on taking us through the m enu in m axim um , dreary detail. 'You c an 'ave for s tarters zer warm ed as paragus with a lightly poac hed egg, fres h s pinac h s alad, garden 'erbs and parm es an s havings or you c an 'ave tem pura of deep-fried queenie s c allops with red pepper s auc e on a bed of roc ket leaves and c ris py pros c iutto, or you c an 'ave c onfit of plum p pigeon, s erved with an 'ones t red wine reduc tion, ragout of S c hitake, oys ter and P iedm ont wild m us hroom s , or you c an 'ave c as s erole of num erous m us s els in a garlic s hellfis h broth, or you c an 'ave oven-roas ted 'alibut tandoori tikka m ars ala with pic kled lim e c hutney and naan bread, or you c an 'ave fres h S c ottis h s m oked s alm on s erved on a platter of c hic ory leaves , c aper, gherkins and roas ted c rus ty bread, fres h from zer oven, or you c an 'ave hot feta c hees e with s weet plum tom atoes , blac k olives and dic ed oregano, or you c an 'ave fruit terrine featuring s trawberries , blac kberries , redc urrants , blueberries , all s et in apple jelly and s erved with c itrus c rem e fraic he, or you c an 'ave zer fres h tom ato s oup with zer c routons .' 'I'll 'ave the m us s els ! ' I s napped, when finally the drone c am e to a halt. 'A nd s oup for m e,' s aid Chris tine, attem pting to s uppres s a s m ile. 'B on,' s c owled the waiter, bris tling like an angry c at and then proc eeded to s c ribble down the order. 'A nd now for zer m ain c ours es . W e 'ave...' A nd the whole thing was repeated. He took m y order for the food and s trode away with a flouris h. 'S ounds delic ious ,' s houted Chris tine ac ros s the table. 'David rec om m ended it,' I s houted bac k. 'I didn't think it would be quite as c rowded.' A t this point there were s hrieks of c ac kling laughter from the large, rowdy offic e party at the next table. 'W ould you c are to s ee the wine lis t, s ir?' T he wine waiter, with hair s lic ked bac k in rippling boot-blac k waves , offered an enorm ous leather-bound volum e in his long white fingers . 'J us t a bottle of dry hous e white, pleas e,' I replied. I c ould not c ontem plate lis tening to him working through the c atalogue of wines . He inc lined his head, nodded and departed through the m elee. T he res taurant grew nois ier and nois ier and hotter and hotter and every tim e a waiter s wept out of the kitc hen, a great gus t of hum id air hit us in the fac e. It was quite im pos s ible to have any s ort of intim ate c onvers ation in s uc h an atm os phere. T he food finally arrived. T he num erous m us s els num bered five, the s oup looked about as appetis ing as grey dis hwater, the m ain c ours es were barely warm and the white wine too s weet. 'I'm really s orry about this , Chris tine! ' I s houted ac ros s the table. 'David s aid this plac e was really good. He c am e here for his twenty-fifth wedding annivers ary. I c ertainly was n't expec ting it to be like this . I wanted this evening to be s o s pec ial.' 'Could you take a photo of us , pleas e, young m an?' as ked a m an with a c larety c om plexion and heavy jowls who was s itting at the next table. 'Offic e outing,' he explained. 'Do you m ind?' 'Of c ours e not,' I replied, s m iling m aniac ally. T he evening was developing into a farc e. I took three or four photographs , thrus t the c am era into his hands and wiped m y brow. 'T o be what?' as ked Chris tine when I turned bac k to fac e her. 'S orry, what did you s ay?' 'Y ou s aid s om ething about wanting the evening to be...' 'S pec ial! I wanted it to be s pec ial. B ut this plac e has all the am bienc e of an abattoir! ' Chris tine laughed and nearly s pilt her wine. 'A nd there was s om ething very partic ular I wanted to as k you. S om ething I've been wanting to s ay for weeks now and...' S he looked at m e expec tantly, as did a c ouple of the offic e revellers on the next table to whom m y rais ed voic e had obvious ly c arried. 'W ould you... would you... would you like another glas s of wine?' 'No thanks , it's a little too s weet for m e,' s he replied. I tried again. 'Chris tine... would you...' 'W ould you c are to 'ear what we 'ave for des s ert?' It was the waiter again. No, I felt like s aying, let m e gues s . 'W ould you like a pudding, Chris ?' I as ked. 'No, thanks , jus t c offee, pleas e.' 'Could we jus t have c offee, pleas e,' I s aid to the waiter. He s tuc k his tongue in the c orner of his m outh, s hrugged and nodded as if deliberating on a diffic ult arithm etic al problem . 'A nd is there anywhere les s c rowded and nois y for us to have it?' I c ontinued. 'Oh, no, no, no! I am afraid not. Le B on A ppetit ees always ver' bus y at zer weekend.' T his was jus t im pos s ible. T here s hould have been s oft m us ic , s ubdued lighting, the outs tanding view down the dale, a wonderful c alm . I c ould not pos s ibly as k her here in this plac e. I wanted this evening to be m em orable. 'S hall we s kip the c offee?' s ugges ted Chris tine helpfully. 'W e c ould go bac k to m y hous e. I m ake an exc ellent c up and I know Mum and Dad would love to s ee you again. T hey hoped you m ight have tim e to pop in.' 'No c offee, then, thank you,' I told the waiter. 'J us t the bill, pleas e.' 'Certainement,' m urm ured the waiter and s trode off. T urning bac k to Chris tine, I s aid in a res igned voic e, 'Yes , let's go bac k to your hous e for c offee.' I had not planned for the evening to end like this . How c ould I propos e with Chris tine's parents m aking polite c onvers ation and s m iling at m e over the rim s of their c offee c ups ? 'I'll jus t go and rus tle up the taxi. I ordered it for eleven, but we don't want to be hanging about here for the next hour. W ould you exc us e m e? I won't be long.' Having finally pers uaded the head waiter to ring for the taxi, I headed for the only c ool and quiet plac e in the building: the gents . I had to get m y thoughts s traight and think through another plan of attac k. In the des erted c loak-room , I s plas hed c old water over m y fac e and s tared into the m irror. P erhaps Chris tine's parents would leave us to ours elves and then I c ould pop the ques tion. I had rehears ed what I would s ay s o m any tim es I knew it bac kwards . Or perhaps we c ould s it outs ide in the warm air, I c ould take her in m y arm s and propos e beneath the m oon. I looked in the m irror, s m iled and s aid out loud: 'I think you know how I feel about you. Over the year I've grown c los er and c los er to you. You're always in m y thoughts , you're forever in m y dream s . I love you, I've always loved you, I've loved you s inc e I firs t s aw you.' I paus ed for effec t. 'I jus t c annot live without you. I want to s pend the res t of m y life with you. Darling, will you m arry m e?' T here was a loud flus hing nois e, a c ubic le door opened and the m an with a c larety c om plexion and heavy jowls from the next table em erged with a bem us ed expres s ion. He joined m e at the was hbas in where he proc eeded to was h his hands vigorous ly. 'I'm afraid I c an't,' he s aid bluntly. 'I'm s orry?' 'Marry you. I'm m arried already. I've been m arried for fotty-five years . B ut thank you for as king - I s hall always treas ure the m em ory.' T hen, c huc kling to him s elf, he left m e to m y thoughts . T he evening had been a total dis as ter. W hat els e c ould pos s ibly happen next? I had not long to wait. A t the bar, having s ettled the bill, I bec am e aware of a fam iliar voic e. 'Could you order m e a taxi, pleas e, to c ollec t us in about thirty m inutes ?' It was Dr Gore. 'Dr Gore! ' I exc laim ed. T he Chief E duc ation Offic er s m iled his hungry vam pire s m ile and c am e down the bar to join m e. 'Hello, Gervas e, I didn't s ee you there. I take it you too have been c elebrating the end of term ? A re you here with your c olleagues ?' 'No, no, jus t with a friend,' I replied. 'W ell, you m us t c om e and join us for a c offee.' 'T hat's very kind, but I'm expec ting a taxi -' 'W hat tim e?' he interrupted. 'W ell, it was for eleven ac tually, but I've jus t as ked the waiter to telephone and s ee if it c ould c ollec t us earlier.' 'I'm s ure that you have tim e for a c up of c offee. In any c as e, if your taxi does arrive it c an wait for ten m inutes or s o.' He s m iled a thin-lipped, s elf-s atis fied s m ile, rem inding m e of Count Drac ula before he s inks his fangs into a helples s vic tim . 'Now, I won't take no for an ans wer. You run along and fetc h your friend. W e're through the arc hway, near the window, in a little alc ove.' 'A nd where have you been?' Chris tine dem anded in a m oc k angry voic e when I arrived bac k at the table. 'I've been s itting here for ages .' 'I'm really s orry. I m et Dr Gore and jus t c ouldn't get away. He's as ked us to join him for c offee and I c ouldn't get out of it. He ins is ted. Do you m ind awfully?' 'Of c ours e not.' I led Chris tine through the c rowd s till thronging the bar area, under the arc hway and headed in the direc tion of the window where Dr Gore had s aid he was s itting. T his was where Chris tine and I s hould have been, I thought c ros s ly. T here was s oft bac kground m us ic , s ubdued lights , tables for two in s ec luded alc oves . I c ould have propos ed here, I thought to m ys elf. 'He's over there,' s aid Chris tine taking m y arm . I s topped in m y trac ks as if turned to s tone when I s aw who was in anim ated c onvers ation with the CE O. A t a pretty table, bathed in pink light from a nearby lam p, s at a s tream lined figure in exquis ite ac id-green s ilk and bedec ked in an as s ortm ent of heavy gold jewellery. It was Mrs S avage. 'I do not believe it,' I heard m ys elf whis per. 'I do not believe it.' 'W hat is it?' as ked Chris tine. 'Y ou look as if you've s een a ghos t.' 'S om ething wors e,' I m urm ured. Dr Gore s tood as we reac hed the table. 'A h, there you are,' he s aid. 'Good, good. Mis s B entley, how very nic e to s ee you. Gervas e never m entioned who his friend was . B it of a dark hors e is our E nglis h ins pec tor. Com e, c om e, do take a s eat. I've ordered s om e m ore c offee.' Mrs S avage plac ed the c hina c up s he was holding c arefully between finger and thum b on the s auc er and our eyes m et. S he arc hed an eyebrow and gave m e a twis ted little s m ile. W e s at down on c hairs pulled up by Dr Gore. 'You know B renda, of c ours e, Gervas e,' c ontinued Dr Gore jovially. He turned to Chris tine and gave her the thin-lipped grin. 'T his is m y pers onal as s is tant, B renda S avage,' he explained. 'Y ou keep m e in order, don't you, B renda?' S he gave a s elf-s atis fied little s m irk before extending a green-nailed hand like s om e m em ber of royalty. 'Delighted to m eet you,' s he s aid s oftly. 'A nd this is Chris tine B entley,' Dr Gore told her. 'One of our m os t dis tinguis hed and hard-working headteac hers .' 'Hello,' s aid Chris tine warm ly. 'I think I s aw you with Dr Gore when he c am e to talk at the Headteac hers ' Conferenc e.' 'T hat's right,' s aid Mrs S avage. 'I s pend a lot of tim e with Dr Gore.' S he gave m e what c ould only be term ed a c hallenging look. Dr Gore and Mrs S avage, I thought to m ys elf. W ell, well. T he evening was c ollaps ing into a c om plete s ham bles - but what a s tory I would have to tell David and S idney. 'W ell, is n't this nic e,' c hortled the CE O leaning bac k in his c hair. T he next ten m inutes of trivial c onvers ation s eem ed an eternity. Mrs S avage never m is s ed an opportunity to rem ind m e how hard Dr Gore worked and how m uc h he relied on her. I c ould have yelped for joy when I s aw the little Frenc h waiter heading in our direc tion. 'Mees ter and Mees is P inn, your taxi is 'ere.' I thanked Dr Gore for the c offee, s hook his hand, wis hed him a pleas ant s um m er holiday, s m iled weakly at Mrs S avage and turned to Chris tine, 'S hall we go then?' Chris tine s lid her hand into m ine and s m iled. 'If you're ready,' s he replied. I was los t for words , jus t as I had been the very firs t tim e I had s een her. S he had the deepes t blue eyes and the faires t c om plexion I had ever s een, the s oftes t m as s of golden hair, the s weetes t m outh. S he was s trikingly beautiful. It had been a c oup de foudre - an ins tantaneous falling in love and I had to tell her. 'Gervas e,' s he repeated, 'are you ready?' 'Y es ,' I m urm ured. 'I'm ready.' 'T hat was an unexpec ted m eeting, was n't it?' Chris tine s aid as we headed for the door. 'Fanc y c om ing ac ros s Dr Gore and Mrs S avage, together. Do you think there's s om ething going on between them ? He's a widower, is n't he?' 'Chris tine -' 'Of c ours e, it m ight be quite innoc ent - jus t be a s ort of thank-you m eal, you know -' 'Chris tine! I am really totally uninteres ted in Dr Gore and Mrs S avage at the m om ent. T here really is s om ething I have to as k you. It won't wait. Could we jus t s it down for a m om ent?' W e found an em pty table in a s m oky part of the room near the bar. I took a deep breath and tried to rem em ber the words I had endles s ly rehears ed. My m ind went blank and m y throat dry. 'I know this is not the bes t plac e to s ay this , but I really have to s ay it now. You don't have to ans wer m e right away. You m ight want to think about it. It's jus t that I think you are the m os t beautiful, wonderful, am azing pers on I've ever m et and, well, I love you. Y es , I do, I love you. I c an't s top thinking about you. It's m aking m e ill. I want you to be m y wife.' 'Oh.' 'W ill you m arry m e, Chris tine? Y ou m ay want to think about it -' 'T he ans wer is "No",' Chris tine replied im m ediately. 'No? Oh, no! ' Her ans wer was like a bullet to the heart. 'No, I don't need to think about it, Gervas e. Of c ours e I'll m arry you.' 'Y ou w ill?' I s houted loud enough to turn the entire nois y res taurant s ilent. 'Y ou'll m arry m e?' 'Of c ours e, I will.' Making his way to the bar was the c laret-fac ed m an who had heard the final rehears al of m y s peec h in the gents . 'W ell done, lad,' he c huc kled, thum ping m e on the bac k. 'I knew thy'd fettle it.' T his was followed by a c latter of c linking glas s es and nois y applaus e from the res t of the diners . I c aught s ight of Dr Gore rais ing a very large brandy glas s in our direc tion. He was s m iling his vam pire s m ile while Mrs S avage, with her beringed hand on his arm , had an enigm atic s m irk playing about her lips . 'E es everything all right?' It was the head waiter who had m aterialis ed at m y arm . 'Oui! Oui!' I exc laim ed jum ping up, gras ping him by the s houlders and kis s ing him on both c heeks . ''E re, s teady on, s quire,' he replied in a dis tinc tly Y orks hire ac c ent, looking ac utely em barras s ed. 'Y ou've no need to c arry on like that.' 'Le repas etait ex c ellent,' exc laim ed Chris tine s uddenly, 'en depit du fait que la s oupe etait froide, la v iande pas as s ez c uite, le v in tiede, et l'ambianc e c elle d'un abattoir. A part c a, tout etait s uperbe.' 'T hanks very m uc h, m adam ,' s aid the waiter with a wan s m ile. 'V ery kind of you, I'm s ure.' He looked dis tinc tly unc om fortable. 'I'm not all that good with Frenc h,' he whis pered, retaining the weak s m ile. 'T he bos s jus t likes us to put on the ac c ent. Gives the plac e a bit of c las s , you know.' He added in a feeble voic e, 'A c tually, I was born in B arns ley.' T hen he c ontinued as an afterthought, 'T hey don't s peak m uc h Frenc h in B arns ley.' W e let the taxi wait and s tood with our arm s around eac h other on the little hum p-bac ked bridge in front of the res taurant. In the c lear m oonlight, the s wirling waters beneath were s pec kled in m yriad c olours : ros e-pink and s ilver, s late-grey and rus s et red, s him m ering yellow and tenderes t blue. A few leaves eddied in the pools , while old dead oaks , garlanded in ivy, s tood upright with roots agape to the s ky and willows wept and s hivered in the breeze. From its banks , s hadowy pas tures c lim bed up the fells ide and the great buffs of lim es tone towered above us like tall c as tle walls . T he s m ell of wet wood and honeys uc kle m ingled in the s till air. A dis tant farm dog yapped, and high above an owl gave a hunting s hriek. Chris tine's blue eyes were bright with pleas ure and her blonde hair s hone golden in the m oonlight. I s tooped to kis s her. 'I'd like s ix,' I s aid, wrapping m y arm s around her wais t. 'S ix what?' Chris tine as ked. 'Children. I'd like s ix c hildren.' 'Let's think about that later, s hall we?' s he replied, reac hing up to kis s m e. 'Y ou do want c hildren?' I as ked. 'Y es , of c ours e, but not right at this m om ent and I m ight want eight.' 'E y up! A re tha ready or what?' s aid a loud voic e in m y ear.

I very nearly tum bled off the bridge, and turned to fac e the taxi driver s tanding with hands on hips . 'I've got a lot o' c alls toneet, tha knaws . Can't be m es s in' abaat whils t tha looks at t'river. It's been theer s inc e B attle o' Ribs dyke 'undreds o' years bac k. It'll s till be theer in t' m ornin'. S o let's be 'avin' thee.' Chris tine and I hooted with laughter s o loudly that it was the taxi driver's turn to jum p with s urpris e. 'A re you two all reight?' 'W e're c ham pion, aren't we, Chris ?' I exc laim ed robus tly, in true Y orks hire fas hion. 'J us t c ham pion! '

Remember M e?

'Do you rem em ber m e?' as ked the young m an. T he old m an at the bus s top, S habby, s tanding in the s un, alone, Looked round. He s tared for a m om ent s c rewing up his eyes , T hen s hook his head. 'No, I don't rem em ber you.' 'Y ou us ed to teac h m e,' s aid the young m an. 'I've taught s o m any,' s aid the old m an, s ighing. 'I forget.' 'I was the boy you s aid was us eles s , Good for nothing, a was te of s pac e. W ho always left your c las s room c rying, A nd dreaded every les s on that you taught.' T he old m an s hook his head and turned away. 'No, I don't rem em ber you,' he m urm ured. 'W ell, I rem em ber you,' the young m an s aid.