Part 1 (2/2)
”Of course you do! She looked like a gerbil with mumps. And I think she's had that rhino suction because she looks a lot thinner as well.”
”Liposuction,” I corrected.
”She's that thick-skinned, I think I was right first time. She gave me such a glare. I tell you, if looks could maim, I'd be on crutches.”
”And she said Dr. Gore wanted to see me?”
”She's unbearable that woman,” said Julie with venom, 'you would think'
”Julie!” I snapped. ”Did Mrs. Savage say that Dr. Gore wanted to see me?”
”At nine o'clock prompt. That's what Lady High and Mighty said.”
”I wonder what it's about?”
”She puts on that posh accent and that hoity-toity manner but it doesn't fool me. Marlene on the switchboard remembers her when she started as an office junior. That's when her hair colour was natural. She had a voice as broad as a barn door and as croaky as a frog with laryngitis. Then she . went through all those husbands like a dose of salts and was promoted far beyond her capabilities and she now speaks as if she's got a potato in her mouth.”
”I think the expression is ”a plum in her mouth”.”
”With a mouth like hers, it's definitely a potato. When I think of the times '
”Did she say what Dr. Gore wanted?” I interrupted. I was feeling rather uneasy about this interview with the CEO so early on in the term. A small cold dread was settling into the pit of my stomach.
”No, I never gave her the chance. I keep all conversations with that woman as short as possible. Anyone would think she was royalty the way she carries on. It might be promotion.”
”Pardon?”
”Why Dr. Gore wants to see you. You know, a step up. Doubtful though you've only been here a year and a bit. Could be a complaint from a governor or an angry head teacher ”That's all I need the first week back,” I sighed.
”Then again,” said Julie, with a mischievous glint in her eye, 'it could be one of his little jobs.”
”Oh no!” I exclaimed. ”Not one of his little jobs! Please don't let it be one of his little jobs!” I was well acquainted with Dr. Gore's little jobs, having been given several in my first year and they were never 'little' jobs. There had been the county-wide reading survey and the full audit of secondary school libraries followed by a detailed report to the Education Committee. There had been the investigation into the teaching of spelling, the production of a series of guideline doc.u.ments for teachers, and the organising of the visit of the Minister of Education. All this was extra work on the top of the courses, inspections and report writing. I prayed it was not one of Dr. Gore's little jobs.
Dr. Gore, Chief Education Officer for the County of Yorks.h.i.+re, continued to smile like a hungry vampire as he leaned forward in his chair. He peered over his gla.s.ses, his eyes glinting like chips of gla.s.s. ”Well, Gervase,” he murmured, stroking his brow with a long finger. I just knew what he was going to say. He was going to say, ”I have a little job for you.”
”I have a little job for you,” he said.
Ten minutes later Julie was waiting for me at the top of the stairs. ”Well?”
”One guess.”
”A little job?”
”Right first time.”
”I'll put the coffee on.”
I followed her into the office. ”Actually it's not too bad,” I said cheerfully, rattling the change in my trouser pocket. ”Dr. Gore's asked me to organise a visit of one of Her Majesty's Inspectors for later this term. He wants to look at some schools as part of a national information gathering exercise on literacy standards. I just have to nominate a number of schools and arrange things, nothing ma.s.sively demanding in that. I can ring round the schools this morning and get a letter off to the Ministry. There's not much else for me to do today. The only fly in the ointment is having to liaise with Mrs. Savage.”
Julie pulled the screwed-up face again and clattered out of the office. ”Forget the coffee,” she said, ”I'll get the brandy.”
One bright morning a week later I was looking casually through my post when I came upon a frighteningly official-looking doc.u.ment. On the envelope there was a large royal crest with a lion rampant and rearing unicorn and topped with a crown. The letter inside had a black embossed heading The Ministry of Education and ended with a large flourish of a signature. I recognised the name: Miss W. de la Mare.
Miss de la Mare, Her Majesty's Princ.i.p.al Divisional Inspector of Schools, had contacted me the previous year when I had been given the 'little job' of arranging the visit of the Minister of Education. She had barked down the telephone at Julie that she had wanted to speak to me to discuss the visit and then had promptly hung up. Julie had told me that the speaker 'was like a grizzly bear with toothache' and had given a name which sounded like ”Deadly Stare'. In the event Miss de la Mare's bark was far worse than her bite. In the letter I had now, she requested that I arrange a series of visits to schools 'which demonstrate good practice in the teaching of reading and writing' and which 'show good breadth, balance and continuity in the curriculum'. She was particularly interested in poetry.
I knew just the school for her to visit: Backwatersthwaite Primary, the very first school I had called at when I had started in my new career as an inspector a year earlier.
It had been the first week of the job. After a frustrating two-hour search up and down the dale, along muddy, twisting roads, across ancient stone bridges, up dirt tracks and through countless picturesque villages, I had eventually discovered Backwatersthwaite School. The Headteacher, Mr. Lapping, a tall, lean man with grey, frizzy hair like a pile of wire wool, had not been expecting me but was entirely unperturbed when I informed him that I was a County School Inspector visiting to examine the children's work and scrutinise the school doc.u.mentation. I had called at the school again a couple of times during the year and had been immensely impressed by the quality of the education. The children were polite and well-behaved, they answered questions with enthusiasm and perception, read with confidence and expression and wrote the most poignant and vivid poetry.
I replied promptly to the letter from the Ministry of Education suggesting five schools for Miss de la Mare to visit and offering to accompany her to Backwatersthwaite. I certainly did not want her to spend half the day, as I had done, travelling backwards and forwards through the dale in search of the elusive school.
A couple of days later a second rather sharp-sounding letter arrived from the Ministry of Education informing me that Miss de la Mare was grateful for the list of suitable schools and for my offer to accompany her on one of the ii visits, but she would prefer to go alone. I immediately telephoned the head teachers at the chosen schools forewarning them of the H M I's visitation.
”Well, thank you very much,” sighed George Lapping down the line. ”Thank you very much indeed. I know now who my friends really are.” I could guess from the tone of his voice that he was secretly pleased but he made the pretence of displeasure. ”I have attempted, Gervase, over the many years I have been a teacher and head teacher in this vast and beautiful county, to avoid the attentions of school inspectors. My school is isolated, difficult to find and subtly disguised to resemble the facade of a private dwelling. I have kept my head down, got on with my teaching and not done too bad a job, even if I say so myself. Now, with your recent arrival in the county, Backwatersthwaite has been put firmly on the map. I guess there will be coaches creeping up the dale full of educationalists and researchers, maybe day trippers and school parties. Now I have an HMI putting me under the microscope.”
”You should be very flattered that I recommended your school, George,” I replied. ”It's a mark of the excellent work which your pupils achieve. As Shakespeare would have it, ”Some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them.”
”But I have an HMI thrust upon me. Well, I just hope he has the same difficulty finding the school as you did when you first came here, Gervase. I can't be doing with visitors. They interrupt my teaching routine with all their questions. Anyway, when is this visit likely to take place?”
”Oh, some time this term,” I replied. ”I'm not exactly sure, but I should imagine that you'll be given very good warning. By the way, George' I was about to tell him that the H MI in question would be a woman but he cut me off.
”And I do not intend putting on anything special for him.
He'll just have to take us as he finds us. Anyway, if he intends coming out in November or December, he had better reconsider. It's like Tibet up here in the winter.” I tried again to explain that the HMI intending to visit him was not a man but Miss de la Mare, and quite a forceful character at that, but he never gave me the chance. ”I shall have to go. Break is over and there's children to teach. I'll let you know how I get on.” With that the line went dead.
As soon as I had replaced the receiver, however, the telephone rang. I s.n.a.t.c.hed it up.
”George,” I said, a.s.suming it would be the previous speaker, ”I meant to say that the HMI '
The voice which replied was coldly formal. ”This is Mrs. Savage.” I jumped as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water down my back. ”Is that Mr. Phinn?”
”Yes, yes, Mrs. Savage,” I said. ”I thought you were someone else.”
”Mr. Phinn,” she said primly, 'it was my understanding that you and I were going to liaise?”
”Going to what?” I asked.
”Liaise,” she repeated. ”I understood from Dr. Gore that we were going to liaise over the visit of the HMI.”
”Oh yes, he did sort of mention something about that.”
”Mr. Phinn, Dr. Gore does not sort of mention something. Dr. Gore is always very specific and precise and he clearly informed me that you were going to get in touch to liaise about this intended visit of the H MI. I was to deal with all the administrative arrangements.”
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