Part 4 (2/2)

As George recounted his meeting with the HMI, it brought back memories of his and my first meeting and the verbal badminton we had played for a good few minutes before he had discovered that I was not the man to fix the guttering but a school inspector. I thought to myself that he might have learnt something from that experience. He clearly had not.

”So what happened?” I asked.

”I told her that I received lots of letters but, because I was a teaching head, I had to deal with correspondence and such when I could find the time. She followed me into the school, peering around her as if it were a museum, declined a cup of tea, plonked herself down on my chair, took the flowerpot off her head and got out this thick wedge of paper from her big black bag.

' ”I'm ready to commence,” says she.

'”Are you?” says I. ' ”I am,” says she.

”I pointed out to her that the children had not yet arrived so there was not much point in ”commencing” anything, but at nine o'clock after the register she could get started. I asked her if she wanted to begin with the infants and work up or with the juniors and work down.

' ”I wish to start with you, Mr. Lapping,” she says, fixing me with those gimlet eyes of hers. ”I want to discuss the teaching of spelling, grammar and punctuation, approaches to poetry, drama and story writing, standards of literacy, the handwriting policy, reading in the early years and the level of comprehension.” It was like an educational shopping list.

'”Hang on, Miss Mare,” I says.

'”De la,” says she, ”it's de la Mare.””

I shut my eyes and groaned inwardly I could guess what was coming.

'”OK, Delia,” I says, ”I don't have all that information at my fingertips, you know.”

Bingo!

' ”Well, don't you think you ought to, Mr. Lapping?” says she.

'”What?” says I. ' ”Have that information at your fingertips. After all you are the Headteacher!”

”I tried to explain to her that doc.u.ment after doc.u.ment arrived at the school like the plagues of Egypt, that I'd got a broken boiler, faulty pipes, toilets which wouldn't flush, a leaking roof, three children with chicken pox and a member of staff suffering from stress who, having just returned from one of Mr. Clamp's art courses, was ready to chuck herself down a pothole at Hopton Crags.

' ”Nevertheless, Mr. Lapping,” says she, ”it would be helpful to have some information on all these matters.”

' ”Well, it's a new one to me,” says I. ”It's the first time in nearly forty years of teaching that the nit nurse has wanted that sort of information from me.”

I winced. ”You thought she was the school nurse?”

”Well, of course I did. How was I to know she was one of these HMIs? I've only ever met one in the whole of my career and he was an old man in a suit, with a hangdog expression and about as happy as a jockey with haemorrhoids. I was certainly not expecting a strapping great woman in tweeds. I mean, she looked like the nit nurse.”

”How did she react?” I hardly dared ask.

”She stared at me for a moment with a sort of glazed expression and then she smiled.

' ”Let's start again, Mr. Lapping,” she said. ”My name is Winifred de la Mare, HMI.”

”We got on like a house on fire after that, particularly when she had met the children and read their poetry and stories. She liked what she saw so much she's coming back in the spring.”

”I really am delighted,” I said. ”Maybe I could come out to meet her when she returns?”

”Oh, you'll be meeting her all right, Gervase,” George Lapping replied. ”She was very interested in the creative writing we were doing, said it was very innovative, so I told her I got the ideas from one of your literacy courses and I suggested that she might care to join you on the next one you direct. Those little gimlet eyes of hers lit up at the thought. She said it was an excellent suggestion and that she will, no doubt, be getting in touch with you.”

”Well, thank you very much,” I replied.

”You should be very flattered,” he told me, with a mischievous ring in his voice. ”It's a mark of the excellent in-service you provide that I have recommended you.” With that, he made for the door, waved his hand dramatically and departed with the words: ”Some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them.”

There was a witch waiting for me outside the school. The hideous creature had long, knotted black hair which cascaded from beneath a pointed hat, a pale green-tinged face and crimson slit of a mouth, and she was shrouded in a flowing black cape. As I approached, the red-rimmed eyes fixed me with a glare and a long white-fingered hand with sharp red nails reached out like the talon of some great bird of prey and beckoned. The ghastly crone smiled widely to reveal a mouthful of blackened teeth.

”h.e.l.lo, Gervase,” she crooned, 'how nice to see you.” Before me stood the woman I was pretty sure I loved. Beneath the green and red make-up, the tangle of hair and the cloak of black was Miss Christine Bentley, Headteacher of Winnery Nook Nursery and Infant School. That particular morning I had agreed to visit the school as part of the Children's Reading Day celebrations to take the school a.s.sembly, talk to the children about stories and reading, and judge the compet.i.tion for the best fancy-dressed characters out of literature. I had looked forward immensely to seeing Christine again and, even dressed as a witch, thought she looked wonderful.

I had arrived at the Education Office earlier in the day feeling on top of the world.

”You're looking pretty chipper, Gervase,” remarked Sidney as I entered the room, humming.

”I am feeling pretty chipper actually, Sidney,” I replied cheerfully.

”Certainly a lot more buoyant than a couple of weeks ago,” remarked David, looking up from his papers and removing his spectacles. ”I take it you have placated Mrs. Peterson and have dear little Mrs. Dunn eating out of your hand following your latest visit to Highcopse School?”

”Yes, things went well, thank you, David. You were quite right, she is a dedicated teacher and perhaps I was a little hard on her.”

”And is the Bride of Frankenstein leaving you in peace?”

”Things have gone blissfully quiet in that direction,” I said brightly. ”Not a memo or a message or a telephone call all week from Mrs. Savage.”

”There's a definite spring in your step,” continued Sidney, 'an eagerness in your eye and rather a smug little smile playing about your lips. I could hear you whistling up the stairs like a blackbird with the early morning worm.”

”It would hardly be whistling, this blackbird of yours,” observed David, putting down his pen, 'if it had a beak full of worms.”

”Oh, don't be so pedantic,” retorted Sidney. ”I didn't say the blackbird had the worm in its beak, did I?”

”Well, where would it have the worm then, if it's not in its beak tucked under its wing? In a shopping basket?”

”Look, the worm is immaterial began Sidney.

”Is this conversation leading anywhere?” I interrupted. I had heard quite enough about worms recently enough to last me a lifetime. Sidney ignored me.

”What I meant, David, is that Gervase looks like the cat that has caught the mouse. Now is that comparison acceptable to you?”

I had heard enough about mice as well. ”When you two have quite finished' I attempted to get a word in but had no success.

”Not really,” continued David. ”That's a cliche, that is. What about: like a proud, powerful lion surveying his jungle kingdom. Much more original, precise and descriptive, don't you think?”

”Now I wonder why our young colleague here is looking so very pleased with himself this bright morning?” remarked Sidney, swivelling around on his chair to face me. ”It has rather more to it than having a successful visit to Highcopse School, I'll wager.”

”Possibly because today is Children's Reading Day,” I suggested, 'and for most of the time I shall be doing what I really enjoy touring schools encouraging children to read.”

”Or could it, by any chance, be because you are about to see the woman of your dreams, the Venus of Fettlesham, the Aphrodite of the education world, the delectable Miss Christine Bentley of Winnery Nook Nursery and Infant School?”

”How do you know I am visiting Winnery Nook this morning?”

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