Part 5 (1/2)
”You can't keep anything from me, dear boy. Julie mentioned that you had the visit on your engagement sheet for this week. Now do tell us, how are things going with that Nordic beauty of yours?”
Before I could reply, David looked up again from his papers. ”She's a real cracker is that Miss Bentley,” he said. ”As my grandfather he was the one who had the sheep farm near Builth Wells used to say, ”Fyddai hi yn berffaith pet ai hi yn Gymraes.””
”I could not have expressed it better myself,” remarked Sidney. ”And what in heaven's name does that mouthful of gutter al gibberish mean? Whenever you start spouting Welsh I always think you're choking on a bone.”
”It means, ”If she were Welsh, she'd be perfect”!” replied David. ”And I'll tell you this, if I was fancy-free, with a bit more hair on my head and less of a spare tyre around the tummy, I'd be after her like a rat up a drainpipe.”
' ”Like a rat up a drainpipe”!” Sidney repeated, snorting.
”What a wonderful way with words you Welsh have! ”Like a rat up a drainpipe.” Most original and descriptive. I don't know how you have the bra.s.s neck to criticise my choice of words when you use that sort of hackneyed expression.”
I had begun to sort through the papers on my desk to check that there was nothing urgent to deal with, trying not to get involved in the endless badinage between Sidney and David. It was impossible, however, not to listen. They were like a comedy duo. One would set off on a line of thought and then the other would respond with a witticism or a clever riposte, each trying to outdo the other. It was like playing verbal ping-pong.
After a moment's silence, when I thought my two colleagues had returned to their work, Sidney jumped up from his desk, hurried over to where I was standing, put his arm around my shoulder and looked at me with an intense expression upon his face and a gleam in his eye.
”What is it?” I asked.
”Now come along, Gervase, you have been particularly elusive when a certain young enchantress is mentioned. How are things going with you and the delightful Head-teacher of Winnery Nook?”
”Oh, all right,” I replied, shuffling my papers.
”Another master word smith ”Oh, all right”,” Sidney snorted again. ”Ever the master of understatement. You are supposed to be an inspector for English, for goodness sake. Can't you do better than ”Oh, all right”? What about splendid, fantastic, magnificent, marvelous, amazing, incredible, miraculous, phenomenal, spectacular-'
”All right! All right! Things are going pretty well. I just don't want to tempt fate.”
”So we can a.s.sume that you are, in Harold's quaintly old-fas.h.i.+oned words, ”walking out” with Miss Bentley, or in Julie's more down-to-earth description ”cooartin” and that wedding bells will soon be in the air?”
”No, you certainly cannot a.s.sume any such thing. I have taken her out a few times. There's nothing serious at the moment.” I was feeling rather embarra.s.sed and irritated by the way the conversation was going. ”Have you completed this form on school resources yet?” I asked holding up a yellow sheet of paper, endeavouring to change the subject.
”Oh, you won't get out of answering quite so easily as that,” Sidney told me, plucking the paper from my hand and returning it to the pile on my desk. ”Now do tell. Are things developing satisfactorily in that direction?”
”Look, Sidney,” I groaned, ”I would rather not talk about it. It's gone eight thirty and I have to be in a school in fifteen minutes.”
”Well, you want to go for it, Gervase,” remarked David, leaving his desk to join us. ”You are only young once. And as my grandfather used to say '
”Oh dear, here we go,” sighed Sidney. ”Another dose of Welsh wisdom.”
' ”Live for the moment, for time runs away like the wild horses in the wind.” Very imaginative was my old grandfather. One of the Welsh bards he was. He had a very poetical turn of phrase. You know, I think about that little saying of his more and more these days. I feel as if time is running away with me like the horses in the wind.” He turned to the. window and stared out in the direction of County Hall. ”I've felt decidedly past it recently, I can tell you. Last week a child asked me if I wore knickerbockers when I was a boy, and then the games teacher at St. Walburga's wondered if I might care for a chair while I watched the rugby match. Then I got this memorandum from Mrs. Savage outlining the advantages of early retirement. People will be standing up for me on buses next and helping me cross the road.” He sighed, turned to face me and rested a hand on my shoulder, ”But about Miss Bentley As the conversation was now developing into an in-depth a.n.a.lysis of my love life, I decided to leave. s.n.a.t.c.hing up my mail, I crammed it into my briefcase and headed for the door, nearly knocking julie over in the process as she entered with three mugs of coffee.
”Somebody's in a hurry!” she exclaimed. ”Rus.h.i.+ng around like a rabbit with the runs.”
”Look,” I said quietly but deliberately and addressing all three of my companions, 'this morning I have been compared to a blackbird with a beak full of worms, a cat that has got the mouse, a lion in the jungle, a rat up a drainpipe, a horse in the wind and now a rabbit with the runs. To continue the animal similes, may I add one of my own? I feel like a fox pursued by hounds. I would be very pleased if you left me and my love life alone! And so that no one is in any doubt where I am going, I am off to Winnery Book School for Nook Day, I mean Winnery Nook for Book Day, to see Christine, I mean Miss Bentley, purely, I may add, in my professional capacity.”
”Of course you are!” they all chorused loudly.
”I thought you were dressing up for Children's Reading Day,” I teased, returning Christine's smile.
”Cheeky thing!” she exclaimed. ”You had better come in. And any more clever comments of that kind and I'll put a spell on you.”
But Christine had already put a spell on me. She had captivated and charmed me, if only she knew it. I walked with her down the school corridor past excited, chattering children dressed as all sorts of characters, fussing parents who were putting the final touches to their children's outfits, and teachers in costume attempting to organise things.
”How was Chicago?”
”Marvellous,” Christine replied.
”And the dissertation?”
”All finished and sent off.”
We had arrived at the main hall by this time and were surrounded by a knot of colourful little characters all excited to show themselves off to the Headteacher.
”Look,” Christine whispered, laying a red talon on my arm, 'things are a bit frenetic at the moment, but I'm free this weekend. Let's go out and I can tell you all about it and you can tell me what sort of summer you've had.”
”That would be great,” I said, chuckling. ”I'll give you a ring.”
”What are you laughing at?” she asked.
”You just look so ridiculous in that witch outfit.”
”I've told you once,” she said, showing a mouthful of black teeth, ”I'll put a spell on you. I promise we'll catch up on everything this weekend, but now I must welcome the parents and children, Gervase, so if you would like to wait in the staff room, I'll see you in a moment. Make yourself a cup of coffee if you like. Oh, by the way, you'll find the Chairman of Governors in there. She'll be judging the compet.i.tion with you.”
In the small staff room I found a large, elderly woman with hands on hips and legs planted well apart, staring intently out of the window at the view. She had really gone to town on her costume and was dressed in a wonderfully bizarre outfit. The heavy, old-fas.h.i.+oned suit was a mustard yellow with red and green checks and was as shapeless as a sack of potatoes. The thick stockings were of the darkest brown and the shoes of the heavy, sensible brogue variety with little leather acorns attached to the front. To complete the effect, she wore a wide-brimmed red hat sporting two long pheasant feathers, held in place by a silver brooch in the shape of a stag's head. She held a battered old handbag and an ancient umbrella with a swan's head handle. She looked magnificently outlandish.
The multicoloured figure, like some overfed, exotic bird, turned full circle when she heard me enter. ”MorninT she snapped.
”Good morning,” I replied. ”You really do look the part.”
She stared at me perplexed. ”Do I?”
”Yes, indeed. Are you Miss Marple?”
”I beg your pardon, young man?”
”Miss Marple?”
”No, I'm not. I'm Sybil Wainwright, Chairman of Governors.”
”But who are you dressed as? Are you not Agatha Christie's sleuth, Miss Marple?”
”Why do you keep going on about a Miss Marple? I've already told you, my name is Mrs. Wainwright.”
”Yes, but what character are you supposed to be? Are you Mary Poppins?”
”Character? What are you blathering on about? I've not come as any character.” It then dawned upon me that she was wearing her usual apparel. ”I always dress like this.” I urgently wanted the ground to open and swallow me up.
”Of course.” I held out my hand which she shook charily. ”It's my feeble attempt at humour. I'm Gervase Phinn, school inspector, here to judge the compet.i.tion with you.”
”Pleased to meet you, I'm sure,” said Mrs. Wainwright, grimacing and eyeing me suspiciously. ”I had not the first idea what you were going on about.”
After a short and rather strained conversation, I extricated myself from the company of the colourful Chairman of Governors and went in search of Christine. I found her in the small reading area of the school. The Wicked Witch of the West was sitting in the corner with her arm around a small boy who was crying piteously. His little body was shaking uncontrollably and great tears streamed down his round red face. Christine held him close with a claw-like hand and tried to comfort him. The child was dressed in twisted yellow tights over which he wore a pair of close-fitting, electric-blue underpants. He had on a baggy white T-s.h.i.+rt with sup am an written incorrectly across the front in large, shaky letters.