Part 18 (1/2)
Gerry, who had joined me a few moments before, just in time to hear the end of my interesting exchange with the 'bright little b.u.t.ton', whispered in my ear. ”You know, Gervase, if I get Alzheimer's Disease when I'm feeble, old and grey, I think I would like my children to say that I have got ”Old Timers' Disease”. It sounds much more friendly and humane, don't you think?”
”I thought you said you didn't have a family?” I replied, surprised at the revelation.
”I don't yet,” she told me, throwing her head back and laughing, 'but I intend to one day.”
”Excuse me,” said the 'bright little b.u.t.ton', patting my arm, 'would your girlfriend like to hear me read?”
At the second school, Sheepcote Primary, Gerry looked through the children's work and discussed the science curriculum with the teacher while I moved around the cla.s.s room talking to the children about the tasks they were undertaking that morning. On the table, tucked in a corner, were two boys busy sewing. One looked as if he had been dragged through a hedge backwards. He had spiky hair, a round red face and large ears. His nose was running and a front tooth was missing. His s.h.i.+rt was hanging out, his socks were concertinaed around his ankles, his legs were covered in cuts and bruises, and his shoes were so scuffed I could not tell whether they were originally black or brown. His hands and face were both entirely innocent of soap and water. His companion looked as healthy as a prize-winning bull. He was a very large, amiable-looking boy with a round moon of a face, great dimpled elbows and knees, and fingers as fat as sausages. Both boys were surrounded by threads, cottons, fabrics, an a.s.sortment of needles, boxes of pins and scissors and both were sewing furiously, their arms rising and falling like pistons.
”h.e.l.lo,” I said brightly.
”h.e.l.lo,” replied the larger boy. His companion continued to sew with a vengeance, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
”And how are you?”
”Middlin' well,” replied the large boy.
”And what are you two up to?” I asked amiably.
”Samplers,” he answered.
”Samplers?”
”Victorian embroidery,” the toothless one informed me, still vigorously sewing.
”For Mother's Day on Sunday,” added the other.
”I see,” I said, bending over them to get a closer look at their work. ”May I see?”
”Can't be stopping,” said the toothless one, continuing to sew with great determination, forcing the needle savagely through the canvas. ”Got to get it finished.” He turned to his friend. ”Pa.s.s us t'pink will that, Dean?”
His companion searched through the a.s.sortment of coloured threads. ”All gone,” he replied bluntly.
”All gone!” exclaimed the toothless boy. ”All gone! Tha's gone and used all t'pink?”
”I needed it for mi roses.”
”And that's used all t'purple, an all?”
”That were for mi lilac'
”And t'yella?”
”That were for mi daffs,” said the large boy apologetically.
”And that's left me wi all t'blacks and t'browns and t'greys. Thanks very much, Dean!”
The boys, entirely oblivious of my presence, resumed pus.h.i.+ng the large needles through the fabric as if their lives depended upon it.
”Just stop a moment, will you, please,” I told them.
The toothless one paused, looked up, wiped the dewdrop from his nose with the back of his hand and then returned to his sewing as if he had not heard me.
”I can't stop,” he told me. ”I've got to gerrit done.”
His companion, clearly very pleased with his effort, held up a pale square of cream fabric. In large, uneven letters were the words: A MOTHER'S LOVE IS A BLESSING. The border was ablaze with a whole host of large, unrecognisable but extremely vivid flowers.
”I've just got mi name to put at t'bottom and I'm all done,” he announced proudly.
”And that's used up all t'pink,” grumbled his companion, who was still st.i.tching away madly.
The large boy straightened his sampler with a fat, pink hand and admired his handiwork before asking, ”Are you one of these school inspectors Miss was on about?”
”I am,” I replied.
”What do you reckon to mi sampler, then?”
”Well, it's very bright and original but, you know, if I had come into your school a hundred years ago, you'd have been in real trouble.”
”How old are you, then?” asked the toothless boy.
”What I meant is that if a school inspector had visited your school at the time it was built, you would have been in trouble.”
”Why's that then?”
”Because your st.i.tches are too big. If you look at the Victorian samplers, you will notice that the lettering and designs are very delicate and very carefully st.i.tched.”
The toothless boy stopped sewing abruptly, examined his sampler and carefully put down his needle and thread, before turning to look me straight in the face. ”Aye, well, if I did 'em all small and delicate like what you say, mi mum'd niwer gerrit, would she? I've been on this for four week and I'llbe lucky to get it done for next year's Mother's Day, way things stand.”
”I'll get mine done,” Dean chimed in smugly.
”Aye!” snapped the toothless one. ”And we know why, don't we?”
”Why?” I asked.
”Because, when Miss give out all these different Victorian sayings and proverbs, I was off poorly and when I got back I was stuck wit' one n.o.b'dy wanted. Dean got shortest -A MOTHER'S LOVE IS A BLESSING and I got t'longest!” He displayed his piece of fabric with a grubby finger. It read: THERE IS NOTHING SO PURE, THERE IS NOTHING SO HIGH, AS THE LOVE YOU.
WILL SEE IN YOUR MOTHER'S EYE.
”I've only just started mi border,” he moaned. ”And Dean's used all t'pinks and t'yellas and t'purples and I'm stuck wit' blacks t'browns and t'greys!”
”You could do animals instead of flowers,” suggested his companion with a self-satisfied smirk on his round red face. ”You don't need colours for sheep and cows and goats ”I'd need sum mat for t'pigs, though, wouldn't I?” cried the toothless one. ”And that's used all t'pink!”
”I'm sure that, however it turns out, your mother will love your sampler,” I rea.s.sured him.
”If she gets it!” he barked.
”Well, I may see you boys later,” I said moving away.
”Later?” they exclaimed in unison.