watch.’
‘Oh … and what did he ask?’
‘’Bout when did ah start work.’
‘And what did you say?’
‘Ah told ’im straight, ah’ve been workin’ since ah were fifteen.’
Good answer
was the thought that flickered through my mind. ‘Oh well, I had better see who it is.’
‘An’ one more thing, Mr Sheffield: one o’ t’toilets in t’infants’ cloakroom is all frozzed up. T’other one’s fine so ah’ll ’ave another go in a bit.’
Vera was sitting at her desk opening the morning mail with a brass letter-opener when I walked into the school office. She looked up sharply. ‘There’s a gentleman to see you, Mr Sheffield,’ she glanced at her shorthand pad, ‘a Mr Cripps. Seems quite a forceful little man. I’ve put him in the staff-room with a cup of coffee. He says he’s on official business from the office. I told him he must speak to you first.’
‘Thank you, Vera,’ I said, checking the time on the office clock. ‘I’m glad you were here to meet him. I’ve been a bit held up this morning, what with icy roads and lost tortoises.’ The experienced Vera never flinched at this news. When you’ve been a school secretary for over twenty years, nothing surprises you any more. I hung my duffel coat and threadbare college scarf on the hook on the back of the door. ‘I’ll see him now,’ I said.
Suddenly the telephone rang. Vera automatically flicked open her spiral-bound shorthand notepad to the next clean page and selected a perfectly sharpened HB pencil from the 1977 Jubilee mug next to her wire in-tray. ‘Ah, good morning Miss Barrington-Huntley,’ she said. I stopped in my tracks. The Chair of the Education Committee in Northallerton rarely rang for a polite chat.
‘Fine, thank you,’ said Vera, ‘and how’s Felix?’ I wondered who Felix was … perhaps a new friend. ‘Oh dear, yes, I’m not surprised,’ said Vera. ‘May I suggest a flea collar? It worked beautifully for me,’ she continued, from which I deduced Felix wasn’t Miss High-and-Mighty’s new gentleman-friend. ‘Yes, he’s here now. It’s Miss Barrington-Huntley for you, Mr Sheffield,’ said Vera.
I walked over to her desk, took the receiver from her with practised care, so that the twirly cord did not knock over the framed photograph of her three cats, and took a deep breath. ‘Good morning, Miss Barrington-Huntley,’ I said with forced calm.
‘Jack,’ there was a riffling of papers, ‘how are you?’
‘Fine, thank you, Miss Barrington-Huntley, and how are you?’
‘Busy, Jack, very busy as per usual.’ She had obviously found the memo she was looking for and began to read. ‘A new temporary adviser, Mr, er … Digby Cripps, will be in Ragley School today as part of the county survey into “A Model of Teacher Efficiency”.’
‘Really,’ I said, with a sinking feeling. ‘That sounds interesting.’
‘Yes, Jack, I’m sure it will be,’ she said pointedly. ‘Part of the County’s “A Better Life” initiative, you understand. So please make him welcome. He’s had some mixed responses so far.’
‘Actually, I think he’s here already,’ I said.
‘Yes, I’ve heard he’s something of an early bird.’
‘So, what do we need to know at this stage?’ I asked.
‘Nothing really, Jack. Just do what you normally do and answer his questions and – I’m sure I don’t need to say this – make sure nobody on your staff wastes any time today, if you know what I mean.’
‘Oh, well, of course. I’m sure that would never happen,’ I said, feeling a little hurt by the suggestion.
‘Jack, that didn’t quite come out as I intended, but it was meant well. You’ll understand when you meet him.’
‘Fine, we’ll do our best as always, Miss Barrington-Huntley.’
‘I know you will, Jack, and,’ she gave a deep sigh, ‘goodbye and good luck.’ There was a click at the other end of the line.
‘Vera, it appears Mr Cripps is doing a survey.’
‘About what, Mr
‘Oh … and what did he ask?’
‘’Bout when did ah start work.’
‘And what did you say?’
‘Ah told ’im straight, ah’ve been workin’ since ah were fifteen.’
Good answer
was the thought that flickered through my mind. ‘Oh well, I had better see who it is.’
‘An’ one more thing, Mr Sheffield: one o’ t’toilets in t’infants’ cloakroom is all frozzed up. T’other one’s fine so ah’ll ’ave another go in a bit.’
Vera was sitting at her desk opening the morning mail with a brass letter-opener when I walked into the school office. She looked up sharply. ‘There’s a gentleman to see you, Mr Sheffield,’ she glanced at her shorthand pad, ‘a Mr Cripps. Seems quite a forceful little man. I’ve put him in the staff-room with a cup of coffee. He says he’s on official business from the office. I told him he must speak to you first.’
‘Thank you, Vera,’ I said, checking the time on the office clock. ‘I’m glad you were here to meet him. I’ve been a bit held up this morning, what with icy roads and lost tortoises.’ The experienced Vera never flinched at this news. When you’ve been a school secretary for over twenty years, nothing surprises you any more. I hung my duffel coat and threadbare college scarf on the hook on the back of the door. ‘I’ll see him now,’ I said.
Suddenly the telephone rang. Vera automatically flicked open her spiral-bound shorthand notepad to the next clean page and selected a perfectly sharpened HB pencil from the 1977 Jubilee mug next to her wire in-tray. ‘Ah, good morning Miss Barrington-Huntley,’ she said. I stopped in my tracks. The Chair of the Education Committee in Northallerton rarely rang for a polite chat.
‘Fine, thank you,’ said Vera, ‘and how’s Felix?’ I wondered who Felix was … perhaps a new friend. ‘Oh dear, yes, I’m not surprised,’ said Vera. ‘May I suggest a flea collar? It worked beautifully for me,’ she continued, from which I deduced Felix wasn’t Miss High-and-Mighty’s new gentleman-friend. ‘Yes, he’s here now. It’s Miss Barrington-Huntley for you, Mr Sheffield,’ said Vera.
I walked over to her desk, took the receiver from her with practised care, so that the twirly cord did not knock over the framed photograph of her three cats, and took a deep breath. ‘Good morning, Miss Barrington-Huntley,’ I said with forced calm.
‘Jack,’ there was a riffling of papers, ‘how are you?’
‘Fine, thank you, Miss Barrington-Huntley, and how are you?’
‘Busy, Jack, very busy as per usual.’ She had obviously found the memo she was looking for and began to read. ‘A new temporary adviser, Mr, er … Digby Cripps, will be in Ragley School today as part of the county survey into “A Model of Teacher Efficiency”.’
‘Really,’ I said, with a sinking feeling. ‘That sounds interesting.’
‘Yes, Jack, I’m sure it will be,’ she said pointedly. ‘Part of the County’s “A Better Life” initiative, you understand. So please make him welcome. He’s had some mixed responses so far.’
‘Actually, I think he’s here already,’ I said.
‘Yes, I’ve heard he’s something of an early bird.’
‘So, what do we need to know at this stage?’ I asked.
‘Nothing really, Jack. Just do what you normally do and answer his questions and – I’m sure I don’t need to say this – make sure nobody on your staff wastes any time today, if you know what I mean.’
‘Oh, well, of course. I’m sure that would never happen,’ I said, feeling a little hurt by the suggestion.
‘Jack, that didn’t quite come out as I intended, but it was meant well. You’ll understand when you meet him.’
‘Fine, we’ll do our best as always, Miss Barrington-Huntley.’
‘I know you will, Jack, and,’ she gave a deep sigh, ‘goodbye and good luck.’ There was a click at the other end of the line.
‘Vera, it appears Mr Cripps is doing a survey.’
‘About what, Mr
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