Hungry Moon by Ramsey Campbell Page B

behind a sharp-edged frieze of chimneys. Beyond the forest an airliner glinted like a fly, its sound out of all proportion to its apparent size. She let herself into her cottage, away from the rumbling dark, and made for bed.
    She slept dreamlessly, wakened feeling refreshed and optimistic. After all, Mann and his followers would move on once he'd achieved his token victory over paganism, and she could carry on treating her pupils the way she felt they should be treated once Mann's young mouthpieces weren't there to tell tales. She'd already achieved quite a lot with her regular class, despite the Scraggs. She felt far more capable as the sun chased the shadows back under the cottages, and when she saw Mr Scragg beckoning her curtly from the window of his office, she marched straight in,
    He pushed a typewritten sheet across his desk to her. 'For your immediate attention.'
    It was an undertaking not to teach moral or religious matters except in the manner specified by the headmaster. The teaching generally should take a Christian view of history and life today, should ensure that the children behaved like Christians to one another. . . She read on, noting misspellings and jumping letters. 'What do you want me to do with this?' she said. Mr Scragg gazed blankly at her. 'Sign it, please.' 'I don't think you can ask me to do that. It isn't in my contract of employment.'
    His small face seemed to harden beneath the bristling grey eyebrows, yet when he spoke his voice was almost lilting. 'In that case I have to tell you that this school no longer needs your services,' he said.

    THIRTEEN
    As Saturday wore on, June grew impatient with Andrew. At last she gave him some Christian stickers to put up around the shop, but when he tried to climb into the display windows she threw up her hands. 'What do you want to do, knock everything down? Try and have the sense God gave you,' she cried, and Brian intervened: 'Come on, son, you can help me in the back.'
    In fact there wasn't much to do in the long narrow room that smelled of boots and rope and cold Primus stoves. 'What do you want to do, son?' Brian murmured.
    The boy peered timidly up at him from under his eyebrows that were hardly there at all. 'I can read to you.'
    'You've already done that for your mother. You don't need to do any more today,' Brian said, and saw Andrew suck in his hollow cheeks with disappointment. 'All right, if you want to.'
    The boy scampered into the shop, shouting, 'Daddy says I can read to him.' Brian felt ashamed of himself, wished again that he'd attended the open night and talked to Andrew's teacher. He would have except that since the rally at the cave he'd been reluctant to show his face in public.
    Since the rally he'd seen women looking in the shop window and pretending they weren't talking about him. Once he'd overheard a murmur about the things his poor wife had to put up with, the things he forced her to do. He'd wanted to tell them he hadn't touched June since the rally. He wouldn't while she didn't want him to, however frustrating it was for him, but he couldn't tell anyone that. No doubt the town thought even worse of him because he was too ashamed to invite one of Godwin's followers to take refuge in the house.
    At least June was no longer taking Valium. Godwin's religion had done that for her. Perhaps in time she would be more patient with Andrew. He wished he could be more patient himself. Sometimes when it was just himself and Andrew he didn't feel so bad.
    But when Andrew began to read him a pamphlet he couldn't help wincing inwardly whenever the boy misread a word. 'Not "Ice-ache",' he said, trying to be gentle. 'You don't want to grow up not being able to read or write properly, do you? You don't want to have to work down a mine because you can't get anything better, stay down there all day in the dark.'
    When Andrew tried 'Ice-aka' Brian wanted to shake the stupidity out of him. 'It's Isaac, damn it, Isaac. See if you can read just one