Meet Me at the Pier Head by Ruth Hamilton Page A

saying his prayers.
    ‘The older boy,’ she pretended to chide. ‘We are asleep. You, too, must sleep.’
    He folded his arms and leaned back, his head against the wall. The children started to giggle when he began to make exaggerated snoring and whistling sounds.
    Tia tutted. ‘You – yes, the big boy at the back – go at once to the headmaster’s office. Go now, immediately, no dallying. He will deal with you sternly, because
he’s not a man we want to cross.’
    He slunk out of the room with his head hanging low.
    The children erupted.
    Tia put a finger to her lips and the class quietened almost immediately. ‘Shall we follow him?’ she whispered. ‘We can see whether he did as he was told. If he didn’t, we
must keep him in detention.’
    She crept along the corridor with just under forty of Miss Ellis’s children following behind her. Quietly, she opened his door to find him sitting quietly at his desk. ‘Good
boy,’ she said before closing the door. She knew that he would be in no way diminished by the prank. He loved his children, and they loved him.
    ‘Creep back,’ she told the children. ‘He’s in detention.’
    A little boy put up his hand. ‘Miss?’ he whispered.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Who’s in charge of him?’
    ‘He is. Silly, isn’t it?’
    She led Miss Ellis’s class back to their room. He thought he was in charge. But was he? Since the skiffle night, a thaw had set in; they had even shared a fish supper last evening. Smiling
a secret smile, she settled the reception class at their base where, in a near-perfect West Country accent, she delivered the words of Worzel Gummidge and Earthy Mangold. Thank goodness for Barbara
Euphan Todd. Humorous books for children were few and far between. Perhaps she might write some.
    Sir, in solitary detention, knew that Tia Bellamy would rise to the top of the tree within a very few years. She had instinct, performing skills, organization and dedication to her work. Maybe
the latter characteristic would keep her at the coal face, but he knew that she was already capable of running a school. ‘Our Roedean girl,’ he whispered, a smile broadening his lips.
‘Precious metal.’
    Delia had left for London, where she and the band did the rounds of pubs and clubs. He missed her. Delia was one of the boys, a good drummer, an excellent woman who probably preferred partners
of her own gender. ‘Wish I did,’ he mumbled. These days, he lived half in heaven, half in a warmer place where Lucifer ruled. ‘Oh, Mom,’ he groaned. No, he wouldn’t
think about . . .
    Heaven was wherever Tia was. This had never happened to him before. Yes, there had been a few women, but none like this one. Thus far, relationships had been careful, had involved ruinous,
clumsy contraception and fear. ‘I am stupid,’ he whispered. She wasn’t even a probationary teacher yet – she was a mere volunteer, yet he was drawn to her like a suicidal
moth to a lighted candle. It had been too quick, too fierce, and he knew that she was attracted to him, too. Delia had made a few remarks when her pretty sister had been out of earshot . . .
    ‘Oh hell,’ he said to the empty room. ‘Why did she have to be so—’
    Without knocking, she opened his door and insinuated her beautiful face. ‘Am I in trouble, Sir?’
    ‘Aren’t you always?’
    She came in. ‘Sometimes I’m “when she was bad, she was horrid”.’
    ‘Close the door and sit here where I can keep an eye on you.’
    She sat, wishing that he would keep more than an eye on her . . . No, no, she was becoming vulgar. ‘Sir?’
    ‘Teddy will do.’ She had changed from Theo to Teddy after making a gift to Tyger of a little brown bear. ‘You are brilliant with the children,’ he told her. ‘Miss
Ellis says you have the gift of tongues, though not in the biblical sense.’
    She shrugged. ‘Nobody’s perfect.’
    ‘The . . . er . . . the young man who calls on you at the flat – he’s Simon, I take it?’
    She