Palmer-Jones 03 - Murder in Paradise by Ann Cleeves Page A

academic subjects. Then Maggie Stennet had begun the campaign of complaint because her youngest son was slow to learn to read. When the Drysdales had first moved to Kinness they had seen Maggie as an ally. She, after all, had been a teacher. Then twelve months before, her attitude towards them had changed. Sylvia was not qualified to teach, she said. She might have been to art college but she had no degree in education. Stuart could read fluently by the time he was six, so why was Neil still bringing home picture books? Jonathan wanted to reply: “Because he’s dim, he takes after your husband,” but he had promised more structure for the reception group, promised to spend more time on the basics with them. He had tried, too. He had sat at the double table where they sat, perched on a ridiculous small chair, surrounded by flash cards and Ladybird books, but he could get no response from them, and while he was there the bigger children got bored with the work he had set them, and began to chat and fidget. He had longed at times to be in a large city school with classes streamed according to age and ability. There had been no improvement in the infants’ reading skills, and at times of boredom Sylvia had drifted back into the classroom to help. Neil, miraculously, had begun to read, but Maggie continued to complain. Now she said that the Drysdales did not participate fully in island affairs, did not encourage the children to understand their own history. He had recieved a warning letter from the Education department on Baltasay. Maggie had started complaining there.
    Jonathan walked to the infants’ table and started them copying letters in a print workbook. He set a series of arithmetic problems on the blackboard for the older group, then sat at his desk. He began to think of Sylvia again, but knew that would lead nowhere, so he returned to his favourite subject. He imagined his black guillemot paper, illustrated with immaculate diagrams, the argument followed through with perfect logic, and the credit he would receive when it was published in a respected academic journal.
    Sarah returned to Unsta determined to put Elspeth from her mind. Jealousy was ridiculous. Elspeth was obviously a spoilt, neurotic woman and there was no competition between them. She would not mention her conversation with Elspeth to Jim. If he did not want to discuss his former girlfriend, she would respect his privacy. Elspeth was someone to feel sorry for, and pity made her safe.
    In this strong, confident mood she began to make plans for the house. She did not want to bully Jim into building yet—that could wait for the spring—but she could make Unsta more civilized. They would need carpet, new units for the kitchen, fresh paint, curtains. She walked through the house from the kitchen to the bedroom, imagining how it would be, irritated because she could not start at once. She could start in the garden, she thought. It had been cultivated until recently but it was full of weeds. She wanted to dig it over before the frost came. She went to Buness and borrowed a spade and fork. She worked all afternoon, and imagined Jim’s pleasure when he saw how much she had achieved.
    At half past three Maggie called over the wall at her.
    “I’m going to collect the children from school, then I’m going on to meet the boat. Will you come?”
    Sarah went inside to wash her hands and change her shoes. Maggie was still looking over the wall when she returned.
    “You’ve cleared a good lot there,” Maggie said grudgingly, and it seemed to Sarah that she was disappointed.
    They were a little early at the school and waited at the gate.
    “I suppose that Neil will have been messing with paint and glue with Mrs. Drysdale again,” Maggie said. “ It’s not right. She’s not qualified, you see. He should be properly taught. That’s what Drysdale’s been paid for. If they want an infants’ teacher, they should advertise.”
    Sarah remembered that Maggie