Octavia (25 page)

Octavia was remembering the queen’s Diamond Jubilee and all those splendid horses stepping in line, the little fat queen in her red and gold coach and the massed choristers in full song on the steps of St Paul’s and she was uplifted simply by the memory. ‘Exactly so,’ she said.

It wasn’t until much later that evening when she was settling to sleep in Miss Barnes’ blue and white spare bedroom, her thoughts spinning with all the impressions and information she’d been gathering, that she recognised the feeling that had been growing so strongly in her ever since she arrived. It was the sense that she had come home.

During the next five days of her visit she learnt so much she began to be afraid she would forget it all before she got back to England. Miss Barnes gave her five copies of a booklet which she said would give her staff an outline of the system but there was so much more – the extraordinary number of high days and holidays for example, the lack of supervision in the grounds, which Miss Weismann told her was unnecessary ‘because the girls are happy there, I guess’, the way textbooks were provided in cupboards at the back of every classroom, to be readily available. Every question she asked provided her with almost more information than she could digest. The only thing to be done was to take notes, which she did copiously.

The Easter parade was a splendid occasion with every hat trimmed to excess, and the final assembly that followed it was more cheerful than any school gathering she’d ever seen. ‘We always sing the same hymns,’ Miss Barnes explained. ‘It’s one of our traditions.’ And on the last day of her visit there was a party for all the staff at Miss Barnes’ house ‘to celebrate an excellent term’, and that seemed to be an Easter tradition too.

By the time Octavia was being driven back to the quayside for her return journey, she felt she’d known these forthright, eccentric women for years.

‘You must write to us,’ Amelia Barnes said, as they kissed goodbye, ‘and let us know how you are getting on. Don’t forget. And if there’s any way we can help you, you have only to ask. Have a safe journey home.’

It was a very busy journey for, the Atlantic being relatively calm, she made use of the time to arrange her notes in the most intelligible order and to write up her impressions as clearly as she could. She had no doubt at all that this system was entirely right for her and her school and she wanted to present it to the others as positively as she could.

The summer term was well under way by the time she rejoined the school. Her staff had been hard at work, teaching her classes as well as their own, so she was loath to burden them with yet another chore until she had settled back to work among them. But they were all keen to know how she had got on and what she thought of the system, so after a little persuasion, she handed them all a pack of prepared material and suggested that they should discuss it at the staff meeting at the end of the week.

It was a lively meeting for, although they were all in complete agreement that the system would suit them and should certainly be tried, there were two distinct opinions as to how they should go about it. Alice Genevra was all for starting it in September at the beginning of the school year.

‘I know it would mean a lot of work,’ she said, ‘but we’re none of us afraid of work, are we? And it would make much better sense to begin at the beginning of the school year. Our new first formers could be Dalton girls from the word go.’

Morag Gordon supported her. ‘I know they said – what was it? –
In our opinion it takes at least six months to prepare for such a change
. But that would be for a full-sized school, would it not? Ours is small, so there would be less work. I think we could do it. In fact, I would go so far as to say I think we should. I agree with Alice. It would be good for the first formers to start off the way they are going to go on and we must consider our present third formers too. I know there are only fourteen of them but what a difference it would make if they could be taught in this new way for two full years before they take their Lower Schools Certificate.’

Miss Fennimore put her pince-nez to her eye and consulted her copy of the leaflet. ‘At least six months is considerably more than we would be allowing ourselves if we want to be ready by September,’ she pointed out. ‘We are well into April now and the new term starts in the first week of September, don’t forget. We would be looking at twenty-one weeks. I don’t think that would be anywhere near enough. I should hate to start the term unprepared and in a rush. I suggest we defer the start until the New Year and give ourselves eight and a half months to do the thing properly.’

Sarah Fletcher was the last to speak and, rather to Octavia’s surprise, she opted for caution. ‘I’d like to make a really good job of it,’ she said. ‘I’d like to see our third formers getting the best we can give them, I agree with you on that, Morag, but would we be able to do it if we were rushed and ill prepared?’

The debate went on for nearly an hour and they were no nearer to a decision. The only thing they were agreed on was that they wanted to make the change and they wanted it to be a success. Eventually Octavia told them she would have to use her casting vote, and that as she too felt it would make better
sense to start at the beginning of the school year with the new first form, she voted for September. ‘Although I know what a lot I am asking of you,’ she said. ‘It will be a formidable task. We must work together and help one another all we can.’ And she thanked them for having studied the pack so closely and for giving their opinions so honestly, and declared the meeting closed.

Once they’d left her, she realised that she would have to delay her house-hunting, yet again, and the thought wearied her. There never seemed to be a moment when she could actually get down to finding herself a home. But she couldn’t have allowed personal considerations to influence her when they’d been discussing something so important and all in all she felt she’d probably done the right thing.

Alice started work on her French syllabuses that evening. And so did Elizabeth Fennimore because she was well aware of the enormity of the task they’d now set themselves. Octavia spent the evening writing to her friend and ally Mr Gillard.

She told him about her visit to New York and what an inspiration it had been, she detailed the change that she and her staff were now proposing to make and what a lot of work it would mean for all of them, she said she was sure they would have his full support in the great experiment they were undertaking. Then, turning from the philosophical to the practical, she suggested several ways in which the task could be made easier for them.

‘It would help the entire school if we could have a school secretary,’
she wrote.
‘It would release me to supervise classes and assist my staff in drawing up the new syllabuses and ordering the extra stock that this method requires. It would 
also help the entire school, both now and in the future, if we could expand our staff. At present we have no Art teacher and no Music teacher and Miss Fennimore, although she does not complain, is considerably overloaded as a teacher of Science and Mathematics. I think we shall find that two new members of staff would be more than justified by our rising numbers.’
She wasn’t sure whether her numbers would rise that autumn, that had yet to be revealed, but it was at least likely. Their popularity was growing.

Then she signed herself,
‘Yours hopefully,’
and took the letter to the post.

Mr Gillard was a valuable ally. His answer came almost by return of post. A school secretary was an excellent suggestion. He’d been thinking along the same lines himself. She could advertise for one as soon as she liked. The matter of two new teachers would have to be discussed with the board but it would be done at the earliest opportunity and he would write to tell her the outcome as soon as he knew it.

His next letter was delivered along with ten applications for the post of school secretary. The two new teachers she had asked for had been approved. He suggested an advertisement be put into
The Times
to ensure a high calibre of applicants and as soon as possible to ensure that the successful candidates would both be free to start work in September.

Octavia sent the advertisements to the paper that very morning. After being stuck in the doldrums for so many miserable weeks, her life was suddenly moving and at such speed it was making her feel quite dizzy. Now she had more work in a day than she could comfortably do in two, but the pressure was exactly what she needed. It sharpened her perceptions and made her daring. The English Literature
syllabuses that she drew up late at night in the quiet of her bedroom were full of inspired cross-references and quirky pairings. Her present third formers would love them. She couldn’t wait to teach them. But in the meantime there were staff to appoint, and the first of them was her secretary.

She pared the list of applicants down to four, all of them middle-aged and well qualified, with clear handwriting and excellent references, and then almost on a whim, she added a fifth. Her name was Margaret Henry and she hardly seemed qualified for the work at all, because she was only eighteen and had little experience, but there was something about her letter that spoke directly to Octavia’s sharpened senses, and she was curious to see whether the young woman matched her word.

She was small, pale and skinny, and she sat before Octavia’s desk clutching her handbag in her lap and looking anxiously apprehensive. But her answers were just what Octavia was looking for – honest, open and forthright. No, she didn’t have experience of working in a school, but she was a hard worker and willing to learn. Yes, she would be prepared to work long hours. She knew that staff worked on after the children had gone home and would have to be in school before they arrived. That stood to reason. She thought being part of an experiment would be wonderful. ‘Most of the work in offices is very ordinary. You could do it with your eyes shut.’

That made Octavia laugh. ‘So you need work that will open your eyes,’ she said. ‘Is that what made you apply for this particular job?’

‘Well, ma’am,’ the girl said, ‘to be truthful I didn’t know it was going to be part of an experiment. The thing is, there’s a girl in my office who used to come here. She was in your fifth
form last year. Penny Morrison. So I’ve heard a lot about the school. She’s always talking about it. She says it’s the only school she’s ever been in where the girls liked the teachers. She says she was fond of you, ma’am. And I’ve been listening to her and thinking, I wish I could have gone there. So when I saw your advertisement…’

It was a perfect answer. A clincher, as Tommy would have said. ‘Were I to offer you this job,’ Octavia said, ‘when could you start?’

She began work a week later and, just as she’d promised, she was a very hard worker and learnt quickly. Within days she was Maggie to all the staff and had befriended all the children who appeared in her office. Within a week she was sending out appointments to all the parents who’d applied for their children to join the school in September and typing and duplicating the new syllabuses, neatly and accurately, as if she’d been dealing with such things all her life. ‘A treasure,’ Elizabeth Fennimore said.

But it was nearly the end of May and they only had three more months to get everything ready. There were still two new members of staff to appoint and all the stock to order to say nothing of the day to day teaching, which was never easy in the run up to examinations, and was especially difficult that year because they had ten candidates for Lower Schools and all of them were anxious.

‘We shall never get it all done,’ Sarah Fletcher said.

‘Yes, we will,’ Octavia reassured her. There was no point in worrying now. They were committed. ‘In two weeks’ time we shall have two new members of staff.’

‘But when will they join us?’ Sarah said. ‘If it isn’t until September they won’t be much help to us now.’

Their new Art teacher, Phillida Bertram, started work in the middle of June, on the day a reluctant German delegation finally signed the Treaty of Versailles and the Great War was officially over. She was a considerable help, even though her own syllabuses were, as she was the first to admit, probably the easiest to compile. The teacher of Maths and Biology, an amiable lady called Mabel Ollerington, came in to help Miss Fennimore as often as she could, which wasn’t anywhere near as often as they would both have liked, but was better than nothing, according to Elizabeth. ‘We must work through the summer holidays, I’m afraid,’ she told her new colleague and was relieved when Mabel said, ‘Of course.’

Octavia worked in every moment she could find, sitting up late at night to get things completed, and staying on after school for several hours every evening, with Maggie to help her. For besides all the new work at school, she also had to make time for Emmeline and Johnnie and the girls. She’d taken them out every weekend since she got back from New York, for trips to the zoo or Madame Tussaud’s or a walk across the heath or a visit to the cinema. She felt it was important to give them things to enjoy, to make their lives as normal as possible, and Emmeline was still grieving so terribly and recovering so very slowly that she simply couldn’t do it.

There were days when she felt so tired she could have slept where she stood, nights when she was so tired she couldn’t sleep at all, private moments of anxiety when she began to doubt her own judgement in choosing September.

But September came and they were all more or less ready, with most of the stock in the cupboards and all the work planned for the first half term, if not longer, and the
considerably enlarged school were sitting before her at their very first assembly of the new school year, eager to be told what it would be like in this new Dalton school of theirs. And glancing round at them all she felt so proud of them it made her chest ache.

‘Today,’ she told them happily, ‘is the start of an adventure. We – you, me, Miss Genevra, Miss Gordon, Miss Fennimore, Miss Fletcher, Miss Bertram, Miss Ollerington and Miss Henry – are pioneers. Not just teachers and a school secretary and school pupils but pioneers. It is a splendid thing to be a pioneer. You must be proud of yourselves and of what we are beginning, for great things will come of it. We are going to be the very first people in this country to use a completely new method of education and there will be people watching us to see how well we shall do it.