Star Teacher (9 page)

‘It's m'chest, Mr Sheffield,' he explained. ‘Ah've got them pneumonics.'

I considered this turn of events. ‘Perhaps you ought to see Doctor Davenport,' I suggested.

He shook his head as he removed the nozzle. ‘No, ah'm goin' t'see Ruby's mother,' he said. ‘What she don't know about pneumonics ain't worth knowin'.'

‘Well, if you're sure,' I said.

‘Bit of 'er mother's goose grease'll soon put me reight, Mr Sheffield, as true as true can be.'

It occurred to me that you couldn't argue with that level of conviction and I drove off to Ragley High Street. As I pulled up outside Prudence Golightly's General Stores to collect my morning newspaper I paused to admire the new shop sign. It was a recent gift from Timothy Pratt in celebration of a lifetime's service to the village community. In beautiful Roman letters painted in primrose yellow on an emerald-green background it read:

As I approached the door I was aware of a small crowd that had gathered outside Nora's Coffee Shop. They appeared to be staring at a poster in the window.

Meanwhile, in the General Stores Betty Buttle, a local farmer's wife and general gossip, was in animated conversation with the diminutive Miss Golightly. ‘Ruby's mother says summat special is goin' to 'appen,' Betty was saying. ‘She were 'ere when it came round las' time.'

‘Yes, it's all in the papers,' said Prudence, pointing to one of the headlines:

‘HALLEY'S COMET HEADING FOR EARTH'.

Betty nodded knowingly. ‘Well, ah'm goin' to t'Coffee Shop tonight. There's one o' them star gazers givin' a talk an' Margery says 'e knows all there is t'know about comets an' suchlike.' Betty picked up her loaf and paper and winked. ‘An' Prudence – Margery says 'e's a
looker
.'

As Betty turned for the door she caught sight of me, blushed slightly and hurried out. ‘Mornin', Mr Sheffield,' she said as the doorbell jingled.

Prudence held up a copy of our local paper, the
Easington Herald & Pioneer
. It was clear that the editor was less concerned with the night sky than with events here on Earth. The headline ‘The End Is Nigh' was not referring to a possible collision of a distant comet with planet Earth but rather to the proposed closure of Morton village school. ‘Surprising news, Mr Sheffield,' said Prudence. ‘Morton children coming to Ragley is the talk of the two villages.'

‘Yes – big changes,' I said guardedly.

She folded my copy of
The Times
. ‘Anyway, I'm sure it will make sense in the long run.'

‘And I'll take a
Herald
for the staff-room, please,' I added.

Fortunately there had been no mention of the future headship arrangements in the local paper, nor in any communications with parents, and I was hoping it would stay that way. However, when I had spoken to Ruby there was no doubt in her mind that she would continue as school caretaker. ‘Possession is nine-tenths of t'law, Mr Sheffield,' she had declared defiantly.

‘And, of course,' Miss Golightly added with a twinkling smile, ‘it will mean more business for me with the Morton parents passing my shop.' She looked up at Jeremy Bear. ‘More new friends for you, my dear.'

‘Good morning, Jeremy,' I said with sincerity and reverence. It always pleased Miss Golightly when her customers treated Ragley's best-dressed teddy bear as something other than an inanimate object. He was sitting on his usual shelf next to a tin of loose-leaf Lyon's Tea and an old advertisement for Hudson's Soap and Carter's Little Liver Pills. Prudence took great pride in making sure he was always well turned out. Today he was dressed in his autumn ensemble – a checked lumberjack shirt, blue jeans, brown boots and a bobble hat with ‘Canada' printed on the front. Jeremy was a well-travelled bear.

It was clear to me as I walked back to my car that after the amalgamation of the two schools there were going to be winners and losers … and I wondered which of the two I would be.

As I drove past the village green Big Dave Robinson and Little Malcolm Robinson, our local bin men, had parked their refuse wagon and were collecting the spines of sparklers following the recent Bonfire Night celebrations. The two cousins loved their village and I had noticed they were always willing to tidy up the hedgerows, mow the grass in the churchyard and pick up any litter they spotted in the High Street. Big Dave, at six feet four inches, was a gentle giant while Little Malcolm, although a foot shorter, was one of the toughest Yorkshiremen you could possibly meet. They gave me a friendly wave as I drove by and, not for the first time, I was reminded that Ragley was a special place to live and work.

At school the season had turned. The hanging baskets outside the front entrance had been stored away for another year and the leaves on the dahlias outside Sally's classroom were fading fast. A dusting of white frost covered the tips of the fleur-de-lis on the school railings and Ruby had salted the steps up to the entrance.

Vera was talking to Anne as I hung up my duffel coat and old college scarf in the little corridor that connected the office with the staff-room.

‘Good morning, Mr Sheffield,' she said. ‘I'm trying to persuade Anne to come along to the Coffee Shop this evening. The gentleman who is calling into morning assembly to tell us about Halley's Comet is giving a talk there.'

‘Thanks anyway, Vera,' said Anne, ‘but, believe it or not, I'm in for a treat tonight. John said he would take me out for a meal.' She pondered for a moment. ‘That is, if he remembers.'

At 8.45 a.m. I was in the hall preparing for morning assembly and Anne had rehearsed the first bars on the piano of ‘When a Knight Won His Spurs'.

Vera hurried through the double doors from the entrance hall and waved in my direction. ‘Telephone call, Mr Sheffield,' she called. ‘It's the local paper.'

The voice at the other end of the phone sounded high-pitched and unconvincingly cheerful. ‘Good morning, Mr Sheffield. Merry here, Features Editor from the
Herald
.'

‘Hello,' I said, ‘and did you say
Mary
?'

‘No,
Merry
as in Christmas.'

‘Oh, sorry. What can I do for you?'

‘I just need a quote for a piece about the Morton children coming to Ragley. It's obviously causing a lot of interest and I'm sure you must be delighted.'

I took a deep breath, having learned long ago to be cautious with telephone calls from the press. ‘Have you been in touch with the Press Officer in the Education Department at County Hall?' I asked.

‘I shall be, Mr Sheffield, but for now we just needed a snappy one-liner from the horse's mouth, so to speak.'

‘I'm afraid I've no comment, Mr Merry. You really need the official statement from County Hall.'

‘Well, can I simply say that you're pleased your school numbers will rise significantly?'

‘No, I'm afraid not.'

‘Perhaps if I just say that you'll do your best to give them a good education.' Mr Merry was persistent if nothing else.

‘But that could be misinterpreted as a suggestion that's not the case at present.'

‘This isn't helping the article, Mr Sheffield, and I could show you in a good light to the general public.'

I glanced up at the clock. ‘School will be starting very shortly, Mr Merry, and I need to go now to my classroom. So I'm afraid it's still no comment from me.'

‘I have to say I'm disappointed. Goodbye.'

I trudged back to my classroom, hoping I had handled this appropriately and entirely convinced that Mr Merry was definitely not merry any more.

At ten o'clock in my classroom there was a quiet drone of murmured voices as the children read their reading books and, one by one, came out to me to read a few pages. Suddenly, Ryan Halfpenny called out, ‘Ford Transit coming up t'drive, Mr Sheffield,' without appearing to look up from his copy of
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
. Ryan loved his cars.

The distinctive dark-blue van had been adopted by criminals in the 1960s as it had plenty of space and the speed for a quick getaway. However, this one looked the worse for wear. It rattled into the car park sporting the words ‘Junk & Disorderly – E. Clifton of Thirkby' in gold letters on the side.

A few minutes later a tall, fair-haired, athletic man in his mid-fifties walked into the school hall accompanied by Vera. ‘Mr Sheffield, this is our guest speaker, Mr Clifton from Thirkby … here to talk about Halley's Comet.'

‘Welcome to Ragley,' I said and we shook hands. He was comfortably two or three inches taller than me and wore a stylish, baggy linen suit, appropriately in sky blue.

‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Sheffield,' he said. ‘I'm Edward Clifton from Thirkby. I sell second-hand furniture and antiques in my shop, Junk & Disorderly … and please, call me Edward.'

I had taken an immediate liking to this engaging man. ‘I'm Jack,' I said.

He smiled. ‘Thanks, Jack. I have a few posters to display, if I may.'

‘Of course.'

‘Don't worry, I'm used to this,' he said with confidence. ‘I'll try to bring it to life for the children. It's a fascinating subject.'

I left him to arrange his display of bright pictures of planets and the approaching comet.

When Anne brought her children into the hall she didn't at first see our guest speaker. However, when she turned towards the piano she stopped in her tracks and stared in surprise.

He smiled at her and offered a handshake. ‘Have we met before?'

Anne seemed dumbstruck. ‘Er, no, perhaps not,' she mumbled and they shook hands while Edward's eyes lingered for a moment on our slim, attractive deputy headteacher.

The assembly was a memorable one and the children were fascinated by our visitor. ‘This is our most famous comet,' he said, pointing to the first of his dramatic pictures, ‘and it's named after our second Astronomer Royal, Edmond Halley. He was a scientific detective and worked out that the comet would return to Earth about every seventy-five years. It could be seen clearly in 1835 and in 1910, and is about to appear again now, but it will be much brighter next time around in 2061, so some of you will see it
twice
in your lifetime.'

Then he had a group of the younger children standing out at the front holding a selection of spheres to represent our solar system. ‘This cosmic iceberg is roughly ten miles long and five miles wide,' he waved towards the older children, ‘and here's a new word for you: it's
ellipsoidal
in shape.'

The talk finished all too quickly and I noticed that Anne rarely took her eyes off our handsome stranger.

Pat was on playground duty during morning break, so when I walked into the staff-room Edward Clifton was engaged in conversation with Sally. Anne was sitting quietly to one side, seemingly deep in her own thoughts and, on occasion, looking admiringly at Edward.

He was flicking through a copy of
The Day the Universe Changed
by James Burke and showing Sally some of the pictures.

‘All I recall,' said Sally, ‘is that the comet is traditionally associated with catastrophe.'

‘That's right,' said Edward. ‘It was seen in ad 66 just before the fall of Jerusalem, in ad 218 when Emperor Macrinus died and in 1066 when King Harold met his fate at the Battle of Hastings.'

‘Well let's hope for a trouble-free experience this time around,' said Vera as she served coffee.

‘Thanks for a wonderful assembly, Edward,' I said. ‘When did this interest begin?'

‘It's always been my hobby since I was a child,' he said, ‘and now I'm a Friend of the Royal Astronomical Society.' He pulled out a well-thumbed magazine from his satchel. ‘So I read their
Quarterly Journal.
It's fascinating.'

‘I've not heard of it,' said Anne.

His blue eyes rested on her. ‘It's for members of the public who have an interest in astronomy and geophysics.' There was a pause. ‘In fact I could give you a copy if you come along to my talk in the village this evening.'

‘Perhaps,' she said.

He looked at his wristwatch. ‘Well, thank you, everybody, for the welcome,' he looked at Vera, ‘and the excellent coffee … but I have to go to York to pick up some furniture.'

When he left I saw Anne walk out to the entrance hall. She was staring after him.

I caught up with Sally. ‘What's wrong with Anne?' I asked. ‘She seems quiet.'

Sally smiled. ‘You've noticed then.'

‘What do you mean?' I asked.

‘Well, he's an absolute doppelgänger of her favourite man.'

‘Favourite man?'

‘Yes, David Soul.'

‘Oh, you mean the actor from
Starsky & Hutch
?'

‘That's the one.'

‘Yes, I've seen it,' I said. ‘They're American detectives. There's a tall blond-haired one and his little curly-haired friend and they drive around New York in a red Toledo.'

‘Impressive, Jack,' said Sally with a grin, ‘except it's not New York. It's Los Angeles and, for your information, they call it Bay City in the series, and they drive a Ford Gran Torino.'

‘Really?' I said, and not for the first time I wondered how Sally knew all these strange facts.

Meanwhile Anne walked back to her classroom with much to think about.

Out on the playground two five-year-olds, Suzi-Quatro Ricketts and Alison Gawthorpe, wandered over to our new teacher and stared up at her.

‘My name's Suzi-Quatro.'

‘That's a lovely name,' said Pat with a convincing smile.

‘An' mine's Alison.'

‘That's a lovely name as well.'