Wicked! (19 page)

17

Then, suddenly, like the Angel Gabriel emerging from a day in the City, resplendent in a pinstriped suit, dark blue shirt and pretty pink and yellow checked tie, eyes sparking with malice, in sauntered Hengist Brett-Taylor.

‘Janna, darling, how are you?’

Striding down reception, he took her hands and, bending down, kissed her on both cheeks.

‘It all looks fantastic. My God, you’ve cheered this place up, and this mural is simply breathtaking. Of course, it’s “Larks Ascending” – and the music too,’ as, on cue, the tape launched into Vaughan Williams. ‘Who’s responsible?’

‘Well, everyone, but the mastermind’s been Graffi Williams here.’

‘Brilliant, brilliant.’ Hengist grasped Graffi’s hands. ‘I love the sun and the stars and that beautiful Shelley quote: “The world should listen then, as I am listening now”, the prayer of all writers, me included. This is inspiring stuff.’ Then he gave a shout of laughter. ‘I love the old man with the beard, got that pompous ass Rod Hyde to a T.’

Hengist had been buoyed up by a very successful meeting with two of his high Tory conspirators, who were standing in the doorway and whom he now beckoned over.

‘First, this is Jupiter Belvedon, your MP and chairman of my governors at Bagley.’

‘Oh, goodness.’ Janna found herself shaking hands with a dark, thin-faced, haughty-looking man in his early forties, familiar from posters all round the town, and forgot to bristle because she was so grateful to see anyone. ‘Hi,’ she gasped, ‘welcome to Larks.’

‘And Rupert Campbell-Black,’ added Hengist.

‘Blimey,’ whispered Pearl.

‘Wicked,’ sighed Kylie. ‘Oh, wicked!’

‘Wicked indeed,’ breathed Janna, because Rupert was so beautiful: like moonlight on the Taj Mahal or Monet’s
Irises
, or a beech wood in autumn sunshine, which you’d dismissed as clichés because you’d seen them so often in photographs, in the flesh, they – and he – took your breath away.

The antithesis of Ashton Douglas, there was nothing soft in Rupert’s face, from the smooth, wide forehead, the long watchful Oxford blue eyes, the hard, high cheekbones, Greek nose, short upper lip and curling but determined mouth. Around Hengist’s height, somewhere up in the clouds to Janna, he was broad-shouldered, lean and long-legged.

Only his voice was soft, light and very clipped as he said:

‘You don’t look like a headmistress. I wouldn’t have run away from school at fourteen if they’d looked like you.’ Then, glancing down at the battered cardboard collie under his arm: ‘Have you lost a dog? This one just flew out of the window.’

Prejudice evaporating, Janna burst out laughing.

‘Would you like some shortbread?’ asked Gloria.

‘Or a chicken sandwich?’ said Debbie the cook.

‘Or a coffee?’ said Rowan.

‘Or an ’ot dog?’ Chantal Peck rushed forward with a plate.

‘I’ve got one already.’ Rupert patted the collie’s head.

‘I’d adore one, I’m starving,’ said Hengist.

‘So am I,’ said Jupiter.

Rupert shook his sleek blond head. ‘I’m OK.’

‘You bet you are,’ murmured Gloria.

Even Cara Sharpe was looking quite moony.

Jason was feeling very upstaged, particularly as Hengist hadn’t recognized him.

‘Rupert, as you know, is one of my parents, and a director of Venturer Television,’ Hengist told a stunned Janna.

‘Has Venturer been in yet?’ asked Rupert, who’d noticed Janna was trembling. ‘No? I’ll give them a ring.’

‘Nor have any prospective parents,’ said Monster Norman smugly. ‘You’re the only people who’ve shown up.’

‘D’you have any kiddies, your honourable?’ Chantal asked Jupiter.

‘One boy.’

‘Thinking of sending him to Larks?’

‘He doesn’t really talk yet.’

‘We’ve got an excellent special-needs department.’

‘Even so, he might have difficulty keeping up,’ said Jupiter gravely, ‘he’s only fourteen months.’

‘Same as my grandson, Cameron. Frankly, Jupiter, I wouldn’t send Cameron anywhere else than Larks.’

Crash went another window. Overhead, it sounded like elephants playing rugby.

‘How are you, little one?’ Hengist murmured to Janna.

‘Hellish. They’ve trashed the farm we built upstairs; no one’s come. I’ve let the kids down.’

‘Leave it to me. You’re right about Paris Alvaston. I’ve just read his poem about a lark; it’s miraculous.’

‘Hi,’ murmured Rupert into his mobile, ‘I’m at Larks, get your asses down here.’ Then, after a pause: ‘Can you rally some parents?’ Switching off, he turned to Janna. ‘They were on their way to St Jimmy’s; they won’t be long.’

‘I want to see round the school,’ said Hengist, who was now talking to the children, praising and discovering who’d done what. ‘Are you all going to take me? What’s that, England?’ He pointed to one of Wally’s newly painted acid-green countries.

‘No, Africa, dumb-dumb,’ giggled Pearl.

‘God, these are good.’ Grabbing another hot dog, Hengist set off like the Pied Piper, trailing children, all wanting to hold his hand. Reluctantly, Ashton, Russell and Crispin followed him.

Going into classroom B20, he found a scene of total devastation, and Adele trying to comfort the sobbing twelve-year-olds.

There was a pause, then Hengist said, ‘This is absolutely brilliant. Look, Ashton, look, Russell, they’ve re-created a farm in the Balkans.’ Putting huge arms round the sobbing little girls, he went on, ‘Of course you’re sad your farm’s been bombed, but you’ve really captured the pathos of war.

‘Look at the poor farm animals and birds.’ Hengist pointed with half a hot dog. ‘Animals are always the first casualties of war. Look at that poor lamb with its legs blown off and the cow who’s been disembowelled, and everything’s been swept off the table.’

Hengist righted the farmer and his wife who’d lost an arm. ‘They were just enjoying their tea, poor darlings, when the bomb fell. So sad.’

‘Are you responsible?’ He turned to a shell-shocked Adele. ‘I can only congratulate you; such vision and courage, to destroy something so precious. That tractor’s wonderful too. What’s your name? Miss Stevens, just the kind of primitive machinery they’d have in Bosnia.’

‘Graffi made that,’ piped up Janna proudly.

‘We did it too.’ Monster and Satan edged forward. ‘We trashed it.’

Janna was poised to annihilate them, but wily old Hengist pumped their hands. ‘Well done, a real team effort.’

Robbie was simply furious, longing to push forward to take credit, but Hengist had moved on to Life in Tudor England and, as a fellow historian, was praising a blushing Lance:

‘Just the right scarlet for that doublet, a very Elizabethan scarlet.’

Jupiter, meanwhile, was hell-bent on discomfiting Russell, Ashton and Crispin, who were all allied to the hung Labour/Lib Dem county council, who so frustrated his Tory ambition.

‘And we’ll hang them out to dry at the next election,’ he murmured to Rupert as they paused to admire Mrs Gablecross’s French café and enquire after her husband, the Chief Inspector, an old friend of them both.

Word had, by this time, got around that Rupert was at Larks and there was a further chance to get on telly, so there was a mass exodus from the other schools with parents and children storming up the drive. A reporter who’d only been at the
Gazette
for a week, tipped off by a Venturer cameraman, also belted over to Larks with his photographer. Hengist immediately introduced them to Janna, then took them by the arm, showing them the Larks Ascending display and the bombed farm.

Satan Simmons and Monster Norman were soon being interviewed.

‘We built it up, then trashed it to create a wartime situation,’ Monster was saying.

‘Like the Chapman brothers or Rachel Whiteread,’ said the reporter.

‘Yeah, yeah, whatever.’

Photographs were also taken of Rupert, Jupiter and Hengist with Janna. Parents were everywhere, demanding autographs: ‘You sending your kids here, Rupert? How’s Taggie? Any tips for Cheltenham?’

‘We didn’t get food at St Jimmy’s or Searston Abbey,’ said the other parents as they fell on Debbie’s hot dogs. ‘Lovely atmosphere here. I like these old buildings. More ambience. Hello, Jupiter. He’s our MP.’

Jupiter, who reminded Janna of the lean and hungry Cassius, told the
Gazette
that as Shadow Education Minister and Larkminster’s MP, he took a great interest in local schools.

‘I am delighted Janna Curtis appears to be turning round this one, after only a few weeks. Good to have a young, energetic and charismatic head. You’re to be congratulated, Ashton.’ He smiled coolly at a seething Ashton Douglas. ‘I hope you’re providing adequate financial support. Janna tells me she needs textbooks, computers, playing fields and a new roof.’

‘We can’t have raindrops falling on our head or anyone else’s,’ said Rupert, looking up from the
Evening Standard
.

Janna got the giggles.

‘Ashton, well done,’ said Hengist, coming out of a side door, trailing children. ‘You must be delighted you chose Janna. I’ve never seen such a change.’

Ashton looked as though he’d swallowed a wasp.

Venturer Television arrived, filmed the sea of parents and then interviewed Hengist about his interest in Larks.

‘Janna and I have been discussing plans to share our facilities,’ Hengist told them. ‘The council sold off Larks’s playing fields, so we’d like to offer them access to ours, and to our libraries, art departments, science labs and running tracks. We’re very early in discussions, but it’s an exciting project. We’ll both learn from each other.’

‘We’ll teach them fist-foiting, shooting and Formula One driving,’ yelled Graffi and was shushed.

‘When will this happen?’ asked the Venturer presenter.

‘I’m off to America and we’ve got half-term, but very soon after that, I hope. To merit our charitable status, we independent schools must increasingly demonstrate we’re of benefit to the community,’ Hengist concluded smoothly. ‘We’ve always offered bursaries to bright children; we’re merely carrying on a tradition.’

‘First I’ve heard of it.’ Russell Lambert was puffing out his cheeks.

‘Janna and I’ – Hengist smiled in her direction – ‘had a working lunch yesterday. She’s made a great start, but as one who had problems at the beginning with Bagley, I’d like to offer my support.’

‘Rod Hyde’s already doing a grand job,’ snapped Ashton, ‘and I’m not sure how Larks staff will feel about bonding with an independent.’

‘We’ll have to find out,’ said Hengist coolly, ‘but three heads are always better than one.’

‘Come on, I need a drink.’ Rupert was getting bored. ‘Can I keep this dog?’

Briefly, Hengist drew Janna aside: ‘Pretty dress. At last she rose, and twitched her mantle blue: tomorrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.’

‘I don’t know what you’re playing at,’ muttered an utterly confused Janna, ‘but thank you for rescuing us.’

‘I’ll ring you tomorrow.’

‘Goodbye, goodbye.’ Reluctantly, the children waved Hengist off.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ Jupiter told Janna, then, handing his card to Graffi: ‘I’d like to see more of your stuff.

‘That was rather injudicious,’ he added a minute later as the black polished shoes of the three men rustled through red and gold leaves towards the car park. ‘Do you honestly want Bagley overrun by a lot of yobbos?’

‘I want the world to know how good and philanthropic my school is. Caring conservatism must show it has balls,’ said Hengist mockingly.

‘Are you sure Bagley won’t corrupt those innocent Larks hooligans?’ asked Rupert. ‘Do you really want bricks heaved through your Burne-Jones windows?’

‘“We must love one another or die”,’ replied Hengist sanctimoniously.

‘I hope you don’t want to get into Janna Curtis’s knickers,’ warned Jupiter, pressing the remote control to open the doors of his Bentley. ‘The Tory party can’t afford any more sleaze.’

‘I like this dog.’ Rupert patted his cardboard collie. ‘It can round up the Tory unfaithful.’

Paris lay on top of his bed at Oaktree Court. A girl in the room opposite had been screaming for nearly an hour. Fucking Blenchley, not to let him out, when Janna had been kind enough to pin up his poem beside those of Shakespeare, Milton and Shelley. He murmured longingly:

‘Teach me half the gladness

That thy brain must know;

Such harmonious madness

From my lips would flow,

The world should listen then, as I am listening now.’

He would have liked to shag Benita who slept next door, but if ever he left his room, a red light went on in the warden’s office.

Shutting his eyes, he dreamt of making love to Janna: ‘such harmonious madness’. He must get out of this place.