Read Online 05 Please Sir! by Jack Sheffield - Free Book Online Page A

need to arrange a date with Joseph –’ she said, ‘that is, if we’re agreed on getting married here and not Hampshire.’
    ‘Only if you’re happy about that, Beth,’ I said.
    ‘Well, it makes sense,’ she said with a smile; ‘all our friends are here.’
    ‘What about your parents?’ I asked anxiously.
    ‘No problem, Jack. I had a chat with them on the phone last night and they were supportive.’
    ‘That’s a relief,’ I said.
    ‘And they want us to spend New Year with them down in Hampshire. What do you think?’
    ‘Good idea,’ I said. ‘Then we can discuss all the details.’
    She sipped her white wine and reached out to hold my hand. ‘Exciting, isn’t it?’ she said.
    ‘Vera and Joseph will be thrilled,’ I said.
    ‘They certainly will. Perhaps we should arrange to go to the vicarage one evening to discuss dates and arrangements.’
    ‘I’ll mention it after the Harvest Festival,’ I said. She stretched and rubbed the tiredness from her neck. ‘Another drink?’ I asked.
    Beth glanced at her watch. ‘Just a tonic water, please, Jack. I’ve still got some marking to do tonight.’
    * * *
     
    At the bar, Jacqueline Laporte, the attractive French teacher from Easington, had just arrived with a Brigitte Bardot lookalike in a miniskirt.
    ‘Hello, Jacqueline. Good to see you,’ I said. We had both joined the Ragley tennis club during the summer holiday and had begun to get to know each other well.
    ‘Hello, Jack. This is my little sister, Monique,’ said Jacqueline in perfect English but with her familiar French accent.
    ‘Pleased to meet you, Monique,’ I said.
    ‘Ah, bonsoir , Jacques,’ said Monique with a mischievous grin as she stretched up to kiss me on both cheeks. ‘I ’ave ’eard you play ze tennis wiz my sister.’
    ‘That’s right, Monique,’ I said. ‘We’re in the Ragley mixed doubles team.’
    ‘ C’est bon ,’ said the effervescent Monique. ‘Jacqueline is lucky playing with ze big strong ’andsome Yorksheer fellow.’
    ‘Er, well … thank you,’ I replied.
    ‘Now behave, Monique,’ said Jacqueline. ‘Please ignore my sister, Jack – she is very high-spirited.’ She gave her sister a stern look. ‘And she is only staying with me for a short holiday before she returns to Paris.’
    ‘And while I am ’ere,’ said Monique, ‘I weesh to learn ze Eengleesh and speak like ze Yorksheer native.’
    ‘Can I get a drink for you and your sister, Jacqueline?’ I said.
    ‘Thank you, Jack. White wine, please,’ said Jacqueline. ‘French, of course,’ she added with a smile.
    ‘And for you, Monique?’
    ‘I weel’ave, as you say, ze swift ’alf, s’il vous plaît .’
    Behind the bar, Sheila pulled on the hand pump. ‘She’s pickin’ it up fast, Mr Sheffield,’ said Sheila. ‘My Don’s been learning ’er.’
    ‘Eee, Don, ecky ze thump,’ said Monique. ‘I am ze monkey’s uncle, n’est-ce pas ?’
    Don the barman’s stubbly face broke into a sheepish grin. Sheila leant over, pinned a York City tea towel to the bar with her prodigious bosom, and whispered in my direction, ‘An’ ah’m not s’prised wi’ a figure like that.’
    ‘ Merci , Jacques,’ said Monique. She sipped her half of Chestnut Mild. ‘ C’est delicieuse .’
    ‘So ’ave y’gorra ’usband back in France, then?’ asked Sheila pointedly.
    Monique gave me an enigmatic smile. ‘ Non . I ’ave never been married … but I ’ave ’ad many ’uzbands.’
    It was time to beat a hasty retreat.
    On Wednesday morning I collected my copy of The Times from Prudence Golightly’s General Stores & Newsagent on my way into Ragley. The headline declared ‘I won’t court popularity’. It looked as if Mrs Thatcher was having a tough time at the Blackpool Conference with the annual rate of price increases unlikely to be cut to ten per cent. However, that was far from my mind when I saw Sue Phillips, Chair of our Parent–Teacher Association, unloading a large wooden box