querulous. 'I hoped I could bob in now and again, now that I'm back on my feet.'
I bit back the sharp retort I should like to have made, and as I put down the receiver reminded myself that he was still convalescent.
Men, I thought disgustedly, are selfish to the core.
I set out on Monday morning with mixed feelings. Part of me welcomed this return to my old pastures, but I also felt remarkably nervous.
Several children were already running about in the playground, and they rushed to the car as I got out.
'You going to teach us again?'
'Just for a week,' I replied.
'Will Miss Summers be back then?'
'Is she really ill?'
'Is she in hospital?'
'She learns us lovely.'
'Lovelily,' I said automatically, lifting my case from the car. 'Beautifully, I mean.'
I was back sure enough.
The familiar school smell greeted me as I crossed the threshold, accompanied by my vociferous companions. It was a compound of coke fumes from the welcome tortoise stoves, disinfectant, which Mrs Pringle puts in the water to wash the lobby floor, and the general odour of an old building. It was wonderfully exhilarating, and I felt at home at once. I was surprised not to see Mrs Pringle, but a note on my desk explained all.
'Off to Caxley on the early bus. See you dinner time.'
M. Pringle
Mrs Richards had not yet arrived. I banished the children to the playground, while I surveyed my old surroundings.
Basically, it was much as usual, but there were several innovations. For one thing, the ancient long desk that had stood at the side of the room for many years, had now gone. It had been a useful piece of furniture. The children put their lunch packets and fruit in season there, plums and apples from their gardens, or blackberries and hazelnuts collected on the way to school.
Toys, books and other treasures from home rested there, and at this time of year long strings of conkers festooned its battered top. I missed it. It was a relic of the past.
There was a very efficient-looking shelf of nature pamphlets which was new to me, and the framed pictures had been changed from such old friends as The Light of the World by Holman Hunt (so useful as a mirror with its dark background) and The Angelus, to modern prints of the French Impressionists. I had to admit that they added lightness and charm to the walls, and remembered that the office had urged us to take advantage of the service of supplying pictures which could be borrowed for a month or more.
I unlocked the desk and took out the register. Something seemed strange about the desk, and then I realized that the ancient Victorian inkstand with its two cut-glass ink-wells, one for blue ink and one for red, was no longer in place.
The heavy object, with its great curved brass handle, had vanished, and although I had never used the thing, relying, as no doubt Jane Summers did, on two fountain pens for the marking of the register, I felt a pang of loss.
At that moment Mrs Richards arrived and greeted me with a smacking kiss. Half a dozen children who had come in with her, despite my express order for them to stay outside, were entranced by this display of affection.
The great wall clock, mercifully still in its accustomed place, stood at ten to nine. Joseph Coggs burst into the room and stood transfixed. A slow smile spread across his gypsy face and he took a deep happy breath.
'Can I ring the bell?' he said, as he had said so often to me.
I nodded assent. School had begun.
By the time the dinner lady arrived bearing shepherd's pie and cabbage, with bright yellow trifle for pudding, I felt that I had been back for weeks.
The dinner lady was as welcoming as the children had been, and even Mrs Pringle, when she arrived to wash up, managed a small smile.
'Got Fred in bed again,' she announced. 'Same old chest trouble, wheezing like a harmonium. I popped in to get his subscription made up at Boots.'
I expressed my sympathy with the invalid, and told her about Jane Summers' progress.
'Well, I
I bit back the sharp retort I should like to have made, and as I put down the receiver reminded myself that he was still convalescent.
Men, I thought disgustedly, are selfish to the core.
I set out on Monday morning with mixed feelings. Part of me welcomed this return to my old pastures, but I also felt remarkably nervous.
Several children were already running about in the playground, and they rushed to the car as I got out.
'You going to teach us again?'
'Just for a week,' I replied.
'Will Miss Summers be back then?'
'Is she really ill?'
'Is she in hospital?'
'She learns us lovely.'
'Lovelily,' I said automatically, lifting my case from the car. 'Beautifully, I mean.'
I was back sure enough.
The familiar school smell greeted me as I crossed the threshold, accompanied by my vociferous companions. It was a compound of coke fumes from the welcome tortoise stoves, disinfectant, which Mrs Pringle puts in the water to wash the lobby floor, and the general odour of an old building. It was wonderfully exhilarating, and I felt at home at once. I was surprised not to see Mrs Pringle, but a note on my desk explained all.
'Off to Caxley on the early bus. See you dinner time.'
M. Pringle
Mrs Richards had not yet arrived. I banished the children to the playground, while I surveyed my old surroundings.
Basically, it was much as usual, but there were several innovations. For one thing, the ancient long desk that had stood at the side of the room for many years, had now gone. It had been a useful piece of furniture. The children put their lunch packets and fruit in season there, plums and apples from their gardens, or blackberries and hazelnuts collected on the way to school.
Toys, books and other treasures from home rested there, and at this time of year long strings of conkers festooned its battered top. I missed it. It was a relic of the past.
There was a very efficient-looking shelf of nature pamphlets which was new to me, and the framed pictures had been changed from such old friends as The Light of the World by Holman Hunt (so useful as a mirror with its dark background) and The Angelus, to modern prints of the French Impressionists. I had to admit that they added lightness and charm to the walls, and remembered that the office had urged us to take advantage of the service of supplying pictures which could be borrowed for a month or more.
I unlocked the desk and took out the register. Something seemed strange about the desk, and then I realized that the ancient Victorian inkstand with its two cut-glass ink-wells, one for blue ink and one for red, was no longer in place.
The heavy object, with its great curved brass handle, had vanished, and although I had never used the thing, relying, as no doubt Jane Summers did, on two fountain pens for the marking of the register, I felt a pang of loss.
At that moment Mrs Richards arrived and greeted me with a smacking kiss. Half a dozen children who had come in with her, despite my express order for them to stay outside, were entranced by this display of affection.
The great wall clock, mercifully still in its accustomed place, stood at ten to nine. Joseph Coggs burst into the room and stood transfixed. A slow smile spread across his gypsy face and he took a deep happy breath.
'Can I ring the bell?' he said, as he had said so often to me.
I nodded assent. School had begun.
By the time the dinner lady arrived bearing shepherd's pie and cabbage, with bright yellow trifle for pudding, I felt that I had been back for weeks.
The dinner lady was as welcoming as the children had been, and even Mrs Pringle, when she arrived to wash up, managed a small smile.
'Got Fred in bed again,' she announced. 'Same old chest trouble, wheezing like a harmonium. I popped in to get his subscription made up at Boots.'
I expressed my sympathy with the invalid, and told her about Jane Summers' progress.
'Well, I
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