Listening to the Quiet

by Listening to the Quiet (retail) (epub)

  A mumble of ‘Good mornings’ and a lot of tittering followed.

  Jo continued, ‘If you look to my left you will see I’ve written my name up on the blackboard. I shall now mark the register and try to get to know some of you before assembly.’

  She scanned their avid faces. A few of them she had seen in church on Sunday. A boy in the middle row of desks, with chickenpox scars on his face, was busy picking his nose and he quickly withdrew the offending finger when her eyes fell on him.

  She sat down at her desk, which was scratched with ancient graffiti; one cheeky word by Lew’s hand, he had told her to look for it. Fresh oil had been put on the rusty parts of the desk’s ironwork. Earlier, Jo had put her handbag and personal effects in the top drawer. She had tried the three lower drawers and found the bottom one too stiff to open. She would mention it to Mr Lidgey. She had forgotten about the caretaker, Frank Burthy, who also ran a small farm shop. Did he still work here? She was glad she had brought her own cushion to compensate for the hardness of the chair.

  There was an outbreak of murmuring. She silenced it with a stern look.

  ‘I’m Arnold Jelbert, miss,’ a scratchy voice suddenly piped up from the back row of desks.

  ‘I know who you are, Arnold Jelbert. I spoke to you last week. Be quiet until I reach J in the register, please. You will address me as Miss Venner, not miss.’

  Arnold, untidy, tow-haired, with large protruding ears and a countenance that shone with mischievous intent, made a silly noise. ‘She’s prettier than old Miss Choak,’ he said, chuckling, then made to pinch the boy sitting next to him.

  ‘Arnold, if you move or speak again you will stand in the corner. Sit up straight, do not slouch. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Venner,’ the boy mouthed without a particle of respect.

  There was a shuffle as other pupils sought to correct their posture. Then a sniff came from somewhere. There was always one pupil with a persistent sniff, something Jo could not abide, owing to the obstreperous way her father had performed his snuff habit. She gazed at the boy who had been picking his nose but he was not the guilty party. From her handbag she extracted the supply of small handkerchiefs she had made from clean, cotton feed bags. ‘If anyone needs one of these, do ask,’ she said, putting them on the edge of her desk. ‘You must return it to me washed and ironed.’

  The sniffer went quiet.

  Picking up her fountain pen, she began to mark the register. ‘Mavis Best.’ She glanced up. Silence. ‘Is Mavis Best present?’

  The fair-haired girl with the good manners put her hand up. ‘Gone down with measles, Miss Venner.’

  ‘Thank you. Ann Markham, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Venner.’

  ‘Teacher’s ruddy pet,’ Arnold was heard to whisper disgustedly.

  Jo chose to ignore him. Ann Markham beamed proudly. Used to classrooms separated by thick walls, Jo managed to shut out the young voices on the other side of the wooden screen, but every now and then, Marcus Lidgey’s exacting tone broke through her concentration.

  When Jo got to J she called out, ‘Arnold Jelbert.’

  ‘You already know I’m here,’ he scoffed.

  Putting her pen down, rising swiftly, Jo strode down the gangway through the desks to an accompaniment of hushed gasps. ‘To the front of the classroom, Arnold Jelbert. In the corner by the door.’

  ‘But I haven’t done anything,’ he protested.

  ‘You’ve been cheeky three times.’ Jo put her hand on his back and gently pushed him along to the corner of humiliation; no doubt a worse punishment would follow if Mr Lidgey chose to enter the room at this moment. ‘I never ignore anything three times. Class, take note.’

  She had less trouble with Arnold’s twin, Gillian, a female replica of him with long plaits and round glasses, who took no pains to disguise her amusement at her brother’s early defeat. Jo was resigned to the certainty that the Jelberts were always going to be a problem. They were never disciplined at home, unless Abner deemed their behaviour warranted a belting.

  Jo moved on swiftly to the last names. After the Lidgeys’ comments on the Vigus family, it was no surprise to find Rex and Molly Vigus were absent.

  ‘Kenneth Willis.’ There was no reply. Jo glanced up from the register. ‘Is Kenneth Willis absent too?’

  George Lean, the boy who had been picking his nose, nudged the boy sitting in front of him. The boy lifted his head off his arms and rubbed his eyes dozily. ‘What?’

  ‘Are you Kenneth Willis?’ Jo asked rather sternly. ‘Were you asleep?’ She softened when she saw how thin and pale he was. She assumed he was feeling poorly.

  ‘Yes, miss. Sorry. Present, Miss Venner.’ Kenneth Willis blushed to the roots of his wavy red hair.

  ‘Well, do try to stay awake, Kenneth.’ Jo smiled at him.

  ‘That’s not fair,’ Arnold complained from the comer. ‘I got sent here just for talking. At least I can stay awake.’

  ‘You will return there after assembly if you do not curb your tongue, Arnold,’ Jo threatened lightly.

  At nine fifteen, the screen was folded back by two boys in the headmaster’s class, then the two lower classes, three nervous first-day pupils among them, filed in and stood in straight lines for assembly. Jane Lawry, short and chubby, shyly asked Jo for a makeshift hanky. She was clinging to the hand of her best friend, Susan, who was the younger sister of Beth Wherry, the new skivvy at the schoolhouse. Jo smiled as she handed Jane a handkerchief, then she carefully watched the one disabled child in her class to see if he required help. Norman Pascoe, from the general store, skinny and owning an effortless smile, hobbled along expertly with the aid of a stick.

  Hymn books were passed out. Jo stood on the platform, two humble steps behind Mr Lidgey. She had brought her own hymn book, a leaving present from the staff of the academy. Miss Teague, chin thrust forward, lips pursed piously, played ‘Morning Has Broken’ on the harmonium. The singing flagged before it really began. His face stem, Marcus waved his arm in an arc, and as he led the children with a strong tenor voice, they found their best voices. Miss Teague smiled brightly, but avoided looking at Jo.

  After the prayers and a few words on the Epiphany, Marcus formally introduced Jo to the school. The children welcomed her with one voice. Marcus nodded at her. Jo stepped forward and thanked them, with a friendly smile. Marcus noticed her confidence. She was dynamic, totally appealing. He was drawn to her. Carrying out his mother’s scheme could prove not to be such a burden. Ensuring she saw his encouraging smile, he buoyantly ordered the classes to divide again.

  ‘How are you enjoying your first day?’ Eleanor asked Jo, when she joined her in the sitting room of the schoolhouse during the mid-morning break.

  Before replying, Jo asked her, ‘You do not feel me too forward in coming here so soon?’ At odd moments she’d found herself thinking about Eleanor Lidgey and had been anticipating the company again of this forthright woman.

  ‘Oh, no, I’m delighted. I told Marcus that he mustn’t put you on playground duty today and to send you here. You can come back at dinner time.’

  ‘Thank you. Actually, I feel I’m already beginning to establish myself at the school.’

  ‘I’m so glad.’ Eleanor smiled a smile that was spellbinding; Jo couldn’t take her eyes off her. ‘The tea tray is prepared for us, my dear. Would you be so kind as to pour? I like mine very strong with just a dash of milk. Help yourself to biscuits.’

  While she served the tea, Jo talked about her morning. ‘I gave the class a simple arithmetic test to start off with, then, not wanting to tax their minds on the first session of a new term, I began reading The Wind in the Willows. I shall take English next, and reading and geography this afternoon. I’m singling out the characters; the difficult, the lazy, the bright and those of limited abilities. The Vigus children were among the four absent. Looking back over the register, Rex and Molly Vigus’s record of attendance does not include a full week for the last three terms. I t
hink, with Mr Lidgey’s permission, I’ll follow them up sooner rather than later.’

  ‘I admire that. Put my tea on the little table beside me, dear. It’s lovely to have someone sweet, young and fresh waiting on me. You are going to be a treasure to Marcus and me, I’m sure of it.’

  As Jo put the cup and saucer down on the appointed place, Eleanor placed two of her fingers on the back of Jo’s hand and rubbed them in a circle. It was like being touched by cool silk but Jo did not like it, nor Eleanor’s sultry tone.

  ‘Do you know anything of the Vigus family’s circumstances from your old days in the village?’ Eleanor asked.

  ‘No.’ Jo sat down with her own tea. ‘It would be useful to learn all I can before I teach Rex and Molly.’

  ‘I can enlighten you. They’re dreadfully poor and live in far worse conditions that any other villagers. The mother’s morally loose. She’s an alcoholic and spends all her money on bootleg gin, produced apparently by some old witch who lives on the moor. There is an adult son who is little better, so I’m told. If you do call on them, I would be happy if you’d report back to me. I may be able to help. My son is running out of ideas on what to do about them.’

  Eleanor glanced towards the door and lifted a finger to her lips. ‘Ah, he’s here. I don’t want him to think I’m meddling in his affairs.’

  Marcus quietly helped himself at the tea tray and sat on the chair furthest from his mother. Jo felt conspicuous while Mrs Lidgey commented on the details of her shell pink, accordion-pleated skirt, matching jumper and long cardigan, because Mr Lidgey was also looking intently at her. ‘Your shoes are so stylish. How did you manage to keep them pristine on the muddy roads?’

  ‘I wore boots to the school and changed into shoes when I arrived.’

  ‘Very sensible. I trust you have brought an umbrella with you,’ Eleanor chattered on. ‘The forecast on the wireless said it will rain this afternoon.’

  Marcus raised an eyebrow, interested again in Jo’s reply. Jo did not appreciate being subjected to such personal scrutiny. ‘Miss Merrick suggested I take my umbrella, but before I set out this morning I could see for myself that rain is inevitable.’

  ‘Really?’ Marcus said. ‘Because you are used to moorland weather?’

  ‘Yes. I am looking forward to taking the children outside for nature studies.’

  ‘Good, good.’ He nodded. ‘Have you met with any problems?’

  ‘No. I should point out I have one pupil away with the measles. I hope we’re not about to be hit by an epidemic.’

  ‘I can set your mind at rest. There was a run of measles before Christmas. Mavis Best should be the last case. Is there anything else? I want you to be perfectly comfortable.’

  Jo made no mention of the appalling habits of some of the children, of having had to stop Gillian Jelbert from digging scabs off both her knees, of reprimanding Norman Pascoe for taking a sweet out of his mouth and passing it to George Lean, who had promptly put it into his own. ‘The bottom drawer of my desk is stuck fast.’

  ‘I’ll inform Frank Burthy.’ Marcus drank the last of his tea. ‘I have to get back, Mama. I have lots of paperwork to do.’ He darted to his feet and was standing at the door. ‘Do not rush yourself, Miss Venner.’ Then he was gone, before his mother said something to embarrass him or demand a peck on the cheek.

  ‘You’ll find Marcus very caring.’ Eleanor smiled proudly.

  ‘I’m sure he is, Mrs Lidgey.’ Jo was experiencing his accommodating nature for herself.

  ‘Why not call me Eleanor? I’m keen for us to be friends. I may call you Joanna?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Jo said, pleased at the suggestion, but she had resisted the desire to grit her teeth. Eleanor had resonated her full name in exactly the same way her mother did; Jo did not want to think about that woman today. ‘Well, I really must go. I need to freshen up.’

  ‘Please do use our amenity. Marcus has gone to the expense of installing one across the hall for me. It will be more dignified for you than using the convenience at the school. There’s a mirror in there. You can attend to your hair although it’s not necessary. You are well turned out. A refreshing sight for me after seeing only inferior clad individuals in the village.’

  ‘You are very kind,’ Jo said, flattered by the compliments. She admired Eleanor’s uncomplaining spirit; several times she had flinched and dashed a hand round to her back but had not mentioned the pain.

  Eleanor suddenly moved her misshapen body forward. ‘No. It is you who are kind, Joanna. I know an old woman like me requires a lot of patience.’

  ‘Oh, nothing of the sort, Eleanor.’

  As the morning wore on, Jo adapted her teaching methods to suit the abilities of her charges. She constantly checked the report Mr Lidgey had given her and found they were accurate for each pupil. They had a variety of skills, and while pressing the brighter children to do well, she was sympathetic with the slower ones. This was how she taught. If the children did well, she rewarded them with praise. If they wasted her time or their intellect she chastened them. She encouraged them all, but even at this early stage it was obvious the majority had little interest in their lessons with the prospect of a poor future, the boys of obtaining dead-end jobs, the girls expecting only to marry. Jo hoped to change their attitudes. Arnold Jelbert fidgeted but was not required to stand in the corner again. Jo knew he was saving up his mischief for another day.

  Miss Teague supervised the children’s dinner-time meal of homemade sandwiches and pasties. The mothers of the children not going home to eat took turns to collect all the fare and meet the children at the school gate.

  Eleanor offered Jo some of the lentil soup she and Marcus were to eat. She declined and regretted it. Unpacking the pasty Mercy had made for her – the pasty Jo had cut in half for it was so big – she found it overflowed her plate. Marcus glanced at it then looked down into his soup bowl with, what Jo determined, was a smirk.

  He had been considerate all morning but she wasn’t going to allow him to make fun of her. ‘Would you care for some, Mr Lidgey?’ she asked with a similar expression, pushing the plate towards him.

  ‘What? Um, no, thank you.’ Breathing heavily, he picked up his soup spoon.

  When Jo left, Eleanor beckoned Marcus to her.

  ‘What is it, Mama? I’m busy.’

  She slapped him violently across the face. ‘You embarrassed her, you bastard. You need to get the girl to fall in love with you, and as soon as you possibly can. I’m not staying in these wretched circumstances a moment longer than I’m forced to.’

  In an uncontrollable rage, she castigated him over the subject she had brought up many times in the last year. ‘If you had taken the trouble to keep in touch with me and my affairs, instead of getting yourself involved in a sordid scandal, you would have realised the tin-mining industry was sinking into decline and I was about to lose my meagre assets. It’s all your fault! You did this to me. It was my state of anxiety that caused me to fall down the stairs, making me a cripple. Well, it was your petty perversions which sent you skulking back to Cornwall. Now you must make up for it. When you get back to the school, make sure you work hard to win over that tender little shrew.’

  Chapter Ten

  It was raining steadily and the moor was fogbound when Jo made her way home. She strode along under her black umbrella, recalling the success of her first day.

  There was a sudden thud behind her and her shoulders were grabbed. She lashed out with her elbow and tried to bring the umbrella down against her attacker.

  ‘Stop it, Jo,’ shouted a familiar voice. ‘It’s me, Russell.’

  Her fury surpassed her moments of fright. ‘Why couldn’t you say hello properly, you fool? You were always jumping out on me.’

  ‘And you were always fighting me off.’ Slipping his hands in under her arms, the younger of the Trevail brothers lifted Jo’s limbs until she was standing before him like a scarecrow. She was about to force them down, when he said, ‘Let’s
have a look at you then.’

  Twisting her lips in contempt, she allowed him a moment’s perusal.

  He mimicked her expression, then gave his verdict, ‘You’re lovely.’

  ‘You really think so?’ She thought she would collapse with shock, both her former rowdy playmates actually paying her compliments. Or was Russell about to take his back and insult her?

  He grinned and kissed her cheek. ‘Lew said you’d grown into something worth looking at. I agree with him.’

  ‘You look rather good yourself, Russell.’ He shared most of Lew’s stalwart features, but while his had a lesser touch of commonness, they hinted of his slyness. He was always quick to pick a quarrel.

  Russell put his arm round her shoulders in the natural way he’d done occasionally when he and Lew had escorted her back to Cardhu, after they’d romped together on the moors. Keeping his head at an angle away from the umbrella, he walked on, taking her with him. ‘Do you like it at the school?’

  ‘I do,’ she said, watching her ankle boots forge patterns on the bemired lane. There was the pungent smell of saturated foliage. ‘Tell me about the Viguses, Russell. I’m interested in them because two of the children are in my class. I’ve met Luke Vigus. Does he do his best for the children?’

  ‘You’ll never see those brats at school. Jessie Vigus has had heaps of children, never a husband. Some of them died. As for Luke, he turned up on her doorstep a few years back. He must’ve been her first. Comes from Germoe. ’Tis said he nearly got done for burglary. His story goes, that when his grandmother, what reared him, died, he was curious to meet the mother who deserted him. He’s still up to his tricks. Constable’s round to his cottage quick as lightning when something goes missing. Some reckon it’ll be prison for him one day. I don’t think so. Luke’s too artful. He’s a bad’un. A drifter, never stays in Parmarth more than a few days at a time.’

  ‘I see. What a terrible way for the younger children to live.’ Jo was deeply disappointed to learn so many negative things about Luke Vigus. ‘How about you, Russell? How are things at the Geevor?’