Nine Till Three and Summers Free

by Mike Kent

‘No, not really. They’re just very lively kids. I didn’t realise just how much skill Dorothy has.’

  Samantha put her arm round my waist and hugged me.

  ‘Anyway,’ I said admiringly, ‘I couldn’t have missed you. You look lovely.’

  ‘No time for that,’ she laughed. ‘And we’d better hurry. The play starts in twenty minutes.’

  We had arranged to meet in town so that Samantha could take advantage of late night closing to buy some clothes, and I hadn’t anticipated any problems in getting to our meeting place on time, but after the disappointing afternoon things hadn’t improved back at college. The hot water system had broken down again, and there had been a problem in the kitchen, causing the evening meal to be half an hour late. Since I hated unpunctuality, I’d almost resigned myself to Samantha watching the play on her own. I took her hand and we crossed over the road towards Shaftesbury Avenue, dodging between the traffic and the late night shoppers.

  ‘What did you buy?’ I asked, taking the large green carrier bag she was carrying.

  ‘Oh, lots of odds and ends. It’s Dad’s birthday next week, so I bought him Dvorak’s seventh. It’s the only Dvorak symphony he hasn’t got. And I bought some shoes. And a jumper. Look, what do you think?’ She stopped abruptly in the middle of the road and held a black polo neck pullover against herself.

  ‘How about that, then? Do you think it suits me?’

  A cab driver leaned out of his cab window. ‘It’s beautiful, darling,’ he called. ‘You won’t be wearin’ it long if you cross the road like that, though.’

  She turned and grinned and then hurried across to the pavement. ‘I think he liked it,’ she said.

  ‘You’re really beautiful, you know,’ I said. ‘You’d look lovely even if you were wearing a sack cloth.’

  ‘We’ll see. You can buy me one for Christmas. So, what have you been up to this afternoon?’

  ‘Thinking of giving up teaching.’

  Her face became serious for a moment. ‘You’re not regretting it already, surely?’

  ‘No, not really. I’m sure I’ll get plenty more days like today. It’s so tiring, though. I was worn out after teaching them this afternoon. If things go on like this, I’ll be going to bed at half past nine each night.’

  ‘Really?’ she laughed. ‘Who with?’

  ‘Ah, well now…’

  ‘Don’t tell me. The headmaster’s wife says he doesn’t understand her…’

  ‘He probably doesn’t. He certainly doesn’t understand children.’

  We turned behind the Garrick theatre and hurried into St Martin’s Lane. It was choked with a line of cars trying to squeeze past an elderly Morris Minor that had stalled in the middle of the road. Somebody began to hoot at the back of the queue, not understanding the reason for the delay, and a man in his early twenties got out of the car and tried to edge it onto the pavement.

  ‘Good thing I didn’t suggest you brought me up here in your Rolls Royce,’ said Samantha. ‘We’d never have found a place to park.’

  The owner of the Morris lifted the bonnet and peered cautiously underneath. A puff of steam escaped and he waved it away with his hand. Other drivers moved past as discretely as possible, their faces set straight ahead, not having time to stop and help. I felt vaguely guilty as we hurried past too and I rummaged through my pockets for the tickets.

  ‘I bet you’ve forgotten them,’ said Samantha. ‘Now then, what’s the line? ‘I’m terribly sorry and all that, but never mind, we could go back to my room and discuss the psychological implications of dealing with disturbed children from a difficult social environment…’’

  ‘My God, you sound just like one of my lecturers.’

  ‘I know. It’s because students keep coming into the library and asking for books with that sort of stuff in them. Or else they ask me out.’

  ‘Well I can’t blame them for that. I’d probably do that myself. Oh look, the tickets are here in my wallet, so it looks as if we’ll have to see the play instead.’

  ‘Where are we sitting? Nothing less than the front row, I hope?’

  ‘Afraid not. Student grants only run to the upper circle. And the English Department doesn’t really sponsor trips to ‘The Mousetrap’.

  ‘Really? You’ll have to get something done about that. I would have thought it was a landmark in English drama.’

  We reached the theatre and climbed the stairs at the side entrance. I bought two programmes while Samantha looked for the seat numbers at the front of the circle, hung her coat over the balcony, and sat down.

  ‘It’s amazing how this play still packs the theatre every night,’ she said as I returned. ‘I wouldn’t have thought there was anybody left in London who hadn’t seen it.’

  ‘I’m surprised you haven’t,’ I replied.

  ‘So am I. It’s one of those things we keep meaning to do, and then don’t get around to. We did book once. We couldn’t go because mum was ill. I’m really looking forward to it.’

  ‘If you get frightened, you can always grip my thigh firmly.’

  ‘Really? Well, thank heavens for that!’

  A programme attendant leaned over and pointed out that coats weren’t allowed on the balcony in case something was stolen from them, which was our problem, or in case they fell onto the unsuspecting heads of those fortunate enough to be sitting in the front stalls, which was his. His condescending attitude seemed well in keeping with the way the day had gone so far. Samantha folded her coat across her lap and studied the programme.

  ‘For the next couple of hours you’re to forget school and enjoy the play,’ she said. ‘That’s an order.’

  ‘Yes Miss. I’ve forgotten school completely.’

  ‘Good. Oh, I forgot. Have a chocolate. I’ve only had them about a month.’

  ‘That’s all right. If we don’t like them we can always flick them over the balcony.’

  ‘Mmm. I bet that’s what your kids would do if they were here.’

  ‘I thought we’d forgotten about school?’

  ‘Oh yes. Sorry.’

  The lights dimmed. I slipped my hand into Samantha’s lap and settled back in my seat. The play had been running for a while, and though I’d seen it before, several members of the cast had changed and I followed the first act closely, interested to see how the new actors would interpret their characters. But after an hour my familiarity with the play caused my mind to wander back to the classroom, and the inspection visit in a week’s time by one of my lecturers. Suppose I couldn’t get good control of the children by then? How would they react in the presence of a visitor? Would Rouse interrupt every few minutes, and if he did, would the class take my side or his? There was always Jamie Dudmish, of course. He could always be relied on to give an intelligent answer. It wasn’t that important, but I wanted this first teaching practice to go well. If I worked hard with the children on the Thames project for the next week or so, I should…

  ‘Hey,’ said Samantha, squeezing my hand as the lights went up for the interval. ‘Aren’t you enjoying it? You’ve been miles away for the last ten minutes. You’re not still thinking about the children, are you?’

  ‘They had crossed my mind.’

  ‘Well for heaven’s sake stop it. And cheer up. Here, I’ll even buy you an ice cream.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m being really terrible company.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. You can pour your troubles out over a cup of coffee afterwards. Just forget them now, that’s all. Anyway, if you go and fetch the ice cream, I’ll pay.’

  The thought of the classroom receded as Samantha considered the motives each character might have had for committing the murder. By the time the lights dimmed for the second act, she had convinced herself she knew the identity of the guilty person, and since I knew the ending, I enjoyed watching how the play had been constructed so that suspicion
wouldn’t fall on the real murderer.

  ‘Well fancy that!’ Samantha said softly as the members of the cast took their final bow and the curtain fell for the last time. ‘Who’d have guessed? I certainly didn’t.’

  ‘Nor did I when I first saw it. Clever, isn’t it?’

  ‘Mmm. It was really enjoyable. Thank you. You looked happier in the second half, too. It takes you a long time to warm up, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Not normally. I’ll prove it to you one evening.’

  ‘I’m sure you will. Meantime, let’s see if our combined funds can run to a cup of coffee, shall we?’

  The night air was colder now, and we walked quickly to avoid the threatening rain. The sky was strangely light above the city and grubby clouds scurried urgently above the office blocks pushing amongst familiar landmarks, like giant invaders from a land of stone and glass. Cranes towered in black outline, sleeping symbols of the rapidly changing skyline. We edged through the crowds and walked towards the embankment, finding a small, brightly lit coffee house near the river. It was almost empty, and we took a seat near the window.

  ‘I love the city,’ said Samantha, staring out into the street as fat drops of rain began to make passers-by turn their collars and move faster. ‘We’ve been here eight years now. Dad doesn’t like it much, though. I think he’d be happy to move to the west country. Dorset, or somewhere, but at least he can always get to a concert when he wants to.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I’ll probably stay at the library for a while. I think I’d love to work in a really interesting library… the British Museum, that kind of place. Or do some research into history or something. You’re lucky. At least you know what you want to do.’

  ‘I thought I did.’

  ‘Oh come on, one miserable afternoon doesn’t mean you’re going to be a total failure. Do you mind if I have a burger? I’m starving!’ The waitress took our order and returned a few minutes later with the burgers and two steaming cups of coffee. Samantha sipped hers carefully.

  ‘I think I know half the college from working in the library,’ she said. ‘But David was the only one I went out with seriously. Then he got depressed about the end of year exams and played Mahler all day. I mean, I like Mahler too, but not to the exclusion of everything else.’ She opened the bun and injected a generous measure of tomato sauce.

  ‘He took me round the college, once. It’s pretty ancient, isn’t it? Attractive, though. I bet they pull it down before long. They seem to be pulling everything with a bit of character down.’

  ‘If it doesn’t fall down by itself. Even the cleaner matches the building. I think she’s been there since it opened. The first day I arrived she told me how the previous student in my room had committed suicide.’

  She grimaced. ‘Charming! Did he have a bad time on his teaching practice too?’

  ‘No. He failed his finals.’

  ‘That’s awful. You’re very lucky, though. At least your college is in an ideal place. What if you’d been stuck out in the country, or something? There’s always lots of things to do in London.’

  ‘On a student allowance?’

  ‘Ah, you’re going to give me the lecture on how impoverished students are. There are loads of places to go even if you haven’t any money.’

  ‘And we don’t get much time,’ I added. ‘Think of how hard we have to work.’

  ‘Oh, I can imagine,’ she said, her hazel eyes smiling in mock sympathy. ‘Well, look on the positive side. St. James’s Park is only round the corner from you. You can go there for free and take your books to study. Anyway you’re not going to tell me they overwork you, surely? When David wasn’t listening to Mahler he was usually in the pottery room using up a year’s supply of clay just because he liked the feel of it. I’ll change places with you.’

  ‘I’m sure you’d be welcomed with open arms. Literally.’

  ‘Yes, I don’t doubt that,’ she laughed. ‘Anyway, think of all the places you can take the children to if you teach in London. Are you going to do any visits with the class you’ve got now?’

  ‘Hopefully. Once I get this topic of the Thames under way I’ll try to fit a couple of visits in. It all depends on the headmaster, unfortunately.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  ‘He doesn’t think the children should get out of their seats, let alone go wandering all over London.’

  ‘That’s silly. There’s so much they could do. The Science Museum, the Commonwealth Institute, the Tate. A ride down the river to Greenwich. The Cutty Sark. Or the zoo, even. There, and I’m not even a teacher.’ She sipped her coffee thoughtfully and I smiled, feeling certain she could persuade Mr Reed to let her take a class of children anywhere.

  ‘They went to the zoo with the last student,’ I said. ‘They came back absolutely filthy because it had been raining all day. And one of the kids got into trouble because he tried persuading an elephant to eat his mother’s bread and butter pudding. Somehow Mr Reed got to hear of it and threatened to consult his invisible chart.’

  ‘His what?’

  ‘His invisible chart. If children get into trouble he drags them into his room and gazes at the wall. He tells them he’s looking at his invisible chart to see how many strokes of the cane to administer.’

  ‘That’s incredible! I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Neither did I. But it’s true.’

  ‘I thought caning was virtually abolished these days. I thought you had to give them a gentle talking to instead.’

  ‘He doesn’t tell the kids that. He doesn’t actually nail children to the wall, but he comes pretty close to it sometimes, and he isn’t above giving them a clout.’

  ‘That’s unbelievable! I didn’t think that sort of thing went on any more. I thought everything had to be wildly creative and progressive.’

  ‘It does. At least, as far as all but two of the staff are concerned. Still, it’s his school and nobody can force him to change his ideas. The staff just hope he’ll retire. Or get run over or something.’

  ‘Well it’s certainly not fair on his staff. Or the children, come to that.’

  ‘Or even the students,’ I added miserably.

  ‘Poor you,’ she laughed. ‘Come on, I’ll buy you another coffee.’

  The room had filled up quickly as we’d talked, mostly with people anxious to escape the rain that was lashing against the pavement outside. A boat carrying trippers chugged into its mooring by the embankment and the passengers spilled ashore, covering their heads with umbrellas, coats, or just newspapers in an effort to avoid a soaking. A woman hurriedly helped a group of teenage girls in school uniform from the swaying boat and gathered them around her urgently. She counted them hastily, and then urged them swiftly in the direction of the nearest bus shelter.

  ‘There’s devotion to duty for you,’ Samantha smiled, watching the woman admiringly. ‘Still at it at this time of night. You’ve got all that to look forward to, Mike. How’s Duggan getting on at his school?’

  ‘Fine, as far as I can tell. He’s got some crazy headmistress…’

  ‘Not another one?’

  ‘Ah, but this one’s the opposite of mine. Anything goes, according to Duggan. He comes back to college with the most astonishing stories…’

  ‘What, more astonishing than yours?’

  ‘Almost. His headmistress spends so much time with the children she never gets round to ordering any stock. I think she wishes she was back in the classroom. Gerry’s doing well, though. He’s in a secondary school doing a massive project on the history of the cinema. Apart from geography, that’s his main passion in life. He loves it. He took a group of kids to the projection box of the local Odeon and they spent the morning operating the curtains, projecting a Kung Fu film and playing with the equipment.’

  ‘It sounds as if somebody should do a thoroug
h investigation of headteachers. Aren’t there special training courses for them, or something?’

  ‘Apparently not. Dorothy says Mr Reed doesn’t even let his teachers go on courses very often. He says they only come back with ideas!’

  Samantha burst out laughing, disturbing the quiet chatter of the room. ‘You’re joking. I don’t believe a word of it!

  ‘Sadly, I’m not. Still, it gives the staff something to laugh about. If they took him seriously they’d all get so depressed they’d leave. And that would be a tragedy for the kids. People like Dorothy are so dedicated. I’ve got quite a difficult boy in my class, John Rouse, but she seems to get so much from him. I just hope he’s away when my tutor comes round.’

  ‘Can’t you hide him in the chalk cupboard or something?’

  ‘I’m sure he’d love that. I can’t really think of an educational reason to justify it, though.’

  ‘When’s your tutor coming in?’

  ‘End of next week. I don’t know how long they’ll stay. All morning, I suppose. They’ve only got me to see.’

  ‘Well, if it’s a woman, do that nice smile of yours and offer to take her to the theatre. Or perhaps John Rouse will put a nip of gin in her tea for you. Anyway, it’ll be alright. You worry too much about it.’

  ‘I suppose so. Do you want any more coffee?’

  ‘No, honestly. We ought to get back. My Dad worries.’

  I paid the bill, and helped Samantha put her coat on. The rain had stopped now, and the lights along the embankment were reflected brokenly in the huge puddles along the pavement.

  ‘Mmm,’ she said, breathing the dampness of the night air and snuggling up to me. ‘It’s been such a lovely evening. It really has.’

  ‘You’ve made it so.’

  I gently pulled her close to me and kissed her deeply, feeling the soft warmth of her body against mine. A boat sounded its horn in the night air as it chugged its way upriver, breaking the reflections of the embankment lights on the water. I suddenly felt completely at peace with the world.

  ‘You’re so beautiful,’ I whispered softly. Samantha’s head snuggled onto my shoulder, and for several minutes we stood still and watched the river, neither of us feeling the need to speak. I felt warm and comfortable inside. It had been such a lovely evening, and I wouldn’t give up the idea of teaching.