Nine Till Three and Summers Free

by Mike Kent

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I replied. ‘It’s for the children’s benefit after all. I think I’d rather leave it all here.’

  ‘I agree. I know some colleges like their students to bring work back, though. I suppose it gives the lecturers something to talk about in education lectures. Mind you, Miss Bottle will probably find plenty to talk about anyway. Can’t you persuade her to pop back and see this display?’

  ‘She’d probably like to, but she’s one of the few who’s usually genuinely busy,’

  ‘Well, it’s nice that she was so satisfied, anyway. And Mr Reed certainly is. I think you’ve changed his opinion about students from St James’s not being much good. It’ll seem funny when I have the class to myself again on Monday. I’ve got quite used to putting my feet up in the staffroom. What do you want to do this afternoon?’

  ‘I hadn’t really thought about it, but I’d like to have them as it’s my last afternoon. It’ll probably be a bit quiet now all this is finished.’

  After lunch, I went back to the classroom to mark some work and collect all the things I’d borrowed from various departments at the college. The classroom floor was littered with scraps of paper, cloth and discarded odds and ends from the morning’s activities, and I quietly swept it all into a corner, absorbing the atmosphere of the classroom and wishing I could stay longer. I was still tidying up when the bell rang and the children came in, looking hot and tired.

  ‘Cor, you’ve swept up in ‘ere, Sir,’ said Rouse gratefully. ‘Miss usually gets us to do all the tidyin’ up.’

  ‘Well, I thought I’d do that for you because you’ve worked so hard for me this morning,’ I replied.

  ‘Cor, ain’t you nice, Sir,’ said Susan Brennan.

  ‘What are we goin’ to do?’ asked Rouse, sprawling over his desk top.

  ‘Why don’t you stay, Sir?’ said Dudmish softly. ‘You could help Miss. She could have us in the mornings and you could teach us in the afternoons.’

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed Adams. ‘It’d take a lot off ‘er plate.’

  ‘Sir, could we do some drama?’ asked Julie. ‘I like writin’ plays.’

  ‘Nah!’ Rouse objected. ‘I don’t like doin’ plays. Your plays are always rotten anyway.’

  ‘No they ain’t.’

  ‘They jus’ go on and on. I don’t feel like doin’ plays, anyway.’

  ‘What do you want to do then?’

  ‘I dunno. So long as it ain’t plays. Let Sir choose somethin’.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Adams agreed, sucking the end of his pencil and then seeing how far he could push it into Badger’s ribs. ‘You choose, Sir. If we do plays she’d be the princess and one of us ‘ud ‘ave ter be the ‘andsome prince and it’ud be the same old stuff as usual.’

  ‘You ain’t no ‘andsome prince, mate,’ Susan Davis remarked.

  ‘I never said I was. Come to that, if I was an ‘andsome prince I wouldn’t marry you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t ask yer, mate, don’t you worry.

  Badger waved his hand in the air.

  ‘I know, Sir,’ he said, taking a thick comic out of his desk and running a grubby thumb through its pages. ‘There’s a quiz in this comic. Tells you ‘ow to become a secret agent. There’s a load of questions. Why don’t yer read ‘em out to us, Sir?’

  ‘It’s hardly what I’m supposed to be doing. ‘I was going to…’

  ‘It don’t matter. We’ve worked really ‘ard this week and it’s your last day, ain’t it? Read it out to us.’

  Heads nodded in agreement and I took the book. The quiz involved choosing answers to questions describing deadly situations a secret agent might be faced with. It sounded fun, and I found it very tempting.

  ‘All right, then. Take your rough work books out and we’ll see who is likely to be the best spy in the class. I’ll read out each question, and you write down what you think is the best answer.’

  ‘’Ow d’yer mean?’ asked Fred.

  ‘Trust you not to understand it,’ said Adams. ‘We ain’t even started yet, and already you don’t know what we’re supposed to be doin’.’

  Badger turned round in his seat, leant his arm across Fred’s chair, and spoke to him in the gentle manner of a psychiatrist pacifying a client.

  ‘Look,’ he said patiently, ‘Sir reads out a question. Then there’s three answers to each question. What you ‘ave to do is put down wot you think is the best answer. Right?’

  ‘Yeah, but ‘e didn’t say that, did ‘e? ‘E said write down the answers. ‘E didn’t say there was three answers, did ‘e?’

  ‘Well, you never give ‘im much of a chance, did yer?’

  ‘How many questions will you be giving us to this quiz?’ asked Hema politely.

  ‘It looks as if there are ten,’ I replied. ‘Yes, ten.’

  ‘Cor. I don’t think I’ll ‘ave enough room for ten,’ said Rouse. ‘Ave you got a spare bit o’ paper, Sir? Me book’s full.’ Fred climbed out of his seat to go in search of a pencil, and Rouse neatly removed a page from the back of Fred’s book while he wasn’t looking.

  ‘It’s alright, Sir,’ called Rouse, ‘Fred’s lent me a piece.’

  I read out the first question.

  ‘Right, imagine you are a secret agent and your enemy was on the top of a tall building…’

  ‘Cor!’ Rouse exclaimed.

  ‘Your enemy falls from the top after attempting to shoot you. Would you try to catch him, shoot him as he falls, or just let him drop?’ They took this very seriously for a few moments and scribbled down an answer on their pieces of paper. Rouse sat chewing the end of his pencil in deliberation, and then wrote something down.

  ‘Right, I’ve done that one,’ he announced. ‘What’s number two?’

  ‘If ‘e’s an enemy spy ‘e’s prob’ly got the plans in ‘is pocket,’ said Adams eagerly. ‘You’d ‘ave to catch ‘im to get the plans.’

  ‘You could get ‘em off ‘im when ‘e’ ‘its the ground,’ retorted Rouse.

  ‘Alright,’ Adams argued, determined not to be outdone, ‘suppose ‘e’s only got the plans in ‘is ‘ead, then. ‘E couldn’t tell yer much if ‘e was lyin’ on the ground with ‘is ‘ed smashed in, could ‘e? You’d ‘ave to keep ‘im alive then, wouldn’t yer!’’

  This seemed to make good sense to Rouse, and he considered it silently for a moment.

  ‘Well,’ I resumed, ‘If you wrote the first answer you get no marks. If you put the second answer you get two, and if you put the last one, you get three.’

  ‘Aw,’ Susan Davis complained, ‘I don’t think that’s fair. ‘Ow come…’

  ‘Oh don’t keep arguing about it,’ said Dudmish. ‘It’s not supposed to be serious.’

  ‘Ow do you know?’’

  ‘Oh don’t be daft. How could you possibly catch him, anyway?’’

  ‘I ain’t written any of ‘em,’ said Fred brightly. ‘Ow many points do I get, Sir?’

  ‘None, I’m afraid. Let’s try the next one. Right, number two. If you were about to be discovered by the enemy, would you take a suicide pill, try and capture one of them, or try to camouflage yourself so that you wouldn’t be seen…’

  ‘What’s camraflage?’ asked Fred.

  ‘It’s camouflage,’ said Julie. ‘Like when an animal hides in its surroundings.’

  ‘Oh. What’s suicide?’

  ‘When you decide to kill yourself,’ Adams explained. ‘Why don’t you have a go?’’

  ‘People do it when they can’t take no more,’ announced Badger, with obvious relish. ‘My Nan said she knew this bloke once ‘oo…’

  ‘Ow d’yer spell suicide?’ asked Fred.

  ‘Sir told you. Spelling doesn’t matter,’ Susan Brennan replied.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to kill meself,’ said Rouse thoughtfully. ‘I wouldn’t fancy doin’ that at a
ll.’

  ‘I reckon the best way is to stick yer ‘ead in the gas oven,’ said Adams confidently. ‘I reckon if I was goin’ to do it, that’s what I’d do. I reckon…’

  ‘Most of ‘em chuck ‘emselves off bridges and such, don’t they Sir?’ Badger interrupted, setting himself up as an authority on the subject.

  ‘Are we going to finish this quiz or not?’ I asked.

  ‘Okay Sir,’ said Badger, ‘I was jus’ wonderin’, that’s all. My Nan said she knew this bloke once wot wanted to do ‘imself in, and ‘e…’

  ‘I know. You’ve mentioned that already. Tell me at playtime.’

  ‘Okay, Sir.’

  ‘Question three. You are a famous spy, and you’ve been caught by an enemy agent. She is a very attractive lady and she says she will give you a big kiss if you hand over the secret plans. Would you hand them over straight away, point your gun at her, or try to run for it.’

  ‘Blimey, I’d run for it,’ said Adams. ‘Before she gets a chance to kiss me.’

  ‘That’s charmin’, ain’t it?’ said Susan Davis.

  ‘I reckon in that situation, I’d point the gun at meself,’ Badger decided. ‘I reckon I…’

  His voice trailed away as the door opened and Mr Reed strode into the classroom. He stood very still for a moment, as if trying to work out where he was, and then he pointed at the class register.

  ‘Ah, Mr Kent,’ he said, ‘I’d like to borrow the register for a short while. I must say this classroom looks most attractive, Mr Kent. Most attractive. I hope they’ve learned something from all this?’

  ‘Yes, Sir,’ said Susan Davis politely.

  ‘We’ve learned a lot,’ added Susan Brennan. ‘Would you like to ask us some questions about it?’

  ‘No thank you. I don’t have time. And what are you doing now?’

  ‘Sir’s givin’ us a quiz,’ Badger said. ‘And I was tellin’ ‘im about a man my Nan knows.’’

  ‘And that was to do with the quiz, was it?’

  ‘No Sir.’’

  ‘What was it to do with, then?’

  ‘He killed ‘imself Sir.’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘I see. I shouldn’t have thought Mr Kent was particularly interested in that.’ Mr Reed turned to me and raised his eyebrows in question.

  ‘It’s just a quiz that was in one of their… um… books,’ I said, feeling a clenching in my stomach.

  ‘Rather a strange sort of quiz if it deals with suicides, isn’t it Mr Kent?

  ‘Sir’s tellin’ us how to become a secret agent,’ said Adams, hoping an explanation might help me. Mr Reed stared at me in disbelief.

  ‘A secret agent? Didn’t we have all this kind of nonsense the day you arrived, Mr Kent? I seem to recall something about you being a secret agent on that occasion? I assume you are a teaching student from St James’s, and not a reject from MI5?’

  ‘It’s a good quiz, Sir,’ offered Rouse, rather lamely.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure it is.’

  He turned to me and lowered his voice so that the class wouldn’t hear what he was saying, but this merely caused Rouse and Badger to move their chairs a few feet closer to us.

  ‘It seems to me, Mr Kent, that you might find something rather more suitable to be doing with these children. I realise it is somewhat old fashioned to refer to a timetable, but if I am not mistaken, I think you should be doing PE at this particular time. On a sunny afternoon like this, I think the class might be better employed doing games in the playground than wasting time on an infantile quiz.’

  Mr Reed took a step towards the door and then laid the register down on a desk for a moment, walking with measured steps to the back of the classroom.

  ‘I hope you all behaved yourselves properly at the Tower of London?’ he said.

  ‘Miss said we was very good,’ said Badger cautiously.

  ‘Mrs Bridgewood said you were very good,’ Mr Reed replied.

  ‘Did she tell you as well then, Sir?’ asked Badger, puzzled.

  The children were uneasy. They wanted to please, but they felt the almost tangible coldness emanating from Mr Reed. Though he’d only been in the room for a few minutes, the atmosphere had lost its warmth.

  ‘Get the children changed and take them outside, Mr Kent. It will do them good. And I’d like to see you for a few minutes before you leave today.’

  He walked slowly to the door, inspected a cracked pane of glass, and rubbed the dust from his fingers. The door closed and I turned, embarrassed, to the children.

  ‘I thought you was going to get the cane there for a moment, Sir,’ smiled Rouse wryly.

  ‘I don’t like ‘im much, said Julie, pulling her cardigan over her head. I pretended not to hear her.

  ‘Look at these muscles, Sir,’ called Rouse, pulling off his shirt, thrusting out his chest and pumping his arm up and down. ‘Good, ain’t they. I’m tough, Sir!’

  ‘You ain’t tough mate, you just smell strong,’ Susan Davis retorted scornfully. Rouse took a very deep breath and proudly ran his fingers round his rib cage. Susan Davis looked at him in disgust.

  ‘You need a few ‘ot dinners Rousey,’ she said. ‘You look as if you’d fall to bits if someone blew on yer. If I was your mother I’d be dead worried about you.’

  ‘Good job you ain’t me mother, then,’ Rouse replied cheerfully,

  When the class was finally ready, I asked Badger to fetch a bat, some pieces of chalk and a rounders stump, and then I led the children down the narrow stairs in a line, taking care not to make any noise as we passed Mr Reed’s office.

  ‘What’re we playin’?’ asked Fred.

  ‘It’s a new game. You probably don’t know it. I think you’ll like it.’

  ‘You ever bin in the army, Sir?’ asked Rouse suddenly.

  ‘No,’ I replied cautiously. ‘Why?’

  ‘I dunno. You jus’ look like you’ve bin in the army. I might go in the army when I’m eighteen.’

  ‘I’m fond of fishin’, meself,’ said Adams, eager to join in the conversation and deciding this would make a good opener. ‘I go on Sundays with me dad and ‘is mate. I’ve got a garden, Sir. Only a little one. We keep chickens in our garden. Do you keep chickens, Sir?’

  I smiled at the thought of telling Milly not to clean the bath out because the hens were laying eggs in there.

  ‘It’s cruel ain’t it, Sir, keepin’ chickens in them batt’ries. My mum says our eggs taste much better any day. I’ll bring you a few on Monday, shall I?’

  ‘I’d have liked that very much,’ I said. ‘but I won’t be here on Monday, will I?’

  His face clouded over. ‘Oh no, I forgot you was leavin’. Give Miss your address and I’ll send along a few for yer mum to cook. You ‘ave got a mum, ain’t yer Sir?’

  I assured him that I had.

  ‘You ain’t married, are yer?’ he asked, in horrified concern.

  ‘Not yet,’ I laughed. ‘Why?’

  ‘Seems a waste of time ter me, that’s all. Having babies an’ all that. That’s why me dad likes ‘is drop of fishin’. Anyway, ‘e never invites me mum along.’

  ‘That’s a shame. She’d probably enjoy it.’

  ‘Well someone has to cook the dinner, don’t they.’

  ‘Your dad could do that. Your mum could go fishing for a change.’

  ‘Nah. That wouldn’t be right.’

  As they reached the playground, Dudmish turned and called out from the front of the line.

  ‘We can’t use this one, Sir. Mr Glover’s using it. We’ll have to use the infant playground.’

  This was disappointing. The infant playground was on the other side of the building. It was also smaller and less suitable for games, and a ball would often be accidentally knocked over the wall and into the gardens
of the neighbouring old people’s flats. The infant children finished school earlier than the juniors, and a group of mothers often gathered near the gate for a chat before collecting their offspring. It seemed rounders balls had a habit of straying a bit too near them, although Brian had never been able to prove they were actually being aimed.

  ‘You’ll just have to be very careful not to hit the ball too hard,’ I warned. ‘The game we’re going to play isn’t difficult, and it’s very much like ordinary rounders, but we use four chairs for the bases, and four people from the fielding team sit on them. We put the wicket in the middle… just here.’

  I walked to the middle of the playground and chalked a large cross. ‘When the ball has been hit, it must be thrown by a fielder to someone sitting on a chair. He or she throws it at the wicket, and if it hits, the batsman is out.’

  ‘I don’t get that’, said Fred immediately.

  ‘It’s a bit complicated, isn’t it?’ agreed Susan Davis.

  ‘Not really. You’ll soon see. We’ll get started and have a trial run first, until you get the idea. Now stand by the wall for a minute while I sort you all out.’

  I divided the children into two teams, and flipped a coin to see which would bat first.

  ‘It’s us!’ called Rouse in excitement.

  ‘I dunno what you’re jumpin’ all over the place for,’ Susan Davis said severely. ‘You ain’t got no chance of winnin’, anyway.’

  ‘Ain’t we? You jus’ wait then. Just ‘cos you won last time don’t mean to say you’re gonna win today.’

  ‘Last time we beat you by thirteen rounders, mate.’

  ‘So? I wasn’t on form, was I? I ‘ad an ‘eadache.’

  ‘You are an ‘eadache, mate!’ she said decisively, turning round to her friends, who nodded in agreement.

  ‘Look, stop goin’ on at each other an’ let’s get crackin’’, Badger shouted. ‘We ain’t gonna ‘ave any time left at this rate.’

  The others nodded earnestly, and I sent Adams and Badger to the bottom hall to fetch four small chairs. The game started, sluggishly at first, but it wasn’t long before the children began to understand the rules and the game became progressively more exciting. Rouse and Susan Davis were on opposing sides and delighted in goading each other frequently and Rouse, annoyed by an easy chance which Fred had missed, threatened to throw the ball at his head very hard indeed if his aim didn’t improve rapidly.