by Jilly Cooper
‘You’ll have a chance to appeal,’ said Cindy cosily, helping herself to two pieces of shortbread. ‘My word, these are good; Debbie really is a treasure. We always put our decisions for closure up for public consultation.’ At Janna’s blank look she added, ‘We give people a chance to express their views – public meetings, letters of support, etc. – then in May, the council cabinet will meet to examine these views and put forward recommendations to the Larkshire Schools Organization Committee.’
‘If any of their five members vote against closure,’ said Ashton, also helping himself to shortbread, ‘it’ll go to adjudication in the autumn.’
‘Unlikely, as you’ve no doubt got the committee sewn up,’ accused Janna.
She looked at the trees outside, disappearing into the twilight, like her school. She was shaking so violently that Partner jumped down and, unnoticed, took refuge on Ashton’s navy blue coat.
‘Ever since I’ve been here,’ she said bleakly, ‘I’ve battled against a disaffected governing body, a totally uncooperative privatized LEA and a county council who won’t give me a penny and who are in league with a vindictive local press.’
‘You’re making dangewous accusations,’ said Ashton sharply.
‘Ofsted said exactly the same thing. They knew we were capable of improving if we were given the chance. What about my children?’ Janna had a sudden vision of every one of them drowning before her eyes. ‘You can’t close Larks down. How could anyone in S and C understand? You don’t give a toss about continuity. You all move on, like Crispin, if things get rough. What about my teachers? They’ve made such sacrifices and worked so hard.’
‘They’ll be wing-fenced,’ said Ashton. ‘So many have left already; if any jobs are advertised in the county, they’ll get first option.’
‘Doesn’t mean they’ll get the job, now they’ve been tarnished with working at Larks.’
‘Is it your career you’re worried about?’ asked Cindy as if she were dictating to a half-wit secretary. ‘You’re not old, you’ll get plenty of job offers.’
Ashton, who’d been examining his nails, stretched out and selected a nail file from Janna’s blue mug crammed with pens.
‘Do drink up your tea,’ urged Cindy.
Picking up the sugar bowl, Janna emptied it into her cup, then, realizing what she’d done, let the bowl slip from her fingers, so it crashed down on to her cup, smashing them both, spilling tea everywhere.
‘Years Ten and Eleven gave me this tea set for Christmas,’ she said in a strange, high voice. ‘Oh, fuck off, Partner,’ she screamed as he leapt off Ashton’s coat and tried to lick up the tea.
‘There, there,’ said Cindy, ‘I’m sure that bowl can be mended.’
‘But my school can’t,’ yelled Janna, bursting into tears.
‘I know it’s a shock when a school closes down.’ Cindy struggled to her feet. ‘Have you got a friend to come and be with you?’
‘Don’t fucking patronize me. If you think I’m giving up Larks without a fight . . .’ Dropping to the floor, Janna grabbed Ashton’s scarf to mop up the tea.
‘Give me that.’ Ashton seized it back. He was even less pleased to see his coat covered in Partner’s hairs. ‘Twy not to be gwatuitously unpleasant, Janna,’ he continued smoothly, ‘you’re suffewing from hurt pride. I can only advise you to go gwacefully.’
Seeing the murderous expression on Janna’s face as her hand grabbed the handle of the teapot, Cindy said hastily:
‘We can show ourselves out. Don’t get too stressed. I can recommend an excellent counsellor.’
‘Anything’s better than a county councillor, you fat cow,’ shrieked Janna, ‘they kill schools.’
‘Dear, dear, dear,’ said Ashton as they hastened out into the drizzle, ‘how did that malevolent hysteric ever get a job running a school? Nothing has ever convinced me more of the rightness of our decision.’
‘Thank goodness Alex Bruce and Rod Hyde put in such negative reports.’ Cindy tugged her red wool hat over her ears. ‘I don’t anticipate much opposition, do you?’
‘I hope not. Hengist Brett-Taylor might act up; he always had a tendresse for little Miss Curtis.’
‘But he’s so tied up in politics. At least Cavendish Plaza and Haut Larkminster will be on our side. Closing down schools causes such a rumpus. We must rush it through as soon as possible.’
After all, one didn’t want to lose one’s seat on the county council or all that kudos and fat expenses.
They jumped as a window was flung open.
‘You won’t get away with this, you murderers!’
Two minutes later Janna ran out to a deserted car park, crying uncontrollably: ‘My teachers, my children.’
A hundred yards beyond the school gate, she had to leap out of her car and throw up, mostly bile, on the pavement outside the Ghost and Castle.
‘Drunk at this hour . . .’ chuntered a couple disappearing into the saloon bar.
Only then did Janna realize she’d left Partner locked in her office.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she sobbed as she recovered him.
But as he snuggled across her thighs, attempting to be the seatbelt she had forgotten to fasten, all she could think was: My career is over. In Yorkshire, they’ll say I failed, failed, failed.
She was overwhelmed by a stench of burning wax. Like Icarus, she had flown too near the sun.
74
By contrast, Brigadier Woodford had had such a wonderful piece of news, he had splashed out on two bottles of champagne (Lily’s favourite drink, which she could no longer afford), two large cartons of potted shrimps, a beef and ale pie, strawberries and an even larger carton of double cream, and taken them over to Lily’s to celebrate.
Lily had lit a fire and they were sitting comfortably on Lily’s shabby sofa with the vast fluffy black and white General between them, accidentally brushing hands as they both simultaneously stroked him. Lily had rescued some poor crocuses trampled on the verge outside and, in a white vase in the warmth of the room, they had expanded like purple striped umbrellas with little orange handles. The Brigadier felt his heart expanding like the crocuses.
‘God I miss champagne, this is such a treat,’ said Lily happily. ‘Now, what are we celebrating?’
‘Rupert’s offered me my own programme. It’s going to be called Buffers. Each week we’ll take a war or campaign in history and get four so-called experts or “old buffers”, retired generals and admirals, to sit round a table having frightful rows about strategy and blame. I’ve got to chair it.’
The genuine delight on Lily’s face nearly gave the Brigadier the courage to kiss her.
‘How clever of Rupert! You’re going to be a star, Christian.’
‘Rupert wants to start with twelve programmes. We have to do something called a pilot first, which sounds more like the RAF. You’ll have to come on it to add some glamour and talk about the Wrens.’ He emptied the bottle into their glasses.
‘D’you think we can manage a second?’
‘Certainly, with a celebration like this.’ As Lily leant across General and gave the Brigadier a peck on the cheek, he had a longing to kiss her passionately on the lips, but was worried it might dislodge his bridge. It was such a long time since he’d made a pass.
‘If the pilot works, Rupert wants his father Eddie, who was in the Blues, to be one of the regulars. Said it might stop Eddie tapping him for money if he got an income from television. Frightfully amusing chap, Eddie, thought the programme was going to be called Buggers.’
‘Probably be even more successful,’ said Lily dryly.
Christian guffawed; then, because he didn’t feel it was boasting with Lily, ‘The Tories have asked me to open their Easter Fair. GMTV want me to go up to London to talk about the possibility of war in the Gulf and Larkminster Rovers wrote asking me to go on their board. I don’t know much about soccer.’
‘Feral and I will teach you,’ said Lily. ‘When you score a goal you have to slide to the
ground and bare your breast by lifting up and shaking the front of your shirt.’
‘Much more excitin’ if you did,’ snorted the Brigadier. As he heaved himself up to fetch another bottle, he noticed how empty the fridge was except for the strawberries and cream, and also that that dear little watercolour of the church at Limesbridge where Lily grew up was missing. He hated Lily having to sell things. What heaven if they could be together like this every night. Lily could have an ‘old age serene and bright, And lovely as a Lapland night’.
General the cat opened a disapproving yellow eye but didn’t shift as the cork flew across the room to the accompaniment of a hammering on the front door.
‘Oh hell,’ said Lily, ‘let’s pretend we’re out.’
But there was no escape as Janna barged in, followed by Partner; nor was there any word of apology as she collapsed on to the dark blue velvet chair by the fire, shaking uncontrollably, her reddened eyes wide and staring.
‘Oh Lily, oh Lily.’
‘You poor child, whatever’s the matter? Give her a drink, Christian.’
‘They’re closing my school down.’
‘They can’t do that.’
‘They can, they can! What’s going to happen to my children and my teachers and Wally?’
‘That’s rotten luck,’ said the Brigadier, handing her a glass. ‘You must fight it.’
‘I know, but I don’t know how to. I’ve been fighting since I took over.’ Janna gulped down half the champagne and carried on talking.
Lily, of course, insisted she stay to supper, and divided the potted shrimps and the beef and ale pie for two into three, and buttered a lot of brown bread.
Christian tried not to feel irritated when Janna drank most of the remaining champagne but, incapable of eating, fed all her pie to Partner.
‘I forgot to get him any food on the way home, and I left him shut in my office, I’m coming apart at the seams, I’ve got to be strong for the children. Larks is the only security they know.’ She started to cry again. Partner, his front paws on her knees, tried to stem her tears with a beef-flavoured tongue.
‘We’ll all fight,’ promised Lily. ‘Hengist will kick up a hell of a rumpus, and so will Rupert. And while my nephew Jupiter isn’t my favourite person, he’s excellent at putting the jackboot in – anything to discredit Cindy Payne and New Labour.’
‘I called her a fat cow.’ Janna was twisting a thread hanging out of Lily’s green velvet chair cover so violently it broke off and a mass of kapok billowed out. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’
Whatever happened to stiff upper lips, thought the Brigadier as Janna helped herself to the last of the champagne.
‘I’ve let so many people down.’ She sobbed. ‘People like Sophy Belvedon and the new head of D and T who’ve got children and massive mortgages because they’ve specially bought houses in the area. I feel like a captain who’s steered his great battleship on to the rocks.’
Lily patted Janna’s shoulder. ‘No one could have fought harder.’
The Brigadier felt ashamed. It was only because he’d so wanted to be alone with Lily.
‘Oh God, I must tell Russell,’ exclaimed Janna. ‘So many people to tell – the children are going to be the worst. Can I use your phone?’
Her shaking hand kept misdialling Russell’s number. She got the vicar and the local greengrocer before she finally reached him.
‘I heard, and I’m not surprised,’ he said heavily. ‘I gather you were extremely offensive to Cindy when she tried to be supportive. Why must you always construe help as criticism?’
‘Their help is like snake venom,’ shouted Janna and hung up.
‘He knew,’ she said flatly. ‘Ashton and Cindy must have been straight on to him.’
‘I smell collusion,’ said Lily. ‘First, you must appoint Dora as your press officer.’
Next morning Janna had the nightmare of breaking the news to the staff, taking an extended lunch hour, gathering them into the staffroom, feeling utterly sick at the sight of their stunned faces.
‘It can’t be true,’ muttered Lydia.
Basket burst into tears. ‘I’ll never get another job.’
‘We’re going to fight it, of course,’ said Janna quickly. ‘We’ve got two months to register protest.’
‘It wasn’t unexpected,’ said Mike Pitts. ‘When will the axe fall?’
‘Ashton said the end of the summer term, but that’s only a few months away.’ Janna looked bewildered. ‘He must mean summer two thousand and four, and that’s only if the Schools Organization Committee are all in favour.’
But when she dialled Ashton to check, he assured her if the Schools Organization Committee were unanimous, Larks would close in summer 2003.
‘You can’t close it so soon. You particularly can’t do that to Year Ten,’ whispered Janna in horror, remembering how she’d walked out on her GCSE classes at Redfords. ‘Year Eleven will be OK. They’ll take their exams in May and we’ll be able to see them through before we close down.’
Outside she could see the children in the playground. Graffi and Feral were idly kicking a ball around; Pearl and Kylie were reading the same magazine, stamping their feet to keep warm. All of them were perplexed by their extended lunch hour and, aware some storm was brewing, gathering in edgy little groups, glancing constantly up at her window. Are we in more trouble?
‘We can’t abandon Year Ten,’ she told Ashton firmly. ‘What about Aysha and Graffi and Kitten and Johnnie and Feral and Monster, they’ll never get a job and out of this hell if they don’t get any qualifications.’
‘Your beloved Wolf Pack,’ drawled Ashton.
‘And at least fifty others.’
‘Hardly the A team.’
‘They bloody are!’ yelled Janna, turning and catching Chally raising an eyebrow at Mike Pitts.
‘They’ve been totally disrupted by all the rumour and speculation about closure,’ she went on furiously, ‘and the incessant bitching of other schools. They haven’t completed any coursework, and they’ll be chucked out at the end of the summer term into an unfamiliar school for the second year of their course. It’s not bloody fair.’
‘If their last SATs were anything to go by,’ snapped Ashton, ‘they’re not likely to get any gwades anyway. Straight Us, I’d say.’
‘They’ve got to be given a chance.’
‘And you’ll have a chance to air your views at the public meeting.’
‘I’m afraid it’s summer 2003,’ she told the staff grimly, ‘so we’ve really got a fight on our hands.’
If anything convinced her of the need to fight it was the anguish and terror of the children. Pearl, sobbing that she’d thought they’d have five terms more; an inconsolable grey-faced Danijela: ‘I is only happy with you, this is my home.’ ‘Who will write our CVs and sign our driving licences,’ wailed Year Eleven.
The boys reacted with violence, hurling more tiles off the roof, tearing off door handles, kicking over desks, trashing classrooms; soon they wouldn’t have a school to close down. The Gazette and the television cameras were soon outside the door. The staff, panicking about lost jobs, gathered in corners, whispering and afraid, many of them blaming Janna.
But even the darkest cloud has a silver lining.
‘Can I have a word?’ demanded Chally later in the day, shutting Janna’s door behind her and rearranging a crimson-leafed scarf before announcing she was off to take up a deputy head’s post at St Jimmy’s.
‘Congratulations.’ Janna tried not to display her delight. ‘I’m really pleased for you. You’ll find it inspirational working with Rod Hyde. Is one of his Senior Management Team leaving?’
‘Not that I know of. They need an extra pair of capable hands. St Jimmy’s is so over-subscribed.’
Probably soon with an influx of the brightest children from Larks, thought Janna in outrage, but at least I won’t have to suck up to you any more, you old bat.
‘Every Chally shall be exalted,’ sang Cambola whe
n Janna pulled her and Mags into her office to tell them.
‘Do you think there’s any hope she’ll be one of those high fliers who whisks all her key people away with her?’ asked Mags.
‘What bliss if she took Spink, Skunk, Pittsy, Robbie and Basket,’ sighed Janna.
Next moment, a red-eyed Rowan put her dark head round the door. ‘Hengist Brett-Taylor on the line, Janna.’
‘That should cheer up the poor little duck,’ whispered Mags as she and Cambola made themselves scarce.
‘Darling, darling!’ Hengist was ringing from Brussels. ‘I only just heard from Jupiter. Lily Hamilton rang him. She must feel really strongly; first time she’s spoken to him since he threw her out of her house. God, I’m sorry, are you OK?’
‘Fine.’ Janna battled not to cry. ‘At least Chalford’s just announced she’s leaving to be deputy head at St Jimmy’s.’
‘Two wrongs have certainly made a right there.’
‘And when I called Russell last night, an hour after I knew, he’d already been told.’
‘Sounds like conspiracy,’ Hengist echoed Lily, ‘what fun we’re going to have exposing them. Don’t worry, darling.’
‘How can I not? What will happen to my children?’
‘I’m sure Bagley can accommodate any of your Year Tens in with a shout. I’d love to have Graffi and Feral and Aysha and mouthy Pearl.’ Then, when Janna didn’t react: ‘You could join Bagley and keep an eye on them. You’re always saying how you miss teaching, and I could see more of you.’ His voice had grown softer, more husky.
‘How can you trivialize such a terrible thing, I’d never teach in an independent,’ yelled Janna. ‘You’ve already stolen my teachers, my brightest pupil and my heart, you’re not taking anything else,’ and she slammed down the receiver.
To her dismay, Hengist didn’t ring back. Was she misconstruing genuine help as criticism again?
Two days later she got a letter from Sally.
‘Hengist has told me. What a dreadful thing to happen. I’m so sorry. We must save Larks. Hengist has got something up his sleeve.’