She called through the railings. ‘How’s it goin’?’
‘Fine thanks, Sylvia,’ said Doreen and wandered over to speak to her. ‘They’re lovely children, ’part from t’usual suspects.’ She nodded towards Shane Ramsbottom, who was looking sullen.
‘What d’you think about that student teacher, ’er wi’ t’red ’air?’ asked Sylvia. ‘Ah saw ’er this morning arrivin’ at school wi’ a boyfriend in ’is flash car.’
Doreen considered this. ‘Well, credit where credit’s due. Seems a nice young woman t’me.’
Sylvia shook her head. ‘She’s playing fast an’ loose. You mark my words.’
Doreen answered phlegmatically. ‘Time will tell, Sylvia, an’ don’t f’get, you were young once.’
They shared a knowing smile and wandered off.
It was 5.30 p.m. and Lily had finished marking the children’s books. The school was empty now and the silence was like an intimate friend. It was a time to gather her thoughts before going home and she wondered what the evening might bring.
She walked into the entrance hall and her footsteps echoed on the woodblock floor. Outside the office was the familiar brass plaque on the door: ‘John T. Pruett, Headmaster’. Many years had passed since she had stood here on her first visit to Ragley School. So much had happened since.
She opened the door and walked in. There was Vera’s desk, tidy as always. In the corner next to the window, John Pruett’s desk stood like a three-dimensional jigsaw with everything in its place. Around her the walls were filled with black-and-white school photographs showing the eager faces of children through the years.
She recalled the first one in which she appeared. It was in 1952 and everyone was smiling at the camera with the exception of Lily. She was smiling at Tom. John had asked the local bobby to take the photograph with his Box Brownie camera following a visit to school. It had been the beginning of a romance – a love that was steadfast and true.
When she drove home the evening sun gilded the land with a golden light and she wondered what destiny might befall her.
It was shortly after six o’clock and Ruby Smith had washed up after the traditional Friday meal of fish, chips and mushy peas and had settled down to watch television with her children. It was one of their favourite programmes, The Beverly Hillbillies. In this episode the Clampett family were holding auditions to find a suitable bride for Jed. It occurred to Ruby that this was a good idea, but, of course, with one significant difference. It should be for the selection of husbands.
After Take Your Pick, featuring Michael Miles with his ten locked boxes and three booby prizes, it was bedtime for everyone with the exception of Racquel. She was allowed to stay up late to watch her latest heart-throb, the handsome cowboy Michael Landon as Little Joe Cartwright in Bonanza.
It was after nine o’clock when Lily heard the sound of a car on the driveway. She jumped up, ran into the hallway and opened the front door. The figure of Tom emerged from the darkness. Lily could see his tiredness in the stoop of his shoulders and wondered what news he may have brought.
He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek.
‘How did it go?’
Tom took off his coat. ‘Let’s sit down, shall we?’
Lily hid her anxiety. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘Love one.’ He loosened his tie and followed Lily into the kitchen. ‘Where’s Freddie?’
‘At the cinema with Rose.’
‘How did his A-level go?’
‘Fine, I think. Same for Rose. They’re out having a well-earned break.’
Tom nodded. ‘Good to hear … so, we can talk.’
Lily filled the kettle and turned to face him. ‘Well?’
He put his hands on her shoulders. ‘I’ve been offered the job.’
‘Oh … Congratulations. I’m pleased for you.’
Tom looked into her eyes. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, of course. It’s what you wanted and well deserved. You’re really good at your work and highly respected. I’m happy for you … honestly.’
He kissed her lightly on the cheek and she turned to place two large mugs on the worktop.
There was a brief silence while the kettle boiled. Then Lily shared a teabag and added milk plus two sugars for Tom. They took their hot drinks into the lounge and sat down.
Tom sipped his tea. ‘Perfect. Thanks, I was ready for that.’ He placed the mug on the coffee table and leaned back on the sofa. ‘I have the weekend to think about it, so we can take our time and make the decision together.’
Lily pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear and smiled at this true and honest man. ‘I appreciate that, Tom. But we said that if you were successful you would accept.’
‘I know, but if we are both honest about this, we weren’t that confident that I would get it.’
‘Well, you might have thought that.’
Tom held her hand. ‘That’s what I love about you. You have always believed in me.’
‘I always will.’
He pressed his fingers to his eyes as if trying to erase the tiredness. ‘The competition was tough. There were four of us, two with more experience than me and a young guy who had a lot to say for himself. One for the future, I guess. I thought my interview went well, but it was still a surprise when they called me back in. They knew my background and that you were a deputy headteacher down here.’
‘That’s understandable. This is a very senior post and they have to be sure.’
Tom looked steadily at Lily. ‘It’s a big decision, and we don’t have to go. I could say no.’
She searched for the right words. ‘I know, Tom, but it has to be for the best. I should be sorry to leave Ragley and to move on … probably without a job.’
‘You could apply for a post in Durham.’
‘I know.’
‘Maybe give in your notice and start applying.’
‘There aren’t many deputy headships around these days, especially for women.’
Tom shook his head. ‘I wasn’t thinking of deputy headships. I meant you could apply for a headship. You would be perfect and John would give you an excellent reference.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘I know so.’ He leaned forward and stroked her cheek gently. ‘It would be an adventure for both of us.’
‘I love my job, but it would be wonderful to have my own school.’
‘Well, we could buy a Times Ed and I bet there are a few Church of England headships being advertised right now.’
Lily pursed her lips. ‘This is all a bit too fast for me.’
‘Sorry, I don’t want to pressure you.’
Lily finished drinking her tea and sat back. ‘I understand.’
Tom looked at her expectantly. ‘So … what should I tell them on Monday?’
‘That you will accept the post.’
He put his arm around her shoulder and she rested her cheek against his chest. ‘What about you?’ he asked quietly.
There was a long pause. It had been a day of new promise and expectation, but there was a hint of sadness in her voice.
‘On Monday … I’ll hand in my resignation.’
Chapter Seventeen
A World Without Love
John Pruett had a broken heart. At least that’s how it felt. A never-ending ache had begun towards the end of May when Lily had handed in her letter of resignation.
He stared at the cream notepaper and her neat handwriting and touched her signature gently with his fingertips. Then he folded the letter, put it back in the envelope and placed it carefully beneath the huge leather-bound school logbook in the bottom left-hand drawer of his desk. He sighed, locked the drawer, stood up and walked out of school. He needed fresh air and time to think.
It was Wednesday, 10 June and he had arrived very early at school. The countryside was waking and an eventful day lay ahead. It was important that he was well prepared for his meeting with Bernard Pickard from County Hall. The shrewd and calc
ulating Area Education Adviser didn’t miss a trick.
He leaned on the school wall and watched the rooks circling the bell tower with ominous certainty. Behind him a disc of golden light had emerged in the eastern sky. It was a new dawn, but for John it felt like the end of days.
In Kirkby Steepleton Tom and Lily had left for work together. Freddie had borrowed Lily’s car to drive to Easington, complete with a picnic basket prepared by Lily with loving care. Following various meetings with staff to discuss their futures, the sixth-form students were having a celebratory picnic on the school field. Their A-levels were over and it was time to relax.
When Tom drove into Ragley, the villagers were waking to a perfect summer’s day. As they drove up the High Street Lily saw Vera pinning a large poster to the noticeboard outside the village hall. She smiled. The indomitable school secretary was always busy.
In the border outside The Royal Oak butterflies hovered over the buddleia bushes and cuckoo spit sparkled among the lavender leaves. Bees were buzzing in their search for pollen and, in the far distance, the moors were streaked with purple heather. For Tom the world felt clean and new, and the woman he loved was beside him. Lily looked at him. There was a new energy about her husband; it was clear he was excited by his new post of chief inspector. In contrast, the look on John Pruett’s face when he had read her letter of resignation was one she would never forget.
It was as if his spirit had suddenly broken.
Tom parked beneath the avenue of horse chestnut trees outside school and Lily kissed him on the cheek then walked quickly up the drive and the entrance steps. Joseph Evans had arrived to take morning assembly and Tom got out to speak to him.
‘Good morning, Joseph, and how are you on this lovely morning?’
‘Fine thank you, Tom.’ He looked up at the school bathed in morning sunlight. ‘However, we are about to discuss arrangements for a replacement for Lily, so it’s a mixture of sadness and optimism.’
‘Yes, my fault I’m afraid, with my new post up in Durham.’
Joseph gave him an enigmatic smile. ‘It’s a great loss to the school, but a new opportunity for both of you. I wish you luck. I’m sure you will do well keeping law and order up there.’
Tom suddenly looked serious. ‘Thank you, Joseph, but life will be demanding. I think we live in different worlds. Every day I’m dealing with theft and violence and much I can’t discuss.’
‘I understand,’ said Joseph quietly. ‘A prudent man concealeth knowledge,’ he recited. ‘Book of Proverbs. So have faith.’
Tom realized that during the past years he had only ever exchanged brief pleasantries with this kind man. ‘To be honest, Joseph, I find it difficult to have faith, particularly in my job.’
‘God will guide you,’ said Joseph.
Tom was quiet for a moment. ‘The concept of God is hard to grasp … whereas my world is one I understand.’
‘Perhaps that’s the difference between us, Tom,’ replied Joseph with a knowing look.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Simply that the one certainty in my life is God. All the rest is a mystery.’
They both smiled as they shook hands and departed, each with his own thoughts.
It was shortly before 8.30 a.m. when Bernard Pickard drove up the school drive, parked his smart, light blue Triumph 2000 in the car park and walked purposefully into school carrying a slim leather briefcase. A short, dapper man in a pinstripe suit with knife-edge creases, he exuded efficiency. After he had shaken hands with John and Joseph and refused the offer of a hot drink from Vera, the three men settled in the staff-room.
Bernard took a sheet of foolscap paper from his briefcase. ‘Time is short, gentlemen, but our earlier meeting last week gave me the opportunity to ensure the advertisement for the post of deputy headteacher will appear in the Times Educational Supplement this Friday. Applications will close two weeks later on the 26th of this month and we can shortlist the following week.’
John Pruett appeared subdued, but responded appropriately. Joseph was a little more insistent. ‘It’s important we appoint a practising Christian, Mr Pickard,’ he said. ‘After all, we are a Church of England school.’
Bernard Pickard often thought he would have made a good politician. Never rule anything out. ‘Of course it will be an important consideration,’ he declared with superficial sincerity.
Joseph glanced at his wristwatch. ‘It will be part of the essential criteria, Mr Pickard. And if you’ll forgive me, I have a christening to prepare for.’
After he had left, Bernard Pickard stood up and collected his briefcase.
‘Just another matter, Mr Pruett,’ he said and lowered his voice. ‘We need to get the best possible candidate following the success of Mrs Feather’s work here and the Education Committee were saddened to hear of her departure. She has a fine reputation and we were hoping she would apply for one or two of the forthcoming vacant headships in the area. There are a few retirements in the pipeline.’
‘Yes,’ said John. ‘I’m sure she would make an excellent headteacher. However, her husband’s promotion is final and they will be moving to the north-east after the end of term.’
Bernard Pickard was a perceptive man. The depth of feeling that was apparent was almost moving. This man clearly thought a great deal of his deputy headteacher and Bernard wondered what lay beneath the surface.
It was morning break and Vera was serving hot drinks.
‘I saw you putting up a poster this morning, Vera,’ said Lily.
‘It’s a special evening for the Women’s Institute. Lavinia de Coercy is giving a talk on “Baking with Be-Ro”.’
‘Lavinia de Coercy?’
‘Yes, she is one of the Berkshire de Coercys and famous in the world of baking.’
This meant little to Lily, but she was aware that Vera was a disciple of the Be-Ro Home Recipes booklet, hence her enthusiasm.
‘Sounds wonderful,’ she said without conviction and hurried out to the playground to take a cup of tea to Anne.
Rose and Freddie were stretched out in the sunshine under the welcome shade of a beech tree. A-levels were over and they were feeling relaxed. Their examinations had gone well and both felt confident they had done their best. The picnic basket was empty now and, after sharing news with their friends, they had wandered off hand in hand to the far corner of the field.
‘I love being with you,’ said Freddie quietly. He stroked her cheek with his finger. ‘And if all goes well we’ll be together at Leeds University.’
Rose lay back, stretching in the luxurious warmth. She had let her hair hang loose and it lay in soft strands on the grass.
Freddie looked around. They were out of sight. He pressed against her and kissed her on the mouth. His attentions became urgent.
‘No,’ said Rose, ‘not here.’
‘Why not? We can’t be seen.’
Rose sat up. ‘You know why not. We’ve discussed this. It’s not right.’
Freddie breathed deeply, leaned back against the tree and stared up at the canopy of leaves above his head.
She reached for his hand. ‘I do love you, Freddie, but I want to wait until after we’ve finished university. If we still feel the same about each other then, we can be together as we both would wish.’
Freddie nodded. ‘You really are a remarkable woman.’ For a moment he thought of Lily. She can’t have been as virtuous as Rose, he thought.
‘You may have my heart, Freddie. Other things … well, they must wait for another day. I have to be certain.’
In spite of his frustration, Rose went up in his estimation.
‘I understand.’ He shook his head. ‘You’re not like those unmarried Land Girls in the war.’
‘Land Girls?’
‘They gave their babies to their own mothers.’
Rose stared at him, surprised at the sudden shift in the conversation. ‘You mustn’t say that, Freddie.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well
– that was wartime. They didn’t know how long they would live.’
Freddie sighed. ‘But surely it was wrong.’
Rose became forceful. ‘You and I would have done the same. Think about it, Freddie. It was a selfless thing these women did to keep their baby within the family instead of giving them away to an orphanage.’
Freddie closed his eyes as memories flooded in.
‘And how dreadful it must have been for the mother to pretend to be the child’s sister. What courage they must have had.’
‘I suppose so,’ he muttered.
Rose took his hand. ‘We’re so lucky that we live in a time of peace.’
Freddie was impressed at the gravitas of her words.
Rose looked at him curiously. ‘By the way, you never did tell me where you went at Easter. You said you didn’t go camping.’
Freddie stood up and pressed his fingers to his forehead.
‘What is it, Freddie?’
‘I want to tell you but I can’t.’
He saw the concern in her eyes and guilt consumed him.
Suddenly there was the shrill sound of two blasts on a whistle. It was time for a meeting in the school hall and a final address to the sixth form by the headmaster.
‘We need to talk,’ said Rose quietly.
‘Let’s go for a drive this evening,’ said Freddie.
They set off towards the school building side by side, but they weren’t holding hands.
Back in Ragley School, Sally Nobbs was in the lunch queue. Her teaching practice was going well and, of course, Vera had become a good friend.
She sat down at a table with some of the younger children in Anne’s class.
‘It’s sunny today, Miss,’ said a red-faced Margery Flathers. ‘My mummy put some sun cream on my face and my arms.’
‘Well, that’s very sensible,’ said Sally as the children attacked their toad-in-the-hole with gusto.
Tobias Fawnswater looked up from spearing a sausage. ‘If I was in charge I would put sun cream on the sun. Then there wouldn’t be a problem.’
Sally liked Toby and his forthright views.
Clint Ramsbottom entered the conversation after rubbing away two candles of snot with his sleeve. Sally tried to eliminate the vision and continued to eat.
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