Blackberry Picking at Jasmine Cottage. Zara Stoneley
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about it was nice in a way to get back into a normal work routine. At her previous school, the first few days were always hard work, particularly when you had a new class, over thirty new names to learn, personalities and capabilities to assess. Behaviour to manage. Here though, even after only a few short months of working at the school, she at least knew most of the children by name – and she was carrying on teaching the class she’d had last year. It was a small school, and several of the classes had been merged, which meant she had Class 1 and Class 2. But there were a few newcomers, a few changes, and the children always seemed to grow over the summer and learn new tricks. Even the sweetest of children liked to test the boundaries, in fact the butter-wouldn’t-melt ones were often the ones who pushed hardest. And then there was Maisie. Sweet little Maisie who had giggled her way infectiously through the summer, but now wasn’t quite sure why she was still here in a strange place, without her mummy.
Lucy tried to force the frown away and relax, and found herself yawning.
‘Keeping you up?’ Jill, her classroom assistant, laughed. ‘Budge up. Any idea why Timothy has assembled the troops?’
‘Nope. I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.’
Jill shook her head, then nodded towards Liz Potts, the school secretary who had just bustled in with an armful of papers. ‘Looks like Liz knows.’
‘Thank you for getting here promptly everybody.’ Timothy Parry, head of Langtry Meadows Primary School coughed, straightened his bowtie and tugged at the cuffs of his shirt which were peeping out of the sleeves of his tweed jacket. ‘I won’t keep you long, I do appreciate how much, er, fun, the first couple of weeks back are. Now,’ he motioned to Liz, who handed over the papers. ‘I have a copy here of our SEF, which Lucy very efficiently updated at the end of last term.’
Lucy grimaced as her stomach hollowed in anticipation. With the small village school still at risk of closure they’d all thrown themselves into making sure they were fully prepared to hit the ground running before they’d closed for the summer break. The school’s self-evaluation form had been updated, a new improvement plan put together, and every file in Mrs Potts’s system gone through to ensure they were ready for anything. Anything, it seemed, involved an early Ofsted inspection.
A small smile twitched at the corner of Timothy’s mouth. ‘As I think Miss Jacobs has already guessed,’ they all turned to look at her, ‘we have been informed that the Ofsted inspectors will be calling rather earlier than anticipated. We appear to be in demand, top of the list.’
A ripple of a groan spread round the staffroom, peaking when it reached their youngest member of staff, who clamped her hand over her mouth as she realised she’d gasped rather louder than she’d meant to. Liz patted her arm comfortingly.
‘Don’t worry dear, it’s not all bad, they’re not the ogres they used to be.’
‘Says who?’ Jill whispered rather too loudly in Lucy’s ear.
‘Ahem.’ Timothy coughed to restore order. ‘After the huge success of our summer picnic I pretty much think we’re on track to safeguard the future of our school, but a good report would be the icing on the cake. Which reminds me, the Right Honourable George enjoyed his visit so much that he sent us a rather delightful letter. Liz has very kindly framed it and put it on the wall so that we may remind ourselves how wonderful we are,’ he paused, ‘if the need arises.’ He glanced around the room, his face serious, but something Lucy was sure was mischief danced in his eyes. ‘George always did like to make himself heard, which I think Lucy has done a splendid job of utilising.’
Lucy blushed and studied her hands. It had really been Elsie Harrington and Jim Stafford who had been responsible for the reintroduction of the Summer Picnic – without their help the idea would never have occurred to her. She would never have known that so many past attendees of the school, like George, now had rather prominent and influential positions on the numerous councils that had the power to control the future of the school. But Elsie, a colourful, elderly villager who seemed to know everybody’s business, and school governor (and councillor) Jim who had a finger in every pie, had soon pointed her in the right direction. She still wasn’t quite sure if she’d been manipulated, or made the decisions, but it didn’t matter.
How could George recommend Langtry Meadows Primary School to be the next closure, after the nostalgic reminder of his childhood? As guest of honour George had excelled himself, his speech had been longer than a presidential inauguration, and had definitely made prolific use of the word ‘great’.
‘I rather thought we should invite him back to the school nativity, and ask him to switch on the lights if nobody has an objection? Keep him in the loop, as it were.’
‘Nativity?’ Lucy hissed to Jill who had a broad smile on her face.
‘Oh you’re going to love Christmas. But don’t worry about donkeys and the rest of the mayhem yet, we’ve got this half term and Ofsted to get through first.’
Which sounded ominous. ‘Donkeys?’
‘And cows.’
‘Right ho.’ Timothy clapped his hands together. ‘Let’s smash it.’
‘Smash it?’ Lucy raised an eyebrow at Jill as they made their way to the door.
Jill grinned. ‘He’s been spending too much time with his nephews over the summer. He’ll be high fiving us next and telling us how many Pokémon he’s caught. Don’t worry he’ll be back to normal within a couple of weeks.’
Lucy rather hoped he’d be back to normal by tomorrow, before the Ofsted team arrived.
Five minutes after they’d got to the classroom, the first of the children started to run in – hot and excited from running about in the sun, and within a further two minutes the head scratching began.
‘Looks like we’ve got little visitors.’ Lucy pulled a face at Jill. ‘Not only have we got bring-your-pet-in day tomorrow, we’ve also got head-lice now. Just what every Ofsted inspector likes to see.’ She automatically reached a hand up to scratch her own head. They definitely weren’t a welcome addition to her classroom.
Jill laughed. ‘I thought I saw one or two of them scratching earlier, but didn’t like to say. I think we’ve got more livestock in Langtry Meadows Primary School than there is in Charlie D’s waiting room.’
Lucy shook her head. ‘I’ll ask Liz to write a letter to the parents.’
‘Talking of Charlie,’ Jill watched as Maisie was escorted to her seat by Rosie, who seemed to have taken her under her wing, ‘is that man really going to let Josie waltz straight back in and take his daughter away from him again?’
Lucy frowned. Hoping the villagers wouldn’t speculate about the return of Charlie’s daughter had been a bit unrealistic. The daughter he’d kept a secret. The daughter his ex had said wasn’t his. She didn’t know how far that last nugget of information had spread, but she really hoped that it wasn’t a topic of conversation in the village shop.
She shook her head. ‘I hope not, I don’t think he’s going to give up without a fight, but who knows what will happen when she comes back from her travels. If she’s not his daughter though, will he have much say in the matter?’
‘He doesn’t know yet? He hasn’t had a DNA test?’
‘Nope, he says she’s his, whatever.’ It worried her, and she knew that it worried Charlie. He’d always been wary of Josie and her intentions, and they hung over them, a threatening black cloud.
‘Miss, Miss, I’ve just found a nit on Rosie’s head.’
‘And what are you doing messing with Rosie’s hair, Ted?’ Jill made her way over to the children and Lucy clapped her hands to get their attention.
‘Right, who is bringing in a pet tomorrow? Hands up!’