The Heart of the Dales (20 page)

‘I'll come straight to the point. I am desperate for a man again.'

‘Oh, no, no, Mrs Cleaver-Canning – er, Margot. I really cannot. I'm afraid –' I started.

‘Now, before you turn me down,' she interrupted, ‘please hear me out. It's a truly wonderful play and everyone is so excited about performing it, but the sticking point is that there are nine parts for men and we have only secured eight. It's not a big part and you would only make a short entrance at the very end, just as you did when you gave that barnstorming performance as the SS lieutenant in
The Sound of Music
. The way you strutted on the stage in the last act and delivered your four words was quite masterful.' Flatterer, I thought. ‘So please don't turn me down. There would be minimal attendance at rehearsals and you wouldn't need to be there on the nights of the performance until well into the second half.'

‘I'm up to my eyes at the moment and –' I began again.

‘It's called
The Dame of Sark
by William Douglas-Home,' Mrs Cleaver-Canning continued blithely. ‘A magnificently patriotic and poignant piece set in one of the Channel Islands at the time of the last war and the German Occupation. I will be playing the lead part of Sybil, the fiercely determined and courageous Dame of Sark, who comes to respect and even like Colonel von Schmettau, the Commander of the German forces. Winco will be playing him.'

‘It's just that –'

‘You would take the part of Colonel Graham who liberates the island in the last scene. It's a little gem of a part, a mere eighteen lines, a perfect cameo, and you're just ideal for it. As Raymond, our producer, said, the part could have been written for you. It is your
métier
. Winco will drop a copy of the play off and you can peruse it at your leisure.'

‘That's just the point, Margot,' I said, trying to sound forceful. ‘I don't seem to have any leisure at the moment. As I mentioned, I am up to my eyes –'

‘All the more need for a hobby outside work,' she interrupted. ‘You know what they say about all work and no play.'

‘Mrs Cleaver-Canning, Margot,' I said. There was a touch of desperation in my voice. ‘I really am so very busy. There's work and the baby and the garden and so much to do in the cottage.'

‘Oh
please
, Gervase,' she said in a high pleading voice. ‘
Please
don't disappoint me. The whole production depends upon you.' And then she played her trump card. ‘And you do owe me a favour. I mean, if it hadn't been for Winco driving you to the hospital…'

I thought for a moment. ‘The least I can do is look at the play,' I said feebly.

‘Thank you
so
much,' oozed Mrs Cleaver-Canning, who never ever took No for an answer.

Of course I knew, and so did Mrs Cleaver-Canning, that in effect I had agreed to take the part. I couldn't very well look through the play script, build up her hopes and then refuse to do it. When I thought about it later, I was quite pleased I had agreed. I had enjoyed the badinage at the rehearsals, meeting people outside the world of education and talking about things other than schools and teachers. I had also enjoyed my few brief moments in the spotlight and, to be honest, taking part hadn't involved a great deal of time and effort. And, as Mrs C-C had reminded me, I did owe her a favour. However, despite all these positives, I decided to pick the right moment to tell Christine.

Miss de la Mare's office was on the top corridor of County Hall. When she had taken up her appointment the term before, the Chief Inspector had wasted little time in relocating to a spacious and modern office near to Dr Gore's. I recall well when she had first seen the office previously occupied by her predecessor, Harold Yeats – that cluttered and cramped room,
with its row of ugly olive-green metal filing cabinets, heavy bookcases, square of threadbare carpet and Harold's vast ancient oak desk. She had shaken her head and said to no one in particular, ‘This just will not do.' Within the month she had moved.

County Hall was an imposing building, magnificently ornate and sturdy, dominating the market town of Fettlesham and standing in extensive and well-tended formal gardens. The interior was equally impressive: endless corridors, high ornate ceilings, great brass chandeliers, heavy velvet drapes, and walls full of gilt-framed portraits of former worthies. I always felt rather intimidated when I entered the huge oak doors that led into the great entrance hall.

The meeting with the Chief Inspector was not quite the ordeal I had expected. I presented a full written report on Tarncliffe School and explained to her how the confusion had arisen.

‘And if the parent in question had taken the trouble to contact the head teacher in the first place,' I told her, ‘instead of telephoning one of his cronies at County Hall, all this could have been avoided.'

‘Maybe,' Miss de la Mare said, ‘but to be fair to the parent, and indeed Councillor Peterson, the two expressions that caused all the contention really do sound rather vulgar. I shouldn't think that many people – apart from English specialists like you – are aware of their origins or what they actually mean. Personally, they are not expressions I would use, or I suspect that you would either. Perhaps Mr Hornchurch should have pointed this out to the children. However, to use a more familiar expression, “that's all water under the bridge now”.' Thank you for dealing with it, Gervase. I shall read your report with interest and explain matters to Dr Gore and Councillor Peterson when I meet with them later this morning. I will also ring the Editor of the
Gazette
to make sure that article doesn't go ahead. Now, I am sure that you, like I, have a very busy day ahead of you so I won't detain you further.'

I took a deep breath. ‘There was another matter I wanted
to speak to you about,' I said, placing a second report on her desk and sliding it across. ‘Ugglemattersby Junior School.'

The Chief Inspector gave a slight smile and stared down at the report. ‘Go on,' she said.

Miss de la Mare listened patiently as I explained how I had visited the school and had been unhappy with what I had seen and heard. I admitted that I had been at fault for not having followed through the last report, which I had written just over two years before, by returning to the school to check on progress. I told her that I hadn't even telephoned the head-teacher to see how he was getting on. I accepted it had been my responsibility to ensure that the recommendations in my report had been addressed, and I had failed in that regard.

There was what I felt to be an interminable silence before the Chief Inspector spoke. ‘You are right,' she said at last, ‘you should have followed things up. It's all very well writing critical reports on schools but if nothing is done about them it is a pointless exercise.'

‘I see that,' I said quietly.

‘Having said that, there are several hundred schools in the county and we are a small team and it is to be expected that things, at times, slip through the net. The head teacher and indeed the governors should have been more proactive, of course, and sought help.'

‘I don't think the governors and the head teacher exactly see eye to eye,' I told her.

‘I see.'

‘To be fair to him, the head teacher did try and implement some of the recommendations and there have been changes for the better but I think you need to read the whole report to get the full picture.'

‘Since it wasn't just English in which the children were under-achieving, your colleagues too should have been into the school with support and advice. I take it you acquainted them with your concerns?'

‘Yes, I did.'

‘And did they go in?'

‘I'm not sure,' I replied feebly.

‘You're not sure?'

‘No.'

‘You didn't think to check?'

‘No, I didn't.'

‘Well, I think there are a number of people who are at fault here.' I felt a little better after that remark until she added, ‘Having said that, Gervase, it was really down to you to have dealt with the situation since you instigated it.'

The words of Mr Hornchurch suddenly came to mind. I had certainly ‘cocked-up' this time.

‘I know it's a case of closing the stable door after the horse has bolted,' I said, ‘but I've suggested in this current report that the team undertakes a full inspection of the school and that competency proceedings be considered with regard to the two teachers.'

‘That might not be necessary,' said the Chief Inspector. ‘You see, Ugglemattersby Junior is on the list of five schools we are thinking of closing.'

‘Closing!' I exclaimed.

‘We have it in mind to amalgamate the Junior and the Infant Schools,' she told me. ‘Numbers in the Juniors are declining and the Infant School is on a spacious site which could be further developed to accommodate the older children. It seems the best course of action in the present circumstances.'

‘I see,' I murmured.

‘Quite fortuitous really, isn't it, Gervase?' said the Chief Inspector, giving a small enigmatic smile.

On my way back down the top corridor I literally bumped into Mrs Savage at the top of the great staircase. My mind was on the surprising news that Miss de la Mare had just divulged about Ugglemattersby Juniors and, hurriedly turning the corner, I collided with the CEO's Personal Assistant, knocking the files she was carrying out of her hands.

‘For goodness sake!' she snapped. ‘Watch where you are going!' There was no mistaking that sharp, disapproving voice.

‘So sorry, Mrs Savage,' I said.

‘Oh it's you,' she replied, her eyes bright with indignation. She drew her lips together into a tight little line.

I bent to retrieve the files. ‘I apologise,' I said, ‘I wasn't looking where I was going.'

‘No, you were not!' she exclaimed. ‘Coming down the corridor at that speed. I could have been seriously injured. I might have suffered whiplash.'

‘Yes, I'm sorry,' I said again.

‘And now I shall have to sort out all these files,' she said crossly. She meant, of course, that a clerical assistant would have to sort them out. There was no way she would concern herself with such a menial task. ‘Actually, Mr Phinn, I'm glad to have this opportunity of having a word with you.'

‘I'm in rather a rush,' I replied. ‘I've got a school appointment this morning.'

‘This will only take a moment of your time,' she said frostily.

‘Very well.'

‘It has come to my attention that the school inspectors are parking their vehicles in the designated bays outside County Hall. I noticed this morning, for example, as I was looking out of my office window, that you yourself have parked your car in an area specially allocated and marked off for the use of County Councillor Morrison.'

‘I should hardly think that Councillor Morrison is likely to be at County Hall this early in the morning,' I told her.

‘That is neither here nor there,' replied Mrs Savage. ‘I should like to point out to you, and perhaps you will convey this to your colleagues, that the bays are reserved exclusively, I repeat exclusively, for the elected members, chief officers and senior members of staff, and not for other people, particularly those who have their own specified parking spaces near their place of work.'

‘Sometimes, Mrs Savage,' I said, ‘we have to collect a report or deliver a document and we just stay for a few minutes, or when we attend a meeting with Miss de la Mare or Dr Gore.'

‘Mr Phinn,' she said, stiffening, ‘I don't think I have made
myself entirely clear. There is no excuse for parking in the designated bays be it for the full day or for a few minutes. The
modus operandi
at County Hall will only be successful if everyone abides by the rules. To be frank, the inspectors believe they are a law unto themselves. I have had occasion to speak to Miss de la Mare about the failure of some of your colleagues to send in their weekly programmes on time and –'

‘I thought this was about parking,' I commented.

‘It is,' she replied. ‘Your office is but a short distance from County Hall and it is not that onerous, I am sure, for the inspectors to walk. The biggest offender is Mr Clamp who appears to think he can parkthat large and unsightly estate car of his wherever he pleases. It was in Councillor Peterson's bay last week. Councillor Peterson was not best pleased and he raised the matter with Dr Gore who, of course, asked me to deal with it.'

‘I will pass your message on,' I told her, ‘and, now, if you will excuse me.'

‘Those who illegally parkwill have their vehicle immobilised,' she continued. ‘Instructions have been given to Security that there will be no exceptions. I shall be sending a memorandum over to the inspectors' office later this week reminding you all of the parking regulations and informing you that any offender in future will be clamped.'

‘It will be read with interest, as we do all your memos,' I told her, ‘and now if you –'

‘I haven't finished yet, ‘she said sharply. ‘There is another matter.'

‘Yes,' I sighed.

‘It has also come to my attention that some of the inspectors appear to be making personal calls from their office telephones. This has got to stop. County Council regulations dictate that no personal calls of any kind, except in the most severe emergencies, may be made in work time and from office telephones. I have raised the matter with Miss de la Mare, and my staff will be keeping a close check on all calls. You might acquaint your colleagues with the fact that –'

‘I suggest you put it in a memo, Mrs Savage, along with all the other complaints,' I interrupted and, brushing past, I hurried down the stairs. ‘Frightful woman!' I said under my breath.

Andy was a large pink-faced bear of a boy, with coarse bristly brown hair and enormous ears. I had just come down to the kitchen on Saturday morning the following week in my old towelling dressing gown, and was making an early morning cup of tea, when his great beaming face appeared at the window.