Down an English Lane (20 page)

‘You mentioned music, Miss Mellodey,’ said a rather younger woman, who had not spoken before. ‘In view of your name – a very lovely name I must say – maybe it is a special interest of yours?’ she smiled.

‘Yes…’ said Anne. ‘At least… I like a good tune; a nice melody,’ she added, to polite laughter. ‘I am by no means an expert on the subject, although I can play the piano, after a fashion… I think children should be encouraged to find pleasure in music, as well as in the other arts.’

‘They have singing lessons, surely?’ asked one of the men. ‘When I was at school I loved singing “The British Grenadiers” and “Hearts of Oak” and all those rousing songs.’

‘Yes, they do sing,’ replied Anne, thinking that the way music was taught had obviously not changed a great deal for the last forty odd years; he must be well turned fifty. She knew she must be careful, though, not to be critical of Miss Foster.

Miss Foster’s idea of singing – the only music the children ever experienced – was to have all the Juniors together in one classroom, with the dividing partition drawn back. There was a piano, which badly needed tuning, in Shirley Barker’s half of the room, but as Shirley was no more competent on the instrument than was Anne, Miss Foster always
played for the singing lessons, with either Shirley or Anne taking charge of the Infants during this hour. The headmistress’s touch was inclined to be heavy, which meant that the children had to sing loudly to compete with her, resulting in a sound which, to Anne’s ears, was by no means melodious. They sang rousing songs of the type that the man on the panel had mentioned, and more plaintive ones; ‘Golden Slumbers’, ‘Early One Morning’ or ‘The Ash Grove’. They read the words from well-worn red books which must have been in use ever since Miss Foster took over the school, or even earlier; at least, those who could read quite well did so, whilst the less able ones joined in as best they could. Anne had long questioned the value of such singing lessons, especially as she had heard the older boys making up their own words to songs such as ‘Strawberry Fair’. ‘Rifle, rifle, fol-de riddle-hi-do’ – daft words to start with, she had always thought – were soon altered to ‘Trifle, trifle, sock ’im in the eyeball’, or some such version. Miss Foster, usually so alert, would be concentrating on the music in front of her, having no idea of what was going on.

The Infants’ singing lessons took place in their own room, which was also equipped with an out-of-tune piano, and consisted solely of nursery rhymes and jingles.

‘They have singing lessons, of course,’ she replied to the lover of ‘The British Grenadiers’, ‘and they enjoy them very much. But I feel we could widen
the scope; by listening to records – of the more tuneful, easier to understand, classics, like Mozart or Chopin – and by teaching singing in smaller groups. Encouraging the children to sing more tunefully,’ she added, hoping she was not treading on Charity’s toes.

‘All very commendable,’ said the chairman. ‘I can see you are more inclined towards the Arts subjects than the Science ones… However, let us move on from Music… What are your views on the new Education Act, Miss Mellodey?’

That was a bolt from the blue! Anne knew about it, of course, but it was of more relevance, surely, to the Senior schools – now known as Secondary Modern – rather than the Infants and Juniors, which were now being termed Primary schools. She did her best to answer coherently.

‘Any act to improve Education is a step in the right direction,’ she said. ‘And I believe the church schools, such as Middlebeck, are to be given more financial assistance; that is good. But…it is of more significance to the older children, isn’t it? And which school they go on to when they leave the Junior schools.’

‘And so it must affect the Junior schools as well, Miss Mellodey.’ It was Red Hat speaking again, and Anne felt herself growing tense. This woman did not like her, she thought, or, at least, was opposed to her views. ‘For instance, what are your views on streaming? It will be the aim, will it not, to ensure
that as many children as possible are able to go on to a Grammar school, now that the way has been opened for them?’ Streaming was the grouping of children according to ability, and in village schools and other smaller schools, such as Middlebeck, it had not been considered a feasible concept.

‘It is something that has never been done in this school,’ replied Anne, ‘because it would not be workable. Our numbers are quite small, and so the third and fourth year children are taught together as one class, but with different lessons for each group when it is necessary. As for the scholarship exam…the ones who are the right age have sat for it, but there has never been any pressure upon them to pass, and no suggestion of failure if they are not successful. I believe it has worked very well. I dislike the word failure, and it is one that is never used at Middlebeck school.’

‘But now that there are more free places, surely it is the teachers’ responsibility to ensure that as many children as possible pass the exam?’ said the British Grenadiers man.

‘That is one view, certainly,’ replied Anne, feeling she was losing control of the interview.

The Reverend Luke Fairchild came to her rescue by putting forward a suggestion that the school, as a whole, should gather together in the church, maybe once a week, for a simple service, until such time as they acquired their school hall. What did she think of the idea?

Anne agreed wholeheartedly, and soon after this the interview, which had become more and more of an ordeal, came to an end.

‘Thank you very much, Miss Mellodey,’ said the chairman. ‘We have enjoyed listening to your views. That will be all for the moment.’

She smiled and nodded and walked from the room as sedately as she could. She felt like running away from it all as quickly as possible; she was sure she had made a complete mess of it. Looking at her watch she found she had been in the room for over half an hour.

Graham Perkins was seen next and then Florence Wotherspoon, the man’s interview taking rather longer than the woman’s. Then they just sat and waited.

‘It’s like being at the dentist’s,’ observed Mr Perkins.

‘Do you think we are supposed to wait?’ asked Miss Wotherspoon. ‘Won’t they inform us of their decision by post?’

‘No; they come to a decision straight away,’ said Anne. ‘They shouldn’t be long now. They’ve been twenty minutes already.’

‘Well, may the best man win, that’s all I can say,’ said Roger Ellison. ‘Or woman, of course,’ he added.

The door opened and the man who acted as usher was there once more. He paused for a few seconds, then, ‘Mr Ellison, would you come with
me, please?’ he said. The man stood up briskly but, to his credit, he did not smile gloatingly, as he might have done. He nodded soberly as he left the room.

‘Well, so that’s that,’ said Graham Perkins.

‘I can’t say I’m surprised,’ said Florence Wotherspoon with a sigh. ‘What do we do now? Do we just go home?’

‘No…’ said Anne. ‘We had better wait until they dismiss us. They’ll no doubt be offering him the post. But you never know,’ she grinned wryly, ‘he might not accept!’

‘Pigs might fly!’ muttered Graham Perkins.

The usher returned after only a few moments. ‘Thank you all very much,’ he said. ‘The post of headteacher has been offered to Mr Ellison, and he has accepted. If you send your applications for expenses to this office they will be dealt with as soon as possible.’

Graham Perkins appeared philosophical about the result. ‘Well, that’s that,’ he said again. ‘The kids didn’t want to move, so they’ll be pleased.’

Florence looked pensive. ‘I didn’t really expect to get it,’ she said, ‘but this is such a delightful place.’ She smiled at Anne. ‘I do envy you living up here, my dear.’

‘Never mind,’ said Anne. ‘Keep on looking at the adverts. Perhaps something else will come up before long. Best of luck, anyway.’

They left the building and went their separate
ways. Anne felt traumatised. She had not built her hopes up too much; nevertheless, she felt deflated. The future, suddenly, looked less hopeful. There would be changes ahead, that was certain, and she had a feeling that they would not all be to her liking.

Chapter Eleven

‘
S
o were you very disappointed, Anne?’ asked Maisie. She had come round to the new flat at Anne’s request, on the Sunday afternoon following the interview, for a chat and a teatime meal.

‘A little,’ replied Anne. ‘Yes, I must confess I felt rather despondent for a while. I suppose it’s human nature to want to win, to be the best. But I’ll get over it. I keep telling myself that I’ve still got a job that I enjoy very much and a lovely part of the world to live in. I think the other two applicants liked the idea of living up here as much as they wanted the job. Florence Wotherspoon was very crestfallen. She was a very nice, refined, single lady. But somehow, I couldn’t see her coping with a headship. It needs someone more dynamic.’

‘And this chap who’s got the job, you’d say he’s got what it takes, would you?’

‘Without a doubt. I’d picked him out straight
away as a winner, and I think the other two had as well. And apparently the interviewing panel was almost unanimous in their decision. That’s what I gather, at any rate, reading between the lines. Miss Foster didn’t tell me everything that went on; it wouldn’t be ethical. Besides, she didn’t want me to feel any worse than I did already. I was convinced that I’d made a real hash of my interview, you see, but she assured me that I hadn’t.’

‘But Miss Foster and Luke, they would have voted for you, wouldn’t they?’

‘Maisie, I have no idea.’ Anne shook her head. ‘Maybe not; it would have smacked of favouritism, wouldn’t it? And when it comes to the crunch it has to be the best person for the job, hasn’t it? And that would seem to be Captain Roger Ellison. He is very forceful, and persuasive, too, I should imagine. The sort of chap who makes you sit up and take notice, and that is obviously what the committee did. I dare say he put everyone else in the shade… And I rather suspect his views on education are not the same as mine.’

‘In what way?’ asked Maisie.

‘Oh… I don’t want to go into it all now,’ said Anne. ‘Let’s just say that I don’t expect to agree with him on everything. But we’ll just have to wait and see.’

‘What’s he like then,’ asked Maisie, ‘apart from being bossy and full of himself? No, I know you didn’t say that, but he sounds pretty awful to me.’

Anne smiled. ‘Oh dear! I shouldn’t have given such an unfavourable impression of the poor chap. I didn’t mean to…although I must admit I didn’t exactly warm to him. He’s ex-army; I told you that, didn’t I? He was a captain in a Yorkshire regiment; took part in the D-Day landings, and it was then that he got a bullet in his leg and was invalided out. So that was the end of his war; apparently he was commended for bravery following the Dunkirk evacuation.’

‘Did he tell you all this at the interview?’

‘No; he said very little about himself. Miss Foster told me. When he was offered the position, the men on the panel wanted to know about what sort of a war he had had. It seems that when it came to talking about himself – about his war record, at any rate – he was quite reticent… Actually, Charity seemed to quite like him.’

‘Is he married…or what?’

‘He’s a widower, apparently. His wife died suddenly, of a brain tumour, just after the start of the war. That was when he resigned from his teaching post and joined the army.’ Anne paused thoughtfully. ‘I suppose he’s had a pretty rough time, poor fellow. I must try not to be too critical, mustn’t I…? Anyway, because he has no post to resign from it means that he can start straight away in January.’

‘And what does he look like?’

‘Every inch the army captain, I would say.’

‘Tall, dark and handsome, with a waxed moustache?’

Anne laughed. ‘Not so very tall – maybe an inch or two taller than me. Dark, yes, and tolerably handsome; a little ’tache… Oh dear, the poor chap’s ears must be burning… Let’s forget about him, eh, and talk about something else. So…what do you think of my new abode?’

‘Very nice,’ said Maisie. ‘This room is bigger than Miss Foster’s, isn’t it? And you’ve got all the furniture you need.’

She looked round the spacious living room, equipped with a sofa, two easy chairs, dining table and chairs, and sideboard, all in the wartime ‘Utility’ design, plain but functional, and she nodded approvingly. ‘Yes, I like it. And you’ve got a nice view from the window.’

The room was at the back of the house overlooking the garden area and across the valley to the next range of hills. The front room was the bedroom, which Maisie had already seen when she took off her coat. This looked out on to the opposite row of greystone semi-detached houses, and the trees which lined the quiet avenue. They were now almost denuded of their leaves which lay in brown heaps on the grass verges.

‘Yes, it’s a pleasant place altogether,’ said Anne. ‘The kitchen is very small, but it’s big enough for me, and it’s got a modern electric cooker.’ The kitchen was the room that had once been the small
bedroom, little more than a boxroom. ‘And this sofa will pull out and make a double bed; so if my parents come on a visit I’ll be able to put them up. I’ve always gone back to Leeds to see them – they’ve never been up here to Middlebeck – but now that the war’s over I might be able to persuade them to come. My father took the government warning, “Is your journey really necessary?” very seriously. Well, I dare say that applies to a lot of people. There hasn’t been much holiday-making for several years.’

‘You’re not thinking of looking for another post then, Anne? Another headship, somewhere else?’

‘No… I don’t think so. I intend to save up like mad from now on, and then, eventually, I might be able to buy a little place of my own, like Charity has done. At least, I do have the option now, don’t I? If I’d got the headship then I would have had no choice but to stay in the schoolhouse.’ She laughed. ‘A case of sour grapes, perhaps, but it’s one way of looking at it. Anyway, I think that’s enough of me and my doings… What about you, Maisie? Are you looking forward to the party? I must say, it’s good to have a social occasion to look forward to; they’re very few and far between at the moment. Things seem to have ground to a halt since the Victory celebrations.’

‘Bruce’s party? Yes, I suppose I’m quite looking forward to it,’ said Maisie. ‘It’s only a couple of weeks away now, isn’t it?’

‘I was surprised that Rebecca had invited me,’
Anne went on. ‘I don’t know Bruce very well – he’s always been away at school or in the RAF – but of course I do know her and Archie quite well. He helped me when I moved in here; he’s a real good sort, is Archie. They’ve invited Miss Foster as well, so we’ll have to decide what we’re going to wear. How about you, Maisie? Will you be wearing that nice pink dress that you wore for the concert? It really did suit you and it made you look very grown-up.’

‘No…no, I don’t think so,’ said Maisie quickly. ‘Actually… I’m thinking of asking Arthur if I can help with the catering. You know, serving the supper and all that sort of thing. I heard him saying to Mum that he would have to employ a couple of girls as waitresses for the evening. So I thought, Why not me? It’s not as if I’m an important guest. Anyway, I want to keep well out of the limelight…if you see what I mean.’

‘Yes… I see,’ said Anne. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but…you’re not still upset about Bruce, are you, and his girlfriend? I thought, with you saying that you don’t want to be too involved in the party…’

‘Oh no,’ replied Maisie, a shade too quickly. ‘It’s not that at all. Of course I’m not upset about Bruce. No…that’s not the reason… I did get the impression, though, that Christine didn’t take to me at all, and the feeling was mutual, so it’s best if I keep away from her. But… I don’t want to play
gooseberry, you see, to Audrey, and Brian Milner.’

‘Oh, so that little romance is still going on, is it?’

‘Well, I don’t know that you’d call it a romance,’ said Maisie. ‘But she likes him a lot – she doesn’t say much, but I know she does – and they spend a lot of time together. He meets her out of school and they sit together on the bus, when he’s not on his bike, that is.’

‘He’ll be going away to university though, won’t he, next year?’

‘Yes; he’s in the upper sixth; he’s two years older than Audrey and me. I suppose it might fizzle out when he goes away, although he seems pretty keen on her at the moment. I’m surprised that Aunty Patience and Luke allow her to see him so much. I know my mother thinks I’m too young to start going around with boys. She guessed about Bruce – you know, that time when I was upset – but I’ve never talked to her about him, like I did with you. And I know she wants me to work hard at school. I get sick of her going on about it sometimes, ’cause I always work hard without anybody nagging at me. I thought Aunty Patience might have been the same with Audrey, although I know Patience was never one to nag…’

‘I’m sure she reminds Audrey of the importance of her school work,’ said Anne, ‘just as your mother does, Maisie. Mothers only want what is best for you, although I know they have different ways of showing it sometimes. I expect Luke and Patience
know that they can trust Brian Milner to take care of Audrey. He does seem a nice sensible sort of lad, from what I know of him. He was never in my class, though. He had just gone on to Grammar school when I started teaching at Middlebeck.’

‘Yes…you’ve seen us all grow up, haven’t you, Anne?’

‘Yes, indeed.’ Anne gave a contemplative nod and a little smile. ‘It makes me feel quite old at times, I can tell you! But it’s interesting to see what you all make of yourselves. And sometimes I have reason to feel very proud… What about Doris? I haven’t heard you mention her much lately. She will be at Bruce’s party, won’t she? Has she a boyfriend in tow, as well?’

‘Not that I know of,’ said Maisie. ‘To be honest, Audrey and I don’t see her very much now, except at pantomime rehearsals. We said it wouldn’t make any difference when we went to the Grammar and she went to the Senior school… But it does make a difference really, doesn’t it, Anne? Since she left school she’s been busy working, so I suppose we’ve drifted apart, just a bit. She spends a lot of time with her mother and her brothers; they’re a really close family.’

‘Yes, especially since Walter was killed,’ said Anne. ‘A very nice sort of girl, Doris Nixon; genuine and uncomplicated. You mustn’t let that friendship grow cold, Maisie.’

‘No, of course not!’ said Maisie, sensing a note of
reproof. ‘It’s just that we do different things, some of the time… I must tell you about the pantomime. We see Doris then, at the rehearsals, because we’re all in it, me and Audrey and Doris, and Brian as well, of course.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard that you’re doing Cinderella and that you’re going to be the Principal Boy, but apart from that I don’t know much about it. It’s a great choice – my favourite of all pantomimes – but isn’t it rather ambitious?’

‘You mean with the coach and horses and all that; and the transformation scene?’ Maisie nodded. ‘Yes, we wondered at first how we would manage it, but it’s the squire to the rescue again. Mr Tremaine is going to lend us a farm truck, just a small one, and we can construct some sort of golden coach on top of it.’

‘And real horses, I suppose?’ joked Anne.

‘Four little boys dressed in black with horses’ heads,’ Maisie smiled. ‘Our Jimmy’s going to be the leader, so he’s tickled pink.’

‘And what about Joanie?’ asked Anne.

‘She’s going to be the leader of the chorus line and sing one or two bits on her own. She’s quite chuffed about it. And guess what?’ Maisie paused for breath. ‘You know how nervous Audrey is? Well, we’ve actually persuaded her to have a part, instead of being in the background all the time. She’s going to be the Fairy Godmother! Isn’t that wonderful?’

‘Yes, that’s certainly an achievement,’ agreed Anne. ‘Audrey will make a lovely Fairy Godmother. Who is doing the producing? Is it Patience? Has she written it?’

‘Oh no; we sent away for the script,’ said Maisie. ‘Yes, Aunty Patience is producing, with help from Mrs Hollins, of course. Quite a lot of help, actually. There’s no show without Punch, you know.’

‘Don’t be naughty, Maisie,’ scolded Anne with a smile.

‘Well, you know Muriel Hollins, don’t you? She has to have her say, although I must admit she has some good ideas and she’s a very good pianist. And guess what?’ she asked again. ‘Timothy’s going to play some incidental music between the acts. He couldn’t be persuaded to be in it, but he’s pleased that he’s going to be a part of it.’

‘Good for Tim,’ said Anne. ‘I’m pleased to see he’s coming out of his shell. And who is Cinderella? Let me guess… Is it Doris?’

‘Oh no,’ said Maisie. ‘It had to be somebody who could sing, you see, and Doris is the first to admit that she’s no singer. Celia James, one of the girls from the choir, she’s Cinderella.’

‘Oh yes; I think I know who you mean. A dainty girl with curly hair?’

‘Yes, that’s right. Actually, she’s two years older than me, but they wanted me to be Prince Charming because I’m quite a lot taller than Celia.’

‘So…what about Doris?’

‘Oh, Doris is going to be one of the Ugly Sisters.’

‘Oh dear! Poor Doris,’ said Anne. ‘She’s such a bonny girl. Why on earth have they cast her in that role?’