Read The Spring Madness of Mr Sermon Online
Authors: R. F. Delderfield
Tags: #School, #Antiques, #Fiction
Musing alone in the twilight it occurred to him that one way and
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another he might soon find himself in an extremely complicated situation. Women, he decided, were becoming something of a nuisance! There was Olga whom he had seduced, and Rachel who had tried to seduce him, and had now openly declared that she was setting her cap at him! And, in the background, far away in the half-forgotten world of Wyckham Rise, was Sybil, who had also presented an ultimatum-come home or wipe the slate clean! If he ignored this ultimatum then Sybil would drop out of the running and so, it would appear, would Olga if she continued to write him letters like this. There remained Rachel, but Rachel was in a class apart, an attractive young woman whom it would be perfectly delightful to spoil, but was he seeking this kind of companionship ? Could Rachel Grey offer anybody a lasting relationship ?
He was preoccupied-with these thoughts when the telephone rang and he jumped up startled, wondering if the insistent bell (a sound he had never heard without a degree of apprehension) was about to introduce further complications into his life and when he heard the fruity voice of Fred Grey, Rachel's father, he was quite certain of the fact.
"Sermon? I didn't think you'd be in but I took a chance! I'm in Kingsbay right now, up at the station. Look here, old chap, there's something I'd rather like to discuss with you, is it too late if I run over, or shall I leave it until the morning?"
Mr. Sermon's apprehension increased. Something Grey wanted to discuss! Something that couldn't wait until they met next Saturday! It could only be Rachel, he thought and said, hesitantly, "Er . . . no, it's ... er ... not too late. Come over for a drink but don't drive up The Coombe, leave your car at the bottom and I'll look out for you."
"I'll be with you in ten minutes," said Grey and rang off, leaving Sebastian gnawing his lip and wondering if Rachel had been fool enough to tell her father what had occurred on the Tor on Saturday afternoon. 'Yet he didn't sound annoyed or disturbed," he thought, striving to reassure himself. 'I really must get out of this habit of presupposing that every human contact I make poses a new problem. I must learn to take things as they come!' and he helped himself to a stiff whisky, turned on the porch lights and went down to the gate to watch for Fred Grey's headlights.
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They showed up almost at once and soon he discerned the tall, slightly stooping figure striding up the path, walking like an eager crane with beak out-thrust and wings gently flapping. They went straight into the house and the Headmaster flopped down in Olga's armchair, his face glowing with the climb and his white tufts of hair more like an Alpine range than ever as he thrust his fingers into the tangle. His first words set Mr. Sermon's mind at rest.
"Have you ever thought of going back to teaching, Sermon?"
Sebastian was so surprised by the question that he left his finger on the syphon and made a pool on Olga's sideboard.
"Teaching? You mean, at a school like yours?"
Grey nodded, reaching out for his whisky.
"It suddenly occurred to me as I was seeing Bradley off just now. You remember Bradley ? He's been with us four years now. He taught History as far as the middle school and French to some of the juniors, a nice lad but his heart was never really in teaching! He's very much the outdoor type and now he's going off on a climbing expedition in the Caucasus. He can well afford it, the lucky young devil and he's gone with my blessing although where it'll get him I don't know beyond having something exciting to look back on when he finds his joints getting stiff. Apparently he has the same pessimistic leanings as you, Sermon, thinks everybody's time is running out and the world is going to go bang one of these mornings ! Wants to do everything he dreamed of doing before it's too late!"
"You mean . . . you would consider me as a replacement?"
"Why not? You aren't likely to go gadding off to the Caucasus are you? And you always seem so happy over at school I imagine we
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should get on well enough."
"I'm quite sure we should!" said Sebastian, enthusiastically, but his mind was in a whirl for this was something he had never imagined could happen. On the staff of a school like Barrow dene! And with a man like this jovial giant as one's Headmaster! Already he felt he half belonged to the school and the prospect of really belonging, of being able to play an active, useful part in the establishment was enough to make him whoop with delight. Then
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he remembered Sybil and after Sybil, Rachel and finally Olga, due back in a month, and as a double postscript his half-promises to Tapper Sugg and the Town Clerk. 'God damn it!' he said, almost aloud, 'I'm no more free than I was before I left home! I've escaped one trap to run headlong into half a dozen others and if they aren't as saw-toothed as the old one their jaws are sharp enough to remind me that I can only please myself about trivialities!'
"Do you want an answer now? This moment, Mr. Grey?" he quavered and the Headmaster, surprised by his tone, jumped up and exclaimed: "Good Lord, no! What kind of man do you think I am ? I've rather knocked you off balance, haven't I ? I didn't mean to do that, my dear fellow, I only rang up because I happened to be in Kingsbay and I had a call from the Chairman of the Governors before I left school today."
"A call concerning this vacancy?"
"Well, yes, and I put your name forward as a possibility on Saturday and they agreed to consider it. Naturally I didn't mention it when I saw you on Saturday night because I didn't know how they'd feel about it. A vacancy should be advertised of course, but well, you know me-if I can cut a few inches of red tape I'll do it, and I think you'd be an admirable choice."
"Why?" pressed Mr. Sermon, conscious of a dry mouth and an uncomfortable stirring in the pit of his stomach. "Would you mind telling me why you think I'd fit into Barrowdene? I've never taught a{ a school like that, I'm forty-nine and perhaps it's a bit late to start in an entirely new field."
"Yes, I'll tell you why," said Grey, readily, "you're a man with a great respect for tradition but you're content to let it ride lightly on your shoulders. Some of the men they send me haven't a moment's patience with any idea preceding the jet age, while others use tradition like plaster on a wall, stuffing it into every available crack in the system. This distinction might not seem an important one to many educationalists but it's damned important to me! I've steered a middle course through all the years of controversy as to what or what not Public Schools ought to offer and I like to surround myself with men after my own heart. It's as simple as that, d'you see ?"
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"Where did Bradley live?" asked Sebastian. "Was it on the premises or did he have one of the cottages ?"
"He lived in school," Grey told him, "but a cottage becomes vacant in September. Old Henshaw is retiring and has bought a bungalow here in Kingsbay. Those cottages are stone built and very
comfortable I'm told, you look around one next time you're
>t over.
He hasn't asked about Sybil, Sebastian thought, and surely that underscores the fundamental decency of the man. Almost any person in his situation would want to probe a little into my domestic background but he doesn't, he's prepared to take me on trust! I could be wonderfully happy with a man like that in a school like Barrowdene! I know that but what I don't know is could Sybil and I make a fresh start in these new circumstances ?
He stood up and turned frankly to Grey: "I know I should love i\ there and I think I could make a success of it," he said, "but it does rather depend on other factors, my wife chiefly, who is very attached to London and hasn't had any experience at all of life in the country. I should naturally have to discuss it with her ... as a matter of fact Headmaster, it is this very thing that threatens our marriage but I haven't given up hope of persuading her to change her mind! The pity of it is she's financially independent and that does put a man at a grave disadvantage. Suppose she flatly refused to leave London? Would it make a difference? I mean, is there particular preference for a married man?"
Grey looked thoughtful and reached for his second whisky absentmindedly.
"I suppose I could say 'no' to that Sermon," he said, at length, "but I wouldn't be telling the strict truth. The Governors much prefer married men because there is always the question of taking over a house in the future. Let's put it this way, your prospects at Barrowdene would be infinitely brighter if you could persuade your wife to join you down here."
"Thank you," said Sebastian, "I rather imagined that would be the case. How long can you give me to think it over?"
Mr. Grey stood up. "It's July now and we break up for the holidays in three weeks. Could you give me your final answer by the middle
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of August ? That shouldn't be too late to find someone if you turn us down!"
"It's very generous of you," said Sebastian, "and I hope I can give you my answer before then," and he walked Grey to the door and down the path to The Coombe.
Back in the sitting-room, knowing that it would be a long time before he could retire with any prospect of sleep, he re-read Olga's letter and found to his surprise that it no longer irritated him, that he could contemplate the comfortably-off publisher with a tolerance that had eluded him earlier in the evening and he thought, as Rachel might have said, 'Jolly good luck to her! I hope she lands him," and then he dismissed Olga altogether, his thoughts turning to Sybil and what approach he should make to her. As he took a sheet of notepaper from Olga's bureau and wrote 'My dear Sybil' he chuckled, reflecting that he had not even asked Grey what salary he could expect and that this would astonish the daughter of a man who had founded a chain of grocery stores.
He sat there for a long time, toying with his pen and wondering whether to adopt storming tactics or a softening-up process in the opening paragraph. Then, looking up, he saw the telephone and tossed the letter aside, nerving himself to pluck at the receiver and ask for trunks.
The operator put him through very quickly and he told himself that he would give the phone twenty double-burrs before concluding that Sybil had retired to bed. At the fifteenth summons the receiver was lifted and a startled voice said: "Yes? Who is it?" and Sebastian, smiling a little, said: "It's me, Sebastian! Long distance! Are you alone, Sybil ?"
He heard her catch her breath and then, in a somewhat indignant tone, she replied: "Of course I'm alone, it's gone midnight! Where are you? Are you still in that Kingsbay place?"
"Yes," he said, "I'm still here but something interesting has developed. I was going to write and then I thought I'd sooner phone. How are you, Sybil ?"
"I'm very well!" she said evenly, and then, "Are you ringing to tell me you're coming home ?"
Not exactly," he said, "but I might have to come to London very
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shortly. There's something I should very much like to discuss with you. It concerns the future of all of us and I'm hoping it might prove the ultimate solution."
"Oh," said Sybil, guardedly, "the solution to what exactly?"
"Look, Sybil, for God's sake drop that tone!" he exclaimed almost involuntarily. "This is vital to both of us! I've been offered a splendid job with a real future!"
"Oh?" she said, incuriously. "What as ? A County lavatory attendant?"
He fought his temper, reflecting that after all it might have been wiser to write. Then, biting his lip so savagely that it hurt, he said: "That big school I told you about, Barrowdene, the Headmaster has just been here. He offered me a permanent post with living accommodation outside the school. I could start in September and in time it might lead to a house if things work out satisfactorily. The point is, I'd like to accept and I should have accepted right away if we hadn't been separated in this ridiculous way. Suppose we both agree to let bygones be bygones? Or if you need time to think, I'll come up and see you next week-end. How does it strike you?"
There was a long pause and he pictured her standing by the little table in the hall with the sitting-room door ajar and light streaming across the plain fitted carpet. It was like looking back on a scene of his childhood, where domestic objects had fixed themselves in his mind as part of a particular setting. Then her voice reached him again and now it seemed to be coming over a trans-Atlantic cable.
"This is nonsense, Sebastian, how can we possibly decide a thing like that on the telephone in the middle of the night ? Do what you intended doing, set it down on paper, but if it means burying myself alive in a damp village on the moor I warn you that it will be a waste of your time. That doesn't necessarily put the idea out of court of course, we might easily come to some alternative arrangement, providing you really are serious about returning to a respectable profession. There are other schools . . ."