over?’
The children could see that there was a lay-by on the other side of the gate with a large blue van parked at the end of it.
‘I do have a key,’ said the guard, ‘but Mr Ian’s quite right. The fact you’ve ignored the sign means that you are in breach of by-laws, and—’
‘The by-laws are illegal.’
‘Oh no they’re not!’
‘I also happen to know that your security company – this SSS nonsense – is unlicensed and unregulated.’
‘We are not!’
‘Yes, you are, and—’
‘This is school property, woman!’ exploded Mr Ian. ‘You can’t just clamber over our gates and go where you like!’
‘I can and I do. This land was made public by Oliver Cromwell, and the right to freedom of passage—’
‘You’re trespassing!’ shouted the teacher.
Doctor Ellie nodded. ‘Well, I can see that there’s no point standing here contradicting a fool,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re not a man who listens, and I should save
my breath. But I can tell you now what I told you yesterday: no court in the land would uphold your fraudulent claim and, if you molest and bully me, then I’ll be bringing a civil action
against you. The land is free and part of our heritage. I’ve been showing these lovely children living history, and I defy you, sir. You should be looking after your own pupils, not harassing
mine.’
Mr Ian had turned crimson and his lips twitched. He turned to see that the cluster of blue joggers had come close. They had overheard every word – and one or two were smiling happily. They
were gazing at the Ribblestrop pupils with fascination.
‘Get back to the house!’ barked Mr Ian. His voice was a curiously high squeak. ‘Get into your togs – greys only – and get to prep.’
‘It’s Monday, sir,’ said a boy. ‘Shouldn’t we wear our—’
‘Get back to the house!’ roared Mr Ian, and the children fled without another word.
Doctor Ellie broke the short silence that followed with a cool line of contempt. ‘You know, I have always despised grown men who shout at small children,’ she said. ‘Herodotus,
writing in 429 BC, tells of a tutor in third century Athens. The man was stoned out the city for that offence, because it was seen as an affront to civilised values. It also suggests mental
infirmity.’ She turned to the security guard. ‘Unlock the gate, please.’
The guard did as he was told and wrenched off the chain.
Mr Ian stood aside. ‘You are all on camera, you know,’ he said. ‘We shall be circulating your images.’
‘Completely illegal,’ said Doctor Ellie as stepped into the lay-by. ‘Any film you’ve shot is protected material and cannot be circulated by civilians.’
‘Now you listen to me!’ said Mr Ian, pushing through the gate after her. ‘We have a duty of care here to all our pupils. Who are these . . . ruffians, anyway? Look at the state
of them!’
His eye had been caught by Anjoli, who had one arm round Sam and the other round Israel. He was bare-chested, his blazer tied round his waist. He stuck his tongue out rudely.
‘I will have your names, every one of you,’ hissed Mr Ian. His hands were clenched into fists and he snatched a pen from his jacket pocket. ‘I will be making a formal complaint
to your so-called school.’
‘Shall I call the police, sir?’ asked the security guard.
Mr Ian swung round and glared at him. ‘Yes!’ he cried. ‘I thought they were on their way!’
The man muttered into his radio and the children pushed through the gate towards the van. Doctor Ellie strode ahead to its rear doors and pulled them open. The first orphan struggled up onto the
step.
‘All aboard!’ she cried.
‘Do not attempt to leave!’ shouted Mr Ian. ‘I need names and addresses!’
‘It’s all right, sir,’ said a voice. ‘I’ve got her.’
Everyone looked down to see who had spoken. There was a second security guard who had been hidden by the side of the vehicle. He was kneeling close to the back
The children could see that there was a lay-by on the other side of the gate with a large blue van parked at the end of it.
‘I do have a key,’ said the guard, ‘but Mr Ian’s quite right. The fact you’ve ignored the sign means that you are in breach of by-laws, and—’
‘The by-laws are illegal.’
‘Oh no they’re not!’
‘I also happen to know that your security company – this SSS nonsense – is unlicensed and unregulated.’
‘We are not!’
‘Yes, you are, and—’
‘This is school property, woman!’ exploded Mr Ian. ‘You can’t just clamber over our gates and go where you like!’
‘I can and I do. This land was made public by Oliver Cromwell, and the right to freedom of passage—’
‘You’re trespassing!’ shouted the teacher.
Doctor Ellie nodded. ‘Well, I can see that there’s no point standing here contradicting a fool,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re not a man who listens, and I should save
my breath. But I can tell you now what I told you yesterday: no court in the land would uphold your fraudulent claim and, if you molest and bully me, then I’ll be bringing a civil action
against you. The land is free and part of our heritage. I’ve been showing these lovely children living history, and I defy you, sir. You should be looking after your own pupils, not harassing
mine.’
Mr Ian had turned crimson and his lips twitched. He turned to see that the cluster of blue joggers had come close. They had overheard every word – and one or two were smiling happily. They
were gazing at the Ribblestrop pupils with fascination.
‘Get back to the house!’ barked Mr Ian. His voice was a curiously high squeak. ‘Get into your togs – greys only – and get to prep.’
‘It’s Monday, sir,’ said a boy. ‘Shouldn’t we wear our—’
‘Get back to the house!’ roared Mr Ian, and the children fled without another word.
Doctor Ellie broke the short silence that followed with a cool line of contempt. ‘You know, I have always despised grown men who shout at small children,’ she said. ‘Herodotus,
writing in 429 BC, tells of a tutor in third century Athens. The man was stoned out the city for that offence, because it was seen as an affront to civilised values. It also suggests mental
infirmity.’ She turned to the security guard. ‘Unlock the gate, please.’
The guard did as he was told and wrenched off the chain.
Mr Ian stood aside. ‘You are all on camera, you know,’ he said. ‘We shall be circulating your images.’
‘Completely illegal,’ said Doctor Ellie as stepped into the lay-by. ‘Any film you’ve shot is protected material and cannot be circulated by civilians.’
‘Now you listen to me!’ said Mr Ian, pushing through the gate after her. ‘We have a duty of care here to all our pupils. Who are these . . . ruffians, anyway? Look at the state
of them!’
His eye had been caught by Anjoli, who had one arm round Sam and the other round Israel. He was bare-chested, his blazer tied round his waist. He stuck his tongue out rudely.
‘I will have your names, every one of you,’ hissed Mr Ian. His hands were clenched into fists and he snatched a pen from his jacket pocket. ‘I will be making a formal complaint
to your so-called school.’
‘Shall I call the police, sir?’ asked the security guard.
Mr Ian swung round and glared at him. ‘Yes!’ he cried. ‘I thought they were on their way!’
The man muttered into his radio and the children pushed through the gate towards the van. Doctor Ellie strode ahead to its rear doors and pulled them open. The first orphan struggled up onto the
step.
‘All aboard!’ she cried.
‘Do not attempt to leave!’ shouted Mr Ian. ‘I need names and addresses!’
‘It’s all right, sir,’ said a voice. ‘I’ve got her.’
Everyone looked down to see who had spoken. There was a second security guard who had been hidden by the side of the vehicle. He was kneeling close to the back
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