Star Teacher by Jack Sheffield Page A

emphasizing the finite resources at the disposal of the County Council. ‘Maggie has tightened her purse strings,’ he joked, but no one laughed. It was depressing to hear his view that we were becoming ‘the poor neighbours of public service’ while the salaries of Britain’s senior company directors had risen by seventeen per cent this year.
    There was a variety of speakers, mostly grey men in dark suits with degrees in economics, who ground down our spirits as the afternoon wore on. Finally Richard Gomersall reappeared to sum up. ‘I’ve managed to visit the schools for whom the impact will be most felt,’ he concluded. ‘We must handle the coming events with particular sensitivity as the decisions we are making will affect many facets of local communities.’ There were imperceptible nods of reluctant agreement from those around me.
    Miss Barrington-Huntley sought me out as the meeting closed. ‘I was delighted for Beth,’ she said with enthusiasm. ‘She will do well at King’s Manor.’
    â€˜I know she’s looking forward to it,’ I said.
    â€˜Yes, Hartingdale’s loss is King’s Manor’s gain,’ she replied.
    â€˜In the meantime, I’m obviously wondering about the future of Ragley,’ I said pointedly.
    I could see her considering her response. ‘I understand your concern, Jack, and I’m aware Richard has spoken to you.’
    â€˜Yes, he mentioned the possible amalgamation of Ragley and Morton, and I haven’t discussed this with anyone else … as he requested.’
    â€˜Yes, all very hush-hush at present,’ she said. ‘We must proceed with caution.’
    She gave me a searching look as we shook hands and I wondered what else there was that I didn’t know.
    As I left I saw Rufus Timmings engaged in animated conversation with some of the senior figures who had spoken during the afternoon. There was a lot to ponder as I drove back to Ragley.
    Fortunately there was some good news when I walked into the school entrance hall. Genghis the racing pigeon had been found.
    â€˜Ah’m thrilled t’bits, Mr Sheffield,’ said Ruby, ‘an’ it’s all thanks t’that young policeman. Genghis were in Deke Ramsbottom’s pig trailer.’
    â€˜That’s wonderful,’ I said. ‘You should celebrate.’
    Ruby went quiet for a moment. ‘’Appen ah will, Mr Sheffield, an’ ’appen ah won’t,’ but I guessed she had something else on her mind.
    The bell rang out to mark the end of school and I returned to the cloakroom area outside my classroom. The children in my class filed out and it was clear they had enjoyed their afternoon. Sonia Tricklebank and Lucy Eckersley were hurrying off hand in hand.
    â€˜We’ve done loads wi’ Miss,’ said Sonia.
    â€˜Paintin’ an’ modellin’,’ added Lucy.
    â€˜An’ t’story about King Arthur was brilliant,’ enthused Sonia.
    â€˜And where are you rushing off to?’ I asked.
    â€˜We’re off blackberryin’, Mr Sheffield,’ said Sonia. ‘Lucy says there’s loads in the ’edgerow up Chauntsinger Lane round t’back o’ t’blacksmith’s.’
    The sensible Lucy anticipated my next question. ‘An’ don’t worry, Mr Sheffield, my mam is coming with us.’
    I smiled as they ran down the drive where Mrs Eckersley, complete with a variety of Tupperware tubs, was waiting for them.
    Half an hour later the staff were completing end-of-the-day tasks. When Ruby called into the office to empty the wastepaper basket, Vera looked up from her desk and saw the concern etched on our caretaker’s face. ‘What’s the matter, Ruby?’ she asked.
    â€˜Ah’m frettin’ summat rotten, Mrs F,’ said Ruby. ‘In fac’, ah’m worried sick.’
    â€˜Oh dear,’ said Vera.
    â€˜Don’t you