Suzy’s house. Poor dear, she must be very distressed. How thoughtful of the rector to spend so much time with her. Muriel waved enthusiastically to him but he didn’t see her. It must be very draining, she thought, dealing with people who are bereaved.
The following Tuesday was not one of Muriel’s better days. She played the piano at the school from 10.30 to 11.30; half an hour for the Infants and then, while they were out at play, half an hour for the Juniors. The first half hour she always enjoyed. Toria Clark was a lovely, lively girl just right for tiny ones, but the Juniors were another story. How Mr Palmer controlled them she didn’t know. So calm he was, and yet they did as they were told.
Muriel had very nearly been late for school. She’d begun baking early for a coffee morning, but somehow the cakes had not been ready to come out of the oven and she’d had to wait around. Finally, she’d got to school. She usually put her coat and her keys in the tiny teachers’ room, but being late she’d left them on top of the piano. Halfway through the Juniors’ lesson, half a dozen infants had come running in, shouting: ‘Miss Hipkin! Peri-what’s-it is in the playground.’ They were closely followed by what appeared to be the entire Infant Department. Miss Clark also came hurrying in, hoping to retrieve the Juniors’ singing lesson before it was too late.
Pandemonium reigned. The entire school rushed out to help catch the errant poodle, but by that time, Pericles was over the wall and well on his way down to the beck. With a booming command, Mr Palmer stopped the children from crossing Shepherd’s Hill just in time, and ushered them all back into school. Meanwhile, the singing lesson forgotten, Muriel stumbled on the rough ground as she hurried after him. ‘Pericles, Pericles!’
She shouted in vain. He scampered on, leaving her well behind. Tears began to run over the edges of her eyes and trickle down her face. She hadn’t anyone who cared, apart from Pericles, and even he had decided to desert her. She struggled on, calling his name. Just as she had given up on him and decided to sit down on the grass and wait, Sir Ronald appeared with Pericles tucked under one arm and Lady Bissett’s Pomeranian under the other.
‘Found him digging a big hole down by that rabbit burrow in the bottom field. ’Fraid he’s dirty, Miss Hipkin. Now, now, don’t take on so. He’s safe and sound.’ He handed Pericles to her and she thanked him profusely. Muriel didn’t enjoy being under an obligation to such a common man but she had to tolerate it.
‘Thank you very much indeed. How he got out of the house I don’t know. I do appreciate your kindness, Sir Ronald. Thank you again.’
When she got back to school the caretaker was getting the hall ready for dinners.
‘Sorry to trouble you, Mrs Duckett. I left my coat and keys on top of the piano.’
‘Here’s yer coat but there ain’t no keys with it, Miss Hipkin.’
‘Oh, there are. I left them there.’
‘Only yer coat. There ain’t no keys whatsoever.’
Muriel looked under the piano and moved the chairs about in the hope that they had been knocked off in the excitement.
‘I’ve just put all them chairs ready for dinners, do you mind!’
‘Sorry, Mrs Duckett. Maybe I never locked the house at all – perhaps that’s how Pericles got out. Oh dear, I do hope I haven’t been burgled!’
‘Don’t put that Prickles down in ’ere, this floor’s clean.’
‘Sorry. I’ll be off then.’
She hurried home to find the back door wide open but the front door locked and no sign of her keys. She spent most of the afternoon worrying herself to death. She must pull herself together. Sixty-four didn’t mean you were in your dotage. The keys must be at school somewhere. Her spare ones were hidden under a plant pot in the back garden. She’d use those till the others turned up. What a mercy she’d hidden the spare set in case she ever locked herself
The following Tuesday was not one of Muriel’s better days. She played the piano at the school from 10.30 to 11.30; half an hour for the Infants and then, while they were out at play, half an hour for the Juniors. The first half hour she always enjoyed. Toria Clark was a lovely, lively girl just right for tiny ones, but the Juniors were another story. How Mr Palmer controlled them she didn’t know. So calm he was, and yet they did as they were told.
Muriel had very nearly been late for school. She’d begun baking early for a coffee morning, but somehow the cakes had not been ready to come out of the oven and she’d had to wait around. Finally, she’d got to school. She usually put her coat and her keys in the tiny teachers’ room, but being late she’d left them on top of the piano. Halfway through the Juniors’ lesson, half a dozen infants had come running in, shouting: ‘Miss Hipkin! Peri-what’s-it is in the playground.’ They were closely followed by what appeared to be the entire Infant Department. Miss Clark also came hurrying in, hoping to retrieve the Juniors’ singing lesson before it was too late.
Pandemonium reigned. The entire school rushed out to help catch the errant poodle, but by that time, Pericles was over the wall and well on his way down to the beck. With a booming command, Mr Palmer stopped the children from crossing Shepherd’s Hill just in time, and ushered them all back into school. Meanwhile, the singing lesson forgotten, Muriel stumbled on the rough ground as she hurried after him. ‘Pericles, Pericles!’
She shouted in vain. He scampered on, leaving her well behind. Tears began to run over the edges of her eyes and trickle down her face. She hadn’t anyone who cared, apart from Pericles, and even he had decided to desert her. She struggled on, calling his name. Just as she had given up on him and decided to sit down on the grass and wait, Sir Ronald appeared with Pericles tucked under one arm and Lady Bissett’s Pomeranian under the other.
‘Found him digging a big hole down by that rabbit burrow in the bottom field. ’Fraid he’s dirty, Miss Hipkin. Now, now, don’t take on so. He’s safe and sound.’ He handed Pericles to her and she thanked him profusely. Muriel didn’t enjoy being under an obligation to such a common man but she had to tolerate it.
‘Thank you very much indeed. How he got out of the house I don’t know. I do appreciate your kindness, Sir Ronald. Thank you again.’
When she got back to school the caretaker was getting the hall ready for dinners.
‘Sorry to trouble you, Mrs Duckett. I left my coat and keys on top of the piano.’
‘Here’s yer coat but there ain’t no keys with it, Miss Hipkin.’
‘Oh, there are. I left them there.’
‘Only yer coat. There ain’t no keys whatsoever.’
Muriel looked under the piano and moved the chairs about in the hope that they had been knocked off in the excitement.
‘I’ve just put all them chairs ready for dinners, do you mind!’
‘Sorry, Mrs Duckett. Maybe I never locked the house at all – perhaps that’s how Pericles got out. Oh dear, I do hope I haven’t been burgled!’
‘Don’t put that Prickles down in ’ere, this floor’s clean.’
‘Sorry. I’ll be off then.’
She hurried home to find the back door wide open but the front door locked and no sign of her keys. She spent most of the afternoon worrying herself to death. She must pull herself together. Sixty-four didn’t mean you were in your dotage. The keys must be at school somewhere. Her spare ones were hidden under a plant pot in the back garden. She’d use those till the others turned up. What a mercy she’d hidden the spare set in case she ever locked herself
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