'She's here, Jimbo - Miss Pascoe! We've seen her
car. It's just pulled up outside the school-house. She's got here
earlier than we expected. Where's that box of stuff? Hurry up, we're
waiting!'
Jimbo was at the till taking money. He broke off to pick up a cardboard
box from behind the counter. 'Give her my regards. Here it is. Put
the carrier bag in the drinks fridge in with it, will you? There's
milk and butter and things in there, didn't want it going off.'
Pat Duckett eagerly took charge of the box and the carrier bag and
Hetty Hardaker held open the door while she squeezed through.
'You know, Pat, Jimbo really is very generous. I just hope she appreciates
it. Here, let me take the carrier bag.'
'Right, thanks. Well, you'll have her to deal with more than me, being
a teacher - I'm only the caretaker. I don't mind telling you it'll
be a breath of fresh air, it will. Nothing wrong with old Mr Palmer,
but he did need a kick in the pants as you might say didn't he? A
shaking-up like.'
'He did, but he was still a good teacher. I shall miss him.'
'Too right, so shall I.' Across the road, Pat saw a young woman dressed
in black struggling to get a huge cat basket out of the boot of her
car. 'There she is! Good morning, Miss Pascoe! Welcome to the school.'
Hetty Hardaker's greeting was rather more reserved than Pat's but
just as sincere. 'Welcome, Miss Pascoe.'
Kate put the basket down beside the car and held out her hand. 'Kate,
if you please, and it's Ms Pascoe to the children. Nice to see you
again, Hetty. Looking forward to working with you. You've been here
such a long time, I shall look to you for advice.' She turned to Pat.
'And you must be the caretaker. You were away when I visited the school.'
'Not away, no such luck, but blinking ill with one of them bugs you
get nowadays.'
'Oh, that's right. I remember the rector telling me.'
Hetty indicated the box Pat was carrying. 'This is a 'welcome
to Turnham Malpas gift'' from Jimbo Charter-Plackett at the Store.
There's bread and tins and things, and in here' - she held up the
carrier bag - 'is some milk and butter and cheese too, just to help
you along.'
'The fridge is switched on, I did that yesterday,' Pat said eagerly.
'That's very kind. You wouldn't get that in a city school, would you?'
Hetty agreed. 'I don't think you would. Look, we'll put these inside
for you and leave you to get settled in.'
Pat hitched the box a little higher, for it was beginning to slip
from her grasp. 'The door's open, I left the keys on the windowsill
in case I wasn't here in time.'
She followed Ms Pascoe inside. Somehow, despite having given the house
a good clean, Pat felt the house wasn't 'right' for Ms Pascoe. Didn't
suit her personality. Too faded, too masculine. Still, that was up
to her. She was a modern young thing - well, not that young - thirty
perhaps. She'd make some changes and not half. Time would tell. Pat
hoped she wouldn't make too many changes too soon. New broom and all
that.
'I don't think you could have chosen a colder day. Still no snow yet,
thank goodness. I hear you've been teaching in Africa. Bit of a change,
coming here in winter.'
'Well, I've been back in England for six months now, so I'm getting
acclimatised, thanks. You've been more than kind. I won't hold you
up.'
Seeing it as a dismissal Hetty began to leave followed by Pat, who
in reality would have loved to stay for a chat. She made a stab at
prolonging the conversation. 'Hope you get settled in all right, Ms
Pascoe. If you've any problems, give me a bell. The phone's connected
like you asked and I've put my number by it - just in case.'
'Why, thank you, that's very kind. Thank you too, Hetty, for taking
the time to welcome me. See you soon. Bye bye.'
The two of them walked across the school playground without speaking.
They turned to wave and Kate waved back.
When they were well out of earshot in Jacks Lane, Pat said, 'Dad'll
be home for lunch soon, I must be off. She seems OK.'
'She does, although I'll reserve my judgement yet awhile. Bye Pat,
thanks for coming, I'm sure she appreciated it.'
Kate Pascoe dumped the heavy basket beside the schoolhouse door and,
full of anticipation, looked up at the stone lintel above her head.
A.D.1855. Like Pat had said, the keys had been left for her inside
on the windowsill. Huge old keys - good grief, they could belong to
a prison! Now, alone, she could take time to savour the place. There
came a faint musty smell to her nostrils. She let Cat out of her basket
and watched her step swiftly down the narrow passage to the first
room. Kate followed more slowly.
The room had windows looking out to the side of the playground, curious
old arched windows giving a kind of churchified feeling to the place
- to remind the head teacher that this was a Church of England school
and that he or she must act accordingly? Kate mused.
The walls were a boring beige - a typical old-fashioned bachelor choice.
The fireplace was a kind of 1930's tiled affair, a neat fan of newspaper
concealing the grate. When she pushed open the kitchen door she had
the distinct feeling that it really was 1855. A huge butler sink,
bleached a scorching white, with a wooden draining board stood in
one corner, the brass taps above the sink burnished bright. Beside
what had been a fireplace, but which was now covered by a sheet of
plywood, was a large cupboard, majestic in its proportions. Everywhere
was clean but that was the nicest thing one could say about it. Someone
had made an effort. The kitchen was large enough to have a table in,
she'd do that. There was, thank heavens, plumbing for a washing machine
and an outlet for a dryer, and several power points. Next to the sink
stood an old and stately cooker. It worked! The gas flame flared busily
blue when she turned it on. It had been cleaned, too. How many teachers
had cooked a lonely supper on it? Kate wondered.
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