06 Educating Jack Read Online Free Page B

horse-chestnut trees and at his feet a pile of glossy conkers had burst out of their spiky shells.
    ‘Ith all right, Mithter Theffield,’ lisped Jimmy. ‘Ah’m juth thowing my thithter ’ow t’collect conkerth,’ he shouted back cheerfully. ‘Anyway ah’ve finithed now,’ he added as he hid his special stick under a pile of leaves for another day. After all, when you’re ten years old you never know when a good stick might come in useful. I smiled and drove into the car park without comment, recalling that I had done exactly the same thing thirty years ago.
    The school was welcoming on this autumn morning. In the border outside Sally’s classroom, chrysanthemums, red, bronze and amber, were bright in the low September sunshine and Mrs Earnshaw was sweeping the first of the autumn leaves from the stone steps leading to the entrance door.
    Outside the school office our local vicar, the Revd Joseph Evans, a tall, thin figure with a clerical collar and a sharp Roman nose, was looking anxiously at his lesson notes. Joseph came in once each week to lead ‘spiritual guidance’ as he called it, or, to be more precise, to read Bible stories to the children with a follow-up discussion. While Joseph was calm and confident with his congregation on a Sunday morning, somehow life wasn’t quite the same when he was faced with a class of young children. By morning break he was usually tearing out what was left of his grey hair.
    Joseph had never married and was totally reliant on his well-organized elder sister. The two of them shared the beautifully furnished vicarage in the grounds of St Mary’s Church along with Vera’s three cats. It was well known that Maggie, a sleek black cat with white paws, was named after Vera’s political heroine, Margaret Thatcher. For Joseph, it was a life that filled him with contentment … that was, until he realized that the news of Vera’s marriage would change his world for ever. So it was that, on this peaceful September morning, his lesson with Sally Pringle’s class filled him with even more doubts. It had just occurred to him that his theme, ‘How to Get to Heaven’, might be a difficult concept for eight-and nine-year-olds.
    At ten o’clock I was listening to Dean Kershaw reading his
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story book when the ever-alert Theresa Ackroyd made an announcement. She delivered it without appearing to look up from her School Mathematics Project workcard concerning the difference between obtuse and acute angles. However, as Theresa had placed her chair strategically so that she never missed anything going on outside the classroom window, it was clear that she already possessed a meaningful and very practical understanding of angles, regardless of whatever peculiar name they were given. ‘Major’s posh car comin’ up t’drive, Mr Sheffield,’ she said with calm authority.
    A large black classic Bentley purred into the car park. As usual, Major Rupert Forbes-Kitchener arrived in style from his stately home of Morton Manor and a chauffeur in a smart grey uniform and a peaked cap got out and opened the rear door. As a school governor, the major was a regular visitor, even more so now that he and Vera were engaged to be married. ‘The potted plant, please, Tomkins,’ he said and the chauffeur took a beautiful orchid from the boot of the car. The major checked that every purple-white petal was perfect, walked into school and tapped on the office door.
    Vera was filling the Gestetner duplicating machine with ink prior to sending out a note to parents about next month’s half-term holiday and she smiled when she saw who it was. ‘Rupert, what a lovely surprise.’
    ‘For you, my dear,’ he said and placed the orchid on the window ledge.
    ‘Thank you, it’s beautiful,’ said Vera. She replaced the lid on the can of ink and walked over to the window to admire the beautiful plant in more detail. ‘But I wasn’t expecting you.’
    Rupert removed his Sherlock Holmes