03 Dear Teacher Read Online Free

loud voices from the staff-room.
    ‘Is everything OK now?’ asked Vera anxiously.
    ‘ ’Tis now,’ said Maurice.
    Little Tony, with a big smile on his face, propped the broom handle in the staff-room doorway and set off back to the classroom.
    ‘I’m pleased to hear that,’ said Vera.
    Mrs Dudley-Palmer and I could hear every word but the speakers were out of sight.
    ‘All t’better for seeing Petula,’ said Maurice, holding up the caged mouse in triumph.
    Petula Dudley-Palmer stiffened slightly.
    ‘Well, I’m sure you have an expert eye,’ said Vera.
    ‘Petula’s allus been such a ’andsome creature,’ said Maurice, pushing a piece of carbolic soap towards the tiny mouse.
    Mrs Dudley-Palmer smiled and I stepped forward quickly and shut the door between the office and the corridor to the staff-room.
    ‘Well, must be on m’way,’ said Maurice and he strode out towards the car park.
    In the office, Mrs Dudley-Palmer gave a beatific smile and replaced the prospectus in her leather handbag. ‘Do you know, Mr Sheffield, that was most fortuitous.’
    ‘Really?’ I said.
    ‘Yes, it’s always nice to know that one is held in such high regard in the village.’
    ‘Er, yes,’ I said. ‘I agree.’
    ‘Perhaps my darling little girls should stay at Ragley after all.’
    ‘Well, er, that would be good news,’ I said and we walked out into the entrance hall, where Vera was standing next to the open staff-room door. The smell of strong soap filled the air.
    ‘Oh, carbolic soap, Miss Evans,’ said Mrs Dudley-Palmer, sniffing appreciatively. ‘That takes me back to when I was young. I’ve always had an attraction to carbolic soap.’
    Vera smiled and looked to the heavens as Mrs Dudley-Palmer walked out to her Rolls-Royce.
    ‘An eventful day, Mr Sheffield,’ said Vera.
    I glanced at my watch. I should have been back in my classroom. ‘I’ll tell you about it at the end of school,’ I said.
    There was a sudden banging on the office door. ‘Oh dear,’ I groaned, ‘whatever next?’ I picked up the strange-looking broom handle and opened the door.
    Mrs Winifred Brown was standing there, clutching little Damian Brown’s hand. ‘Ah’m tekking ’im now,’ she said and then looked down at the broom handle in my hand. ‘Oh, y’found it, then,’ and she grabbed it.
    ‘Pardon?’
    ‘Y’found ’is light sabre, then?’
    The penny dropped. Ruby’s spare broom handle was in fact Damian Brown’s
Star Wars
weapon. I was speechless.
    Jo Hunter, who had been standing quietly behind me, stepped forward. ‘I would appreciate it, Mrs Brown,’ she said very firmly, ‘if you would try to avoid Damian missing school. This is not the best start to the term for him to miss the last lesson of his first day.’
    Mrs Brown looked down at the slight, quietly spoken infant teacher and sneered. ‘Prob’ly jus’ as well. Ah saw t’pest controller’s van ’ere an’ ah shouldn’t be s’prised to ’ear from our Damian that y’riddled wi’ vermin.’
    Jo Hunter stepped forward and raised herself to her full five-feet-three-inches and stared up at Mrs Brown. ‘Let’s have an understanding, Mrs Brown,’ said Jo in a determined voice. Winifred Brown took a step back. ‘If you promise not to believe everything Damian says happens in school, I’ll promise not to believe everything he says happens at home.’ Jo had clearly struck a nerve. The colour drained from Mrs Brown’s face and she retreated quickly. Jo closed the door and muttered, ‘I’ll give her vermin!’
    Anne and Vera both clapped in appreciation. ‘Well said, Jo,’ said Vera.
    ‘And now it’s time for another little mouse,’ said Anne as she held up her Beatrix Potter book. I walked back to class with her and watched as she sat down with her children in the carpeted Book Corner. Anne surveyed the expectant little faces of the four- and five-year-olds at her feet. Then she held up the picture on the front cover of the book and said