The Great Village Show. Alexandra Brown

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СКАЧАТЬ move on. It’s a great chance for him.’

      Lawrence smiles kindly. ‘Absolutely. He deserves it after all the work he put in to get his A-level grades. And he talked about nothing else for months – years even. And how marvellous to be that certain of your future, of what you want to do, of what you want to be! It really is something to be admired.’

      I nod, thinking properly about what Lawrence has just said. ‘That’s true. What an amazing feeling that must be. Hmm, I’m not sure I’ve ever really felt like that,’ I say.

      ‘But you’re a wonderful teacher, or so I’ve heard …’ Lawrence smiles wryly, then puts down his glass and looks seriously at me. ‘So maybe you found your métier anyway, just by chance.’

      ‘It’s true, I do love being a teacher, but I sort of just drifted into it. It fitted in nicely with all Jack’s school holidays … Mrs Pocket, the old head teacher – it was actually her idea.’

      ‘Oh yes, I know Mrs Pocket – prominent on the parish council and does all that genealogy stuff. Firm but foreboding, in a sensible-shoes-and-plaid-skirt, Miss-Jean-Brodie kind of way.’ Lawrence pulls a face.

      ‘Ha! I shall tell her you said that,’ I joke. ‘But seriously, she was an amazing mentor, very inspirational. Anyway, she encouraged me to train properly as a teacher, fitting it in around Jack, and that’s what happened.’

      ‘So you see, you got your chance to shine, and now it’s Jack’s time.’

      I nod in agreement, and glance at the brown envelope on the table.

      ‘Shall it read it myself, or do you want to tell me?’ Lawrence asks softly as he takes the envelope from me and opens the flap.

      ‘Oh Lawrence, I might as well just tell you, but please don’t breathe a word,’ I say, anxiously. ‘I don’t want the villagers – especially the children – to worry.’

      ‘I absolutely promise,’ Lawrence says earnestly.

      ‘OK. Well, put bluntly, it looks as though the village school might have to close!’ I turn away, unable to hold eye contact. Saying the words out loud seems to make it sound so much more inevitable.

      ‘Hang on a minute,’ Lawrence eventually says, weighing each word carefully, ‘but can they do that? Just close a school? What about the children’s education? Surely there are laws – don’t children have a legal right to an education in this country?’

      ‘Absolutely!’

      ‘So how come then?’ Lawrence lifts his eyebrows. ‘I mean, it’s a bit out of the blue, isn’t it?’

      ‘Sure is. A team of inspectors turned up today and are going to be assessing the viability of the school over the coming months … working out the cost of everything we do and use,’ I tell him.

      ‘I see.’ Lawrence’s calm tones are incredibly reassuring. ‘So what does that mean in real terms?’

      ‘It means, because our pupil numbers are dwindling, the council wants to see if it’s worth keeping the school open.’

      ‘But of course it is.’ His eyebrows rise. ‘It’s at the centre of everything. And didn’t most of the people here in Tindledale go to the school?’

      ‘Yes,’ I sigh, ‘but realistically it comes down to money at the end of the day. If the school …’ And it really does feel like my school, and I’m sure all the other villagers feel the same way – the school belongs to each and all of us together, Lawrence is right; we love the school, it’s just been a part of Tindledale life for ever and ever – since the mists of time, and I’m not even exaggerating. ‘… isn’t deemed affordable any more, then they’ll close us down.’

      ‘But surely it’s not just about money – what about all the extra stuff you do? The special needs support? Just last week you were telling me how well that little boy recently diagnosed with ADHD was doing.’ Lawrence now seems as shocked as I did when I first heard the news. ‘It’s about a whole community.’

      ‘I know, and you know, but from the point of view of the council, unless I can find a way to attract more children to the school, then it’ll be closed down.’

      ‘That’s too bad …’ Lawrence lets out a long whistle.

      ‘Well, it is a massive problem: there are only four children in this year’s Reception class and the nursery numbers are dropping too, so next September’s intake could be even less. We have capacity for sixty children in total, but there are currently only forty-nine, so unless we can find an additional eleven children, it’s cheaper for the council to pay for the school bus to collect my pupils and take them to the big school in Market Briar,’ I explain, having already gleaned this gem of information from the woman I spoke to on the phone at the council. I called right after I had inhaled my ham and homemade plum chutney sandwich at lunchtime, and before I went to spend the other twenty minutes of my lunch break helping Archie Armstrong with his speech therapy exercises because his mum, another single parent, is profoundly deaf so can’t really do it herself. So, firstly, I enquired as to why the council felt it necessary to send in a team, without warning, followed by a formal letter, and not just pick up the phone to chat about it first, and secondly to ask what this means in real terms, to which I was told, and quite tersely I have to say, that unless the pupil numbers pick up, the school will most likely close at the end of the next academic year, with a decision made by the end of this year’s summer holiday period. So we’ll know in September.

      ‘Hmm, well, from a purely selfish perspective, I need the village children close by for the Christmas pantomime rehearsals – how else am I going to find twenty singing children to perform “Ten Little Elves” for the grand finale? And be available to rehearse during the school day?’ Lawrence shakes his head as we sit quietly, each of us pondering, searching for a solution.

      ‘Well, you won’t. And I can hardly see the head teacher at the big school in Market Briar agreeing to let you use the school hall for rehearsals because the village hall’s heating has packed up again,’ I puff, and it’s a very good point, one I must remember to bring up at the village show meeting, as last time the judges commented on how it was extremely chilly in the village hall – and that was in summer time, so they ‘dreaded to think how arctic it might be in winter’. We don’t want to get marked down again for making the same mistake – perhaps we could get some plug-in radiators or something, if the parish council can be persuaded to part with some funding.

      ‘So what are we going to do then?’ Lawrence looks concerned.

      ‘Well, short of asking if any of the villagers plan on adopting lots of school-age children in the next few months, I have no idea! But one thing I do know, Lawrence,’ I pause to take a breath, ‘is that I’m not going to stand by and let the inspectors close down my school. Certainly not!’ I say, getting into my stride.

      ‘Good! That’s the spirit,’ Lawrence rallies. ‘We need to attract new blood to the village – young families, young couples to have lots of babies – yes, and how about Sybs and Dr Ben? I wonder if they’ve talked about having a family yet. A BIG one.’

      ‘Hmm. Funnily enough, Sybs didn’t mention it when I saw her yesterday,’ I joke.

      ‘Then you must ask her right away!’ Lawrence turns to face me with a very serious look on his face. ‘There’s no time СКАЧАТЬ