Chapter 4

I awoke early on the Sunday morning from an erotic dream involving my three nymphets, before wincing slightly at how they’d easily got past my guard and into my bed. Finally I pulled myself out of the bed, having decided on such platitudes as spilt milk and other excuses to avoid thinking on just how turned on I had been over them.

Today I had been told was Intake Day, in that a lot of the full boarders would be dropped off today and I would be expected to help. I had, however, not been informed as to what help would be needed, so I presumed it was carrying cases and such.

Still, such things were for later and I swiftly sorted out my ablutions and headed down for breakfast a little early, though not early enough to avoid getting the evil eye from Susan Hatchett, albeit a slightly hungover one. I had to admit though, I wasn’t sure where someone of her ... predilections would find solace around here, but, clearly, she had and I was grateful that it had made Saturday evenings an all clear period for the girls.

Finally though, the doors to the cafeteria were opened and I made my way to my seat, finding that the dining hall staff had increased the lengths of all the tables, presumably to deal with the greater number of pupils who would be attending from this day.

The resident pupils then filed in and the ritual began, though Trinny looked quite radiant, with a very healthy glow to her cheeks.

“I take it everyone slept well?” I asked in general.

“The sleep of the innocent,” Trinny quipped as the others all nodded happily.

“Tomorrow the term begins in earnest. Those who will attend my classes should prepare to work hard and the reward, I assure you, will be yours,” I stated, giving a little pep talk.

“Oh, I intend to work very hard under you,” Trinny replied quietly with a demure smile.

“Then you’ll no doubt reap the rewards,” I nodded giving nothing away.

“Oh, I intend to, Mr Howard,” she replied.

After breakfast I was going over the lesson plans I’d made for the umpteenth time when the school bell went off to summon the staff down to the main central block. I followed the others into the gym where I saw several tables set out with names and positions notices upon them. It seemed the duties that were expected of me involved glad-handing the various parents who wanted to discuss their child’s prospects. Sort of like a parents’ evening, but with no knowledge of just who would turn up, or what would be discussed.

I soon found my table and sat, pulling out my lesson plans again, suspecting I was in for a very long day.

At 10 am on the dot, the doors opened and the parents came in, some with a child in tow, others having presumably dropped theirs off to go to their dorms.

“Mr Howard?” a well-dressed woman announced herself, complete with a husband (I presumed) and a daughter, who looked to be mid-teens.

“Good morning and yes,” I greeted them politely (it never hurts to be polite).

“I’m Freda Mallory. This is my husband, Ted, and my daughter, Elaine,” she introduced herself, unusually in this case for a woman to do so.

“I’m very pleased to meet you. Please sit and tell me how I can help you,” I replied, guessing just who wore the trousers in that household (whose name wasn’t Ted).

“Elaine did poorly in her mathematics O-level last year, despite previous schools regarding her as a bit of a maths prodigy. We wonder just what it is you intend to do better,” she enquired.

“I’m bringing the maths teaching into line with modern standards and starting remedial classes and individual tuition for those I believe were failed by the previous tutor,” I replied, wondering whether Elaine was a prodigy or not and doubting it slightly.

“Can you guarantee Elaine will pass at a higher grade?” she asked.

“No,” I replied. “However, if she applies herself and puts in the necessary effort and convinces me that she’s worth the effort, I will put Elaine’s name down for the re-sits in January, she will then have a very good chance, in my eyes, of improving her grades.”

“I demand you put her name down anyway.”

“No.”

“I shall go over your head, to Mrs Goodfried.”

“Feel free, I can almost guarantee you though that if I do not think Elaine has reached the required standards, her grades will not improve,” I replied, seeing Freda Mallory being taken somewhat aback by my reply.

“Freda, my dear, he’s not saying he won’t, he’s saying that Elaine must prove to him she’s good enough and we both know she is,” Ted spoke for the first time, mollifying his wife somewhat.

“Is this so, Mr Howard?” she asked with a gimlet eye.

“Indeed, Mrs Mallory. My standards are high. If Elaine is good enough I will push her to her limits and her grades will skyrocket. But, that’s down to Elaine, not you or I,” I replied politely.

“Yes ... yes, I see what you mean,” she finally agreed.

We exchanged a few more platitudes before they moved off and another set of parents stepped in.

This carried on until lunch time when there was a break before starting all over again. Indeed, it was noticeable that the queue to speak to me was far longer than the queue to any other tutor, though as far as I was aware, I wasn’t taking any more time than anyone else.

I did meet Trinny, Teresa and Angela’s parents though and promised them every assistance to get the girls back on the right track.

Finally though, there was only one interviewer left who introduced herself as Mrs Edwards, mother of Carol.

“I’m told you’re making big promises,” she began after the introductions.

“To those girls who are prepared to put in the effort in their later years, yes,” I replied.

“What makes you so different?”

“I keep my job if I succeed,” I chuckled.

“A good motivation,” she replied with a twinkle in her eyes.

“The very best,” I replied with a grin.

“I nearly withdrew Carol from this school. Please don’t let me regret my decision to allow her to remain when I heard there was a new maths tutor,” she stated.

“If Carol puts in the work, I’ll ensure she reaps the rewards,” I replied.

“That’s all I ask,” she nodded, before closing the conversation with the usual platitudes.

After that I tidied up my notes and made sure they were in order. Most parents it seemed had been contemplating withdrawing their sons and daughters, but had held off when they learned the school had a new maths tutor. I resolved at least to get the pupils grades higher whilst I could, though still had my doubts as to whether the school would keep me on.

Unnoticed to me, Jennifer had wandered up. It seems she also had duties this day, probably in regards to collecting the fees for the school.

“Hi Howard. Sorry about this, I forgot to warn you,” she semi-apologised with a sly smile.

“It went well, though I was surprised how many wanted to speak to me,” I replied with a chuckle.

“That was my doing. I put a note about having a new maths tutor in the school mailing shot,” she replied.

“Kept the numbers up if nothing else,” I shrugged. “There is something you may be able to help with though.”

“Do tell, Mr Howard,” she replied fluttering her eyelashes, before giggling slightly.

“That too,” I chuckled, watching her blush delightfully. “However, this is about O-level re-sits.”

“Ah yes, not easy. Old prune face has made it mandatory for her to countersign any requests and only boys are getting through at the moment,” she replied.

“There has to be a way, even if I pay for it myself,” I said thoughtfully.

“Expensive,” Jennifer commented.

“I know. I believe I can afford it and it would help to justify my position here should she want to decide I’m not worth keeping,” I replied.

“Yes, you don’t do low profile very well, do you, and Susan Hatchett’s been bending her ear today about your frivolous use of passes,” Jennifer warned. “That said I brought up the matter of Hatchett’s own use of passes for her ‘favourites’ and she dropped the matter rather quickly.”

“Thank goodness someone’s got my back,” I chuckled.

“I’ll get the paperwork ready. If the exam’s paid for then after that it’s out of the school’s hands. They have to legally permit a pupil to take a scheduled exam. Plus, if the results are as good as you believe they will be, do you realise prune face will steal your glory?” Jennifer replied with a grin.

“I don’t need glory, I just need a roof over my head,” I laughed as Rupert came over to collect his wife.

“You seemed popular,” he enquired, blanking Jennifer as usual.

“New face and a lot of curiosity as to whether the grades will improve,” I replied politely.

“Ah yes, not as good as they could have been,” he nodded.

“True, but I believe I can turn that around, so long as Mrs Goodfried gives me the space to do it,” I replied, knowing Rupert was her nephew.

“I may be able to help there, but one good turn will deserve another,” he replied, though my mind went ‘uh oh’.

“Do tell,” I enquired.

“Jennifer and I have received a dinner invite to Sargisson Manor in two night’s time, however due to another pressing matter, I cannot attend. I’m hoping you could take Jennifer and represent the school; try and drum up a little additional funding etc,” he stated.

“I’d be delighted,” I replied. “Assuming Jennifer is willing, of course.”

“Oh, she is, though you’ll be expected to stay overnight,” he replied for her.

“Separate rooms, I presume?” I enquired.

“I wouldn’t know,” he answered dismissively. “Anyway, you do this for me and I’ll put in a good word for you with Aunty May.”

“Deal,” I replied and we shook hands, before he headed off.

“He doesn’t want to go because he hates Peter Sargisson for some reason,” Jennifer explained.

“It doesn’t matter, because you’ll be there,” I chuckled.

“Yes, and hopefully we’ll be in rooms next to each other,” she grinned before following her husband.

I took my papers back to my room and decided that a trip to the pub was in order as I just needed a break from the school, though not the friends I had made there. A quick drive into town soon had me parked outside the pub and, after a quick diversion to a phone box to call my mother just to let her know I was still alive, I headed for the entrance.

“Oh, it’s Mr Howard, isn’t it?” came a query from behind me.

I turned and found myself facing Mrs Edwards, whose presence here was rather mystifying.

“It is indeed, Mrs Edwards...” I began.

“Oh, call me Karen, please,” she broke in.

“Thank you, Karen. It’s actually Howard, not Mr Howard, the school mixed it up and it’s too late to change it. I didn’t realise you were a local,” I replied politely.

“Oh, sorry, I can see how that might complicate things. We’re not from around here, I’m just staying at the local hotel after dropping Carol off, got a long trip back tomorrow and didn’t want to end it in the dark,” she replied with a friendly smile.

“No Mr Edwards?” I asked.

“Work tomorrow, early. He couldn’t make it,” she replied. “Left me at a little of a loss as there’s really nothing to do here except stay in my room,” she replied alluding to the fact that ‘respectable’ women didn’t go into pubs on their own. “Then I saw you go to the phone box.”

“Well, can’t have you bored,” I chuckled. “Would you care to join me for a drink?”

“I’d be delighted, Howard. Thank you,” she replied with a brilliant smile.

We went into the snug and I ordered her a gin and tonic with ice as she requested and I had my usual pint.

“So, you really believe you can turn this whole maths thing around?” she asked.

“The maths thing, yes, the school ... not so much,” I admitted.

“St Winifred’s reputation has been falling for the last decade,” Karen replied.

“Too many staff just marking time to their retirement, teaching the same things they taught for years. No consideration for anything new in their topics, particularly when it comes to the girls,” I shrugged.

“Yes, all they expect is to turn out nice little homemakers,” she sighed.

“Back in 1950, that might have been enough, now, not so much. Girls have brains and are just as capable of using them as the boys,” I replied. “Most schools have realised this and now cater for that fact.”

“But not St Winifred’s,” she added.

“Not yet, perhaps not ever, unless I can turn things around,” I nodded.

“Your youth counts against you a little,” she agreed.

“I have a couple of unlikely allies,” I chuckled, alluding to Jennifer and Rupert, though he was an unwitting one.