06 Educating Jack by Jack Sheffield

was the time of the burning of leaves, and smoke from the gardens of Ragley village drifted into a slate-grey sky. The cold days of late autumn were here again and Ragley School flexed its ancient bones to face yet another hard winter.
    At a quarter past ten the children were in good voice in morning assembly. Anne played the first few bars of ‘All things bright and beautiful’ and we all joined in.
    ‘All creatures great and small,’ sang eighty-six lusty voices.
    ‘All things bright and beautiful … All teachers’ graves are small,’ sang Heathcliffe Earnshaw. I gave him a stern look from over my hymn book while trying to suppress a grin. Heathcliffe returned his innocent, glassy-eyed stare, perfected over many years of fruitless accusations.
    This was followed by Jo’s husband, Acting Sergeant Dan Hunter, who gave a talk on the Firework Code. Dan was our six-foot-four-inch local policeman and a popular figure at Ragley School. At the end the children repeated all the safety rules out loud before they went out to play, full of excitement as Bonfire Night drew near.
    During morning break Anne was on playground duty and I was sitting with Jo near the gas fire, checking the results of the Schonell Word Recognition Test for the children in her class. Vera was shaking her head in dismay at the headline in
The Times
: ‘Sunday shopping has official blessing with 58% of women working’.
    ‘It will be a sad day when Sunday is no longer a day of rest,’ she announced.
    ‘Yes, Vera,’ I murmured without conviction. Sally and Jo said nothing. Secretly they were pleased to have an extra opportunity to do their shopping, but they were wise enough not to stop Vera in full flow. Fortunately, there was even worse news.
    ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ said Vera. ‘I blame that young man, Cliff Richard. He’s clearly a distraction.’
    ‘Cliff Richard?’ said Jo, who was a big fan. Lately she’d been playing
Wired for Sound
while she did the ironing on Saturday mornings.
    ‘Yes,’ said Vera. ‘Sue Barker’s form has slumped since she met him.’ It appeared Britain’s number-one lady tennis player was about to lose her top ranking to Jo Durie.
    ‘Well, I’ve heard he’s a very religious man,’ said Sally, immersed in her
Art & Craft
magazine and an article on papier maché Easter Island face-masks.
    Vera looked up. ‘Oh well, perhaps he’s not so bad after all … and his singing can’t last for ever. Perhaps he’ll find something better to do with his time. But in the meantime, he’s definitely a
distraction
.’ Fortunately she cheered up after seeing the photograph of the Queen and the Princess of Wales together after the State Opening of Parliament, and everyone settled to enjoy a welcome cup of coffee on this cold morning.
    ‘And are you calling into Nora’s Coffee Shop after school, Vera?’ I asked.
    ‘Oh yes,’ said Vera, ‘wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
    In the High Street Big Dave and Little Malcolm parked their bin wagon and walked into the Coffee Shop. To celebrate the event, Nora was featuring 1957 hit records on the juke-box and Little Richard was singing ‘Lucille’ when Little Malcolm arrived at the counter.
    Big Dave went to sit at their usual table while Little Malcolm stared up at the love of his life. ‘Y’look lovely today, Dorothy,’ he said.
    Dorothy Humpleby, the five-foot-eleven-inch assistant with the peroxide blonde hair, smiled down at her heartthrob. ‘Ah’ve gone to a lot o’ trouble wi’ it being Nora’s big day,’ she said. Dorothy was wearing
Dallas
shoulder pads under her white frilly blouse, pink-leather hotpants, her favourite Wonder Woman boots and clip-on hula-hoop earrings. ‘For me creamy-smooth skin ah put on me Clinique Porcelain Beige Base, then ah dab me Ivory Glow foundation under me eyes and, to finish off, ah set it wi’ Transparency Loose Powder,’ said Dorothy. ‘It teks ages.’
    ‘Yes, Dorothy, it’s reight classy,’ said Little