The Heart of the Dales by Gervase Phinn Page A

which curled like question marks below a shiny pate, was in the headteacher’s room when I arrived there at afternoon break.
    â€˜I believe you know Mr Phinn, Archdeacon,’ said the head-teacher as I entered the room.
    â€˜Yes, indeed,’ chortled the Chairman of the School Governors, extending a small plump hand. ‘We met at Manston Hall a few years ago, did we not, Mr Phinn?’ He turned to the headteacher to explain. ‘We were on a planning committee chaired by Lord Marrick, set up to organise the event to mark the five hundred years of the establishment of the Feoffees.’ The archdeacon spoke with the same lilting, birdlike trill as the headteacher.
    â€˜Freebies?’ exclaimed Mrs Braddock-Smith, her eyes lightingup at the thought, no doubt, of more funding that might come her way. ‘Did you say freebies?’
    â€˜No, no, Barbara,’ chuckled the cleric. ‘The Feoffees. I won’t bore you with the details but suffice it to say that the Feoffees are of ancient provenance, founded in the reign of Henry VII, the first of the Tudor monarchs, to maintain law and order.’
    â€˜I can’t say that I have ever heard of them,’ said the head-teacher, making a small dismissive gesture.
    â€˜They were very important in their day,’ announced the archdeacon, preparing to do the very thing he proclaimed he would not do – bore us with the details. ‘The Feoffees were typically composed of a group of local gentry, important landowners and civic worthies, men who held high rank or –’
    Mrs Braddock-Smith interrupted the archdeacon. ‘Well, I can’t say that I have ever heard of them,’ she said.
    The archdeacon faltered momentarily but then continued. ‘I am a Feoffee myself,’ he said proudly and proceeded to give us the full benefit of his knowledge of this arcane institution.
    The headteacher was patient for about a minute then she gently interrupted the archdeacon a second time. ‘Perhaps you could tell me all about it another time. In fact, we could discuss it at the next governors’ meeting, Archdeacon,’ she said. ‘I thinkthe school is a very worthy cause, and if the Feoffees are a charitable group, perhaps they could send a bit of money our way. Some extra funding for the new play area we have planned would be very welcome.’
    â€˜Maybe,’ Archdeacon Richards replied and swiftly changed the subject. ‘And what do you make of our school, then, Mr Phinn?’
    â€˜I’ve only been in the building for a little over an hour,’ I told him, ‘but I am impressed with what I have seen so far.’
    â€˜I hope you feel the same after my assembly,’ said the clergyman. ‘I must own that I do feel a trifle nervous at the thought of a school inspector sitting at the back of the hall with his little black book.’
    â€˜Oh, I feel certain that Mr Phinn will not find anythingamiss,’ the headteacher said quickly. ‘I was telling him about our outstanding results. I don’t think he’ll find better readers in the whole county and I should hazard to say that the written work is well above that of children in many schools.’
    â€˜It is true we are justifiably proud,’ said the archdeacon softly.
    â€˜Mr Phinn visited the Junior School this morning,’ observed Mrs Braddock-Smith, giving the chairman of governors a knowing look. I had suspected that it would not be long before the situation at Ugglemattersby Juniors was raised.
    â€˜Really?’ said the archdeacon.
    â€˜Yes, I did,’ I replied simply.
    â€˜And how is Mr Harrison?’ he asked in the most solicitous of voices.
    â€˜He’s very well,’ I lied. There’s no way, I thought to myself, that I was going to discuss the problems of the headteacher of another school with Mrs Braddock-Smith and her chairman of governors, particularly in a village where the jungle