‘But what do we say?’ There was a panicky edge to Liz’s voice. ‘It’s not as if we can just walk in the staffroom and say, “Hi, we’re just here to see if any of you caused your Ofsted inspector to have a fatal heart attack.”’
Thelma wanted to quote from one of her go-to passages of scripture, from the book of Luke, words to the effect of the Holy Spirit will give the words to say at the moment they’re needed,but before she could put this thought into words, Liz nudged her arm and nodded in the direction of the school gate where the Reverend Caro Miranda had emerged and was walking purposefully towards the white Fiat.
‘Just let me do the talking,’ said Thelma.
‘Oh my God!’ Victoria’s eyes were wide. ‘An inspector croaks!’ The mouth widened into a smile, hastily quelled as she slapped a generous hand over it, nails winking like jewels in the sunlight. ‘Ignore me,’ she said. ‘Poor old Nev Hilton. Though we all have to go some time and I have to say there’s worse ways.’
They were sitting in Victoria’s office, which like the rest of Headley Primary Academy bore the unmistakable signs of the end of the school year; the noticeboard was a forest of thank-you cards, the desk was heaped with papers and no less than three crammed refuse sacks leaned lazily against the wall. Victoria’s watch beeped and she quickly flicked it into view.
‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘We’ve still a few minutes before we Enable Our Goals.’ She laughed. ‘I tell you, Pat, I remember the days when “Zoom” was a type of ice lolly.Anyway, the late Neville—’
‘Did you know him?’
Victoria shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘That is to say I heard him speaking at some trust symposium on Ofsted awareness. You knew he was working for Lodestone?’
Pat nodded.
‘Anyway, he managed to make his sessions as dull as old ditchwater, which takes some doing, given how worked up us mere mortals get about Ofsted. But I know Pete knew him. He spoke to me about Neville Hilton quite a bit after we heard he’d died.’
‘Pete? This is your tame inspector?’
Victoria nodded. ‘I’ll let him tell you,’ she said. ‘It’s his story. Though having sat through Nev Hilton talking about “What Ofsted want”, I wish I’d shouted outBlood!’
‘Are you due an inspection then?’ asked Pat.
Victoria shook her silvery white head. ‘No, praise be. We’ve a couple of years yet – and I’ll be long gone by then.’ She returned Pat’s cynical smile. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘How many times have you heard me say that? But I swear to God, Pat, it was bad enough before but now we’re in Lodestone Trust – they get their knickers in a right old knot!’
Pat, remembering her meeting with Chris Canne, smiled knowingly.
‘I tell you,’ said Victoria. ‘When you’re due – the second that Ofsted window creaks open – the trust sends this team in. The Ofsted Action Support Team – T.O.A.S.T., I know!’ She burst out into that rich chuckle. ‘Popping up all over the place they are! Honestly, Pat, if schools put a fraction of the energy into teaching, they did into passing Ofsted inspections, education in this country would be transformed overnight.’ Her face grew serious. ‘And you think Neville Hilton may have died because of this Ofsted he did?’
‘I honestly don’t know,’ said Pat. ‘The police say he died of natural causes, end of.’
‘But you, Thelma and Liz think otherwise?’
‘We don’t know what to think,’ said Pat. ‘But somebody was shouting at him about Pity Me school. And you say this inspector worked with Neville on the actual inspection?’
‘Ex-inspector – Peter Powell – aka Dreamy Pete. He works here, on a Thursday. Not inspecting but helping out in our food bank.’
Pat stared. ‘How long have you been running a food bank?’ she asked.
‘Since the powers that be axed the funding for the community outreach centre.’ Victoria sighed a deep, weary sigh. ‘We’ve been supporting families more and more, especially since the pandemic, so it seemed a natural next step. Bring on the baked beans! Honest to God, Pat, who’d have thought in 2025 we’d be needing food banks! She sighed again and glanced at her watch. ‘I better takeyou through. As I say we’ve Bun Widdup Zooming imminently and there are some things in life you are not late for!’
‘Who exactlyisthis, Bun Widdup?’ asked Pat, following her through the school, walking round more filled refuse sacks and boxes. ‘Chris Canne was talking to her; she seemed a bit fierce.’
Victoria smiled. ‘The word is “passionate”. Or “enthusiastic”. She’s an education consultant – one of the good guys, believe it or not. I could fill this school with people spouting on about education, but she actually leaves youwantingto do what she’s talking about. My staff all love her, even at the end of term!’ She grinned. ‘And she has the most amazing red and orange African print drapes – what I wouldn’t give for those babies!’
They had arrived at a locked door that would at one time have led through to more classrooms. ‘Down there,’ she said. ‘On the left – shelf city, you can’t miss it.’ She gave Pat a final hug and held her at arm’s length, her eyes suddenly dark and serious. ‘Have a care, lovely girl,’ she said. ‘You and Liz and Thelma, with your detectivating. You know as well as I do how feelings run high with Ofsted and I’d hate for anything to happen to you.’
‘A drink?’ said the Reverend Caro Miranda, leading them into a room at the conclusion of their tour. ‘You must both be parched. ‘Tea? Coffee? Water? I’m sure I can rustle up some juice.’
‘Coffee’s fine,’ said Liz.
‘White no sugar,’ said Thelma.
Caro Miranda nodded and darted out and the door closed behind her with a click. A sudden, blessed peace fell on the stuffy room, which seemed to be a mix between a library and a staffroom. The two friends exchanged glances. Neither woman was much of a drinker but after their tour of Pity Me Infants school they both felt in need of something considerably stronger than coffee.
‘Well,’ said Liz expressively.
