He sighed, took a sip of the coffee Tania had made and pulled a face. ‘If only the head teacher had been there,’ he said. ‘By all accounts she was one amazing woman – but she was off sick and her deputy was acting head. Nervy chap. From the get-go he got very defensive with Nev, really butting heads with him. How dare Nev be questioning their practice.’ He shook his head. ‘The staff – the governors – they lined up right behind him – and the more they kicked back, the more stubborn Nev became.’
Pat nodded; she could well imagine it. ‘Could you not have intervened?’ she asked. ‘You were one of the inspectors.’
‘But not the lead inspector.’ He sighed despondently into his coffee. ‘I tried,’ he said. ‘Believe you me, I tried –but at the end of the day, Nev was the lead inspector and there’s some pretty hefty protocols around these things. I tried talking to Nev – but he wasn’t for listening to me, or anyone for that matter.’
‘It all got quite heated I heard?’ prompted Pat.
Peter Powell nodded. ‘I reckon,’ he said, ‘we were lucky not to get our tyres let down.’
‘Was there anyone in particular,’ started Pat.
‘—who might go after Neville eight months later, driving him to an early grave?’ finished Peter. Again, those eyes met Pat’s. They really were a gorgeous shade of blue. He shrugged. ‘Everyone was angry the Leadership was given that judgement of Inadequate. The chair of governors – well, I remember thinking it was a goodjob she was a woman of the cloth. At one point I thought she was going to go for our throats. One of the teachers, young lass – the one whose paperwork hadn’t been there – she had a right go at us during the feedback. Stormed out in tears.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘It shouldn’t ever need to be like that.’
‘And the deputy’s partner?’
Peter Powell’s face broke into a sudden, sunny grin. ‘I’d forgotten him,’ he said. ‘Do forgive me. I wouldn’t say he confronted Neville so much as reasoned with him. Collared him by his car, asked him to find his inner peace and karma.’ The grin broadened. ‘He even asked Nev to hug it out.’
Pat, remembering Neville Hilton, found herself grinning too.
Peter’s face grew sombre. ‘I heard about the lad – the deputy who died,’ he said. ‘I felt very bad about that. He was in a terrible state by the time we left. And yes, I do feel responsible.’ He took an absent-minded sip of Tania’s coffee and again pulled a face. ‘Teaching’s so personal,’ he said. ‘Running a school – it’s not about rules and spreadsheets, no matter how much the powers that be think it should be.’
Pat nodded, remembering her own years in school – so many memories, so many emotions, none of them boring. Noisy shouts made them both look outside. The end of the school day, nearly the end of the school year, children charging out of the doors, eager for whatever the summer afternoon had in store, followed more slowly by parents and grandparents fanning themselves and calling their charges to slow down.
Peter watched them, eyes far away. ‘You take your energy and you use it to connect with others.That’swhat education is about. That’s why I love coming to places like here – meeting people like Victoria. And that’s why after the whole Pity Me inspection fiasco I decided that was it. I came home and said, “Sandy: that’s me done.” Which is why I find myself in places like this, manhandling the pasta sauce and the disposable nappies.’ Again, the grin broke out, a rueful, reflective grin. Looking at this passionate, wiry anddefinitely dreamy man, Pat found herself wondering if Sandy – whoever she was – knew how lucky she was.
Thelma and Liz exchanged glances as Chloe stalked back into the school. ‘That is one very angry young lady,’ said Liz, shaking her head.
Thelma nodded. ‘There seems to have been something about Neville Hilton that brought out that side of people,’ she said.
Liz nodded her head again as she shaded her eyes, looking in her bag for more tissues and car keys. ‘It seems to be my week for facing angry people,’ she said, unlocking the white Fiat.
Thelma nodded. Watching the terraced houses of Pity Me slide by she reflected on the two angry people she’d encountered that day: Caro Miranda, bitter and outraged; Chloe Lord, hot and explosive. But for all that there’d been a common element underlying their anger. Rage. The rage, Thelma thought, that comes with grief.
As they approached the roundabout at the start of the Durham bypass, Thelma said, ‘There’s the road Davey Fletcher was taking when he crashed that day.’
Both thought of that smiling man from Chloe’s memorial board, his fateful winter journey over the moor’s road. On a day such as today it was almost impossible to conceive of any such thing as a blizzard. Liz looked at the road sign:A171 Whitby and Scarborough.
The A171.
‘How very odd,’ she said frowning.
‘What?’ said Thelma.
‘That road – the A171. When I was looking through Neville’s complaints file, that’s one of the things he was complaining about … the dangerous state of the A171.’
Chapter Fourteen
Wednesday 23rd July
From the Hambleton Amblers Not Ramblers Facebook Page:
Please be aware that due to the extreme heat, today’s Abbey-to-Abbey Saunter has once again been postponed, this time until next month. Keep putting on that sunblock, Amblers!
‘How about now?’ The light behind Liz’s head flared whitely, reducing her to a spectral silhouette.
‘We can hear you fine,’ said Pat. ‘It’s just the light.’
‘The sun’s all wrong in here,’ said Liz crossly. ‘Derek’s in his study. I can’t sit in the conservatory; it’s like a sauna. The kitchen is the only place left with decent Wi-Fi—’
