‘Good,’ said Mel, clapping her hands together. ‘Now we’ve got names under our belts, would you like to have a look around?’
‘Yes, please.’
Mel led us through to a small hall, gym equipment packed to one side, and a stage set up in another corner. ‘We’re only a small school, as you can probably tell,’ said Mel, ‘but we like to punch above our weight.’
‘How many classes are there?’
‘Three, all mixed age-groups. They’re more of a challenge to teach, but we find it works well for our pupils. We run several after-school clubs, and of course we have my pride and joy, the brass band.’ Mel stopped beside a framed photograph on the wall. In it were about thirty children holding a variety of instruments. Mel sat in pride of place at the front, a French horn balanced on her knee. ‘My father was a brass teacher. When he died, instead of leaving me money in his will, he left it to the school on the condition we buy enough instruments for every pupil.’
I smiled, but wondered how I’d feel if my father made such an unusual bequest in his will.
‘I’d like to learn the trumpet,’ said Bertie.
‘Since when?’ I asked, trying to remember if he’d ever expressed an interest in music before.
‘For ages,’ he said, crossing his arms.
‘Hmm, you don’t find many trumpets in a brass band. How about a cornet? It’s just like a trumpet but produces a warmer sound. Does that sound OK?’
‘Yes,’ said Bertie with a grin.
‘Then cornet you shall learn, if you enrol in the school, of course.’
‘Do you have spaces?’ I asked, feeling the conversation was heading off in a brass band-themed tangent.
‘Oh yes. If you and Bertie decide this school is a good fit, we can fill out all the forms before you leave.’
I tried to focus as Mel showed us around each of the classrooms, but I was struggling to wrap my head around this recent turn of events. Last week I thought we were coming to Cornwall for a couple of weeks’ holiday, and now here we were, signing Bertie up to school, me taking on a new job, and with the prospect of sharing a bedroom with a beginner brass player.
Chapter Twenty
Iheld the phone away from my ear as Cass shrieked down the line.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’m just as surprised as you.’
‘I knew that place would be good for you,’ said Cass. ‘I felt it in my bones. But to have got a job, a six-month plan, and a school place for Bertie, all within a few days. That’s blown my mind.’
‘Mine too.’
‘What’s the school like?’
‘About as different from Bertie’s last one as it’s possible to be. They have a big focus on creative activities and sport. And I’ve not even told you about the brass band yet.’
‘Hang on,’ said Cass, ‘I’ve just got home. Hold on a sec while I open the door.’
‘No, don’t worry, I’ll call you back this evening. I need to get going or I’ll be late for swimming. And I’ve got my first meeting about the lake project straight after, so I need to go too.’
‘Swimming? Wow, you must call me later, there’s so much to catch up on.’
‘Will do. Love you.’
‘Love you too.’
‘Was that Aunt Cass?’ asked Bertie.
‘Yes, she was on her way home from work. We should invite them to come and see us here soon. Would you like that?’
‘Yes, I can show Jake and Emmy all the animals. They’ll be so jealous. The animals are way cooler than a black bedroom.’
