Chapter Nine
Rosy was sitting in her chair – Fridays were office-based days for her whilst Lynne taught their class – swirling as fast as she could. She knew she should be attending to the ream of paperwork on her desk, and she would, but twirling in her chair – just for a second – was one of her favourite things to do, taking her back to an age of pigtails, freckles and home-made perfume. Twirl, swirl, smile.
‘Miss Winter, Mr Grant is here for you. Shall I show him in?’
Rosy jumped from the chair as if it had adders swarming up the legs. She looked at the school secretary in abject horror. How had she not known about this? Could she say ‘No, thank you, not today’? Edward Grant was the bane of every Cornish headteacher’s life, and she needed at least a week of soothing music, meditation and mega-strength mojitos to prepare for their annual meeting. He had always reminded her of Gargamel, the villainous wizard fromThe Smurfs. He wasn’t due in for months. Maybe she had misheard.
‘Edward Grant, Sheila?’
‘Yes, he rang last… oh… oh, oh no… oh, I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Oh, I meant to put it on the system, honestly I did, but well now, what was it that happened? Now… was it… no, that wasn’t it.’ She furrowed her brow and looked down at the floor, shaking her head all the while. Her O’s were rounded with the deep Cornish burr of someone who’s never crossed the Tamar and possibly not even left the village. ‘Was it… oh, could’ve been, no, nope. No, you know what, Rosy, I can’t remember what it was, but I promise I did mean to put it in the thing. On the… oh, you know. Oh, which reminds me, you’ve had Mrs Pascoe and Mrs Trewithen on the phone already this morning. I think it was about… now what was – ah! Yes, they phoned about Mr Grant. Now isn’t that funny?’
‘Right, OK, please show him in. Thank you, Sheila.’
This was not going to be good news. Mr Grant rarely made sudden visits. The only time he visited, outside his annual check, was if he had something alarming to report. This was, it was rumoured, because of the deep joy he took as he delivered bad news, stretching it out in whichever way he could for maximum enjoyment.
‘Miss Winter, an absolute pleasure.’ Edward Grant, black hair slicked across his forehead and shiny suit far too tight around his midriff, entered her office and came forward to shake her hand. She hated this bit, but proffered her hand with her most professional smile, ensuring the shake was as quick as could be and managing not to wipe her hand down her skirt.
‘Mr Grant, do sit down. What a pleasure to see you. How can I help?’ How she wasn’t struck down on the spot she didn’t know.
‘Miss Winter. Always a pleasure. Let’s get right to it. There are some changes afoot and I felt it only right to talk to you in person.’
‘Changes?’ Rosy heard her voice lift up at the end, half daring him to continue, half terrified of what came next.
‘As you know I’m tasked with overseeing all the primary schools in the area, ensuring standards remain high and—’
‘As I’m sure you’re aware, we’ve just been inspected and were deemed outst—’
‘Yes, yes, Miss Winter. If you’d be so kind as to let me finish. I’m tasked with overseeing all the primary schools in the area, ensuring standards remain high and budgets remain under control.’ He took a deep breath and fiddled with his tie. Was she allowed to speak now? She waited a bit longer, just to make sure. He dropped his tie and looked at her, eyebrow raised, stare bold. OK, so now she should speak. God, she hated him. She had visions of oil pooling around the chair where he sat. She hoped there was a sturdy supply of antibacterial spray in the cleaning closet.
‘Well, Mr Gr—’
‘Ifyou’d let me finish.’
Rosy used all her self-control not to roll her eyes or clench her fists, repeating the mantra ‘stay calm’ in her head. Along with ‘don’t give him the satisfaction’. And ‘twat’.
‘And whilst Penmenna is both on target and on budget I’m afraid not all the schools are and, as a whole, the county needs to do some restructuring in specific areas to reduce costs. I’m sure you’re aware that these are lean times, Miss Winter, and we must cut our cloth accordingly.’
I hate him. Twat. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
‘Now, I don’t need to bother your little head with too much detail about county financing, ring fencing and budgets…’ Did he actually just say that? Clearly he had skipped the training about equality and respect within the workplace. ‘…but the upshot is that we will be merging five of the village schools in the surrounding area into one large primary in Roscarrock with four-form entry, which obviously will involve a large initial investment but will ensure year to year running costs are substantially reduced.’
‘Mr Grant, surely—’
‘Miss Winter. I was still talking.’
I hate him. Twat. Don’t give him— Merging?Rosy felt her heart stop, her body freeze and her mind whirr. Four-form entry. No. No, this couldn’t even be a possibility. He was mad. Merge?Breathe. Breathe and listen. Maybe you misheard.
‘…substantially reduced running costs and a much more streamlined delivery of curriculum. Now, obviously you may be concerned about your position in this new school…’
She wasn’t concerned about any such thing! What she was concerned about was the children of Penmenna being uprooted to some kind of soulless, cheap-to-run mega-build, bloody ages away. She took pride in the quality provision Penmenna delivered to all its pupils but especially the children with additional learning needs. Children like Bradley in her own class, whose mum was due in later to discuss how he was doing now he was coming in for full days after an extensive staggered start – the answer was really well, far better than anyone could have hoped.
And not just her own class. Children like Jordan, who really struggled with social interaction and needed the security that a village school can offer so well, sitting in the heart of his community and all that was familiar. Jordan had been selectively mute when he started school and with the help of his specially appointed teaching assistant, Alice, was now able to communicate with his peers and build friendships. Children like Imogen and Jake, both of whom were in Amanda’s class and had such an appalling home life that the security of Penmenna school was what was providing them with a much-needed rudder.
And now that Rosy and her staff had got these children settled and happy they wanted to uproot them and he dared think she was only worried about her own position! Rosy was ready to explode but knew she needed to play a more careful game than that.
She had come into teaching and revelled in being a head because of the positive changes she could make, not to play political games. She wasn’t sure she had the skills needed to play politics, not at that level. She found it hard enough managing the PTA. She guessed she’d better find the skills, though, and fast. And the first step was to hear this odious man out, then formulate a plan – preferably one that involved people who could play politics, and win.
She looked across at him, still pontificating about the importance of cost-cutting measures to the county and not one single word about the welfare of the children or educational outcomes coming from those nasty little lips, which were still moving at speed and managing to weave remarkable levels of condescension and misogyny in as he spoke.
