No! No, no, no, no.
School was the focus, her only focus, and that, she had a feeling, was going to be crazy. The building lay in front of her, Victorian and built out of the granite that played such a role in the Cornish landscape, with its two separate entrances that were the norm at the time it was built, when girls and boys were segregated. She smiled as she walked into the historic building. It had been a school for over one hundred and fifty years, standing firm through fire and flood, world wars and massive social change; she was damn sure she wasn’t going to let Edward Grant and his cost-cutting ruin that now. But she would have to assemble a crack team. She needed people who were good at playing the system, networking and then exploiting those contacts. People who liked responsibility, enjoyed a battle and winning. She needed someone who could motivate and mobilize the parents whilst ensuring it didn’t become too militant.
Luckily, she had the perfect person. She couldn’t help but smile as her eyes alighted on Marion Marksharp scurrying across the hall, shouting at other less alpha mothers about the correct placement of bunting. Angles were, apparently, of paramount importance for a Valentine’s disco. That woman was like a terrier with a rat; there was no escape.
She was perfect.
‘Marion, Marion!’ Rosy called across the hall. ‘That quick catch-up I mentioned on Friday, is now a good time?’
Rosy walked back to her office watching the children as they streamed into school, bags and hair flying around them, the clatter of lunch boxes and high-pitched chatter. Peering through windows she saw them start their pre-register activities: the little ones making fizzy rockets, finger painting and singing about five little ducks; the older ones reading, solving maths problems or putting the finishing touches to their papier-mâché Roman senate.
She knew then that nothing else really mattered to her.
She was going to make the most of this opportunity to ensure the Local Authority realized once and for all that this school was the heartbeat of this village, that these children with their eager faces and naughty smiles needed the security it provided, of walking home with their friends, cutting across the churchyard and piling into the village shop. The security of learning about their community, the farms surrounding them and the beach on their doorstep, not the town some ten miles away with little connection to them, their families and their neighbours.
She felt infused with a feeling of hope, of a purpose. This was something to get her teeth into. This was important. And Rosy recognized that the best person to help alongside her was that neurotic tyrant of a woman, Mrs Marksharp – currently quivering in her doorway with a sense of purpose that would have awed Joan of Arc.
Marion came and settled herself into the chair in Rosy’s office, fixing her with that stare and launching straight into things.
‘I assume I’m here because Edward Grant wants to close the school…’
‘Possiblyclose the school.’
‘Quite. There are rumours flying around the playground and they are getting louder, gathering momentum. I have of course done all I can to rein them in, but we will need to address the truth sooner rather than later. And I can’t help much more until you tell me the full story, then I can shape the narrative and practise damage limitation. At the moment there are whispers of home educating and online petitions and whilst we need to drum up a campaign of support, on viral levels, we need to be careful as to how we pitch it. Whatever happens we cannot have Harmony involved – she’ll have them burning bras and waving sticks at the moon. We’d become a laughing stock. Oh, or Amanda, we’d all be goose-stepping outside County Hall before the week was out.’
‘Marion, I think that that’s—’
‘We need to be approachable, friendly but organized, with a backbone of steel. Luckily I’m skilled at all these things. Obviously, you’ll be our campaigns figurehead but I’ll be…’
Goebbels? Don’t say it!
‘…in charge of the day-to-day organizing, the running of it. Are you happy with that? Excellent. Now, as you know, I do have my ear to the ground, and I’ve also heard that Angelina is a new member of the village. Pretty girl. Surely she’ll want to be involved. Perhaps you could talk to her? I understand they’ve moved in next to you.’
Villages… you couldn’t breathe in a different manner without someone noticing. And how did everyone know of Angelina except her? Trust Marion to home in on the one woman Rosy would have preferred not to work with. Rosy felt her teeth slide over the top of her lip as she swallowed, a little quicker, a little deeper than usual. This was fine, this was village life. Save the school. Be professional.
‘I’m afraid that whilst it is a great idea, I think she is back in London for the time being.’ That was the truth, after all.
‘But that doesn’t mean she won’t be back.’
‘True, I think the village is her Cornish base as such, but you know how the holiday home situation is down here. I can ask Matt if he can ask her to help, but she’s pretty busy from what I gather.’ Rosy didn’t add that someone who kicks small dogs was unlikely to have any strong desire to help children, but felt it was more politic to keep quiet. Maybe she was learning after all.
‘OK, if that’s how it is. Hmmm. We can leave it for now, maybe revisit it later. Right then, let’s get started! From what I understand from my contacts in County Hall, Edward Grant is tasked with shutting down six village schools in the mid county area – purely for budgetary reasons. He will do it. He is a very ambitious man who enjoys his work. I wouldn’t be surprised if he attempts to shut more than necessary. Rosy, I will not see Penmenna School closed, but we are going to need to fight.’
‘Marion, I’m going to give it my best shot. There’s no way I won’t fight for the kids in this school – of course I am. They need this school. Most might survive a transfer and a crazy long bus journey in the morning, but for a couple of them, it could mean the end of a chance of mainstream education and that’s so many different types of wrong that I don’t know where to begin. But politics, the ins and outs of local government, that game I’m not experienced at playing, let alone winning.’
‘Well, luckily, like I said, you can carry on running the school superbly and leave winning the political campaign to me. As it happens I am very good at that sort of thing. Really very good.’
‘So, what do we need to do? What’s the first step?’
‘Knowing Mr Grant’s weaknesses.’
‘And they are?’
‘From what I can see, ego and celebrity. We weaken him by publicly, very publicly, strengthening ourselves and securing the school into a politically unclosable position.’
‘OK, that sounds great, but how? How on earth do we do that?’
‘We concentrate on our strengths, and we have many; we make sure the whole world knows them too. Our Ofsted reports, for example, let’s use that to our advantage. Why close an outstanding school? Then let’s look at what makes us outstanding. We have quite a lot of special-needs children on the roll, don’t we? You have done wonders boosting the school’s reputation in that area since you joined. Don’t you have that boy in your class? Let’s flag these kids up.’
