can’t let you set off with a headache and an empty stomach.’ So I said that I wasn’t really hungry and that maybe another day, and so he says: ‘Tomorrow, Bruce? Same time?’ And that was it, really. I phoned him at the office next day and left a message that I wouldn’t be coming back. So that was the end of the job.”
Pat looked away. There was nothing worse, in her view, than talking about something like that, a private encounter in which one person misunderstands another and is made to look pathetic.
And Bruce was responsible for the whole misunderstanding by pretending to be gay. She turned back to him. “That’s really horrible,” she said. “Really horrible.”
“I know,” said Bruce, smiling broadly. “But I don’t hold it against him. Not really.”
Pat drew in her breath. It seemed impossible to dent his self-satisfaction, his utter self-assuredness. She wanted to hit him, because that, she thought, might be the only way of telling him what she felt. But she would not have had the chance, even if she had summoned up the courage, as Bruce now slid off the desk, patted her on the arm, and moved towards the door.
“
“Now listen, everybody,” said Miss Harmony, clapping her hands to get attention. “We have some very interesting news.” She looked out over the class, seated in a circle round the room.
They were always somewhat excited at the beginning of a new term and usually took a few days to settle down, especially if there were any new members. As it happened, there were not, and indeed the class was one member down with the departure of Merlin. He had been withdrawn by his parents, who had decided to homeschool him for a trial period. Miss Harmony had not thought that a good idea, as she believed in the social-isation value of the classroom experience, particularly when the parents themselves were so odd. And she had the gravest doubts as to what Merlin’s mother could actually teach her son. There was something very disconcerting about that woman, Miss Harmony thought, her vague, mystical pronouncements, her interest in crystals, and her slightly fey appearance did not inspire confidence. But it was her choice, and it would be respected, although when she thought about it hard enough, she wondered exactly why one should respect the choices of others when those choices were so patently bad ones. That would require further thought, she decided.
Looking around the class, there were various other pupils whom she would quite happily have seen withdrawn for homeschooling. Larch was one, with his aggressive outlook and his
. . . well, she did not like to blame a child for his appearance, but there was no escaping the fact that Larch looked like a pugilist on day-release from Polmont Young Offenders’
Institution. He was rather frightening, actually, and he really did spoil the class photographs.
These thoughts, though, were not really very charitable and Miss Harmony accepted that she should put them firmly from her mind, but not before she had allowed herself a final reflection on how Hiawatha, too, might also benefit from homeschooling, which would remove the constant problem of his
socks and their somewhat unpleasant odour. Would a letter to his mother be in order? she wondered. It was difficult to imagine how one might put the matter tactfully; parents were so sensitive about such things.
“Yes,” said Miss Harmony. “A lot has happened! First of all, you will notice that Merlin is no longer with us. We have said farewell to him, as he is going to be studying at home this year.”
This announcement was greeted with silence, as the children looked at one another. Then Olive put up her hand.
“He won’t be studying, Miss Harmony,” she said. “He told me. He said that his mother wanted him to help her with her weaving. He said that he was going to be getting paid for it.”
“Now, Olive,” said Miss Harmony. “We mustn’t always believe what others tell us, must we? Especially when they are having a little joke, as I am sure Merlin was. We all know that Merlin will be working very hard in his little home classroom and that his head will soon be bursting with knowledge.” She stared hard at Olive. “Yes, Olive, bursting with knowledge.”
Tofu now joined in. “I saw something about this on television,” he said. “It was about carpet factories in India. The children all worked in the factories and made rugs.”
Miss Harmony laughed. “That’s child labour, Tofu, dear. And it is no longer allowed in this country. Certainly it used to be – chimney sweeps would make little boys – like you – go up the chimney for them. Charles Dickens wrote about that sort of thing. But now we do not allow that anymore.” She paused.
“Merlin will not be a child labourer, I assure you.”
She gave Tofu a discouraging look. “Now then,” she said.
“The news that Merlin has left us is very sad news for us, of course. But there has also been some happy news. And I’m going to ask Bertie to tell us himself.”
All eyes swung round to Bertie, who blushed.
“Come on, Bertie,” said Miss Harmony. “You tell us about the little event which happened in your house over the holidays.”
66
“My mother had a baby,” he muttered.
“Now, now, Bertie,” encouraged Miss Harmony. “Good news must be given loud and clear.”
“A baby,” said Bertie. “My mother had a baby.”
“See!” said Miss Harmony. “That’s good news, isn’t it everybody? Bertie now has a little brother. And what’s his name, Bertie?”
Bertie looked down at the top of his desk. There was no escape, or at least one that he could identify. “Ulysses,” he said.
Tofu, who had been staring at Bertie, now looked away and sniggered.
