Free A Summer Promise by Katie Flynn

situation in which you alone are trying to teach fifty children, and since no one will grant us another fully qualified member of staff a pupil teacher is a necessity. I spoke to the Director of Education yesterday and he suggests that we could look amongst our own pupils and see if any of them would be interested in the post.’ He had looked keenly at Miss Parrott. ‘Do you have anyone who might be suitable in your class? Ideally, they need to be at least thirteen years old, for obvious reasons.’
    Miss Parrott had smiled. ‘If you’d asked me last year I’d have had the perfect candidate, but it’s too late, I’m afraid – she’s won her scholarship to St Philippa’s and will be starting there next month.’
    Mr Grice had sighed sympathetically. ‘Ah, little Madeleine Hebditch. You’re right – she would have been ideal. Still, give it some thought, would you, and we’ll talk again in the morning.’
    Mr Grice watched the door close behind his teacher and sat for a moment lost in thought. When he had first met her he had considered her a plain, if not actually ugly, woman but now he was changing his mind. To be sure, her light brown hair was untidy and her grey dress commonplace. And to begin with he had thought her nose overshadowed the rest of her face and had never looked beyond it, but he now realised that she had a pair of large, clear hazel eyes and a mouth which, in repose, held much sweetness. Sighing, Mr Grice stood up; what did looks matter after all? She was the best teacher he had ever worked with and he frequently sang her praises to his sister, who had once held the very position which Miss Parrott now occupied. Jenny Grice had told him, on more than one occasion, that he was a lucky chap to have Miss Parrott as a colleague.
    It occurred to him for the first time that he never used Miss Parrott’s first name. Why had he not suggested long since that she should call him Derek? He came to the conclusion that he had not done so because he was a little in awe of her. It was that damned nose, he thought ruefully. It was the sort of nose one associated with Admirals of the Fleet or Roman emperors, not school teachers, and her Christian name didn’t help either. Verity! But he knew he was being ridiculous, really, and decided that in future, when they were alone, they must use first names.
    Satisfied, Mr Grice turned his attention to his own lists once more.
    Back in her own classroom, Miss Verity Parrott was also lost in thought. She was remembering the day, almost exactly a year ago, when she had gone up to Larkspur Farm to confront Mrs Hebditch with the vexed question of Maddy’s future. She had still been wondering how best to persuade the old lady to allow her granddaughter to try for a scholarship to St Philippa’s when she reached the top of the track, pushed aside the mossy five-barred gate and, taking a deep breath, entered the neglected farmyard.
    She had been halfway across it when she heard a sound like the hissing of a snake behind her, and glancing over her shoulder had seen a large flock of geese waddling towards her, led by an enormous gander whose mean little eyes were fixed, she was sure, on the backs of her knees. Verity had stopped and swung round, stamping her foot and shouting in as threatening a manner as she could, but the geese had continued to advance.
    Always face up to a flock of geese
, she had remembered someone telling her once.
Never let them think you are afraid or they’ll take advantage. Geese are cowards and will run away as soon as they realise you aren’t scared.
    But I am scared, Verity had admitted to herself. Two of the geese had somehow managed to get behind her so that she felt she was standing in a sea of birds, all of them eager to show her that whoever was afraid it was not they. The teacher had cast a wild glance around her; if only she had a stick or an umbrella, something to threaten them with! But all she had was her waterproof over one arm; she