Free 06 Educating Jack by Jack Sheffield Page B

mind’s eye she could still recall the time in 1957 on her first day in the Coffee Shop when she had a slim waist and a curvy figure. It occurred to her that, with a little luck, she could have been a famous actress. However, the fact that the furthest she climbed up the ladder of success was a non-speaking extra in
Crossroads
had nothing to do with her acting ability. Rather it was because a certain letter of the alphabet had always proved elusive for this voluble lady. She called downstairs to her assistant, Dorothy Humpleby, ‘Dowothy, come an’ look. Ah’m twying on one o’ them top-o’-the-wange polyester cocktail dwesses … in bwight wed.’ It was a quarter past eight and Nora’s big day had begun.
    * * *
    Next door, Nora’s younger brother, Timothy, was sellotaping a poster to his shop window. It read ‘ LIGHT UP THE SKY WITH STANDARD FIREWORKS ’. Then he selected a top-of-the-range spirit level and checked the poster was exactly horizontal. Timothy liked precision and only when the bubble in the plastic transparent tube on top of the spirit level was
exactly
central did he relax. It was then that he needed to seek comfort in the familiar and he turned to his collection of screws.
    In his Hardware Emporium on Ragley High Street, the pursuit of tidiness was a way of life for forty-two-year-old Timothy. However, once again, in his beautifully organized world, the realization dawned that there were customers who did not understand that, without
order
, life was not worth living. He stared in dismay at the two-inch dome-headed screw that had been picked up by a customer and replaced in the box of one-and-ahalf-inch flat-headed screws. It lay there like a pork chop at a vegetarian tea party, incongruous and unwelcome. He picked it up with a sigh and replaced it in its rightful home. Then he went to arrange the boxes of light bulbs so that the labels all faced outwards and, as he did so, he smiled. He knew that in the village he was known affectionately as ‘Tidy Tim’ and pride filled his beating heart. For, as his mother had told him, ‘Tidiness is next to godliness’ and Timothy was content in his hardware heaven … well, almost. Some boys had obviously been pressing their noses against his window and there were smudges. He took a polishing cloth from the pocket of his spotless and neatly ironed brown overall and hurried outside to buff up his window.
    Suddenly a mud-splattered Land Rover pulled up and the driver wound down his window. ‘Are y’open yet, Pratt?’ It was Stan Coe, local landowner, boorish bully and the most unpopular man in the village. ‘Ah need a roll o’ chicken wire.’
    Timothy winced slightly but continued to polish the window. ‘Ah open shortly, Mr Coe.’
    ‘That’s no bloody good,’ shouted Stan and he lumbered over to Timothy. ‘Gerra move on, ’cause ah want it now!’ At sixteen stones the burly figure of the aggressive farmer was a formidable sight next to the frail shopkeeper.
    ‘’Ow much did y’want?’ asked Timothy.
    ‘’Bout chest ’igh an’ twenty paces,’ said Stan.
    ‘Ah get a delivery o’ that size last thing this afternoon,’ said Timothy. ‘Ah’ll put it on one side f’you t’collect.’
    ‘Ah’ll be back later then,’ growled Stan. He glanced at the sign in the next-door window. It read ‘ JOIN NORA FOR A FREE COFFEE FROM 4.00 P.M. TODAY TO CELEBRATE 25 YEARS IN THE COFFEE SHOP ’. ‘An’ ah’ll ’ave a free ’ot drink while ah’m abart it.’
    Timothy watched him drive away and shook his head. ‘Some folk just ’ave no manners,’ he muttered and went off to wash his hands.
    It was a freezing cold morning and I sat at my desk in the school office reading a copious document from County Hall about ‘Value for Money’ in relation to village schools. It didn’t make happy reading, and I sighed as our ancient school boiler chugged into life and the hot-water pipes creaked and groaned. The season had moved on and once again it