Free Maxwell's Island by M.J. Trow Page B

knot of staff on the steps of the hotel.
    â€˜I think finding Houston would be relatively easy,’ Jacquie said. ‘It’s going to be anywhere on the Isle of Wight that is going to be a bit difficult.’
    Tom Medlicott moved a little closer. Bat-eared Jazmyn was perilously near. ‘I was never happy about having him as staff backup,’ he said. ‘The man is clearly an idiot.’
    â€˜He has his CRB clearance,’ Pansy said, as if that solved everything.
    â€˜I don’t care,’ the Head of Art snapped. ‘I’m not worried that he might steal a purse or attackanyone. I’m worried that he can’t find his arse with both hands.’
    â€˜Ssshhhh!’ everyone shushed him, and all the Year Seven heads snapped up.
    â€˜Well,’ he continued, lowering his voice. ‘He can’t. It’s a wonder we got here at all. I’m going to phone Leighford and find out what to do.’
    â€˜You’ll be lucky,’ Maxwell said. ‘It’s Saturday. And anyway, the Head Teacher is Legs Diamond.’ It wasn’t the most professional thing to say to a new colleague, but what the hey, it was time he was introduced to the real world.
    Medlicott was stumped, but only briefly. ‘I’ll ring the county hall here, then,’ he said.
    â€˜Still Saturday,’ Sylvia pointed out.
    â€˜Out of hours,’ Pansy butted in, with her admin-perspective hat on. ‘County halls never close completely.’
    â€˜And if they do,’ Medlicott said, ‘then we’ll just combine the groups until Monday.’
    He disappeared into the hotel foyer, and was seen dimly through the glass doors, gesticulating at the receptionist. He was soon back, with a map and a broad grin. ‘Apparently, they do close completely, unless we want to report a problem with roads, floods, or other life-or-death situation with children or the elderly. But,’ he raised a finger before the chorus of ‘I told you so’ could gather momentum, ‘Rachel, the receptionist, has a friend who is a teacher, who has a CRB certificate that hecan show us today and who knows the Island like the back of his hand. He’s on his way.’
    â€˜Isn’t that rather … unconventional?’ Maxwell asked.
    Sylvia, Guy and Jacquie all looked at Maxwell rather oddly. If he didn’t know unconventional, then who did? Actually they were all pretty impressed by Medlicott’s get-up-and-go. It usually took Bernard Ryan three weeks to find a supply teacher.
    â€˜Possibly,’ Medlicott said, tartly. ‘But frankly, we’ve wasted enough time already and I had to think on my feet.’ He turned to the milling crowd of Year Seven, who were beginning to get testy. ‘OK, kids. Line up in groups. Get on the coach in silence and sit down. First one to speak stays on the bus all day. We’re on our way.’
    He walked over to the driver, who was searching in the luggage compartment for another map.
    â€˜You won’t need a map,’ he said. ‘We are about to be joined by an Islander who will direct you. If you would like to get on board and fire up your engine, we will be off.’
    Izzy was explaining her husband to the other staff. ‘He gets like this,’ she smiled. ‘He’s very laid-back, but when he’s fired up, there’s no stopping him.’
    â€˜A bit like the engine, really,’ said Pansy flatly. No one laughed.
    And that seemed to be true. The kids were on the coach, silently waiting and clutching their bags of packed lunch. The driver was in placeand, having finally found his keys, had started the engine, which thrummed softly. The staff formed a small and orderly queue at the door of the coach and Maxwell, as last man, was just climbing aboard when he heard the sound of trainers hitting pavement along the Esplanade. He looked along the side of the coach and saw a curly-headed man of about thirty jogging