Free 02 Mister Teacher by Jack Sheffield Page A

trouble?’
    Stan Coe radiated malevolence. ‘Ah want t’report a burglary,’ he said. ‘It’s a den o’ thieves is this school.’
    Dan’s expression never flickered. He put down his pen. ‘Perhaps you should be cautious what you’re saying, Mr Coe,’ said Dan politely. ‘Start from the beginning with the facts, please.’
    Suitably reprimanded, Stan Coe launched into a graphic account of the events of the morning.
    Meanwhile, outside Anne’s classroom, a distressed Mrs Pauline Paxton – who had run all the way from the Morton Road – was being calmed down by Vera and Anne. Sally and Jo were hovering, anxious to help.
    ‘Ah knew ah should’ve brought ’er t’school m’self, but my John said ’e was comin’ into t’village so it was no trouble,’ said Mrs Paxton. ‘If ah get me ’ands on that Stanley Coe, ah’ll murder ’im.’
    As Mrs Paxton was six feet tall and an ex-South Yorkshire schools discus champion, this threat sounded entirely plausible. It occurred to me that here was a woman who could just possibly beat our own Mrs Critchley in an arm-wrestling contest.
    Anne sent Jo out into the playground to find Molly Paxton, while Sally trotted off to the staff-room to make a cup of tea. Anne and Vera took Mrs Paxton to sit down behind Anne’s desk.
    In the cold months, the youngest children were allowed to play in Anne’s classroom during the lunch break, so a few were building sand castles in the brightly coloured plastic sand tray. Victoria Alice Dudley-Palmer and Charlotte Ackroyd were playing in the new shop and Dawn Phillips was teaching Terry Earnshaw how to iron a beanbag in the home corner.
    Molly, red-faced on such a cold day, rushed in excitedly, blonde curls flying, to see her mother and gave her a big hug.
    ‘Hello, my little poppet,’ said Mrs Paxton. The anger immediately left her and she looked almost tearful.
    ‘We’ve gorra new shop,’ said Molly, pointing towards John Grainger’s plywood construction. Victoria Alice Dudley-Palmer was rearranging the empty biscuit tins, boxes of jelly cubes and a collection of red and yellow beanbags from the PE store.
    ‘It’s lovely, dear,’ said Mrs Paxton, absent-mindedly untangling Molly’s hair. Then she looked enquiringly at Anne Grainger, who took the lead.
    ‘Molly,’ said Anne softly, ‘do you remember coming to school with your daddy this morning?’
    ‘Yes, Mrs Grainger,’ said the bright-eyed Molly.
    ‘And do you remember stopping at Mr Coe’s farmhouse?’
    ‘Yes, Mrs Grainger. Ah saw some pigs,’ answered Molly cheerfully.
    ‘And do you remember seeing any money like this?’ Anne pulled a ten-pound note out of her purse and held it up.
    Molly screwed up her little face, thinking hard. ‘Yes, Mrs Grainger,’ said Molly.
    Mrs Paxton’s closed her eyes in disbelief.
    ‘Can you tell me about it?’ asked Anne very gently.
    Molly took a big breath. ‘Yes, Mrs Grainger.’
    Everyone held their breath.
    ‘Go on, Molly,’ said Anne. ‘Tell us what you remember.’
    ‘When Daddy was talking to the shouting man, it blowed away,’ said Molly.
    ‘What blew away, Molly?’ asked Anne.
    ‘The money-note,’ she replied, pointing to the ten-pound note.
    ‘And what happened then?’ Anne asked.
    ‘I told Daddy,’ said Molly.
    ‘And what did Daddy say?’ asked Anne.
    Molly looked at her mother with wide eyes. ‘He didn’t ’ear ’cause the ’orrible man was shouting at Daddy and Daddy was upset,’ said Molly.
    ‘So what happened to this money-note, Molly?’
    ‘It blowed all the way down the path.’
    ‘And where did it go then?’ prompted Anne.
    ‘Ah don’t know, Mrs Grainger. But Terry was walkin’ past with ’is brother.’
    Anne called across the classroom to Terry. ‘Terry,’ she said, waving the ten-pound note, ‘did you find a money-note like this on your way to school?’
    Terry looked up from behind the tiny ironing board and nodded.
    ‘And what did you do with it?’ asked