Wicked!

by Jilly Cooper

  Janna leapt up and hugged him, realizing how much paunch and flab he’d lost and how his shakes were from nerves rather than booze – and what courage had been needed to approach her.

  ‘Come back immediately. That is the best news in months,’ she cried and, glancing at her watch, added, ‘It’s nearly six, let’s have a vast drink to celebrate.’ Then, realizing what she’d said, she screamed with horrified laughter. ‘Oh God, sorry, at least we can have a cup of tea and a piece of lardy-cake my auntie sent me from Yorkshire.

  ‘I’m desperate for a maths teacher, and I so need your experience,’ she went on, pointing to a rough timetable on the wall as she switched on the kettle. ‘I hope it’ll work. With only forty-odd children, no one need do more than two and a half days a week. So many of your friends are still here: Skunk, Mr Mates, Basket, Cambola, Mags, darling Sophy Belvedon and Gloria. Lily Hamilton, who speaks masses of languages, is helping out Mags. Brigadier Woodford, who’s madly in love with Lily and taught at the Staff College, is tackling history. Wally’s going to lend a hand in D and T.’

  ‘What about IT?’ asked Mike, mouth watering as Janna cut off two big slices of lardy-cake and drenched them in ruby-red plum jam.

  ‘Rowan’s very sweetly staying on to teach it and look after me; she also confided that anything was better than staying at home full time looking after Meagan and Scarlet.’

  Mike knew the feeling. For a second, like a butterfly on his upper lip, his ebony moustache quivered. What he didn’t tell Janna was the utter nightmare of the last months. No one had wanted to employ him, except Poppet for maths coaching which had come to nothing. His wife had never stopped complaining about having him under her feet, as though he were lying permanently on the kitchen floor singing and waving a whisky bottle, which had not been far from the truth until he forced himself on to the wagon. He felt giddy with relief.

  ‘The place looks superb,’ he said, looking round. ‘I like all these fawns and sand colours – very soothing.’

  ‘We thought we’d give primary colours a miss, make the children feel it was more like a college.’ Janna poured out Mike’s tea, remembering the two sugars. ‘The only exception is the hall which doubles up as a theatre. Graffi’s painted the ceiling sky blue, and covered it in stars, suns and angels, who all have faces like Milly Walton.’

  Janna winced, thinking of Milly’s mother.

  ‘I’m right glad to see you, Mike.’

  ‘You’ve cut your hair,’ said Mike looking at her for the first time. ‘It – er – suits you.’

  ‘Chally would say it’s much neater,’ said Janna acidly. ‘It takes minutes rather than hours to wash in the morning.’

  In a gesture of defiance and despair after she’d found out about Hengist and Ruth, she’d rushed into Larkminster and had her shaggy red mane cut off. Now it fell from the crown in a straight hard fringe to an inch above her eyebrows and to an inch above the collar at the back – typical middle-aged head teacher hair: hideous, or rather headious. But Hengist had gone. It was her farewell to love.

  Sally Brett-Taylor had popped in several times, replacing many of the dead saplings with new ones from the Bagley plantation, creating a herb garden with Wally and planting plenty of bulbs, so ‘we’ll have lots to cheer us up in the Hilary Term.’

  Each time she arrived, Janna felt glad she and Hengist were over but it didn’t lessen her helpless longing.

  With Mike on board, everything seemed to be falling into place. Wally hated the sand colours: too much like Iraq where his son was still serving, but he’d applied them with his usual expertise. Only the blue board outside the school had been left empty so the children could think up their own name. Thank God, now Janna was her own mistress, she could call the shots and start term when she chose – several days after bloody Bagley.

  Thank God too for Debbie, who would love working in such a shiny new modern kitchen and who had already been freezing curries and pies.

  But just a few days before term began, Debbie had sidled into Janna’s office with a piece of shortbread for Partner, who immediately leapt on to her knee. Then, eyes cast down, she muttered, ‘I’m so sorry, but I won’t be staying on at Larks after all.’

  ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘I’m going to work for S and C – or more precisely for Ashton Douglas.’

  ‘You can’t. He’s a monster!’

  Debbie’s face went dead.

  ‘I take as I find. He’s always been very courteous and pleasant. It’ll be nice cooking for one gentleman, dinner parties and things.’ Her face softened. ‘I’ve loved working for you, Janna, and little Partner.’ She stroked his ginger forehead. ‘But there’s been a lot of sadness and I’m tired. Forty kids and their teachers is a lot with just me, Moll and Marge. Mr Douglas has got such a lovely quiet house in the Close with a nice top floor for me, Wayne and Brad. And he’s promised to get them into the choir school, just two minutes away.’

  Wow, thought Janna, Ashton has pulled out the stops.

  She felt like the final runner in the relay race, who reaches out for the baton and finds it bashing her over the head.

  ‘I can’t bear it,’ she wailed. ‘I don’t mean to rubbish Ashton, but he’s been no friend to Larks. I’ll try and put up your wages.’

  ‘Thanks all the same, but my mind’s made up.’

  Where do I find Larks’s answer to Nigella Lawson in twenty-four hours, thought Janna.

  Bloody Debbie to walk out without notice. Even bloodier Ashton. Then she flipped and sent him an email.

  ‘How dare you poach my cook, you conniving shit. Poaching means dropping into boiling water, so don’t you dare hurt or bully Debbie, or I’ll cut off your goolies. Janna Curtis’.

  The bastard, it was the dirtiest trick he could have played. No army could march on unfilled stomachs.

  ‘Who’s going to keep back the best bits of chicken for you?’ she asked Partner.

  It was dark outside; the wind had risen. The trees were doing aerobics, swaying and tossing their branches from side to side. It was too late to start ringing catering agencies. Then she saw lights. Was it Ashton come to fire her? But Partner, having jumped on the sofa to check the window, first wagged his tail then snuffled madly under the door. Definitely not Ashton. Next moment, Emlyn barged in. He was sweating and wearing a dark blue tracksuit.

  ‘Ashton’s poached Debbie,’ cried Janna.

  ‘I know.’ Emlyn waved an email at her. ‘You pressed the wrong button.’

  ‘Ashton deserved it, the bastard. He bribed her with a massive salary and places in the choir school for Brad and Wayne, who both sing like crows with laryngitis. Lemme get at that computer.’ Plonking herself down, Janna was about to fire off her rocket to the intended target.

  ‘Pack it in,’ snapped Emlyn, ‘or you’ll get sued for libel and suspended before term begins. Debbie’ll come back when she realizes what a shit he is. I’m sorry, lovely.’ Then he stopped in his tracks. ‘Kerist, what have you done to your lovely hair?’

  ‘I know, it’s horrible,’ said Janna despairingly. ‘But as I’m clearly not a sex object any more, I’m putting all my energies into looking like a head.’

  Emlyn smiled ruefully. ‘You haven’t got the big ass and dinner-lady arms to go with it, angel.’

  In the past, Janna had been able to soften and hide the effects of her exhaustion behind long hair and a floppy fringe, but the hard new style exposed the dark circles and the added lines, leaving her with the face of a novice monk unsure of his vocation.

  Crossing the room, Emlyn took her in his arms, his big hands ruffling the short crop, then coming to rest on an expanse of bare neck, which reminded him agonizingly of Oriana. But the cut that enhanced Oriana’s flawless features did nothing for Janna.

  ‘It’ll be easier to keep,’ she mumbled into his warm, comforting chest. ‘Keep men away, I mean. My love life is over.’

  ‘Bollocks. Ask Sally for some Gro-more. It’ll be rippling over your shoulders in a m
onth or two. Mind you’ – he squinted down at her – ‘you’ll appeal to a completely different market now, and have Artie, Theo, Biffo and Joan after you – even Ashton might start pressing his pale grey suit.’

  ‘Yuk,’ shuddered Janna, but she started laughing.

  It was nice holding her in his arms, reflected Emlyn. Reluctantly, he released her.

  ‘I must go, I’m supposed to be in a staff meeting. It all looks great.’ He admired the big collage Janna had made from photographs of every member of the new year Eleven and their teachers.

  ‘I’ll have to remove Debbie’s photo,’ sighed Janna. ‘Where the hell am I going to find another cook, and how do I know if any of the children will turn up on the first day?’

  ‘Turn it into a party,’ said Emlyn.

  And so Janna did – dispatching every child an invitation to ‘A launching party at Appletree House to welcome Larks Year Eleven. Buffet 12.30 onwards, no uniform to be worn.’

  On the following Monday, the staff settled in, rejoicing over the labs, the IT suite, the light airy classrooms, the big windows that didn’t rattle, and the roof which didn’t leak despite a downpour outside. They particularly liked the new staffroom, with its circle of comfortable chairs, coffee percolator, fridge, bar, dishwasher and a television with Sky. Randal had done them proud.

  On the Tuesday from midday onwards, the children began to drift in. Making the most of the warm September sunshine, many of the girls showed off bare shoulders and midriffs, their flares sweeping the floor. Both sexes, however, looked edgy. Were they going to be the centre of too much teacher attention, drawn into an exam factory and sweatshop?

  ‘It’s weird,’ grumbled Johnnie Fowler, ‘there’s no one above us and no one beneaf us.’

  But gradually their fears vanished as they were welcomed by a hug from Janna and a glass of Buck’s Fizz from Mags, and Bob Marley over the loudspeaker. Everything was certainly going to be all right as they raced round Appletree, admiring the whiteboards and the big windowed dining room, designed with a bar like a Wild West saloon. They were soon swinging on ropes in the gym and screaming with excitement over the boys’ lavatory, where as you peed into a shiny steel trough, turquoise and indigo water gushed out and swept it away.

  They also loved the hall, with the sky-blue ceiling full of angels looking like Milly Walton. Most of all, they loved the sand colours and beiges.

  ‘Wicked, wicked, wicked, miss, it don’t look like a school any more,’ shouted Pearl. ‘Oh look, TV’s arrived. Anyone want mike-up?’

  Partner was in heaven to see all his friends again. Janna was particularly pleased to see Aysha. The Brigadier’s great coup had been to make a special journey to see Mr Khan, who only dealt with men and whose own father had been in a Punjab regiment. Invited on the set of Buffers, flattered to have his brains picked on the Punjabs’ courage when the Japs invaded Burma, Mr Khan had finally agreed to let Aysha return to Larks. She looked so pretty in her apricot-pink headscarf and was knocked out by the new labs.

  ‘Kylie Rose has put on a lot of weight,’ whispered Cambola. ‘Hope it’s not what I’m thinking.’

  ‘This drink is yummy,’ said Kitten Meadows, ‘can I have another one?’

  ‘If you mop it up with some food,’ said Mags, running in with a huge shepherd’s pie from the Ghost and Castle. Lily, who’d offered to help out in the kitchen, had made several plum tarts and blackberry and apple crumbles.

  ‘We’ll start hellfy eating tomorrow,’ said Rocky, who’d already had two showers in the changing rooms.

  ‘Like your hair, miss, it’s cool,’ said kind Kylie.

  ‘It’s gross,’ said Pearl. ‘You’d better let me cut it next time.’

  Outside, where the ground had been levelled for a small pitch with goalposts, Feral was playing football with Graffi, Johnnie, Monster and a frantically yapping Partner.

  After everyone had had lunch, Janna called them into the hall for a group photograph and Pearl went round taking the shine off everyone’s noses.

  ‘I saw Chally in Tesco’s this morning,’ moaned Basket. ‘She was so unkind.’

  Janna put her hands over her ears. ‘I don’t want to hear it.’

  ‘She said, “None of those no-hopers could ever get a job, that’s why they’re hanging on at Larks for another year.”’

  ‘Bitch. We’ll show her,’ said Janna, clapping her hands for silence. ‘I’d like to thank Brigadier Woodford so much for providing the champagne. Is everyone’s glass filled up?’

  As Sophy and Gloria rushed round with bottles, Cambola played the theme tune from ‘Band of Brothers’ on the piano, then, as the music faded away, Janna smiled round.

  ‘“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers”,’ she said softly. ‘Today is for welcome and celebration. The purpose of the year ahead is to get some grades and have a ball. You’re students now. This is a college. You may have noticed that Wally hasn’t painted anything on the board outside because we thought you could kick off by naming your school yourselves.’

  ‘What about Curtis College?’ shouted Pearl.

  ‘What about Cool School?’

  ‘What about Shakespeare School?’

  The suggestions came from all sides.

  ‘What about Larkminster High School?’ Aysha said.

  ‘Because larks fly high, and we’re aiming for the stars.’ Graffi pointed up at the sky-blue ceiling. ‘Bloody good.’

  Everyone cheered.

  ‘Larks High it shall be,’ went on Janna. ‘We’ve also decided to dispense with a few rules. What causes most rows in schools?’

  ‘Uniform and short skirts,’ shouted Pearl, ‘and jewellery.’

  ‘Smoking,’ said Johnnie, throwing his cigarette into a fire bucket, ‘and chewing gum.’

  ‘Mobiles,’ said Kylie, as hers rang. ‘Hi, Jack, ay can’t talk to you right now.’

  Everyone roared with laughter.

  ‘Right,’ said Janna, ‘in future you can smoke, but not in the classrooms, and as long as you don’t stub your fags out on our lovely new floors. Ditto chewing gum. You can use your mobiles as long as you ask permission and go out of the classroom to take calls. You can also wear what clothes you like and any jewellery, but be sensible: no hoop earrings and tie back your hair in the labs.

  ‘You’ve all seen how beautiful your new building is. So please cover the walls with examples of good work, not graffiti. And as we’re a band of brothers, please don’t bring in any guns or knives. PC Cuthbert’ – loud cheers from the girls – ‘will be popping in and out. You can also call us by our Christian names if you like.’

  ‘We do, Janna,’ yelled Johnnie to more cheers.

  ‘The only sad news,’ went on Janna, consulting her notes, ‘is that Debbie has left us, so I’m putting up a rota of people who’ll help clear away after lunch and load the new dishwasher.’

  ‘Terrific,’ interrupted Rocky, ‘as long as it’s only the women,’ which caused a howl of protest from the girls.

  ‘We’d also like two of you to take it in turns to sit in reception doing homework and welcoming guests to the school and offering them tea, coffee or hot chocolate from our wonderful new machine. And please remember to fill up Partner’s water bowl.’

  ‘She’s very good,’ murmured Lily to the Brigadier.

  ‘That’s all.’ Again Janna smiled round at them. ‘Don’t hurry home, look around and enjoy yourselves. We may have been called “no-hopers” in the past, but we’re going to prove everyone wrong.’

  Rocky, who’d been gazing into space, suddenly shouted hoarsely, ‘God bless Larks High and all who sail in her. Three cheers for Miss Curtis, I mean Janna.’

  ‘Janna,’ shouted everyone, draining empty glasses.

  ‘We few, we crappy few,’ sang Graffi happily.

  ‘That went really well,’ said Mags as she and Basket loaded up the dishwasher. ‘Johnnie must be drunk, I’ve just seen him doing a high five with Monster.’

  ‘I don’t mind doi
ng this today,’ Janna said as she shared the last bottle of the champagne between their three glasses, ‘but I’ve got to find a cook. The one I interviewed yesterday was a battleaxe who wanted six hundred pounds a week. Taggie Campbell-Black’s coming to see me at three-thirty, I wonder what she wants.’

  91

  Pupils were still hanging around gossiping when Taggie arrived. Kylie Rose, recognizing her from Hello! and most of the papers and determined to be the hostess with the mostess, rushed forward to welcome her, offering her hot chocolate.

  ‘I’m sure there are some biscuits in the kitchen, Mrs Campbell-Black, I’ll bring them in.’ She ushered Taggie along the corridor, passing Monster and Johnnie, who, having suspended peace talks, were having a fight, then Pearl, in a micro skirt, smoking and shouting, ‘You can fuck off,’ into her mobile.

  As Taggie entered Janna’s office, she was shaking worse than Mike Pitts. She was also so tall, long-legged, huge-eyed and vulnerable, Janna felt they were taking part in some Aesop fable about a red squirrel and a giraffe. Partner immediately curled up on Taggie’s knee to make her feel at home.

  ‘What a sweet dog.’ Taggie had a surprisingly deep, gruff voice. ‘Reminds me of my little mongrel, Gertrude. I’ve got a lurcher now, who’s adorable, but you can’t cuddle them on your knee. They fall off. All dogs are best dogs, but Gertrude was my best, best dog. What a lovely office.’

  Taggie was rattling now and when Kylie Rose arrived with hot chocolate and some Bourbon biscuits, the cup Taggie took from her rattled in accompaniment like a woodpecker.

  ‘Can I get you a tea, miss, I mean, Janna?’ asked Kylie, dying to find out why such a star had descended to earth.

  ‘I’m fine thanks. Shut the door behind you, Kylie. How can I help you?’ Janna smiled at Taggie.

  ‘I’m looking for a school for Xav when he comes out of rehab next month.’

  Janna nearly fell off her chair.

  ‘He was just going into Year Eleven, like your children,’ stammered Taggie, ‘and Christian Woodford says you’re a genius with d-d-d-difficult, unhappy children.’