Miss Purdy's Class

by Annie Murray

  Gwen only just made it to the station to wave Daniel off when school was over for the day. She tore from the tram stop through a downpour of rain and saw him waiting by the clock, where they had arranged, his jacket wet with rain, canvas bag thrown over one shoulder.

  ‘I thought I’d missed you!’ She flung her arms round him, face flushed, panting from running.

  ‘Hello, comrade!’ He laughed at her flustered state.

  ‘I want to come with you now!’

  He pulled her close and she could feel the beat of his heart. ‘Only a few days. Billy’ll be waiting to see you too.’ He nuzzled her face. ‘I think he’s got a bit of a crush on you!’

  ‘Poor Billy – he’s such a nice boy. Will you come and meet me when I get there?’

  ‘Course I will.’ He hugged her. ‘I’d better go.’

  She saw him off, keeping the image of his face smiling from the window in her mind as she made her way back to Handsworth, thinking: only four days and we can be together again. How slowly those four days were going to pass!

  Instead of spending her days longing only to be with Daniel, Gwen found that when she got back to school there was an unexpected distraction.

  On the Wednesday morning, Ron Parks was late coming into the classroom. He missed the register.

  ‘Ron? He must be poorly.’

  Gwen was about to mark him down as absent, when one of the other boys said, ‘No – he’s here, Miss. I seen him.’

  Gwen frowned. It wasn’t like Ron to be late. He was still not there by the end of the register, so she left the space blank and began the lesson. They were learning about the life cycle of the butterfly. She was just trying to explain how a butterfly hatches from a chrysalis when Ron came in.

  ‘Where have you been?’ she was asking rather sharply, when she turned and caught sight of his face. Ron’s cheerful, slightly eccentric demeanour had entirely gone and instead she saw a stony expression, as if he was struggling to control some deeply felt emotion. He also looked as if he had been crying.

  ‘Are you all right? Has anything happened?’

  ‘No, Miss Purdy.’ His voice was subdued, and mutinous. Gwen stared at him perplexed, and saw him take his seat very gingerly, in the pained way the children did when they had had a thrashing from Mr Lowry, though nothing had happened at assembly. Realizing that the whole class was staring at Ron too and that his face had gone a deep, painful red, she said, ‘Eyes to the front all of you – get on with your work.’ She would get to the bottom of this later.

  When the bell rang for break, she asked Ron to stay behind and he came cautiously up to her desk. Some of the others hung around curiously and Gwen shooed them away and closed the door. When she sat down at her desk, Ron just stood there, staring at the floor, whether in anger or shame she could not decide.

  ‘This isn’t like you, Ron.’

  There was no reply.

  ‘Will you look at me when I’m speaking to you, please?’

  He raised his face to her and she could see his lips were quivering. His second teeth had come through and they made him look different, more serious.

  ‘Why were you late this morning?’

  ‘Because he gave me the cane!’ Ron blurted, and Gwen could tell that he felt a terrible injustice had been carried out.

  ‘Who – Mr Lowry?’ Seeing him nod, she said, ‘But you weren’t in assembly?’

  ‘Not in assembly – in his office.’

  Gwen was silent for a moment, unsure what to say. As a teacher she should be loyal to the head of the school and not undermine his decisions. But she had great misgivings about Mr Lowry’s version of punishment. Of course a lot of the children needed a telling off, maybe a slight taste of the cane if necessary. She had even done it herself, reluctantly, once or twice – a couple of strokes with a ruler on the hand perhaps – but not the sort of hard and humiliating treatment the headmaster meted out in front of the whole school. And what might he be like in the privacy of his office?

  ‘Why did he do that, Ron?’

  Again, Ron did not seem able to look her in the eye. He appeared to be really distressed. ‘I’m not allowed to say.’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Mr Lowry.’

  ‘I see.’ Feeling she could hardly go against the head’s wishes and ask directly, she said, ‘Well, I’m sorry Mr Lowry felt he had to do that. Let’s just hope that whatever it was for, it won’t happen again.’

  Ron was silent. Eventually, with obvious resentment, he squeezed out the words, ‘Yes, Miss Purdy.’

  She let him go, but throughout the day she felt troubled. Ron was obviously in pain and he was just not himself. She wondered if he would come back after the dinner break, but he did, and sat miserably through the afternoon classes.

  At the end of the day, when Gwen went into the playground, Mr Lowry was standing just outside the back door of the school talking to Mr Gaffney. As she set out, Gwen caught sight of a small, dumpy woman coming in through the playground gate, hugging round her a big, brown cardigan as if she was cold. It took Gwen a moment to recognize her, but then she saw that it was Mrs Parks. She had only met Ron’s mother once when she had bought sweets that day in the shop.

  Mrs Parks never usually came to the school to collect her boys. She was not walking especially fast, but there was something determined, steely almost, in her manner. She put down her feet in her old flat shoes as if nothing was going to divert her from her path. Gwen said, ‘Good afternoon,’ as she passed her, but Mrs Parks didn’t even seem to hear. Curious, Gwen turned to watch and could hardly believe her eyes when she saw what happened next. Mrs Parks made unwaveringly for Mr Lowry, brought her fist back and delivered a whacking great punch right into his face. There was a collective cry of surprise from everyone around. She gave him no time to recover before following up with another punch with the other fist, slamming it right into Mr Lowry’s nose and knocking his spectacles off. Gwen gasped. The playground went suddenly quiet. Children stood staring.

  ‘That’s for what you did to my Ron,’ Mrs Parks bawled. ‘And don’t you ever lay a finger on my boys again, you rotten bully!’

  Mr Lowry was clutching at his face. His nose was bleeding. Mr Gaffney bent to pick up his specs and handed them back and Mr Lowry peered down to take them, trying to retain some dignity. He had no time to say anything, as Mrs Parks was already storming back across towards the gate, shouting back over her shoulder, ‘You want to pick on someone yer own size next time! Think you can get away with doing anything you like, don’t you? Bloody bullies, you teachers – that’s what you are!’

  And she was gone.

  Gwen told Ariadne about the day’s upset over a meal of lamb chops. She had started to give her landlady a hand with the cooking. Ariadne was so scatty that keeping an eye on anything was half her problem. Gwen stood guarding the chops under the grill to make sure they emerged a healthy, cooked colour rather than a singed mess.

  ‘That sounds a queer carry-on to me,’ Ariadne remarked, peering into the pan of potatoes, which was boiling so frantically that the room was already like a steam bath.

  ‘It might be all right to turn those down now,’ Gwen suggested.

  ‘Oh . . . yes.’ Ariadne fiddled with the gas stove as if she’d never seen it before, peering longsightedly at the dial. The fringe of her silky shawl hung perilously near the gas flame.

  ‘There’s certainly more to it than meets the eye. I’m going to see if I can get Ron to talk to me tomorrow.’

  Once again, she called Ron to her at breaktime.

  ‘Ron, I’m very concerned about what happened yesterday, and your mother obviously is too. Did you tell her why Mr Lowry gave you the cane?’

  Ron shook his head, lips tightly pressed together.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell her?’

  ‘Because . . .’ Ron’s face filled with emotion and his lips were trembling. ‘He said he’d . . . he said I wasn’t to say . . .’ He wiped his eyes fiercely with his knuck
les, smearing his grimy face. Suddenly he burst out, ‘And it weren’t my fault. I wish I’d never gone and seen what I seen!’

  Gwen stared, at a loss.

  ‘Seen? What did you see, Ron? Where?’

  He gazed at her desperately and she could see he was close to telling her. But something was stopping him.

  ‘I’m not to say.’ He looked away, sullenly. ‘Or I’ll be in trouble.’

  ‘What sort of trouble?’ she asked.

  ‘He said . . . he said he’d get me sent away.’

  Gwen was horrified. What sort of a man was Mr Lowry to be making such threats to a ten-year-old boy?

  ‘I don’t think he can do that,’ she tried to reassure him. ‘Especially when you haven’t done anything wrong.’

  But she could see the boy was afraid and she didn’t want to press him any more.

  ‘Go on – go out to play,’ she said. ‘And don’t fret.’

  ‘What on earth am I to make of that?’ she asked Lily Drysdale in the corner of the staffroom, where she hoped no one else could hear. ‘The poor boy seems frightened out of his wits!’

  Lily sat silently, a cup of tea held halfway to her lips and staring ahead of her almost as if listening to a voice that no one else could hear. Gwen began to wonder if she had heard what she said. Then Lily returned her cup to its saucer.

  ‘Mr Lowry,’ she pronounced, ‘is almost certainly some kind of pervert. Though I’ve never managed to work out quite what kind.’

  Forty-Six

  They were chugging along the last few miles now, into Aberglyn.

  It was dark outside the railway carriage. All Gwen could see in the window was her own reflection, her face, wide-eyed and solemn, gazing back at her, her hair tied softly back. She had taken her hat off and was holding it on her lap.

  I look older, she thought. She remembered sitting on a train in just this way, pulling into Worcester, knowing that Edwin would be waiting for her under the platform lights. It seemed so long ago, another life in which she had been nothing more than a child. She wondered how Edwin was. Would he be bitter, or be putting experience behind him in his usual, blithely optimistic way? She thought of her parents. Sooner or later she would have to go back, to try and make peace. It was a dreadful thought and she pushed it away, pressing her face to the window to see something of the outside, but apart from occasional dots of light from houses and villages, there was nothing but the night. Sitting back, she closed her eyes for a moment. The air in the carriage smelled of smoke and dusty upholstery.

  I’m someone else now. She swelled inside with joy. Daniel’s girl. That’s what the party members had finally started to call her, seeing them together. Apart from Esther, of course, who treated Gwen in relation to Daniel with an arch irony. Gwen ignored her. She had also chosen to put out of her mind the conversation she had overheard last time she was in Aberglyn. It couldn’t have meant anything much. And everyone did wrong things when they were young – herself for a start! She had jilted Edwin, more or less – she was a disgrace to her family! She and Daniel were both people who lived passionately, she decided, and were having to learn from their mistakes. That was why they were so well suited. They were Communists, revolutionaries: there was more to their lives than petty jealousies.

  The train began to lose speed. They were pulling into Aberglyn and he would be there. In a few moments she would be in his arms!

  As she stepped out of the carriage onto the darkened station, the train let out a great belch of steam, like a sigh of relief. There were not many people on the platform and she looked around, smiling in anticipation. She could not immediately see him, her eyes looking round hungrily, anticipating the sight of Daniel’s beloved body, which she felt she knew as well as her own. But he did not appear. She stood by the little ticket office, keeping her lips turned up, trying not to feel deflated. He’d be here in a moment – he had said he would be. But the minutes passed.

  ‘Gwen?’ She turned to see a woman beside her, hair tucked under a little felt hat, and it took a moment to register that it was Shân Sullivan.

  ‘Oh, hello!’ After waiting alone, Gwen felt uplifted just seeing anyone she recognized. And she liked Daniel’s auntie very much. In the dim lights, Shân looked pale and painfully thin.

  ‘I came to meet you, Gwen fach. Daniel was coming, but he and his uncle have gone and got themselves tied up in a compo case . . .’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘Oh, it’s over compensation for injury, like with Billy.’ Shân sounded weary to her bones. ‘There’s another lad lost the use of his legs . . .’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Gwen pushed away her feelings of disappointment. Of course a young man being crippled was more important than her. How could she argue with that? And, anyway, it was lovely to see Shân.

  They began walking the two miles up from the station. Gwen couldn’t help feeling cross with Daniel that his auntie had had to come all this way in her frail state.

  ‘I could have come on my own,’ she said. ‘No need to drag you out.’

  ‘Oh duw, no! There’s a terrible thing, leaving you to walk on your own. Billy wanted to come and meet you as well, Gwen, but I hadn’t the strength to push him all the way down here and back, so he’s sitting stewing at home. He’s been like a cat on hot bricks all day. You’ve been very good to him, girl, sending him the books and that.’

  Gwen smiled in the dark street. She heard singing coming out of a little church on one corner. ‘Oh, it’s just something to keep him occupied. He seems to love reading so much.’

  ‘Proper one for book reading, Billy is. Always has been, but of course since the accident it’s meant everything to him.’

  Gwen’s arm was aching from carrying her case, but she tried not to show her discomfort. She asked after the rest of the family and Shân said Anthony was spending every waking moment at the NUWM offices making arrangements for the march, which was only two weeks away.

  Daniel’s absence was almost made up for by the radiant look of excitement on Billy’s face as they came in through the door. He was in his wheelchair, a piece of blanket over his knees, which he snatched off impatiently as they came in.

  ‘You’re here – finally! Took you all evening to walk up the hill, did it!’

  ‘Well, I’m an old lady now, you know that,’ Shan retorted, going into the kitchen. ‘I’ve made us a bit to eat – you settle in and talk to Billy, or he’ll never forgive me!’

  Even while Gwen was taking her coat off, Billy was already launching off enthusiastically about Les Misérables, what a fantastic story it was and how on earth had Victor Hugo managed to write such a lot and the chase at the end through Paris was so exciting! He said it was the best book he’d ever read and he was going to start at the beginning and read it all over again.

  Gwen sat down beside him, laughing at his enthusiasm.

  ‘Well, I’m glad you liked it so much! I’m having to guess what would be best out of what I can find.’

  ‘Well, you found the best book ever written. Have you read it?’

  She had to admit she hadn’t.

  ‘Oh, well, you read it! I’ve read lots of adventure stories and that – and Jack London’s been one of my favourites, but I’ve never read anything like that before.’

  ‘And I’ve never met anyone who loves reading so much.’

  ‘Well, it takes you out of yourself, doesn’t it? Sitting here all day – you know . . .’ He looked crestfallen for a moment, but then smiled. ‘Hope you don’t mind me writing to you?’

  ‘Mind? Of course I don’t mind. It’s lovely – and your letters are so nice to read. You’ve got quite a way with words, Billy.’

  Billy looked so pleased when she said this that Gwen wondered whether to say more, to suggest that perhaps he might want to write other things, but she decided to wait. After all, she’d only just got in through the door.

  They chatted as Shân heated the food. Gwen told Billy about her class, about how Lucy was getting on, and Bill
y laughed at some of her stories. She didn’t tell him about Ron Parks. By the end of the week she had still not got to the bottom of what had happened to Ron.

  ‘Those men won’t be back yet,’ Shân said, calling them to the table. ‘We’ll eat ours, or there’s curling up with hunger we’ll be before they decide to come home.’

  Gwen pushed Billy’s chair into the kitchen.

  ‘Daniel’s an idiot,’ Billy said, as she walked behind the chair. ‘I mean, I know the party’s vital, and the march and everything – but if I had you here for me the way he has, I wouldn’t be at any meeting tonight, I can tell you!’

  Gwen felt a lump rise up in her throat for a moment, both for Billy’s predicament and for herself. She liked being with Shân and Billy, though. It always felt cosy in the steamy little kitchen. She tried to relax, not to imagine each sound, every footfall, was Daniel and his uncle coming back.

  ‘I hardly see Anthony these days,’ Shân said. ‘If it’s not problems with the dole or compo claims, it’s the march . . . I know they’ve got to do it, but I’ll still be glad when it’s over. Is anyone ever listening in the government? – That’s what I want to know.’

  ‘Now they’ve got the unemployment figures down in England they don’t care two hoots about us here,’ Billy said. ‘You have to show them – force them to listen!’

  Hearing the passion in his voice, Gwen immediately felt proud of Daniel again and all he was doing. After all, he could have gone to Birmingham and just looked out for himself. Instead, he was putting all his energy into his people and where he came from.

  It was after eleven when the men came home at last. Daniel’s eyes met hers as they came in and she beamed at him.

  ‘Got here all right?’ He came straight over and kissed her cheek. ‘Sorry I wasn’t at the station.’

  ‘Not to worry.’ She smiled, free of resentment now.

  Before she went up to bed, Daniel came to speak to her in the little hall. Conscious of the others next door, they held each other close and he whispered into her neck, ‘I’m going to have to be at a few meetings tomorrow.’