‘And what did you say?’
‘I told them that they’d killed three of Mr Rosser’s prize pigs and wounded me in the leg and put an end to a promising football career.’
Debbie told Kevin to stop teasing and while Jamie retreated upstairs his sister asked her dad if the ice-cream man would be coming to their street.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Kevin and Debbie Tranter were curious and anxious as they made their way to Jamie’s school and their appointment with the headmaster, Mr Cookson. Jamie had settled in very well and his results had been excellent, so Debbie was hoping they’d been summoned to discuss his academic achievements. Kevin was hoping that Jamie had made the County football team.
Kevin had recently had his pride and joy, Betsy, serviced by the garage that repaired the farm tractors and it had made an uneventful arrival when they pulled up outside the school.
Mrs Farr, the school secretary, was a relative of Pat Rosser and she gave the Tranters’ a friendly welcome when they entered the little office that adjoined the headmaster’s rather larger one and asked them to take a seat.
‘Have you got any idea what this is all about, love?’ Kevin asked.
‘I honestly couldn’t tell you, Mr Tranter, but I’m sure that there’s no need to worry. Jamie’s a lovely boy and very popular, especially with the girls even though he ignores them.’
‘That’s our Jamie.’ Kevin said, ‘There’s plenty of time before he thinks about girls. Football is more important at his age,’ then added as an afterthought, ‘and school work of course.’
Kevin was reading the last of the certificates on the wall when Mr Franks, Jamie’s form teacher came out of the headmaster’s office. Mr Franks was short, slightly built, with a boyish hairstyle and could have passed for one of his older pupils even though he was nearly thirty years old. He gave Kevin a nervous nod, said he was sorry and hurried out of the office. Kevin was bemused by the apology and was about to make a comment to Debbie when Mr Cookson appeared at the doorway. He gave them a forced smile and asked if they would like some tea.
‘No thanks. We’re thinking of going into town for a pub lunch while we’re out. Who knows perhaps we’ll have something to celebrate.’ Kevin winked at a troubled looking Debbie who could see that Mr Cookson was looking very serious.
Debbie’s bad vibes were soon to be justified when Mr Cookson explained that Jamie’s results in the recent mock exams had been extremely disappointing.
Kevin was taken aback and expressed his surprise, ‘I don’t understand, all of his reports have been great. Mr Franks was only telling us a few weeks ago at a parent’s meeting that Jamie would definitely be in line for a university place when the time came. We have never had anyone go to university in my family and so I was really chuffed. Perhaps it’s my fault if he’s been neglecting his school work because I have been pushing him to practice his football.’
‘I don’t think it’s your fault, Mr Tranter and it has nothing to do with him playing too much football. When I said that the results were disappointing, I should have said disastrous. The average class mark for all subjects was 68%. Jamie’s highest mark was 8%.’
‘There must be a mistake, surely!’ Kevin said registering his disbelief and realised that this was really serious and suggested. ‘Perhaps some of his answer papers got lost.’
‘It is puzzling, but Jamie’s papers have been thoroughly rechecked. He answered every question, but only a few were correct. Can you think of any reason why he might have performed so badly?’
The only reason that Kevin could think of was that it he might have done it for a bet, but he didn’t think he should mention that to Mr Cookson when he replied, ‘Well, no. Have you asked him?’
‘We’re not allowed to question our pupils about this sort of thing in case it puts more pressure on them. It’s best if the parents try and determine any underlying reason. We won’t be announcing the results for a couple of days, so you’ll have a chance to discuss it with Jamie.’
‘Don’t worry we’ll get to the bottom of this and if he’s been messing about then I’ll give him what for,’ Kevin promised.
* * *
Kevin and Debbie had decided that when Jamie arrived home from school they wouldn’t mention their visit to the school until the time was right and Leanne wasn’t there. Once dinner was over Jamie was about to make his usual trek upstairs to his computer when Kevin asked if he fancied a kick about in the field at the end of the road.
‘I’d like to, Dad, but I’ve got a lot of homework.’
Kevin reached for his coat, ‘Come on we won’t be long. I feel like running the cobwebs off.’
Jamie didn’t need to be asked again and followed his dad out of the door, but he had already sensed that his dad wanted to speak to him on his own about something.
Kevin wasn’t the sort to beat about the bush and as soon as they reached the field he mentioned the visit to the school and Jamie’s results.
‘What!’ Jamie gasped. ‘This is a wind up, yes! 8%! You’ve got to be joking. 88% would be more like it.’
Jamie took some persuading before he accepted that his dad wasn’t having him on.
‘So, you really have no idea what could have happened?’
Jamie shook his head, still dazed by the news. ‘I just don’t understand what could have happened. The answer papers couldn’t have got mixed up because no one in my class is daft enough to only get 8%.’
‘The headmaster told us that your exam papers were thoroughly rechecked.’
Jamie told his dad that he had answered all of the questions and that there was no way that he could have ended up with such a low mark.
‘That’s all I wanted to know, son. I‘ll go and see the headmaster and see if they’ll let you sit the exams again. Now let’s forget about school and play some football.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Rufus frowned when he heard the knock on the front door. He looked over at his mother and then the clock on the mantelpiece. It was getting dark outside and they never usually had a caller this late at night. The fake Beware of Dog sign and assortment of notices, including, No Hawkers, No Salesmen, No Junk Mail and No Beggars usually did the trick. The large wattage security light that temporarily blinded any callers helped as well.
‘Who could this be at such an unearthly hour, Mother, unless it’s a neighbour? Perhaps they’ll go away if we don’t answer. I’ll go and make us a hot chocolate drink.’
Rufus shook his head as he eased himself out of the old armchair and then made his way to the kitchen. The knocking started again and whoever it was they were very determined, so Rufus switched on the kettle and then made his way along the hallway ready to get rid of the persistent caller.
‘I’m coming,’ Rufus shouted when the knocking was repeated when he was close to the door. It took almost a minute before he had finished opening the two locks and drew back the three bolts that were equally spaced on the door.
The caller wasn’t a neighbour and he was a complete stranger.
‘We don’t have a telephone if that’s what you’re after,’ Rufus lied.
The smartly dressed man gave a forced smile as he shielded his eyes from the security lamp.
‘I’m sorry to call so late, sir, but I’m looking for a Mr Rufus Cranleigh concerning some very important government business.’
‘What sort of business. You’re not one of those blood sucking taxmen and what sort of funny accent is that you’ve got?’
‘I’m one of your American cousins.’
‘Then you’ve come to the wrong house because I haven’t got any cousins, not even English ones.’
Sligo smiled once more. This wasn’t going to be easy, not with this cantankerous so and so, but he didn’t have much choice.
‘I didn’t mean that you were my real cousin. It’s just that I regard all you English folks as sort of kin. After all our countries do have a special relationship, but you are Rufus Cranleigh?’
‘
Who is it Rufus?’ his mother called out.
‘It’s some American feller,’ he shouted in reply. He had been about to deny being Rufus Cranleigh, but there was no point now.
‘It would be to your financial advantage if I could just have a few words inside and out of the glare of your light or should I say heater,’ suggested Sligo. Money usually opened doors and it proved to be the case this time, when after a moment’s hesitation Rufus invited him in, but explained that it was nearing his mother’s bedtime.
Ben Sligo was soon to discover that old Mrs Cranleigh was even more hostile than her son when she declared that she didn’t like Americans and then added, ‘I expect your Granddaddy was one of those who tried to win a woman’s affection with a pair of silk stockings. Well, the feller who tried it on with my Aunt Doris came unstuck. I think you would say, big time, in the modern jargon. She gave him a black eye in the middle of the dance floor. He left with his tail between his legs and was never seen again. I don’t suppose they were all bad and some of them were certainly very brave young men from what I have been told.’
Sligo was wondering what the old lady was like when she was younger and what sort of life her husband must have had with her.
‘Your old Aunt Doris must have been a tough lady, Mrs Cranleigh and you sure have an interesting family, but I’d like to talk business with you both.’
When Sligo left the Cranleigh’s house he headed back to the campervan that he’d parked at the end of the lane. He had purchased the vehicle with money from the special funds that he’d been surprised that he still had access to and he hoped would cater for any expenses he needed to fund the investigation he was determined would have a successful outcome. He had expected to read about his escape from the secure unit in the newspapers, but it looked as though the diplomatic boys were keeping it a secret and hoping that he would give himself up.
The Cranleighs’ hadn’t seemed impressed by his claims that they would be doing the government a special service by allowing him to lodge there and carry out surveillance on the family next door. They might have looked dopey, but they had driven a hard bargain when it came to the rent. Rufus had told him to bring his things around the following day and they would tell their neighbours that he was a lodger who would only be staying with them for a couple of weeks.
CHAPTER TWENTY–TWO
Jamie’s headmaster, Mr Cookson pressed down the lapels of his jacket with his hands and then combed the wisps of hair for the third time since he’d arrived at school. He wasn’t normally so vain, but today was probably the most important one for him since he’d been made headmaster seven years ago. He was like a nervous pupil who was starting at a new school. The head of the local education authority had hinted that the ‘Headmaster of the Year’ award would be his once he was observed ‘in action’ by the two judges who would be attending this morning’s assembly. The award was to be given for excellence in a number of key areas, with special emphasis on discipline. The local authority were determined to improve the level of discipline in line with government policy and Mr Cookson was believed to have run a tight ship with a zero tolerance approach to pupils who did not conform to the school code. Mr Cookson was thankful that Jason Patmore was no longer at the school and it might turn out to be fortuitous that the headmaster of Jason’s new school was his main rival for the award.
Jamie was sat near some of his football teammates in the Assembly Hall and he was soon reflecting on his time at his new school. He liked most things at school, but domestic science wasn’t one of them. Why did he need to cook or bake when he had a mum and a sister and one day he might have a wife?
Mr Cookson opened the assembly by congratulating the pupils for their performance in the recent exams.
‘So, pupils, you should all feel very proud of your achievements. Remember my motto. Hard work, brings you luck.’
Jamie was remembering the ribbing he had endured surrounding his own results. There had been light hearted cries of, ‘fix,fix’, after Jamie had retaken the exams and been awarded the top mark of 90%.
Mr Cookson shuffled his notes as he waited for the teachers to finish their clapping and was about to continue when a voice called out from the middle of the hall.
‘Rhubarb! You talk a load of old rhubarb.’
Mr Cookson was taken aback, not quite believing what he had heard, but he recovered and then came the second shout.
‘Give it a rest, Cookie.’
Mr Cookson was completely flustered this time and the teachers who were stood at the side of the hall scanned the rows of pupils trying to locate where the shout had come from. Some of the teachers started issuing lots of ‘Ssshhh’s’ in an attempt to quell the tittering and laughter of the pupils.
The headmaster showed a rare display of anger when he roared out, ‘Who said that?’
Jamie calmly rose from his seat and announced defiantly, ‘I did, you boring, old duffer. Can we go now, before we all fall asleep?’
There was a chorus of muffled snorts as some of the gathering tried to suppress their laughter. The headmaster’s face was reddened with fury and the teachers looked awkward and some were obviously angry.
‘Nice one, Jamie,’ Lee Mason whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
Jamie was sat next to Lee Mason and gave him a puzzled look in response to his remark.
The hall was bedlam as the teachers tried to restore silence and the headmaster ordered Jamie to go to his office, but Jamie remained in his seat. It was a highly distressed Mr Cookson who declared that assembly was over and then hurried from the hall, but not before he had seen the serious faced officials who were making notes.
‘Why is everyone looking at me,’ Jamie asked Lee Mason as they walked slowly behind the line of pupils filing out of the hall.
Lee gave Jamie a playful slap on the back and said, ‘It’s because you’ve just become a school legend, Tranter boy, that’s why.’
‘Huh,’ was all that Jamie could say and his bewilderment continued when Mr Benson ordered him to the headmaster’s office.
‘And we’ll have no more of your cheek, you miserable, boy.’
Mr Benson was a former rugby player who now taught English. He had a beer belly to match Jamie’s Uncle Steve’s and a vein in the side of his face that pulsated when he clamped his teeth together. Jamie suspected Mr Benson made the vein pulse to try and make him look more fearsome, but the badly broken nose and his, cold, staring eyes, that never seemed to blink were intimidating enough.
‘Have I done something wrong, sir?’ Jamie asked innocently.
Mr Benson looked as though he was on the point of exploding, but managed to control himself when he said though gritted teeth, ‘Move, boy, move now and don’t say another word.’
When Jamie arrived outside the headmaster’s office, Mrs Farr gave him a sympathetic smile and told him to sit and wait until his parents arrived.
* * *
Kevin was still in his working clothes and not exactly sweet smelling when he arrived home and found Debbie in a bit of state and she had been crying. Debbie had telephoned him at work and said that the school needed to see them urgently. They stressed that Jamie was fine, but there had been an incident and they needed to take Jamie home. Kevin showered and changed in record time and they were soon on their way to the school.
‘Don’t worry, love,’ Kevin repeated during the short journey to school. ‘I bet he’s been fighting over something or other. If it was back home it would hardly rate as an ‘incident.’ They’ll likely suspend him for a week or give him a warning, but it’s not as though he’ll be banned for a season.’
‘I wish you’d take these things more seriously,’ Debbie snapped. ‘He might have to change schools if it’s something serious.’
‘I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I shouldn’t have joked, but he won’t have to change schools. I promise you that everything will be all right.’
Kevin was still trying to reassure Debbie when they drove into the school car park
and then made their way inside the main school building.
Jamie was waiting in Mrs Farr’s small office and he just shrugged his shoulders when Kevin asked him what he’d been up to.
‘Search me, but Mr Cookson is really upset about something. He went ape and just lost it.’
Jamie was asked to remain seated while Kevin and Debbie were ushered in to see the headmaster who was clearly upset and began ranting about how Jamie had let the school down and would have to be suspended and probably even expelled.
‘Steady on, mate,’ Kevin said, showing his annoyance with the ranting headmaster. ‘It might help if you told us what he’s supposed to have done. You make it sound as though he tried to burn the school down.’
‘He, he…,’ the headmaster struggled to compose himself. ‘It was during assembly. He insulted me in front of the whole of the third and fourth years and some very important visitors, The boy has no control and needs to be taught some manners and respect.’
‘Well that depends on what he actually said,’ Kevin replied.
‘What he said was offensive and unacceptable and that’s why I want him out of the school now and you’ll be informed of the decision regarding his punishment.’
‘That’s not good enough. If my boy’s done something seriously wrong then I want to know the details. What did he say exactly?’
‘Amongst other things he called me a boring old duffer.’
‘But supposing you are a boring old duffer and then he would just have been telling the truth, wouldn’t he?’
‘I think you should be more concerned with your son’s mental state than point scoring with me. Jamie says that he has no recollection of saying anything during the assembly and given the recent episode of his examination results you may need to seek medical advice.’
‘So he’s either an unruly scallywag or he’s barmy?’ Kevin snapped.
‘I’m not familiar with the term scallywag, but there’s something wrong. So, I’m suspending him with immediate effect.’
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