Petronella & the Trogot

by Cheryl Bentley

  Petronella got up to go. “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Petronella. What’s your name?”

  “I be Alfie.”

  “Well, goodbye, Alfie. It’s been a pleasure talking to you.”

  Alfie saw Petronella off and kept waving his axe at her until she was out of sight. Then he closed the door and went to the garden to start work on building his pig sties.

  Petronella smiled to herself. What a good morning’s work this had been.

  Chapter 21

  Percy was in the garden with Maalox when Petronella got back to her cottage. They were messing around with the snails in the bunker.

  “Come on,” she said to Percy, “you know we’ve got an appointment to meet the head teacher, Miss Norman, this afternoon. “Go and get yourself cleaned up, my boy.”

  Percy was dreading going to school. He thought he was rubbish at learning. Truth was that by always working with his hands, his brain had got lazy. Still he had better do what Petronella wanted otherwise she might just send him back to sweat in the fields. The other thing he wasn’t good at was washing himself. He hated water and don’t talk to him about soap.

  “I BE clean,” Percy said. And he really meant it.

  “You don’t know what ’clean’ means,” she said. “Come on. Up those stairs you go and into the bathroom.”

  “What AGAIN?” he asked. “I only washeth mynself three days ago, ye knoweth I doth nat like water.”

  “Percy, please, don’t answer back and do as you are told right away!”

  After much ado, Percy finally went and washed himself. And now down to school. To see the head teacher, no less.

  “Come in, come in,” said Miss Norman, looking at Percy over her glasses. “So you’re the new boy, are you? I was expecting you to be smaller. How old are you?”

  “Eleven,” Percy answered.

  “ELEVEN!” the head teacher said. Her left eye started twitching. Now turning to Petronella, the posh Miss Norman said: “OUR school is for children from five to eleven years old. I was told he was to start in Year 1. That’s for five-year-olds!” She sat down and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Then she leaned forward towards Petronella and half-whispering said: “Is there something wrong with him?” Her eye was still twitching. Petronella couldn’t work out if the head teacher was winking at her, or what?

  Petronella sat up straight and lifted her chin. This was her ‘proud’ position. “There is nothing at all wrong with Percy. He’s just, well, he just... got a bit left behind.”

  “A bit left behind, my foot!” The head teacher now pushed her chair back, making the most awful squeaky noise caused by the grating of the chair legs on the tiled floor. Beaming a look of thunder, and flashing bolts in Percy’s direction, she said:

  “Have you ever been to school, boy. Come on, speak up.”

  Petronella wished Miss Norman were a bit nicer to Percy. The poor boy had peed his bed last night. Treating him like that would not help him. Petronella had pretended she hadn’t noticed the pee and just put the sheets in the washing machine.

  “Yes, I been to school, so I hath.”

  “So, I hath!” she mocked. “What kind of talk is that, if you please? So when did you go to school?”

  “I been to school from September to Christmas, then I stoppeth. Days were short at the beginning of the year and then spring cometh and I must needs goeth out into that them fields.”

  Miss Norman put her hands over her ears. She just couldn’t bear to listen to language that was NOT the Queen’s English. She took three slow deep breaths to gather herself together. But she was still red in the face. “How long ago was that?” Percy turned to Petronella as if to ask for help.

  “Sooooooooo,” said Petronella, “this is going to sound really strange, but it was about 1,000 years ago. 1,159 years ago, if we want to nit pick. Isn’t that right, Percy?”

  “That be right. We worketh it out the other evening together.”

  The head teacher now threw her head back laughing with an open mouth. They could see the gold fillings in the top row of her teeth. She kept laughing so much that she nearly fell backwards. All at once, she was serious. Got up and placed her hands on her hips for balance. “1,159 years ago! 1,159 years ago! Get out, GET OUT right now. You time-wasters, out of my office this minute. Do you hear?”

  Petronella took him by the hand and said: “Let’s go, Percy.” Then she darted a look at the head teacher, straight in the eye and said: “This school is not good enough for Percy. I will find him a better education than you could ever give him in this place. You are a disgrace to teachers and head teachers everywhere. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  With that, Petronella slammed the door behind her. “Percy, I will teach you myself. Everyday you will learn reading and writing, maths, geography and history. You will have a much better schooling than any other child in the village. Every day after lessons have finished we’ll play board games. Or you and Maalox can go snail-racing.”

  Meanwhile the head teacher was wondering what to do. She slid her fingers into her hair then started pulling at it hard. It was her way of chilling out. As she did this, she sat back into her chair... but aaarrrggghhh someone was already sitting there. Miss Norman sprang up and bumped against her desk. She twisted around and saw a little prim-and-proper woman sitting in HER black leather chair. She was wearing a long black dress, with a crisp white apron over it, and a cap to match. On her feet were very shiny polished little black leather bootees - laced up tight. All her hair had been crammed up into her white starched cap.

  “Who are you? And, what are you doing HERE!” the head teacher shouted.

  “Please do nat be so angry,” the figure said. “I be Miss Primrose, the headmistress of this school. That be the reason why I be here. Can I help ye?”

  “YOU, help ME? Whatever next? Am I going cuckoo or something? What is this place coming to?” Miss Norman started shivering.

  “Me thinketh ye not be well, my friend. Why doth ye nat goeth home and taketh a rest? I shall seeth to duties here while ye health becometh better,” Miss Primrose said sweetly. So sweetly that Miss Norman could not refuse such an offer. She was clouded over by such kindness. Oh, yes, she needed to get right away from this school which had caused her so much pain, so much anger. She’d go home and give her nerves a rest. But what strange language. What part of the country was she from?

  “Goodbye, Miss Primrose, I’ll leave the place in your good hands and come back when I’m better.”

  Miss Norman went home thinking the teaching agency must have sent Miss Primrose to the school to help her out. So much work managing those silly brats. But who had phoned the agency and asked for a supply head teacher? Never mind. Miss Norman was happy to get away from this pit of a school. Little did she know that she would never be head teacher of Fort Willow School again.

  Chapter 22

  On their way home, Petronella and Percy came to a road block. On the other side was a group of shouting peasants. They were waving their pitch-forks and chanting “Down with Lord Fortesque.” One of them recognised Percy. “Oh, Percy, myn boy. How be ye? Hath nat seeth ye for a long time. Be this your gran’ma?” one of them said pointing to Petronella.

  “No, it be nat,” Percy said. “This be Petronella. She looketh after me while my gran’ma be away.”

  “Where be ye gran’ma gone, then? That be strange, she never leaveth the cottage.”

  “I waketh up one day and Petronella be there instead of myn gran’ma. But Petronella be very nice to me. The only bad things be that she wanteth me to goeth to school and washeth mynself.”

  “To school?” said the peasant. “Well, I never. What ye wanteth to goeth to school for? School never didst anyone any good. Fillest ye head with fancy ideas, so it doth.”

  “If I doth nat go to school, I might hath to goeth back and worketh in the fields for Lord Fortesque. I shall do anything as long as I must needs nat goeth back to those them fields.”

  “Te
ll me more about Lord Fortesque,” said Petronella.

  “He be the man who owneth all the meadows in Fort Willow. Day and night we worketh our fingers to the bone in those them fields. Then he taketh all the produce. Ye seeth, lady, we even hath children here with us. As soon as a lad can worketh, he hath to worketh for Lord Fortesque. The girls, they goeth to keepeth house for him and Lady Fortesque. Cooketh them banquets, cleaneth their Manor House and castle, keepeth their wardrobe, and the like. The Fortesques liveth up in the Manor House in summer.”

  Petronella had understood it all. This group of Strincas thought that Farmer Giles, today’s Mayor of Fort Willow, was the medieval Lord Fortesque.

  “Oh, yes,” she said, “Lord Fortesque up at the Manor House. Silly me, I remember now. Yes, yes, he is indeed the owner of all the fields in and around Fort Willow.”

  “He be what ye sayeth, lady,” said another peasant.

  “Now you all listen to me carefully,” said Petronella, holding The Metal Disc up so they could see it. “From tomorrow you can take over those fields. You can do what you like with them. Grow your own produce and keep it all. You can start by picking all the fruit in the orchards, and the vegetables in the fields. You can sell it all at a very good price at the Saturday farmers’ market. From 9.00 to 11.00 o’clock. I will be your first customer.”

  “But Lord Fortesque will set his soldiers on to us,” one said.

  “No, he won’t. He has no more soldiers, only an axeman. But that axeman has never attacked anyone. You need not worry about him. I promise you he is harmless.”

  “We knoweth him. He be famous. That be Alfie,” one of the peasants said.

  “Oh, yes, Alfie,” said another peasant. “He never hurteth a fly in his life. Looketh fierce, mind ye. What with his giant body and dog’s face. All he ever choppeth were trees in the woods. That be what he be good at axing. Hath nat seeth Alfie for a long time. We must needs payeth him a visit. He hath prize pigs, the best in the land. Loveth his pigs doth Alfie.”

  Holding up the Metal Disc again, she said: “Well, I think you should all go and pay Alfie a visit. You know where he lives, I suppose? 49 High Street. He’s feeling rather lonely at the moment because his wife is still missing. I’m sure he’ll be very happy to see you all.”

  They nodded in agreement and couldn’t wait to get going.

  “We must go home now,” said Petronella.

  “Goodbye, lady. Ye be blest. Oh, lady, you be a God-send! Are ye sure we can goeth and taketh over the fields,” one of the peasants asked.

  “As sure as I am standing here in front of you,” said Petronella. “Oh, just one more thing. What was that you said about Alfie being good at chopping down trees?”

  “Yes, he were the best chopper of trees ye could findeth for miles around. Quickest and strongest chopper Fort Willow hath ever known.”

  “Well that could well come in handy. And be there any other choppers amongst ye?” asked Petronella, noticing that it wasn’t the first time she’d talked like them. She really must not get into that habit.

  “Yes, so there be. Barney here is a damn good chopper, and Maxwell, and Stuart, and last, but he be by no means least, there be Spencer.”

  “I may well need your help. I will come and find you, if I need you. I know where you’ll be,” she said.

  So the peasants went off towards Farmer Giles’s lands. Chanting and singing. At last they were free to earn their own living from their work. Then they’d go and call on Alfie. A truly special day.

  Chapter 23

  Miss Primrose stood there straight as an army general. With a bell in her left hand and a cane in her right hand, in the middle of the school corridor. There was screaming and shouting everywhere. ‘Was this carnival?’ Miss Primrose thought. And the children were so badly dressed. She rang the bell until all the corridor was completely silent. She raised the cane well above her head slowly. Then, with a quick foul stroke, she swung it back down making a swoozing sound. Who’d have thought she had that much strength? A little woman like that!

  Miss Primrose’s face was serious, deadly serious. All the children gawped at her open-mouthed - that apron, that bonnet. What was that all about? They wanted to laugh, but couldn’t. They just stood there as if they were frozen.

  “Look at ye all, the state of ye,” Miss Primrose began, in a slow quiet voice. “Be that the way to presenteth yeselves for lessons? How can ye learneth when ye looketh such a total mess? Boys, buttoneth up the collars of ye shirts, knotteth up ye ties properly, tucketh ye shirts in ye trousers, and STANDETH UP STRAIGHT.”

  A sergeant major would not have had his orders followed more quickly. In a jiffy the boys had tidied themselves up. That language, though. Where was she from? Australia?

  “Girls, ye too, knotteth ye ties properly, buttoneth up ye cardigans and pulleth up ye socks. What be this I seeth? What hath happened to ye skirts? Why be they so short? And why be some girls wearing trousers? Be these ye brother’s hand-me-downs? Can ye parents nat afford a long skirt for ye? I wanteth ye all in long black skirts by Monday. When I sayeth long, I meaneth long. Down to the ankles. Woe-betide any girl who cometh to school in trousers or short skirt. For those of ye who do nat hath bonnets, I wanteth ye hair tiedeth up, too. Either in a neat bun or in a tight ponytail tiedeth up in a white ribbon.”

  The girls stared at each other. What was happening? Where was Miss Norman? As if reading their thoughts, Miss Primrose said:

  “I be now in charge of this school. Miss Norman be not well. Ye hath ruined her nerves, she needeth rest. Ye shall nat ruin myn nerves. Oh, no. If anything, I shall ruin ye nerves.

  “From now on I shall runneth the school. From today onwards, you shall be perfect in appearance. What be these spongy white shoes ye hath on? Myn word, they be so ugly. What happeneth to leather? Only black or brown leather shoes from Monday. With laces. They must needs be shined until ye seeth ye face in them. Take example from myn shoes. Seeth how shiny they be. A good brush, spit and elbow grease. That be all ye needeth.”

  On Monday morning, all the children looked like they had just come out of an old-time picture book. They had great fun giggling at their friends’ new-look. The boys were just like little gentlemen in their jackets and ties. All tidied up, they were. The girls were in black skirts down to the floor and shiny shoes. And their hair was either pushed up in a bonnet of tied up with white ribbon. Each child had a desk to themselves. And well spaced out. No talking to your classmate anymore. They also found ink-wells at the top of the desk. On the right. With a new feather pen in each.

  All mobile phones had been put in a metal chest, locked up and placed under the stage in the school theatre. Nobody could have them back until the school hols.

  There were new school rules, too. A list had been pinned up in the corridors:

  Walking down the corridors shall be strictly in single file. Always keepeth to the left side of the corridor.

  No-one shall chattereth in the corridors.

  Children must needs be seeneth and nat be heard. No children shall speaketh to teachers unless they be speaketh to first.

  All children must needs standeth up when a teacher or the Head Mistress entereth the classroom.

  Children shall sitteth up straight in their seats at all times.

  Any food from home shall be abolished. Children shall hath lunch in the school canteen (seeth ye the notice board for the menu).

  Children shall eateth in silence and all the food on their plates shall be finisheth off. No food shall be wasteth.

  Morning assembly shall resumeth. After registering with their form-teacher, school children shall attendeth assembly in the main hall. Children shall be seated cross-legged on the floor in straight rows of ten either side of a straight aisle which shall run from top to bottom of the hall. A corridor across for teachers to walketh down shall be left every three rows. No-one shall sag, no-one shall talk, on-one shall yawn.

  ***

  The computer room had been empti
ed and in its place were cookers with log ovens. Miss Primrose would teach Cookery and Bakery herself. The school children could eat all the fresh bread and biscuits they made.

  Another four Strincas teachers had just arrived. They would teach Needlework, Farming, Horse Riding, Gardening and Wood Chopping. The Needlework teacher was Miss Bitten. From now on, every child must bring with them from home: a small and medium sized needle. A darning needle. Knitting needles and crochet hook. Black and white thread. Black and white wool. Scissors and a thimble.

  The gym would be closed too. The children would go jogging to and around the woods instead. Before Wood Chopping lessons with Mr Conway. A field near the school would be carved up into squares. Each child would have their own patch of land and given packets of seeds for Gardening, also with Mr Conway. And for Farming, including Cow Milking and Sheep Shearing, pens would be built for the animals. As well as being the Farming teacher, Mr Morris would also organise weekly pony rides and teach the kids how to build tree houses. Mr Aitken would teach Horse Riding.

  Things were certainly changing at Fort Willow School. And the children found it exciting. With Wood Chopping the favourite subject for most of them. They couldn’t wait to get to school every day. Who would have thought?

  Chapter 24

  Mrs Bellamy was happy with her Saturday shopping. She’d got everything she wanted. A horrid smell hit her nose as soon as she opened her front door. ‘What’s this smell?’ she thought. As she came to the kitchen door, she heard clucking sounds. To her horror, she was faced with about twenty chickens flapping about. Most of them were whizzing around on her newly-tiled ceramic kitchen floor. Some had perched on her marble worktops. One was roosting in her glass-panelled cupboard in the corner.