by MARY HOCKING
Chatterton followed more slowly. He was not, in fact, as untouched as Rudderham imagined. The pressure of work had stepped up alarmingly recently with no corresponding increase in staff, and the long years in the torpid educational atmosphere of South-East Kent had not prepared him for it. Demands were being made on him which he could not meet and which would have taxed the ability of a more committed man; it was not lack of interest in his chairman which made him so ineffective lately, it was lack of stamina.
‘Ellis not here?’ Wicks stopped him as he reached the door.
‘No. We felt that there were enough officers.’
It was not wise to answer Wicks in his own coin, but Chatterton was tired and it irked him that the Deputy’s absence should be noted.
‘You mustn’t take my grumblings seriously.’ Wick’s was everyone’s friend to his face. ‘And I know you have your troubles. Poor old Rudderham!’ He sighed. ‘You know, I’m fond of the old boy, he’s been good in his day, better than a lot of the young hotheads credit him for. But he can’t cope with present-day tensions. It’s not surprising, of course; not his world. But it worries me when I see him up against people like Bunce—and Bunce is no professional, goodness knows.’
‘You think the professional politician belongs in local government?’
‘It’s coming, believe me. Whether you and I like it or not, it’s coming.’ Wicks nodded his head and contrived to look dismal about the future. ‘Everything’s so complicated now, you see; you’ve got to be a bit of a specialist, read up your stuff, really know about it. Otherwise you’re in trouble. Oh boy, you’re in trouble! You should have heard some of the questions I was asked at the meeting at Eastgate Boys’ School last night.’
‘Proctor probably put them up to that.’
Chatterton was referring to the Head of the Eastgate Boys’ Grammar School. Wicks nodded his head.
‘You’ll have to have a word with him, you know,’ he said, more in sorrow than in anger. ‘I know how he feels, and I’ve got a lot of sympathy with him. But he can’t go on like that. I could handle it as it happened, but if it had been Rudderham . . .’ He shook his head and whistled through his teeth. Chatterton, who did not like discussing his Chairman in this way, said, ‘I’ll have a word with Proctor.’
Wicks wanted to stay and chat. The man seemed to exist only for local government, at the end of the longest meeting he wanted to stay on even when, as now, his face was ashen with exhaustion. Chatterton wondered what drove men like this. His own head was aching and all that he wanted was a chair by the fire and a stiff whisky.
‘Well, George will be on our tail,’ he said, referring to the night porter. He moved away briskly and Wicks followed him to the head of the stairs where he turned aside to the members’ room.
Rudderham was still there. Wicks said to him, ‘Not one of the best.’
‘I thought it better to let them talk. Must give these matters an airing.’
‘Oh, I think you were right.’
‘I could do with more support from Chatterton, though. Dammit, the man prepared the report, and he hardly made an attempt . . .’
‘Things are changing, not his world any more . . .’
‘I don’t want comprehensive education myself,’ Rudderham snapped, he was not a complete fool and could see the way that Wicks’s mind was working. ‘But we’ve got to do something about it. The Department made that pretty plain when we tried to get the new science wing at Highfield into a building programme. No comprehensive scheme, no money for building.’
‘You’re right, of course. But how you’ll ever get things moving with Chatterton at the wheel, I don’t know.’
Rudderham glared in the mirror as he washed his hands and sleeked a few strands of hair across his bald pate.
‘An expert on office management, that’s what we need!’ It was the one modern idea which appealed to him and he was beginning to see it as his salvation; he might make a new name for himself as the man who swept away the dead wood and revitalized the Education Department.
‘You may be right.’ Wicks had suffered from this in his own work; he was nearer to the pulse of the ordinary worker than the Chairman. ‘As long as we don’t become too efficient, I’d hate the education office to lose touch with the public.’
‘Whatever you do, the public will criticize you,’ Rudderham said bitterly.
‘But over some things more than others.’
They went out together and parted on the steps of the County Council offices. Wicks was no drinker and Rudderham wanted to get back and knock off a few quick ones. He was very annoyed, therefore, when as he got out of his car a figure moved from the shadow of the garden wall and came towards him.
‘Major Rudderham?’
‘Yes?’
He peered at the woman, dead white face, odd, fixed expression, for a moment he had certain doubts.
‘You’re the Chairman of the Education Committee, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ he said uneasily. ‘But it’s half past eleven. Madam, and . . .’
‘And you’re too busy? All right. But I wanted to see you before I went to the press . . .’
Damn it all! He said good-bye to his drink and called after her as she turned away, ‘Come, come. If it’s urgent, you’d better come in, I suppose.’
And it had better be urgent, he thought angrily.
Chapter Four
Chatterton made a note and said, ‘I’ll look into it.’ He dropped his pencil and eased back in his chair, his manner suggesting, as he intended that it should, that he had more important things to do.
‘I didn’t like the sound of it, I can tell you that.’ Rudderham had had an unpleasant evening and had given up a round of golf to come to the education office this morning; he was in no mood to be brushed aside. ‘Woman was very upset, quite beside herself, in fact.’
The education office had at least one parent a day who answered to this description. Chatterton said, ‘One needs to hear both sides of the case.’
‘I’ll be interested to hear what that fellow Drew has to say. Always been a bit uneasy about him, you know. I’d like you to deal with this personally.’
Chatterton looked at him over the rim of his glasses. ‘If I was expected to deal with all these cases personally . . .’ His long face puckered in a woebegone expression.
Rudderham was not amused. Chatterton’s tendency to act the clown on occasions had never appealed to him. ‘I had to deal with the woman personally,’ he snapped. ‘And I must say there was one thing that surprised me. A matter of fact, quite easily proved or disproved, no question of there being two sides to it. Woman said she wasn’t allowed to see anyone in authority here, and she ended up being talked down to by a teenager with her hair half down her back, wearing a skirt no bigger than a sporran.’
‘They all wear them, from thirty-five downwards,’ Chatterton pointed out dryly. ‘Miss Hester, in fact, is twenty-four and she is a very reliable young woman.’
‘But surely there must have been someone more senior who could have seen the woman?’
‘I’ll have a word with Punter.’
Rudderham felt at a disadvantage. He had pushed Punter’s appointment because Punter’s mother was his cousin. It was becoming increasingly apparent that this had been a mistake. Punter had no aptitude for work.
‘Well,’ he got to his feet. ‘I don’t want to press this too hard. But complaints should be investigated, don’t you agree?’
‘I assure you they are investigated immediately and thoroughly. And this one will be no exception. We probably have a report from the Head already.’
‘Good, good! Woman was talking about going to the press. We don’t want that sort of thing. You know how those wallahs exaggerate.’ He felt awkward now, conscious that he had probably made too much of a trifling incident. ‘Sorry to bother you with this. Know how busy you are. But I don’t like people saying no one would see them at the education office.’
This still stuck in his
throat. Indeed, it was the one aspect which, at the time, seemed of much importance to Chatterton.
‘Why weren’t you here?’ he asked Punter. Not that he had much confidence in his Assistant Education Officer’s ability to deal with people and their problems; Punter was so sure that he knew the answer to everything that he scarcely bothered to find out what particular question was being raised with him. Nevertheless, the woman would probably have felt she had had her moneysworth if she had seen a man in a position of some authority, and Punter could be relied on to emphasize his authority.
‘Really!’ Punter bleated. ‘I ought to be able to turn my back on the office for five minutes. I had to go to Five Acres School . . .’
‘What do you mean, had to go? In my experience nothing has ever happened at Five Acres that couldn’t wait for another day. I was at a meeting and so was Ellis. You should have been here, you know that as well as I do.’
Punter opened his mouth and then shut it again; he looked at once surly and uneasy. Chatterton, regarding him wearily, guessed what was troubling him. Normally he would not have pressed the point, but this was no time in which to be over-scrupulous about one’s colleagues’ freedom of movement.
‘What time did you actually leave the school?’ he asked.
‘Well, I had an evening meeting, and last night there was the youth rally . . .’
‘For God’s sake, man! I don’t mind if you went home to tea. You’re not the office junior. I just want to know the facts.’
‘I left the school at three o’clock.’
‘And went straight home?’
‘Yes.’
Chatteron made a wry face; his regime was lax, no use blaming Punter for taking advantage of it.
‘Well, never mind that. Do you know what Miss Hester did about the complaint?’
Punter looked uncomfortable. ‘She did mention it to me this morning, but . . . None of the post had been signed, and some of the incoming post hadn’t been sorted; I was rather annoyed. She doesn’t organize her work very well, she can’t pick out the thing that’s urgent and attend to it, she let’s herself get bogged down . . .’
‘And you didn’t think this complaint was urgent?’
‘Not on the face of it.’
Chatterton, who rather agreed with him, sighed. ‘I’d better see Miss Hester, I think. Then I’ll go over and see Drew.’
‘Would you like me to do that?’ Punter brightened at the prospect of legitimate escape.
‘No.’ Chatterton was briefly in impish mood. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it, with all that post waiting to be signed. Send Miss Hester along to me.’
Punter went out, his feet dragging a little. He was not too happy about the idea of Chatterton talking to Maggie Hester alone. As well as being unable to organize her work, she was rather lacking in discretion. It would not occur to her, for example, to tell a white lie to get herself or anyone else out of difficulty; not that she was smug or self-righteous, it was simply that her self-defence mechanism appeared to be quite inadequate. She had no sense of imminent danger.
Chatterton listened to Maggie’s story without interrupting her. He thought what a joy she was to behold and marvelled how anyone could complain about the brevity of her skirt. The best pair of legs in the Department. He wondered if she was a virgin; there was something about her which suggested that, in spite of her age, she might be. A little afraid of men, or of herself perhaps?
‘You did everything you could, Miss Hester,’ he said courteously when she had finished. ‘Don’t worry about it. I assume you asked Drew for a report?’
‘I . . .’ She stopped and coloured. ‘I told him about it. I’ll make a note of his comments, shall I?’
Something wrong here, Chatterton thought, studying her. Her face was crumpled with concern; but the eyes looked at him steadily, the expression that of someone who cannot hope to deflect wrath.
‘When did you speak to him?’ he asked gently. ‘Did you leave it until this morning? You were very busy yesterday afternoon, I know.’
She still hesitated. So it wasn’t as simple as that. Chatterton looked down at the desk, at the pattern of light and shadow thrown by the sun across its worn leather surface, and he felt unaccountably tired as though he wanted to lay his head on the desk and let sleep blot out the office and all its petty irritations. He had had this feeling of overwhelming tiredness once or twice lately.
Maggie Hester said, ‘It happened that I saw Mr. Drew after I left the office, so I told him then.’
Chatterton said, ‘I see. Well, I don’t suppose it matters.’
There was a pause, then she said, ‘Is that all?’
‘Yes. Thank you, Miss Hester.’ It took a physical effort for him to raise his head. ‘You can leave it to me now.’
When she had gone his secretary put her head round the door to say that she was making coffee.
‘I’ll have it black,’ he said.
What a damned nuisance Rudderham was!
He looked at his desk. There was the report on comprehensive education; the committee now wanted further reports on alternative ways of running a split-site school, (a) should one building be used mainly for practical purposes, the other for class purposes, or (b) would it be better to organize one as an upper and the other as a lower school? They wanted both possibilities examined in detail although previously they had specifically stated that at this stage they were concerned only with broad outlines of policy. Now they wanted a review of other split-site schools in the country, and the findings of those concerned as to the advantages and disadvantages of schemes (a) and (b) (as if one didn’t know that without consulting other local education authorities!); they wanted detailed information on the staffing of such a school, first for scheme (a) and then for scheme (b), the curriculum, (a) and (b), and the extensions needed to the buildings of the schools which were to be amalgamated, (a) and (b) again. It was essential, they had insisted, that this information should be available at the special meeting to be held in a week’s time. But even then, they were unlikely to make a decision. They had not really decided what policy to adopt with regard to comprehensive education and instead of getting down to a discussion on the basic issue, they skirted it, asking for more information on this aspect, a report on that alternative, setting up working parties whose reports they would eventually reject. These delaying tactics inevitably gave rise to local criticism and impaired their relations with the Department of Education and Science. When things got bad, they looked for a scapegoat. The weeks ahead would not be pleasant.
In addition to the report on comprehensive education Chatterton was also asked, as a matter of urgency, to let the Establishment Committee have a detailed report on the staffing needs of the Education Department for the impending triennial review. He was also required to produce a report on the need for a more generous pupil-teacher ratio. Both these items were urgent and required his personal attention.
The Education Department was seriously under-staffed, but any attempt to rectify the position would meet with objections from the Clerk of the County Council and the County Treasurer both of whom were jealous of their status as the first officers of the Council. Chatterton would have to battle not only with members, but with these powerful officers, if he hoped to improve the lot of his staff. They had already made mincemeat of the County Architect’s modest requests. Chatterton would have to fight as hard for the new clerical assistant in the Careers Advisory Section as for the professional assistant in the Schools Section; of the professional assistant, it would be said, ‘At this rate they will all be generals in the Education Department’, while the additional clerical post would be greeted with cries of ‘The family tree has too long a tail.’
The improvement of the pupil-teacher ratio was a matter of some urgency; staffing in the County Council’s schools was on a less generous scale than in surrounding areas and as a result the County was losing good teachers and failing to replace them. Chatterton owed it to the teachers in the area to make
a strong plea for improved conditions. This again would involve a fight with the County Treasurer.
Ellis, the Deputy Education Officer, was able and ambitious, but to leave these matters in his hands would be to reduce their importance in the eyes of members. An urgent meeting of the Establishment Committee had been called while Chatterton was on holiday last year and as a result the staffing of the Advisory Section had been drastically cut. He had been told afterwards that one member had been overheard to say, ‘What can they expect if the Chief Education Officer can’t be bothered to attend?’
Chatterton picked up his diary and studied it. This afternoon there was a meeting of the Panel set up to consider the pupil-teacher ratio, and this was immediately followed by a meeting of the newly-formed Advisory Committee on Health in Schools. Members would expect him to be present at both meetings. This evening, he had to attend a prize-giving at the Eastgate High School. If he cancelled this at the last minute it would be noted that he never failed to attend the grammar school prize-giving.
And Rudderham insisted that he should go scurrying about to look into the case of a child who had slipped off a climbing frame!
