Dragon Land (19 page)

Walking into the playground at Ann Street was a strange feeling. The children were all running around and calling out to their friends. A few of the mothers had gathered at the school gate and they stood around gossiping with each other.

The first person I met was Miss Annie Hendry, the teacher who was due to retire, and she took me to the small staff room, where I met the other teachers and Mr Drummond, the headmaster. He was a tall, thin man with a severe expression and hair slicked back with Brylcreem. He welcomed me and said he hoped I would be happy in his school.

My knees were shaking, but I wanted to portray a look of confidence. However, my smile went unnoticed as the school bell began to ring. Miss Annie Hendry was a woman of around sixty, with glasses that hung around her neck on a chain. She had a round, cheery-looking face and her hair was swept back in a large, heavy-looking bun.

She took my arm. ‘You'll be fine, Miss Flint. We will be teaching primary three and you'll find the children well behaved.'

We walked into a classroom that held twenty desks with seats attached and a huge blackboard that stood beside the teacher's desk. Twenty pairs of eyes swivelled in my direction as she introduced me.

‘This is Miss Flint, who will be teaching along with me for a little while. What do we say to our new teacher?'

Twenty little voices chanted, ‘Good morning, Miss Flint.'

I answered them and the day's work began. Looking back, although I didn't realise it at the time, this was one of the happiest times of my life. I loved the children. Most of the little girls sat so primly in their seats, their hair tied up with bows, while the boys were a bit noisier but still well behaved.

One little lad put his hand up. Miss Hendry sighed.

‘What is it, Charlie?'

‘I think it's braw having twa teachers instead of just you, Miss Hendry, and she's much prettier than you.'

I was mortified, but she told him to sit down and get on with his sums. She whispered, ‘That's Charlie: he always says what's on his mind and he's a rascal.'

As the days went by I found I loved working with this experienced teacher. As we sat having a cup of tea in the staff room, she told me she had been teaching for forty years.

‘I'm going to miss it, but it's time for me to go and have a well-earned rest.'

The children were a mixed bunch with their reading and sums. I found the girls were better able to do their lessons than the boys, and Charlie in particular seemed to have problems with his reading. No matter how hard I tried to get him to read his book, he still stumbled over the words.

Just before Christmas I brought in my own book,
Treasure Island
, and when the rest of the class were busy with their work I would sit beside Charlie and get him to read along with me. He was fascinated by the story of Jim Hawkins and the black spot, and when we reached the part with Long John Silver his eyes lit up.

One afternoon he asked me if he could take the book home with him. I said he could, but warned him that he had to look after it, as it was a special present from my aunt. Every time we had a reading lesson he would tell me how far on he was with the story.

‘I'm at the part when the baddies on the boat are planning on da'en awa' wi' the crew and Long John Silver and his parrot Captain Flint are egging them on.' He gazed at me with shining eyes. ‘Are you named efter the parrot, Miss Flint?'

I assured him I wasn't, but I said I was pleased that my name was in such a great story.

‘I would love tae be a pirate, Miss Flint.'

‘Oh, Charlie,' I thought, ‘we're kindred spirits,' but I said that he would be better learning all his lessons first, especially his reading, which was coming on well.

On Saturday afternoon I usually met up with Laura and Pat, and we would exchange gossip about our classes and pupils.

Laura sighed. ‘I never thought it would be so tiring teaching children.' When she saw the look on my face, she replied, ‘Oh, don't get me wrong, I love it, but I've got a few unruly boys in my class and they're hard going.'

Pat said she was coping all right, but she did say the training hadn't catered for the actual job of teaching kids, some of whom didn't want to learn. ‘What about you, Lizzie, how are you getting on?'

I said I was lucky to have Miss Hendry for a few weeks to begin with and on the whole the children were well behaved.

As we sat in the small café with our tea and scones, the talk then turned to other topics. Laura had been a bit downhearted a couple of months previous when Mike, the boy from the grocer's shop in the Hawkhill, had left to go back to university in Glasgow.

I hesitated to ask her if she had heard from him, but as I was dithering, she said, ‘I haven't had a letter from him for three weeks, although he did say he was busy with his studies.' She gave a deep sigh and placed her hand under her chin like one of the Hollywood film stars from the pictures.

Pat smiled at me and I nodded. We both knew Laura liked to pose like Mary Pickford or some other heroine of the silver screen.

The Christmas holiday was soon coming up, and I was dreading it. Mum was still tired and listless, and personally I thought it had been a bad idea to just work for three days. At least when she was at work she had to put her job before herself, but now she just sat around all day in the house with only Maisie for company. I had found out by accident that Maisie was also going to the shops for her, and this annoyed me. Maisie was much older than Mum and she had developed arthritis in her legs, which made it painful for her to climb the stairs. Still, the one consolation was that I would be around during the school holidays and I intended to make sure Mum got out and about.

Margaret's hamper arrived on Christmas Eve and once again it was filled with luxuries we couldn't afford. I was pleased that Mum had given some items to Maisie and we invited her down for her dinner the next day.

I still hadn't the heart to decorate the house, but I put the best cloth on the table and used Granny's china cups and saucers. I had bought a ready-made steak pie from the butcher and an apple tart from the baker, and Maisie said she hadn't had such a feast for ages. I was alarmed at how little Mum ate, but she said she would have the rest of the pie for supper. I knew she wouldn't eat it so late at night, and I was right. She went off to bed with her hot-water bottle and her book, and the pie had to be put into the larder, where we would have it for dinner the following day.

Laura had invited me up during the holiday, but I didn't like to leave Mum on her own. The one bit of good news was that Pat had found lodgings with an elderly woman who lived in Strathmartine Road, which meant she only had a five-minute walk to school.

On Hogmanay, Mum and I opened the box of chocolates and bottle of sherry from the hamper and we saw in the new year. Before going to bed, Mum did her usual ritual of winding up the various clocks in the house.

‘I love the sound of ticking clocks,' she said as she placed the clock keys back in the sideboard drawer. ‘I always think they are the heartbeat of a house.'

On that note, we greeted 1932 with the grandfather clock chiming one o'clock while her little carriage clock followed a minute or two later with its delightful musical notes. Then in the morning I heard the loud ringing from the alarm clock.

I was glad when the new school term started. Up till then I hadn’t realised how much I missed the children, and as I gazed at my pupils I could see quite a few new hand-knitted jerseys, scarves and gloves.

I knew most of their parents didn’t have a lot of money, apart from a few who had a father who was lucky enough to have a job. I saw some of the mothers as I went through the school gates and their coats were well worn, but they still wanted their children to get something new for Christmas.

‘Good morning, boys and girls,’ I said.

They all chanted at once, ‘Good morning, Miss Flint.’

‘Now, before we do our multiplication tables, perhaps you would like to write down what you did over the holiday.’

As I sat at my desk I saw little heads bent over their jotters, and I had to smile at Charlie, who sat chewing the end of his pencil with a furrowed expression, as if trying to remember any highlights.

After half an hour, I asked if anyone wanted to tell me what he or she had done.

I wasn’t surprised when Betty’s hand shot up. Out of the whole class, she was by far the brightest pupil. ‘I helped my mother make paper chains for our kitchen. We cut them out of old newspapers.’

‘That was lovely, Betty, and did you put them away till next year?’

She shrugged her thin shoulders. ‘No, Miss Flint. My wee brother tore them when we took them down, but Mum said we could always make more next year from other newspapers.’

For the next hour I listened to stories of new ribbons being bought or jumpers knitted, and most of the children had received a small stocking with a thruppeny bit and some sweets. I looked at Charlie when he raised his hand.

‘I got a book from the libry. It was all aboot pirates, but I had to take it back because I only got a loan of it.’

‘That’s great, Charlie, but the word is “library”.’

He was indignant. ‘That’s whit I said, Miss Flint, the libry.’

I let it pass, and we went on to recite the five times table. When they all chanted the figures, I looked out of the window at the weak sunshine and hoped it would stay dry, as Mum had said she would go to the shops to get some groceries, but I had left her asleep and as usual she didn’t look well.

I was brought out of my reverie by Polly Watson, who taught the class next door. She was looking for the ink bottle to fill up her inkwell. For some reason, some of the supplies were housed in one of my cupboards.

The children were still reciting the tables, but as it was coming up for their playtime I told them to put their jotters in the desks and make their way to the cloakroom for their coats. I was busy putting some books away when I saw Charlie standing by my desk. He had my copy of
Treasure Island
in his hand. ‘I’ve brought back yer book, Miss Flint, and I really liked reading it.’

‘Thank you, Charlie, I’m glad you liked it, and I’m pleased that you’ve gone to the library, where you’ll be able to reads lots of books.’ I was also pleased that his reading skills had improved.

‘Aye, my dad likes the libry because he reads loads of murder stories, but he said he would look oot for pirate books for me.’

He then ran out to join his pals in the playground, and I put my book in my bag before going to join my colleagues in the staff room for a cup of tea.

Later, when I got home, there was no sign of Mum. I thought she must have left the shopping till later, but half an hour later she appeared. She wasn’t wearing a coat and she looked red-faced and flustered.

I was annoyed at her. ‘I hope you didn’t go out in the cold without your coat, Mum?’

Her hand shot to her mouth. ‘Oh Lizzie, I forgot about getting the groceries. I went to see Maisie and I didn’t realise it was so late.’ She went into the lobby to get her coat, but I made her sit down by the fire, which had died away to glowing embers.

‘Put some coal on the fire and I’ll go to the shop.’

We normally went to the Home & Colonial shop in the Wellgate, but I went across the road to the small grocer’s shop run by Queenie McGregor. I liked this tiny shop with all the goods stacked on shelves, with the butter and cheese on a marble counter and the tea and biscuits in tins by the side of the counter. She weighed every thing on a small scale with brass weights and it took that much longer to get everything we needed, as she kept adding things like sugar to the bag then shoving the scoop into it to remove some, watching until the scales went down with a satisfying thump.

Once back in the house, Mum stoked up the fire while I set about getting our tea ready. As I was setting the table, I happened to glance back and I saw Mum had been crying.

‘What’s wrong, Mum?’ I asked. I realised my voice was harsh, but I was worried.

She dismissed my query with her hand. ‘It’s nothing. I got something in my eye, I think it was a small spark from the fire. That’s why I was with Maisie; she looked at it and bathed my eye with tepid water.’

After tea I inspected her eye, but everything looked fine. Maisie had obviously done a good job with her tepid water.

I was surprised how quickly the days went by, and I soon got into a routine of work and looking after the house. At the end of January we got a letter from Margaret. The solicitor had sent her details of a house in Carnoustie and she asked if we could possibly go and see it.

‘I can’t get away at the moment,’ she wrote, ‘but I like the sound of this house and would appreciate it if you could go and look it over. The solicitor will go with you.’

Mum panicked at this suggestion. ‘How will we know if the house is all right, Lizzie? What if the roof falls in after she’s bought it? Then we’ll get the blame from Gerald.’

I said Margaret had thought of that and that if the solicitor was to be there with us then we could ask him questions.

‘Questions? What kind of questions?’

‘I don’t know. We can ask if the roof is likely to fall down, and if he says it isn’t and it does then it’s his fault.’

She gave a look that said ‘don’t be frivolous’. ‘When are we supposed to go to see the house? I’ll be working on Saturday and that’s the only day you will be off and we can’t go in the evening as it’s dark by four o’clock.’

‘Right then, I’ll go to Carnoustie on Saturday,’ I said. ‘I’ll phone the solicitor tomorrow and arrange it.’

This seemed to placate Mum. ‘Yes, that’s the best idea. You can take notes and send them to Margaret and Gerald, and it will be up to them to decide.’

Mum never mentioned it again that week, so on the Saturday morning I set off for the East Station to catch the train. The solicitor said he normally worked in the morning on Saturday, but he was happy to show me round.