Petronella & the Trogot (8 page)

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.

 

 

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.”

“Tell 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.

 

 

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:

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

2. No-one shall chattereth in the corridors.
   

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

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

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

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

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

8. 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 emptied 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?

 

 

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.

“Someone help me!” Mrs Bellamy shouted, running around the kitchen, sounding like a prize-hen. “What's happened to my kitchen? Who let these chickens in?”

Mayhem followed because the hens were frightened of Mrs Bellamy's antics so flapped harder, flew higher and clucked louder. They were all in a riot now. Including Mrs Bellamy.

Alfie appeared at the door. “What be wrong, Mrs Bellamy?” he asked.

“What be wrong?” she echoed. “What a question, you dumbo. Can't you see what's wrong? All these chickens have got into MY kitchen.”

“No, Mrs Bellamy. Not gotteth into. I goeth and buyeth them at the market mynself this morning. Me thinketh ye should liketh fresh eggs in the mornings for breakfast. For ye and Constable Bellamy, that be.”

“What? Are you telling me that you actually brought these chickens here? HERE in MY kitchen!”

“That I be, and I hopeth it would be a great surprise for ye, Mrs Bellamy.”