04 Village Teacher Read Free Page B

unpack his equipment. I went out and introduced myself.
    ‘Good afternoon, Mr Sheffield,’ he said, handing me his card, which announced he was Raymond De ’Ath from Temple Photography in Thirkby.
    ‘Oh, hello, Mr, er, Death,’ I said.
    ‘It’s two syllables: De ’Ath,’ he said in a tired voice. ‘I’ll set up in the school hall, shall I?’
    It was soon evident that Raymond had lived a life of false enthusiasm. Over many years, countless crying babies and demanding mothers had finally ground down his mental resolve. His catchphrase, ‘Smile for Raymond’, was now a forlorn plea from the heart. As he picked up his tripod, he reflected that the last time
he
had smiled was when his wife had run off with a travelling salesman from Cleckheaton whose aftershave could stop a clock at ten paces.
    By the time he reached the school entrance, his optimism was fading fast. Heathcliffe Earnshaw was holding open the door and smiling. At least, it was Heathcliffe’s version of a smile. When Raymond saw the glassy-eyed stare, clenched teeth and contorted grimace he knew another tough day was in store.
    ‘Ah’ve been learning t’smile all las’ night,’ said Heathcliffe cheerfully.
    Raymond gazed back in horror. The boy’s manic expression might have been that of an axe-murderer. Raymond nodded warily and hurried into the school hall, where, before setting up his camera equipment, he hastily swallowed two aspirins.
    At afternoon break, Anne was on playground duty and Vera, who had taken charge of directing children from their classrooms to the chairs in front of Raymond’s screen in the school hall, was shaking her head in despair. ‘If he says “Smile for Raymond” again, I’ll scream,’ she whispered.
    I decided to see how the Battersby brothers were progressing.
    ‘Nearly done,’ said Bert. ‘We’ve set up Big Bertha.’ The brothers were admiring the ugly contraption as if it were a thing of beauty.
    It was then I noticed a gap in the school fence behind the cycle shed. I frowned in dismay. Also, there were cigarette stubs scattered on the ground. However, I was soon distracted.
    ‘Mr Sheffield,’ said Sid suddenly, ‘we’ve got a little bit o’ summat special.’
    He beckoned me to the car park. Puzzled, I followed the two brothers to the back doors of their van.
    ‘Bit of a sideline, so t’speak,’ said Bert. He smiled and tapped the side of his bulbous nose with a filthy forefinger. Then he opened the doors and a repulsive smell of decay floated out. On the floor was a collection of grubby newspaper parcels. Sid selected one and opened it.
    ‘We gerrit from a mate in Thirkby, Mr Sheffield,’ said Bert.
    ‘Best lean bacon y’ll ever see,’ said Sid triumphantly, holding up a rasher between his muddy brown finger and thumb.
    ‘Usu’lly a pound,’ said Bert.
    ‘But t’you, fifty pence,’ added Sid.
    After staying long enough to express polite interest, I retreated quickly with a mumbled apology.
    * * *
    Back in the school hall, I mentioned the damaged fence to Vera.
    ‘I’ll ask Mr Paxton to fix it,’ she said. John Paxton was Ragley’s handyman.
    ‘Perhaps he could plant a couple of shrubs as well to fill the gap, Vera.’
    ‘Good idea. I’ll arrange it,’ she said.
    ‘You know, Mr Sheffield,’ added Vera thoughtfully, ‘someone may be using it as a short cut from the council estate.’
    ‘Smile for Raymond,’ said the photographer once again. Vera visibly winced and hurried off to collect the last group of children.
    At a quarter to three, Anne popped her head round the staff-room door. ‘Excuse me, everybody,’ she said. ‘I’ll keep all the children outside. Doctor Death says we’re ready for the whole school photograph on the playground.’
    Raymond De ’Ath ceremoniously placed five chairs in a line and ushered me to the chair in the centre. Anne sat on my right, Vera on my left, and they were flanked by Jo and Sally. Then he asked Katy Ollerenshaw to stand