Authors: Bill Williams
‘Who could this be at such an unearthly hour, Mother, unless it’s a neighbour? Perhaps they’ll go away if we don’t answer. I’ll go and make us a hot chocolate drink.’
Rufus shook his head as he eased himself out of the old armchair and then made his way to the kitchen. The knocking started again and whoever it was they were very determined, so Rufus switched on the kettle and then made his way along the hallway ready to get rid of the persistent caller.
‘I’m coming,’ Rufus shouted when the knocking was repeated when he was close to the door. It took almost a minute before he had finished opening the two locks and drew back the three bolts that were equally spaced on the door.
The caller wasn’t a neighbour and he was a complete stranger.
‘We don’t have a telephone if that’s what you’re after,’ Rufus lied.
The smartly dressed man gave a forced smile as he shielded his eyes from the security lamp.
‘I’m sorry to call so late, sir, but I’m looking for a Mr Rufus Cranleigh concerning some very important government business.’
‘What sort of business. You’re not one of those blood sucking taxmen and what sort of funny accent is that you’ve got?’
‘I’m one of your American cousins.’
‘Then you’ve come to the wrong house because I haven’t got any cousins, not even English ones.’
Sligo smiled once more. This wasn’t going to be easy, not with this cantankerous so and so, but he didn’t have much choice.
‘I didn’t mean that you were my real cousin. It’s just that I regard all you English folks as sort of kin. After all our countries do have a special relationship, but you are Rufus Cranleigh?’
‘Who is it Rufus?’ his mother called out.
‘It’s some American feller,’ he shouted in reply. He had been about to deny being Rufus Cranleigh, but there was no point now.
‘It would be to your financial advantage if I could just have a few words inside and out of the glare of your light or should I say heater,’ suggested Sligo. Money usually opened doors and it proved to be the case this time, when after a moment’s hesitation Rufus invited him in, but explained that it was nearing his mother’s bedtime.
Ben Sligo was soon to discover that old Mrs Cranleigh was even more hostile than her son when she declared that she didn’t like Americans and then added, ‘I expect your Granddaddy was one of those who tried to win a woman’s affection with a pair of silk stockings. Well, the feller who tried it on with my Aunt Doris came unstuck. I think you would say, big time, in the modern jargon. She gave him a black eye in the middle of the dance floor. He left with his tail between his legs and was never seen again. I don’t suppose they were all bad and some of them were certainly very brave young men from what I have been told.’
Sligo was wondering what the old lady was like when she was younger and what sort of life her husband must have had with her.
‘Your old Aunt Doris must have been a tough lady, Mrs Cranleigh and you sure have an interesting family, but I’d like to talk business with you both.’
When Sligo left the Cranleigh’s house he headed back to the campervan that he’d parked at the end of the lane. He had purchased the vehicle with money from the special funds that he’d been surprised that he still had access to and he hoped would cater for any expenses he needed to fund the investigation he was determined would have a successful outcome. He had expected to read about his escape from the secure unit in the newspapers, but it looked as though the diplomatic boys were keeping it a secret and hoping that he would give himself up.
The Cranleighs’ hadn’t seemed impressed by his claims that they would be doing the government a special service by allowing him to lodge there and carry out surveillance on the family next door. They might have looked dopey, but they had driven a hard bargain when it came to the rent. Rufus had told him to bring his things around the following day and they would tell their neighbours that he was a lodger who would only be staying with them for a couple of weeks.
CHAPTER TWENTY–TWO
Jamie’s headmaster, Mr Cookson pressed down the lapels of his jacket with his hands and then combed the wisps of hair for the third time since he’d arrived at school. He wasn’t normally so vain, but today was probably the most important one for him since he’d been made headmaster seven years ago. He was like a nervous pupil who was starting at a new school. The head of the local education authority had hinted that the ‘Headmaster of the Year’ award would be his once he was observed ‘in action’ by the two judges who would be attending this morning’s assembly. The award was to be given for excellence in a number of key areas, with special emphasis on discipline. The local authority were determined to improve the level of discipline in line with government policy and Mr Cookson was believed to have run a tight ship with a zero tolerance approach to pupils who did not conform to the school code. Mr Cookson was thankful that Jason Patmore was no longer at the school and it might turn out to be fortuitous that the headmaster of Jason’s new school was his main rival for the award.
Jamie was sat near some of his football teammates in the Assembly Hall and he was soon reflecting on his time at his new school. He liked most things at school, but domestic science wasn’t one of them. Why did he need to cook or bake when he had a mum and a sister and one day he might have a wife?
Mr Cookson opened the assembly by congratulating the pupils for their performance in the recent exams.
‘So, pupils, you should all feel very proud of your achievements. Remember my motto. Hard work, brings you luck.’
Jamie was remembering the ribbing he had endured surrounding his own results. There had been light hearted cries of, ‘fix,fix’, after Jamie had retaken the exams and been awarded the top mark of 90%.
Mr Cookson shuffled his notes as he waited for the teachers to finish their clapping and was about to continue when a voice called out from the middle of the hall.
‘Rhubarb! You talk a load of old rhubarb.’
Mr Cookson was taken aback, not quite believing what he had heard, but he recovered and then came the second shout.
‘Give it a rest, Cookie.’
Mr Cookson was completely flustered this time and the teachers who were stood at the side of the hall scanned the rows of pupils trying to locate where the shout had come from. Some of the teachers started issuing lots of ‘Ssshhh’s’ in an attempt to quell the tittering and laughter of the pupils.
The headmaster showed a rare display of anger when he roared out, ‘Who said that?’
Jamie calmly rose from his seat and announced defiantly, ‘I did, you boring, old duffer. Can we go now, before we all fall asleep?’
There was a chorus of muffled snorts as some of the gathering tried to suppress their laughter. The headmaster’s face was reddened with fury and the teachers looked awkward and some were obviously angry.
‘Nice one, Jamie,’ Lee Mason whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
Jamie was sat next to Lee Mason and gave him a puzzled look in response to his remark.
The hall was bedlam as the teachers tried to restore silence and the headmaster ordered Jamie to go to his office, but Jamie remained in his seat. It was a highly distressed Mr Cookson who declared that assembly was over and then hurried from the hall, but not before he had seen the serious faced officials who were making notes.
‘Why is everyone looking at me,’ Jamie asked Lee Mason as they walked slowly behind the line of pupils filing out of the hall.
Lee gave Jamie a playful slap on the back and said, ‘It’s because you’ve just become a school legend, Tranter boy, that’s why.’
‘Huh,’ was all that Jamie could say and his bewilderment continued when Mr Benson ordered him to the headmaster’s office.
‘And we’ll have no more of your cheek, you miserable, boy.’
Mr Benson was a former rugby player who now taught English. He had a beer belly to match Jamie’s Uncle Steve’s and a vein in the side of his face that pulsated when he clamped his teeth together. Jamie suspected Mr Benson made the vein pulse to try and make him look more fearsome, but the badly broken nose and his, cold, staring eyes, that never seemed to blink were intimidating enough.
‘Have I done something wrong, sir?’ Jamie asked innocently.
Mr Benson looked as though he was on the point of exploding, but managed to control himself when he said though gritted teeth, ‘Move, boy, move now and don’t say another word.’
When Jamie arrived outside the headmaster’s office, Mrs Farr gave him a sympathetic smile and told him to sit and wait until his parents arrived.
* * *
Kevin was still in his working clothes and not exactly sweet smelling when he arrived home and found Debbie in a bit of state and she had been crying. Debbie had telephoned him at work and said that the school needed to see them urgently. They stressed that Jamie was fine, but there had been an incident and they needed to take Jamie home. Kevin showered and changed in record time and they were soon on their way to the school.
‘Don’t worry, love,’ Kevin repeated during the short journey to school. ‘I bet he’s been fighting over something or other. If it was back home it would hardly rate as an ‘incident.’ They’ll likely suspend him for a week or give him a warning, but it’s not as though he’ll be banned for a season.’
‘I wish you’d take these things more seriously,’ Debbie snapped. ‘He might have to change schools if it’s something serious.’
‘I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I shouldn’t have joked, but he won’t have to change schools. I promise you that everything will be all right.’
Kevin was still trying to reassure Debbie when they drove into the school car park and then made their way inside the main school building.
Jamie was waiting in Mrs Farr’s small office and he just shrugged his shoulders when Kevin asked him what he’d been up to.
‘Search me, but Mr Cookson is really upset about something. He went ape and just lost it.’
Jamie was asked to remain seated while Kevin and Debbie were ushered in to see the headmaster who was clearly upset and began ranting about how Jamie had let the school down and would have to be suspended and probably even expelled.
‘Steady on, mate,’ Kevin said, showing his annoyance with the ranting headmaster. ‘It might help if you told us what he’s supposed to have done. You make it sound as though he tried to burn the school down.’
‘He, he…,’ the headmaster struggled to compose himself. ‘It was during assembly. He insulted me in front of the whole of the third and fourth years and some very important visitors, The boy has no control and needs to be taught some manners and respect.’
‘Well that depends on what he actually said,’ Kevin replied.
‘What he said was offensive and unacceptable and that’s why I want him out of the school now and you’ll be informed of the decision regarding his punishment.’
‘That’s not good enough. If my boy’s done something seriously wrong then I want to know the details. What did he say exactly?’
‘Amongst other things he called me a boring old duffer.’
‘But supposing you are a boring old duffer and then he would just have been telling the truth, wouldn’t he?’
‘I think you should be more concerned with your son’s mental state than point scoring with me. Jamie says that he has no recollection of saying anything during the assembly and given the recent episode of his examination results you may need to seek medical advice.’
‘So he’s either an unruly scallywag or he’s barmy?’ Kevin snapped.
‘I’m not familiar with the term scallywag, but there’s something wrong. So, I’m suspending him with immediate effect.’
Before Kevin could sound off again Debbie said that they would consider what to do after they had spoken to Jamie. The headmaster gave a heavy sigh and said, ‘Thank you, Mrs Tranter for your sensible suggestion.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Kevin challenged.
Debbie s stood up and tugged at her husband’s arm, signalling that they should leave before saying, ‘Let’s go, Kevin and wait until we have spoken to Jamie when we get home. Our Jamie must be wondering what’s happening.’
Jamie was looking subdued when they joined him in Mrs Farr’s office, but he started laughing, causing Kevin and Debbie to be puzzled and worried. The reason for Jamie’s continued laughter was that Mr Cookson had followed Kevin and Debbie out of his office and there was an ant eater’s head where Mr Cookson’s should have been and it had an extra long snout. Jamie’s laughter stopped for a moment until the ‘ant eater’ spoke in Mr Cookson’s voice and ordered Kevin to take his unruly son home. Jamie was still laughing as the family left the building and when Kevin asked him to pull himself together he gave his dad a puzzled look and replied, ‘What have I done wrong now?’
The Tranters made their journey home in silence and when Debbie emerged from the kitchen with three cups of tea it was a much calmer Kevin who asked Jamie to give his version of events.
‘I’ve told you and I’ve told Mr Cookson and the others that I don’t remember anything except hearing the headmaster tell us how well the school had done in the mock exams.’
Kevin had been studying his son’s face and he was satisfied that Jamie was telling the truth.
‘Son, all the teachers and your mates must have heard you having a go at the headmaster and we saw you laughing at Mr Cookson as we were leaving and we couldn’t see anything that would have made you laugh. You were almost in hysterics. There must be some explanation and perhaps the headmaster is right in suggesting that the medical folks check you over. It’s probably just some stress thing. Maybe you’ve been studying too hard or it might be something to do with hormones.’
‘Hormones!’ Jamie shouted out. ‘Boys don’t have hormones. Do they, Mum?’
‘I think your dad means that teenagers sometimes go through an odd experience when their bodies are developing.’
Jamie looked very anxious when he asked if they thought he might be changing into a girl.
‘Don’t be daft,’ laughed Kevin and decided against joking with his son and suggesting that he could still play football, but it would be for the girl’s team.