the council will have to change its mind.’ His voice trails off.
‘But I can’t do that!’ I say, horrified. ‘We are friends, but not that close – can you imagine? “Oh Sybs, I was just wondering if you and Ben were getting it on, frequently, as in making babies any time soon, because I’m now touting for business!” I could do a poster perhaps – WANTED! Children to fill my school. What on earth would she think?’ I shake my head.
‘Oh, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Sybs isn’t one to take offence,’ Lawrence says gently, and I soften, knowing that he’s just trying to help. I quickly reconsider – maybe he has a point, and what other options do I have right now? It could be my best chance.
‘Hmm, maybe I should go a step further and open up Tindledale’s very first fertility clinic, just to be on the safe side.’ I laugh.
‘Good idea,’ Lawrence says, not missing a beat.
‘Or perhaps you could ask Sybs – you’re closer to her than I am,’ I smile.
‘Yes, I might just do that!’
‘But, joking aside, Lawrence, we do need to come up with some serious ideas to boost business for you and to make sure the school stays open,’ I say, pointing an index finger in the air, as if marshalling a rescue package for a major conglomerate.
‘What about coffee mornings? Parent and toddler groups where you can show off the school and its facilities to prospective parents? Do you do stuff like that already?’ Lawrence asks.
‘Um, no, not really. But I know St Cuthbert’s does,’ I say enthusiastically, my mind going into an overdrive full of taster sessions and newsletters, spring festivals and teddy bears’ picnics in the Tindledale woods. That would be fairly easy to organise too … Hmm, I’m going to get on to that right away. ‘And how about a crafting circle? Children love making things – I could ask Hettie or Sybs to show the older children how to knit, crochet, quilt and cross-stitch – broaden the curriculum, because it’s not all just about numeracy and literacy and league tables. We could even set up a mini petting farm. I’m sure I could round up enough rabbits, guinea pigs, chickens, goats and lambs – the possibilities are endless.’
‘They sure are. But tell me about St Cuthbert’s – is this the big school they’d bus your children to?’ Lawrence asks.
‘Oh no, it’s the private school on the old Market Briar Road – their numbers are flourishing, so I know there are lots of children in the area. Mostly families that have relocated from larger towns where the schools aren’t performing so well, but then St Cuthbert’s has far better facilities than we do – Olympic-size swimming pool, all-weather sports arena and a proper arts theatre with a sound deck and professional lighting and all of that, somebody said. My little village school – with its patch of tarmac for a playground and regular rounds of begging letters to parents for donations of kitchen roll and shaving cream for messy play – really can’t compete.’ I shake my head.
‘Ahh, but your school is ranked Outstanding on the government thingamajig.’
‘Ofsted!’ I offer, and he’s right, and we’re very proud of this fact.
‘And what about Blue? Didn’t you take him into school when you were doing the Beatrix Potter project? A real live Peter Rabbit. Surely the inspectors will be impressed by that initiative. And I bet they don’t bring nature into the classroom at the big school in town,’ Lawrence says hopefully, eyeing Blue, who is now snuggling on my lap, his little paws perpetually moving as he cleans his face.
‘That’s right, I did. And I’ll be making sure he comes to school with me again so the inspectors can see how much the children love playing with Blue, and learning how to be gentle, how to care for him, how to take turns – all that emotional development is very important; it’s a huge part of the whole child approach that I try to apply in my school. But what I really need is more pupils. That’s what will make all the difference. We can have the best curriculum for miles around, but it doesn’t mean very much if the children aren’t coming to my school.’
‘And if the school were to close, where would it leave you?’
‘I’m really not sure,’ I reply. ‘I might get a teaching job at another school somewhere. But it could mean I’ll be travelling miles away too.’
‘OK, but on a positive note, Meg, this could be an opportunity for you! You’re a great teacher, we all know that, so you’re certain to get something else, even if the worst happens. Or maybe you could do private tutoring for children with special needs. I know you really enjoy that aspect of your job. You could even set up a children’s therapy centre … yes, the possibilities are endless.’
There’s a short silence as I ponder on his suggestions.
‘Hmm, yes, you’re right, Lawrence.’ Buoyed on the wave of his enthusiasm, I begin to see the possibilities. I was thrown off course this morning by the inspectors’ visit but, as ever, Lawrence has helped clarify my thoughts. ‘I am not going to sit here moping and worrying about what might never happen. I’m going to take advantage of the spare time I’ve got – now Jack’s off doing his own thing – and right now I’m going to get stuck in to helping out with this year’s village show. There’ll be plenty that needs doing. Have you heard about it? Dr Ben is keen for us to have another go.’ I smile.
‘Oh yes,’ Lawrence grins. ‘Sybs popped by with one of her leaflets. I’m planning on getting involved too – do my bit for the community; and it sure would be helpful for my business if Tindledale were to get a mention in a national newspaper.’
Suddenly I realise how introspective I’ve been recently. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Lawrence.’ I look at him with a furrowed brow. ‘I thought things were going really well for you,’ I say slowly, feeling remorseful. I’ve been so wrapped up in missing Jack, when Lawrence has obviously been worrying about his B&B business. And since his partner, Jason, died, he no longer has him for support.
‘Let’s just say that they could be better. Surely you’ve noticed a dip in the number of people in and around the village, the High Street, the Duck & Puddle, Kitty’s tearoom? I was chatting to the vicar just a few days ago, and he said that even the congregation at his Sunday service is dwindling …’ His voice trails off.
‘Well, I hadn’t,’ I admit, ‘but now that you mention it, yes … it did seem quiet last time I popped into Kitty’s for a scone and a mug of hot chocolate. Why is that?’
‘I don’t know for sure, but I guess it’s inevitable with us having such a high number of elderly villagers – they pass on. And I reckon it’s also something to do with the new retail park that’s opened up on the other side of the valley, just past Market Briar. They have it all there – designer outlet shops, multiplex cinema, bowling, coffee chains, big-name restaurants; there’s even a hotel with a swimming pool and spa – my cosy little six-bedroom home-from-home B&B just can’t compete. And my guest numbers have definitely dipped since it opened.’
‘But not everyone wants all that high-tech, bells-and-whistles stuff. Surely there are lots of people who still love the cosy quirkiness of a traditional village, the personal touch that you offer at the B&B – not forgetting your award-winning breakfasts,’ I say, counting out the benefits on my fingers. Lawrence smiles. ‘And there must be lots of people who want to amble along our little High Street and watch the world go by through the mullioned windows of Kitty’s café, or thumb through some of the rare books in Adam’s bookstore. I know I do.’
