A while later, having fed her family and cleared up afterwards, leaving Col happily sitting on the sofa wading his way through a pile of her sons’ old childhood comics they’d refused to part with, Gem was just leaving the van to go over to the helter-skelter when she frowned, perplexed to see a policeman entering the living van area. Immediately, a great worry filled her. A visit from such officials usually meant they were in trouble of some sort. What they could be in trouble for, she had no idea though. As far as she knew, they’d had no problems of any sort at the fair during this annual visit here so she just hoped that one of the fairfolk hadn’t caused any bother while they’d ventured out into the wider community. If serious enough, the fair could be ordered to pack up and leave and their revenue for the rest of the week would be lost to them all. Then she noticed that trailing subduedly behind the policeman were sixteen fairfolk children, ages ranging from five to thirteen, that had been seen off to school by their individual parents earlier that morning.
Confusion written all over her face, she bounded down the van steps and rushed over to meet the policeman.
Before she could ask him why he was here with the children he asked, ‘These yours?’
‘Well not personally, officer, but they all belong to fairfolk here. Why are you here with them when they should be in school?’
He was a middle-aged, portly man with a large walrus moustache and bushy eyebrows. Although he was acting stern, Gem couldn’t fail to notice a twinkle of amusement in his hazel eyes. He breathed deeply in, then puffed out his barrel chest before he responded, ‘Should be but that’s not where I found them.’
All the children were looking guilty, shuffling uncomfortably. She demanded of them, ‘And just where did this nice policeman find you all?’
They all looked at each other. It was the eldest, Tommy Dawson, whose father worked for Grundy’s as an all-rounder – labourer, driver and helping to man the rides, his mother helping out also wherever needed at the time – that finally elected himself as spokesperson. He was a tall, well-made boy with a shock of jet-black hair well overdue for a cut. He raised his chin in the air and said in a defiant manner, ‘Playing on the bomb site the other side of the canal.’
This was not the first time the children had been caught playing truant. Secretly she couldn’t blame them as she knew that attending a different school every week during term times, most times, was a very unpleasant ordeal. Except for the isolated occasion when they had a compassionate teacher that encouraged the rest of the class to be accepting towards them and at least tried to actually take the time to teach them something. She heaved a sigh and shook her head at them before saying to the policeman, ‘I’m so sorry, officer, the children know they’re not supposed to leave the school without permission. I promise this won’t happen again.’ The promise was a hollow one; whilst certain teachers perceived fairground children as they did, the children would retaliate against their unwarranted treatment by disassociating themselves from it.
He took her aside, his eyes twinkling humorously. ‘Can’t say as I blame them wagging school. I hated it too and got a thick ear many times from my parents for being caught doing it. One of the local women reported them to us. She told me she hated to spoil their fun and, believe me, they certainly were having that when I arrived to round them up, but she was worried they might hurt themselves as the site is dangerous. It’s been cordoned off by wire fencing but some bright spark cut a hole in the fence. I’m always being called to herd local kids off from playing on it.’
Gem eyed him, surprised. It was a rare occasion for an outsider to show compassion towards fairfolk, not seeing them as the dregs of the earth. ‘Please thank the lady for me.’ Then she asked him worriedly ‘Are the children in trouble?’
He smiled kindly at her. ‘Not this time but if I catch them again…’
‘You won’t, officer,’ she assured him.
He looked towards the main fairground. ‘I’m looking forward to tonight. Bringing my wife and six-year-old granddaughter along. It’s her first visit to the fair and she’s so excited.’
‘In that case I’m on the House of Fun tonight so I’ll make sure you all get a free pass. My way of thanking you for being so understanding about the kids.’
He accepted her gesture with great pleasure and, after reiterating his warning to behave themselves to the children, he made his leave.
With hands on hips she sighed with frustration as she scanned them, still looking guilty. But, before she could say anything, Tommy spoke up. ‘Please don’t send us back ter that school, Mrs Grundy. It’s ’orrible, it is. The teacher don’t like us, said we were dirty tykes that hadn’t the brains to learn nothing and shouldn’t be allowed in the school with decent kids. She told the other kids to have nothing to do with us in case they caught lice.’
Gem stared at him, horrified. ‘She said what?’
‘She did, Mrs Grundy, ’onest,’ he declared. ‘She made us all sit in the cloakroom and gave us some tatty old books. She told us if we made a sound we’d get the cane.’ He put his arm protectively around a young boy standing next to him. ‘’Arry was so scared of that ’orrible teacher he daren’t ask to go to the toilet and he wet himself.’
Gem looked down at the young lad’s crotch area, appalled to see the dark stain on his grey short trousers and her heart went out to him for the embarrassment this must have caused him.
Eight-year-old Molly Adkins, whose parents owned the rifle range stall, spoke up then. The hem of her dress had partly come down; Gem assumed she had caught it on something jagged when playing on the bomb site as her mother would never have sent her to school looking anything but immaculate. She had lost one of the ribbons securing her long fair hair into two bunches, so one side was hanging down. ‘At breaktime one of the older kids pinched my sandwiches and threw them on the bike shed roof. I sawed the teacher had seen him do it but she just turned around and pretended she hadn’t. Tommy was mad when I told him what the boy had done and started to climb the bike shed to get them for me or I’d have had to go hungry at dinner time but the teacher sawed him and came and dragged him off and started whacking him with her stick, screaming at him he was a vandal. That’s when we decided to leave.’
‘It was my idea to skive off, Mrs Grundy, and I made the others come with me,’ Tommy told her boldly.
Gem saw another child go to speak up then and the warning look Tommy shot him to keep his mouth shut. It was obvious to her that it wasn’t Tommy who had been the instigator of them all playing truant, it was a unanimous decision, and she couldn’t at all blame them. As the oldest he was taking the responsibility for it by way of protecting the others from the possible backlash from their angry parents when they found out what had transpired. She admired him for that.
Anger was bubbling away inside her. She had known all of them from the moment they’d been born and, same as any children, they all got up to mischief at some time or another and didn’t always obey their parents but, on the whole, they were well-behaved and well-mannered. Had the teacher allowed them to sit in her class and given them some encouragement they could have learned a lot during their week there and even enjoyed it. Gem did appreciate how frustrating it must be for any teacher to suddenly find their class swelled by an extra dozen they’d to accommodate for a week; the time-consuming task of finding out what level of education each were at and advance that in someway. Most didn’t bother, just gave them books to look through or paper to draw on to while away their time. But this particular teacher had deliberately done what she could to make their time at her school as miserable for them as she possibly could. No child deserved to be treated so appallingly and especially by a teacher whose job it was to educate, nurture and protect those under their charge, no matter their own feelings on the society those children belonged to.
It wasn’t Gem’s decision as the children were not her own but when she explained to them how their children had been treated, she doubted the parents would be sending them back to that school again. Nevertheless, as a member of the family the children’s parents all worked for, she felt a deep responsibility for their welfare and an overwhelming need to confront the teacher over her despicable behaviour towards them.
She sent the children off to find a parent and explain to them why they were home early. Then she asked Tommy to go and find Solly and tell him she had a sudden urgent errand to go on and could he find someone to man the pay booth of the helter-skelter during her absence. She returned back into her living van to collect her outdoor coat and handbag, then set off for the local school.
The school was a one-class, one-teacher type, a remnant of bygone times when the area used to be a village a mile or so away from the town but had been swallowed up inside its boundaries when the town had slowly expanded. Like all such small schools dotted around the country, it was to be closed when the construction of a modern school was finished and all the pupils from several smaller schools surrounding it were amalgamated. Gem arrived just as the pupils were heading back into their classroom after dinner hour was over. Gem expected the teacher to be an elderly, bony, pinch-faced, humourless woman, based on her behaviour. It was the image of a formidable, spinster-type governess she had conjured up whilst reading novels and portrayed by actresses in films set in Dickensian times. Therefore she was utterly shocked, on enquiring from the caretaker of the teacher’s whereabouts, to be pointed out a young, pretty, slim, fashionably dressed woman with a happy smile on her face, arms filled with books, jauntily heading down the corridor towards the classroom they were all heading into.
Gem went over to waylay her.
Looking enquiringly at the smartly dressed woman exuding an air of confidence about her, assuming she was something to do with the school board or council education department, the teacher asked politely, ‘Can I help you?’
‘Yes you can. You can help me understand why you treated the fairground children so despicably this morning?’
The younger woman looked at her, taken aback. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘It’s not my pardon you should be begging, it’s all of those children’s.’
The woman said with conviction, ‘I had to be firm with them as they started to cause trouble from the moment they arrived, wouldn’t do as they were told. Anyway, what is it to do with you how I manage the children? I am the headmistress. Just who are you?’
Gem cut her short. ‘Firm! Is that what you call making the children sit in the cloakroom by themselves and turning a blind eye to an older boy bullying one of the younger fairground girls? Her sandwiches were thrown onto a roof and when one of the fairground boys tried to get them back for her so she wouldn’t go hungry at dinnertime, you personally dragged him down and thrashed him with your cane. That is more than being firm, that is pure cruelty. And I dispute that any of them were causing trouble from the moment they arrived. They have all been raised to respect adults and know what the consequences are if they’re sent home for being disobedient.’ Gem then shot her a look of disgust. ‘You have no right to call yourself a teacher. A teacher is someone who wants to impart their knowledge to anyone who is willing to listen and to nurture and encourage that learning in them. You did none of that for those children today. You never even tried. You should be thoroughly ashamed of yourself. They might not be able to read and write as well as your pupils and that is simply because teachers like you never bother to take the time to teach them how, but the fairground children could have taught you and your pupils so much if you had encouraged them to. They could have talked about nature, all the places they have visited up and down the country, about how to navigate by the stars as their parents have showed them and so much more, but that is you and your pupils’ loss. Anyway, I expect you’ll be delighted to hear that those children will not be returning to suffer any more of your unjustified tyranny towards them.’
She made to turn and walk away, but the teacher stopped her by asking, ‘Just why is an educated, well-bred woman like you so interested in such dirty low-lives? Are you just some do-gooder with nothing better to do?’
Gem took great delight in informing her, ‘Yes, I do come from a decent family and had a good education. When I was a young girl I was as narrow-minded and bigoted as you are. But then I met a man that introduced me into a community of people I was taught were scum and it was proved to me I was so wrong to make judgements based on what others had told me. I saw for myself how hard-working these people are, just trying to earn their living in the way their ancestors have done for hundreds of years so they could look after their families the best they can, the same as the people I come from were doing and those you live amongst too. They take pride in their homes and raise their children to have good manners and morals. The only difference is that they have to travel around to make their living so don’t have the benefit of having some of the modern facilities that you have at your disposal. I am no do-gooder. Those people you feel so beneath you are my people. I have been married to a showman for the last twenty years, very happily. I have never once regretted swapping the wonderful life I live, travelling through the beautiful countryside, staying in a different place every week and meeting some lovely people along the way for the drudge of a life I could have lived had I not met my husband. For the one you live, in fact, in your little rented flat or house with only other brick buildings to look at through the windows, the condition of your place dependant on whether you have a good landlord or not, trudging the same treeless streets every day and nodding a good morning to the same miserable people off to airless factories or offices, breathing in smoke-filled air. The only thing for you all to look forward to is a few days at the seaside every year if you can afford it and having yourselves a few hours of fun once a year when the travelling funfair comes to town, which I will remind you is provided for you by those people you think so little of.’ She paused for a moment to take a long breath after her long tirade before she added, ‘Maybe now you might take the trouble to find out first whether gossip and rumours are true, such as the ones you hear about fairfolk and their lives, before you take them for gospel. Then you won’t have to face the embarrassment when you find out you were so very wrong to. Good-day.’
With that, Gem spun on her heels and stalked out, leaving the teacher gawping in stupefaction after her.
Neither woman noticed that their whole conversation was being overheard by someone further back along the corridor, having hidden themselves in the recess of the doorway leading into the caretaker’s room.
Back at the fairground the parents of the children accosted Gem as soon as she arrived back. None of them had had much schooling because of their lifestyle; most, if not all, were not able to read or write and the rest only rudimentarily, having painstakingly taught themselves enough to get them by. They all wanted better for their own children. So yet another teacher in a long line refusing to at least try to teach their offspring something and, not only that, this particular one treating them so despicably, had greatly angered them so much they were ready to form a lynch mob and tackle the teacher themselves. Gem had no doubt this would see them all being arrested for whatever offences the police could pin to them and see them jailed for a good length of time; most of the police’s opinions about fairfolk mirroring that of the teacher. It took great effort to calm them all down with a promise that this situation could not go on and a solution to the children’s education would have to be found. She would speak to Sam Grundy at the earliest opportunity on the matter and let them know the outcome.
She was dreading the conversation with Sam as from what she could see there was only one answer to this problem as matters stood and she didn’t like the thought of it one little bit.
She spoke to Solly about it though. She was putting the evening meal together at five that evening before they all went out at six to join the rest of the Grundy community to have all the rides and stalls fully manned for when the public would start to arrive en masse from six onwards. Jimmy and Robbie had arrived with their father and were both in the living area waiting to be called through for their meal. Jimmy was having a doze in an armchair and Robbie was looking through that day’s edition of the Daily Sketch. Solly was sitting at the kitchen table listening to his wife rant on over the problem of the children’s schooling. He too could only think of one solution and, knowing his wife as well as he did, knew it wasn’t at all a palatable one for her, so was dreading her asking for his opinion on the matter.
After taking time out to visit the school, Gem was a few minutes behind serving up the evening meal. Throwing chips into a pan of hot fat on the stove which spluttered and spat, reflecting her mood, she gave them an agitated stir with a large metal spatula blackened with age whilst blurting, ‘I can fully understand they all want their kids to be able to read, write and add up a simple column of figures if nothing else, but it’s not fair they’re looking at me to volunteer to teach them. And, yes, I know I’m the only one that has the skills to do it so it makes common sense but, call me selfish, Solly, I don’t want to be a teacher. I haven’t got the patience for a start.’
‘You can say that again, Mam,’ piped up Jimmy from the living area. ‘Always shouting at us you were when you was putting us through our paces.’ He mimicked: ‘Sit still and concentrate, Jimmy. Robbie, you should be copying those letters on the paper not picking your nose and looking out of the window. Jimmy, stop flicking your brother with the end of that ruler. Now I don’t care how many times I make you both say your times tables, you’ll keep doing it until you get them all right and same goes for the alphabet. I used to dread them lessons.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ mirrored Robbie. ‘Pure purgatory they were.’
Solly remained silent. He had never learned to read or write, although like others in his situation could recognise enough words to get by in life and anything more than that he relied on Gem for. As it became apparent that it was hit or miss whether they would succeed through any schooling they got and Gem decided to take on their schooling, she had tried to encourage him to join in. But, out of pure embarrassment, he had declined and this was something he had always regretted as he would now like nothing more than to be doing just what his youngest son was; reading a newspaper. He would now love the opportunity to gain information about what was transpiring in the outside world, or through reading books, instead of having to rely on being informed verbally by anyone willing to impart the information he was after to him.
Had Gem not been so disconcerted over the matter troubling her she would have belly-laughed at Jimmy’s imitation of her as he had got her down to a T but, instead, she scowled crossly over at both her sons. ‘Do you regret those lessons then when you’re catching up with the news in the paper or, more likely, looking at the entertainment advertisements to see what’s on that you fancy going to after the fair closes for the evening?’
They both looked sheepish and shook their heads.
She looked at her husband. ‘Our sons are right, though, those lessons were purgatory and not just for them both, me too. I only persevered because I didn’t want them growing up illiterate. But my days are filled enough already with looking after my family and the fair business work I do, so how on earth could I fit in teaching the kids for however many hours a day, even just a couple? It would be impossible for me.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘Trouble is though, I’ve promised the children’s parents to speak to your father on the matter and find a solution and I know he will tell me that being as I am the only one in the community with an education then it falls to me.’
Solly nodded solemnly. ‘Yes, that’s just what Dad would say.’
‘Oh? And what is it I would say, then?’ said Big Sam as he arrived, expecting his dinner on the table. He immediately sit down to eat and was clearly put out that it wasn’t, so couldn’t help himself but add, ‘Oh, twice in one week food’s late getting to the table. Nell would be turning in her grave. Can’t ever remember a time in all our forty-odd years of marriage when our meals weren’t on the table on the dot. So is anyone going to answer me then? What it is I would have said, then?’
Solly looked at Gem by way of an apology that he would have to answer his father’s question as he wouldn’t let it go until he had. He steeled himself and explained what had transpired this morning.
As soon as he finished, Sam began to laugh; a deep, rich belly type. His family all looked at him, bemused as to what he was finding so funny. Finally drying his eyes on the handkerchief he kept in his jacket pocket, he chuckled. ‘When you were giving the boys their lessons we all kept clear, believe me. We could all hear you shouting at them from the other side of the fairground for not paying attention or playing their tricks to get out of those lessons. You’d no patience with them whatsoever. After each one was over, Nell used to swear blind she could see steam coming off the top of your head. We all knew you hated giving those lessons as much as the boys hated having them. The fairfolk that were with us at the time obviously have short memories and the others no idea of what hell both you and the boys went through or they wouldn’t be looking at you now to teach their own kids their… What is it called?… Their three somethings, anyway. I’ll give yer yer due though, gel, through your bullying and persistence my grandsons can read and write as good as if a proper teacher had taught ’em and I can’t fault yer for that.’
Gem’s mouth dropped open in shock. Had her father-in-law just given her a back-handed compliment? If so, then this was a first and one for the record book.
Sam was continuing but now the laughter had left his voice and his tone was a grumbling one. ‘Don’t know what all the fuss is about myself. I can’t read or write and I’ve done alright for myself. Whether they can read or write isn’t what is going to make any of those kids successful. A quick brain and the will to succeed but, most importantly, being prepared to work damned hard is what will.’
Gem clamped shut her lips, forcing herself not to voice out loud to Sam that no one could deny that he had an eye for a lucrative business deal and excellent negotiating skills which had seen the business he’d inherited expand massively but, regardless, he seemed to be conveniently forgetting the fact that it hadn’t all been achieved without his ability to read and write. When official forms had needed to be filled in, letters read or composed, he had sought someone with literacy skills to do the honours, which had been Gem herself since she had married his son. She knew that her husband was thinking exactly the same as she was but both harboured too much respect for Sam to speak out.
Solly said, ‘Not many people are the same as you, Dad, and do need to read and write to get on.’
It was apparent that Sam was pleased with the compliment as he puffed out his chest importantly and replied, ‘I appreciate they ain’t. But, when all’s said and done, it’s my job to keep the business running so that those that work for me can feed and clothe their families, not to educate their kids.’
Gem and Solly thought that Sam had a point. So although he hadn’t actually said it, it seemed that, as far as Sam was concerned, if the parents did want their children to better themselves then it was a matter of continuing to send them to the nearest school in each town they performed in with the hope that the teacher was the sort to show a welcome and a willingness to teach fairfolk children.
But then she saw the frightened faces of all those children today, and of her own promise that they wouldn’t suffer that treatment again. She had meant at that particular school, but their young minds had more than likely interpreted her words to mean at any school. Her conscience got the better of her. She had made those children a promise and her morals dictated that she must honour it. Not that she at all wanted to, but maybe an hour of her time once a day in the week to try and help them learn their alphabet and some simple words, also the times tables, she could manage.
She spoke up before she could change her mind. ‘I’ll do it. Just for an hour or so a day which doesn’t sound much but it’s more than they’re getting. Ten to eleven and I’ll do the lessons in here. I’ll fit in with my other work. But this is only until a better solution regarding the children’s education is found.’
Sam looked thoughtfully at her for a moment. It was unclear by the bland look on his face whether he thought her a fool or heroine for making her offer. ‘I’ll spread the word. I’ll make sure the parents send them on the dot tomorrow morning.’
Gem paled. ‘Oh, I was thinking of starting next Monday, give me time to prepare.’
Sam looked nonplussed. ‘No time like the present, gel. According to you, the kids have missed enough learning as it is without any more.’ He then looked over at the pan of chips sizzling away on the stove. ‘Them nearly done yet? I’m famished. And what are we having with ’em? Sausages and egg, I hope.’
Gem shot her father-in-law a dark stare. To him, throwing her into the deep end with little time to prepare, to tackle a job he knew she wasn’t at all happy doing, tickled his sense of humour. She felt like telling Sam she hoped the meal she was about to put in front of him choked him, but then her better nature took over. Sam was right; the children had missed enough learning through those unwilling to teach them already without losing any more. ‘Right, seems like I’m the community teacher from tomorrow morning.’ And she added, meaningfully, ‘For now, that is.’ But then, as Sam had made it clear, he wasn’t seeking another solution as he didn’t feel that the children’s education was his responsibility. So for how long ‘for now’ was, Gem dreaded to think.
From the living area two voices were heard to mutter in unison, ‘God help the kids.’
At ten-thirty the next morning Gem was on the verge of literally pulling her hair out. Before she had gone to bed the previous night, she had gone around the Grundy community and scrounged enough paper and pencils for the children to use for their first lesson and then painstakingly written out the alphabet on twelve sheets, leaving a wide space underneath each row in order for the children to copy those letters by way of a start to them learning their alphabet. But getting them all to sit quietly and concentrate on what, to her, was a simple task was proving frustrating, to say the least. As soon as she had sat them down and explained what she wanted them to do, one had announced they needed the toilet, so then four others announced they did too. Then one child complained that another kept nudging them with their elbow as they tried to form their letters on the page, so others complained of the same thing and downed tools. The space they were all crammed in was small; six of them were sitting around her kitchen table, the rest squashed together on the sofa and in armchairs in the living area with books on their knees as a surface to write on. So, in order to provide each child with more elbow room, she asked four of the children to sit cross-legged on the floor, so those seated could spread out a bit. For a few minutes this seemed to work and the children did start to concentrate on the task she had set them. But just when Gem was thinking this was going to work and the children might actually learn something, one of the youngest children suddenly burst into tears because she couldn’t form the letter to mirror that of Gem’s and so several of the others joined in out of sympathy. Then, to make matters worse, an older boy called them babies for their crying and so one of the crying children’s brother, out of protection for his sister, punched him on the arm. Out of retaliation, the lad punched him back and a fight then broke out between them, which took Gem several minutes to break up. It then took her a few more minutes to soothe the crying children, move others around so the two boys were sitting apart, and get them back to copying their letters again.
The hour lesson was halfway through by this time and she’d only just gotten the children to actually settle down enough to attempt some work. She could sense that this harmony between the children would not last for the rest of the lesson, as the end of one child’s pencil had snapped off and that child was clearly on the verge of snatching their neighbour’s pencil to replace the broken one. Quickly, she went over and took the broken pencil from the child in question and offered to sharpen it for them before they caused mayhem.
With her back turned, she did not see one child glance over at her neighbour’s work and, seeing they were doing better than they were, jealously snatch the paper they were working on off them, screwing it up. The first she knew of the incident was when the victim jumped up, screaming that she was going to tell her mother what the culprit had done. The peace amongst the other children was completely shattered and all hell broke loose as some commiserated with the victim and others banded together on the side the of the culprit; they all started yelling at each other.
By now, Gem’s patience was non-existent. She slammed down the knife, spun on her heels and shouted crossly out, ‘Stop this nonsense! Sit down and get on with your work.’
None of them took any notice of her, all carrying on as though she hadn’t spoken. Now Gem had had enough. If this was a prelude for all the lessons to come…
She went to the door, let herself out, shut it behind her and, closing her ears to the bedlam coming from inside, she sat on the steps and cradled her head in her hands. The children in the van had always treated her with the utmost respect and with politeness whenever she had come across them, so why now were they all being so naughty? The noise the children were making inside the van invaded her troubled thoughts. She needed to return back inside and quiet them down, get them back to working again, but the thought filled her with dread; she’d sooner have faced a dozen rampaging bulls than twelve squabbling children. But she was going to have to and somehow get them to behave and do the work she set them or otherwise she would be breaking her promise to their parents.
Her despair deepened; she felt as if she was in a deep, dark hole with no way of escape. She lifted her head and looked skywards. Lord, I know I haven’t exactly been a good disciple of yours. Well, in truth, not a good one at all. I can’t remember the last time I went to church as my parents weren’t at all religious and so I’m not either, but if I could just ask you… Well, if you do exist, that is… Just this once, if you could see your way to helping a unreligious person and send me one of your miracles, not your loaves and fishes kind but grant me the gift or whatever it is that teachers possess to get children to sit and behave themselves while I try and teach them their ABCs. If you do, I promise…
‘Are you Mrs Grundy? I was told you were the person I needed to speak to.’
At the unexpected intrusion into her thoughts, Gem’s head shot down to see standing before her a thin, plain-faced woman. In her late fifties or early sixties was Gem’s estimate, smartly but cheaply dressed in a brown coat, sensible shoes and a brown handbag hung over her arm. Her salt and pepper hair was scraped back from her head and knotted in a tight bun at the base of her neck, accentuating her sharp features. She looked exactly as Gem had pictured the teacher she had expected to find at the school yesterday.
She eased herself off the van steps. ‘Yes, I’m Mrs Grundy. I’m rather busy at the moment dealing with some of the fair children so if you need to speak to someone about fair business, then Mr Sam Grundy is about somewhere.’
The woman looked at Gem’s living van, then eyed her knowingly. In a pleasant tone of voice she said, ‘The children seem to be causing you a problem by the sound of it. Excuse me a moment.’
Before Gem could stop her, she marched past, letting herself inside and closing the door behind her. Whilst Gem stared at the closed door, wondering what on earth the woman was up to, to her absolute shock the commotion from inside stopped. Seconds later, the woman returned to stand before Gem again, saying, ‘At least we can hear ourselves speak now. The children are all busy getting on with their lesson.’
Gem gawped in amazement at her and stammered, ‘How… how on earth did you manage that? Quiet the kids down and get them to get on with their work?’
She smiled. ‘I just asked them to.’
Gem felt affronted that this austere-looking woman had managed something she had hopelessly failed to and said defensively, ‘Well so did I but they just ignored me and played up even more.’ She sighed. ‘I can’t understand it. The children are usually so well-mannered and polite to me, yet today they are acting so naughty. I wish I’d never offered to act as their teacher now.’
‘Children are very perceptive; they would have sensed your reluctance which would have made them feel awkward and unwanted. And so, by them being naughty, they were allowing you the opportunity of getting rid of them.’
Gem stared at her, having difficulty digesting what the woman had just told her. Then it suddenly registered and a surge of utter guilt rampaged through her. It was herself that had evoked this bad behaviour within the children today because they had picked up on the fact that she resented having to spend her time with them when she would far sooner have been elsewhere. How on earth though did she put this right, put the children at their ease, when in fact her resentment of having to teach them when she’d sooner not, was still as virulent?
‘Look, while the children are quiet, what can I do for you?’
‘I’m hoping it’s what I can do for you.’ She paused for a moment before she ventured, ‘I heard what happened yesterday at the school with the fairground children. I was horrified by the way the teacher treated them and felt it was very admirable of you how you put her in her place. I suspect that the teacher’s behaviour with the children isn’t an isolated case either.’
‘No, no, it’s not. The children are very lucky if, during our season on the road, they receive any schooling at all because of teachers’ attitude towards us fairground folk. The local children don’t always give them an easy time either.’
‘And I doubt very much that will change unless people’s attitudes to travellers do. I feel it’s wrong that any child from any walk of life be denied learning for any reason.’ She then shocked Gem to her core by offering, ‘I could teach the children for you.’
‘You would?’ Gem exclaimed, most surprised.
‘I’d really like the opportunity to, if I’d be allowed.’
The way she said it left Gem in no doubt of her sincerity. She couldn’t believe that this was happening, that an actual teacher was volunteering their services to them. ‘Oh, this is wonderful news. At least the children will receive some learning while we are here.’
‘I was thinking for longer than that. Of being their permanent teacher.’
Gem gawped at her, stunned. ‘Joining our community and travelling with us, you mean?’
‘I’d very much like to.’ She held out her hand. ‘My name is Emily Dunn.’
She was speechless that this prim-looking woman – the sort of woman that was usually found amongst those that banded together to petition those in authority to ban the fair from coming to their towns and villages, deeming them dens of iniquity – was offering her services! Before she changed her mind, she accepted the proffered hand and happily shook it. ‘Gemma Grundy. Gem. I’m very pleased to meet you, Miss Dunn.’
Emily Dunn said, ‘I wish I could offer my services for free but I’m afraid I am not a woman of means and would therefore require some remuneration.'
Of course she would as she had to live. Gem felt foolish for thinking that this woman was offering her services for free.
Emily Dunn was continuing, ‘I’m not asking for a lot, just enough of a wage to keep me in the basics I need. Three pounds a week would be sufficient.’
Gem had no idea how much a teacher earned but was aware that it was usually far more than three pounds weekly. For what she was offering, this amount sounded very reasonable to Gem. ‘After the time I’ve had this morning, I would snatch your hand off for you to take over the responsibility of the children’s education but, unfortunately, the decision isn’t mine to make. I’ll have to speak to Mr Grundy.’ Sam didn’t easily part with his money so it wasn’t going to be an easy task to persuade him to go ahead with this but Gem was determined not to give up without a fight as she doubted an opportunity like this would ever come this way again. But then another problem presented itself. ‘Oh, but of course there is the question of living accommodation? People who work for us provide their own, you see.’
‘I am in a position to fund a small caravan adequate enough for me that I can tow around with my trusty old station wagon.’
That bridge was crossed then but yet another problem presented itself and she frowned in thought. ‘It’s where we would hold the lessons, though? Continuing using my living van wouldn’t work.’
‘I have given thought to that problem and I came up with the idea that a military tent would more than do the job. They are not expensive to purchase from an army surplus store and, in the winter, it can be heated with a wood stove.’
Emily Dunn had obviously given this all a lot of thought, so it was not some idle gesture on her part but something she really wanted to do. Despite struggling to accept that someone so prim and proper, the type Gem pictured residing in a Victorian terrace littered with dust-collecting ornaments and an aspidistra plant in the window – the complete opposite of the usual runaways, ex-prisoners and those that believed a life with the fair was a glamorous one – was so keen to join their community and live their nomadic lifestyle, she was worried this answer to her prayers might just change her mind and vanish as suddenly as she’d arrived. ‘I’ll just check on the children and, if you wait here, I’ll find Mr Grundy and have a word with him. If he’s keen on the idea I’ll bring him to meet you.’
‘I would be delighted to check on the children for you while you go off and find the owner.’
Gem looked towards her van, amazed that the children were obviously still working away as no noise could be heard. Emily Dunn’s magic was still having its effect on them, it seemed. Accepting the woman’s offer, she went off.
She found a not-too-happy Sam having strong words with one of the teenage sons of a ride owner. He had been despatched that morning to the printer’s to collect a parcel of pre-ordered leaflets advertising the arrival of the fair in the next town they were due to visit, which he and two other workers had been going to travel to tomorrow to hand around to the general public and also put up in shop windows. Trouble was though, the lad had returned with someone else’s order, advertising the opening of a new furniture shop. The repercussions of this meant a return journey for the lad using valuable time. Knowing Sam as well as she did, this would normally not be a good moment in respect of his bad mood to tackle him on spending money paying for a service he didn’t feel fell to him to provide, but then the costly mistake the lad had made was all down to the fact that he couldn’t read the name on the front of the package to realise the mistake the assistant had made, so maybe this moment was the perfect one for Gem to put her case to him.
His first response was a flat no, along with a reminder to her that, as far as he was concerned, the education of the fairfolk children was the responsibility of their parents.
As they were discussing this matter, a disinterested Sam was hobbling along as he wove his way around the stalls and rides on his way to the boxing ring to have a catch-up chat with the man he employed to run it so Gem was having to trot alongside him to keep pace.
Despite his flat refusal to even to consider it, Gem was not giving up. ‘But, Mr Grundy, this woman… Mrs… Miss… Dunn is offering her services so cheaply. At least we should consider it.’
‘We!’ he snapped. ‘It’s me that pays the bills, not you, so there’s no “we” about it. The answer is still no.’
‘Well, what about the money it cost you this morning when Trevor came back with the wrong order from the printer’s and had to go back again. That was all down to the fact he couldn’t read.’
‘Well he won’t be making that mistake again after the bollocking I gave him. Whether he can read is neither here nor there as he should have checked with the assistant who gave him the order that he’d got the right one before he left. Anyway, I take it that this teacher woman is an outsider? We’ve got enough outsiders in the Grundy community already without any more invading us.’
Gem was well aware that this wasn’t Sam being bigoted, that he was purely using any excuse not to lay out money he didn’t need to if he could help it. Sam had many friends that he deeply respected amongst outsiders he had met over the years in different towns and villages. She snapped, ‘If I wasn’t here and doing your books for you then I dread to think how much it would cost you to employ the services of a book-keeper when you don’t pay me anything, nor do you for all the other jobs I do around the fair either, come to that.’ Stabbing a finger into her chest, she added, ‘This outsider is worth her weight in gold to you and you know it. And may I remind you that Velda is an outsider and you are such good friends with her. Or had you forgotten that? And don’t forget the money you make out of her? And most of the gaff lads are outsiders too and the fair wouldn’t function without them.’
He made no response but, regardless, Gem knew that her words had hit home.
‘So will you take her on or not?’ Gem asked him.
He suddenly stopped his pacing to look at her stolidly. ‘I ain’t daft, you know. You didn’t want to teach those kids it in the first place so you only want me to take this woman on so it saves you having to.’
She readily admitted, ‘Yes, it is. But not entirely. I don’t enjoy teaching the children, I haven’t got the patience, but mostly I want you to take this woman on for the children’s sake. Because their parents want better for them… and there’s nothing wrong with that. Didn’t we all want the best for our kids when they were young and still do, in fact. But you know what those poor children face each week when they have to go to a different school and is that fair to them, not knowing what awaits them? When they’ve been treated badly knowing they have no choice but to face it again for the next four days, the only saving grace they have is the hope that the next school might be nicer to them.’ Despite her reminding him the trauma the children faced every week during school term times in the hope it might prick his conscience, she could still see that what it was going to cost him was the principle reason Sam was not receptive to this idea. She understood why. She did the business accounts and knew that the profits at the end of the year were not that much and usually ploughed back into the business, buying new rides and replacing old equipment no longer repairable. Three pounds a week might not be a huge amount but, over a year, it was a large chunk of money that could be used to replace a clapped-out old lorry or put towards a new attraction to pull the punters in with.
Then an idea came to her that might help change his mind. ‘Just think how much good this is going to do your reputation amongst the rest of the showmen community up and down the country. You will go down in fairground history as the ringmaster that was the first to provide proper schooling for his workers’ children.’
He looked at her blankly and she could see the cogs in his brain whirling. To her great delight it seemed that the thought of his name gracing the pages of the history books, alongside the other great showmen such as P.T. Barnum and Tom Norman, was enough to sway him. He gruffly said, ‘Alright, you win, I’ll pay for the bloody teacher.’
She blurted, ‘Oh, and, er, a tent as well to hold the lessons in. They don’t cost much. We’ll have to consider getting tables and chairs for the kids to sit at, but they can sit on the floor for now. And also a stove to heat the tent in winter.’ Before he could change his mind she spun on her heels, calling behind her, ‘I’ll go and tell Emily Dunn she’s hired and welcome her into our community.’
To say Emily was delighted with the acceptance of her proposal would have been an understatement as she was positively overjoyed. Having made arrangements to arrive that coming Sunday in time for their collective departure for their next venue, she left. As Gem returned to tell the good news to the children and release them from any more lessons until their very own teacher took up her duties the following Monday morning and then on to inform their parents of this turn of events, it was then she began to wonder just why a woman like Emily, and especially at her mature age, would want to leave her old life behind? It was indeed puzzling to Gem.
Early that evening, holding his wife in his arms, Solly was looking at her with unadulterated love and awe. ‘I can’t believe you got the old man to agreed to put his hand in his pocket and pay for something he doesn’t think is his responsibility to pay for.’
She chuckled. ‘It wasn’t easy. Your father can be a stubborn old cuss, as you well know, and I seriously didn’t think I was going to until, thankfully, I had the brainwave to convince him that he would stand beside the greats in showman history as a pioneer for the education of fairground workers’ children.’
Solly’s love and admiration for his wife radiated all the brighter. In all their twenty-odd years of marriage, never a day went by when he didn’t bless the day he met her. He still marvelled that, considering his young age at the time, he’d summoned the courage to go against his parents and their staunch belief in fairground traditions and married her. He never forgot the fact that she gave up a very privileged life with her prosperous parents and that with her good looks and personality would not have failed to attract a man of her own ilk that could have provided for her handsomely. She had given him two wonderful sons, raising them to be decent, honest, hard-working young men any father couldn’t fail to be proud of. Even after all these years they still giggled over private jokes together, same as they had as teenagers, never kept secrets between themselves, and their lovemaking was still as frequent, rampant and satisfying. Despite the numerous times he had seen her in conversation, even flirting with male punters as part of her job to entice them on rides or stalls she was manning, never did he question her loyalty to himself. She never gave him reason to worry over her straying from him, so complete was his trust for her. He did indeed bless the day she came into his life and decided to stay.
In turn, Gem’s thoughts mirrored her husband’s as she felt the love and protectiveness from his hug enveloping through her. Never once in all their years of marriage, even through difficult times – and there had been too many of those to count – had she ever regretted going against her parents’ wishes. Being disinherited from her family and giving up a privileged future was worth it to be with the man whose arms she was now wrapped in. He had been a loving, supportive, completely faithful and devoted husband and there was nothing she would change about him in any way whatsoever. All but one thing though. Solly believed that he and his wife had no secrets between them, were totally open and honest with each other, but Gem hadn’t been so with him. She had a secret that she knew would devastate her husband. The chance to tell him had come and gone many years ago and she had chosen not to inform him purely out of her love for him and unwillingness to cause him the pain it would bring him over something he could have done nothing about at the time. She herself was already suffering enough for the both of them. So, rightly or wrongly, it was her intention that this secret would go to the grave with her; she felt some secrets were kept secret for the best of intentions.
Solly now whispered in her ear, ‘The boys won’t be back for a bit so shall we take advantage of having the van to ourselves?’
Her eyes twinkled wickedly and she grinned.