Page 61 of Autumn in Sycamore Park
Too late, Angela stood up to wave at a figure walking up the hill, leaning beneath the weight of a carrier bag bulging with wine bottles. His identity wasn’t immediately apparent beneath the unseasonal straw hat he was wearing, but from his gait Jennifer could tell.
‘Ah, Greg! There you are!’ Angela said, jumping up. She jogged over to Downton like a woman forty years younger, taking his arm and steering him towards the picnic mat.
In his straw hat, and with a pinstripe shirt above beige slacks just for good measure, Downton looked ready to go boating on the Thames circa 1950. The smile he gave Angela was filled with pure joy, so Jennifer felt rather like a party pooper when she saw the way it dropped as his eyes met hers.
‘Oh, Ms. Stevens … ah, Jennifer. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.’
‘Likewise, Mr.… ah, Greg.’
‘I’m Tom,’ Tom said with a wide grin, jumping up and reaching for Downton’s hand. ‘Lovely to meet you. I’m currently working as the caretaker of Sycamore Park, but just so you don’t think I’m a total country bumpkin, I was also once inEastEnders.’
Downton just gaped, lost for words.
‘Seriously?’ Jennifer said, exchanging a glance with Angela who grinned and shrugged.
‘Three episodes. I sold Phil Mitchell a stolen motor.’ He pouted, then put on a frown and said in a perfect East End accent, ‘“You’d better pay up for that motor, or else.” Ha, that was my favourite line.’
‘And did he?’ Downton asked.
Tom smiled. ‘I don’t remember. Maybe off-screen. I got cut from the budget.’
‘Well, it’s nice to meet you, too. In case you didn’t know, I’m the headmaster at Brentwell Primary.’ Downton glanced at Jennifer. ‘Good to see you’re settling in to the area, Ms. Stevens. Making things a little more permanent. It’s so hard to find good teaching staff around here.’
‘Um, thanks.’ She glanced at Tom, who grinned and winked, then back at Downton. ‘We’re not … uh—’
‘It’s okay, I’ll keep it quiet from the teaching staff. You do know how they like to gossip. And poor Fellow will be heartbroken.’
‘Fellow?’ Tom said.
‘Mr. Fellow. Rick. He has a soft spot for Jennifer, I’ve been led to believe.’
‘He’d have a soft spot for Maud if she was ten years younger,’ Jennifer said.
‘Well, quite, the young man does have a bit of an infatuation issue—’
‘Anyone for pie?’ Angela said with a wide grin, holding up a cake knife. Downton chuckled. Tom and Jennifer exchanged glances. The smile on Tom’s face could have meant anything.
Once the initial awkwardness was over and they were all a couple of glasses of wine deep, Jennifer found herself coming to like the stern old headmaster. Angela in particular seemed enamoured, falling into hysterics at each of his terrible jokes, holding on to his every word as he recounted some past tale of school life.
‘So my first position as a Deputy Head at a Secondary in Penzance, we had this teacher called Mr. Trovers, whom was a bit of a pushover. The kids would run him ragged, putting pins on his chair, chalk on the door handles, that kind of thing. One time he was due to go into a particularly rough class, so I suggested he shove a piece of plywood down the back of his trousers. Well, he went in and sat down, and they had a test that day, see. So he’s there at the front of the class feeling all smug because the board must have caught all the pins, and the kids are looking a bit confused as to why there’s no reaction. Well, it turned out one of the kids’ dads was a mechanic and this kid had stolen some industrial glue. When Trovers came to stand up, it turned out he was stuck fast to the seat. And the board down his arse had pulled his trousers so tight that we had to send the caretaker in to cut him out. Quite the chuckle we had over that one.’
Tom and Angela were crying with laughter. Jennifer pretended to be serious, but even she had a smile on her face.
‘What happened to him in the end?’ Jennifer asked.
‘He went for a change of career,’ Downton said. ‘Last I heard, he was driving a coach for National Express.’
‘Kids can be rough sometimes,’ Tom said. ‘We used to put worms in our form teacher’s drawer.’
‘They’re like wolves,’ Downton said. ‘If they sense blood, they’ll rip you apart. Even the reception class. Devils in human form, every single one.’
‘They’re not all bad,’ Jennifer said.
Downton smiled. ‘I’d love to agree with you, but then I wouldn’t be a good headmaster, would I? If the kids find out I’m a dragon that can’t breathe fire, there’d be anarchy. I fully expect next week’s harvest festival to turn into a zombie apocalypse.’
Angela patted him on the arm. ‘I’ll make sure to run a vegetarian menu that day,’ she said. ‘That should keep the zombie wolves from the door.’
‘Good call.’
