Thursday's Child - Tracey Friday

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in high regard. William had the privilege of walking within the grounds whenever he saw the Squire whilst the rest of the workers and villagers only got to see a peek at the glorious grounds twice a year: once at the Summer Fete when the gardens were at their absolute best, and at Christmas time when all the children and Primrose Estate staff were invited for a special party.

      A small, mature lake semi-circled the back of the property where the lawns gently sloped down the bank toward the jetty and a solitary rowing boat. Green algae outlined the boat with water lilies growing just above the waterline. It had been a number of years since the Squire had used the boat for fishing. Nowadays, he much preferred to do a spot of fly-fishing from the water’s edge as his balance was not as good as it used to be.

      In the centre of the lake was a small island just big enough to withstand a family of weeping willows that graciously overhung the side. The tips of the branches danced softly in the water providing protection from the sun for the ducks and swans that nested there.

      William brushed himself down and walked across the courtyard that housed the stable block. He picked up eight carrots from the metal bucket and briefly stopped at each stable door where he fed and patted every pedigree horse as he made his way to the tool shed next to the barn. As he gathered all the items he needed to temporarily fix the oil leak his thoughts turned back to the Squire. William knew he had been through tough times starting with the sudden loss of his beloved wife then the turbulent aftermath with his son Adam.

      William shook his head. He thought how fortunate he was to have his beloved Iris and Maggie, the apple of his eye. He started the tractor engine and began the slow drive back to Foxden Orchard.

      Chapter Five

      Iris had taken an armful of rhubarb to Betty’s cottage so they could bake the pie together and so Maggie had gone with William to the workshop.

      Her father was an excellent storyteller and he often told her of his antics as a boy and the endless mischief he got into with his best friend Bert.

      “Daddy, tell me about Bert and Miss Bridges,” Maggie pleaded.

      “What about them?” he taunted.

      “You know, the frogs.”

      “But you know about the frogs, Maggie.”

      “Please tell me and do more noises,” she said, as she jumped up and down expectantly.

      “Alright, come over here then pumpkin.”

      Maggie ran to her father with outstretched arms and he sat her up on the workbench then continued to plane some wood.

       “Well,” he began, “Bert and I were late for school, as usual, but this time we were very late as we’d been down to the village pond first. It had been raining and we were soaked by the time we entered the school gate. Playtime was over and all our friends were already inside the classroom.

      “We knew the routine, as we’d been late so many times, your grandma Harris used to tell me off for being late but I just couldn’t help it. We were only seven and we lost track of time. Bert and I knew that we had to see Miss Bridges, so she could mark us off as late in the school register, before we could join our friends in class.

      “We walked down the corridor and when we arrived outside Miss Bridges’ door we knocked but there was no reply, which was quite unusual. I poked Bert in the ribs and he carefully turned the brass handle and opened the door slightly. We both peered in to make sure Miss Bridges was not inside.” He gave Maggie a sideways glance and smiled when he saw she was sitting there with legs swinging under the workbench, totally enthralled in the tale.

      “Then...”

      “What Daddy, what?” Maggie held her breath with trepidation.

      “Then we went inside,” he whispered.

      Maggie caught her breath fearing that her father would be in serious trouble.

      “Miss Bridges’ office was beautifully furnished with a big polished desk and a huge book case filled with encyclopaedia and on top of the bookcase was a silver trophy. We were not sure what the trophy was for but we were impressed that she had one. A trophy, Maggie is a prize you are given when you win something.”

      Maggie nodded, clearly impressed.

      “Bert opened the drawer to Miss Bridges’ desk and from his trouser pocket he popped three frogs into the drawer,” William made croaking noises to add to the drama, “ribbet, ribbet, ribbet, and then he quickly closed the drawer before they hopped out. Then, we ran back to the door, quickly peeped out in case anyone was outside, then went and sat on the chairs in the corridor to await Miss Bridges’ return. I remember the chair I sat on was very old and one of its legs was shorter than the others and I was able to rock back and forth, which made Bert and I laugh out loud.

      “Just then, we heard a tapping sound.” To support this, William put down the plane and picked up a hammer and tapped it slightly on the workbench. “Close your eyes Maggie, can you see Miss Bridges?”

      Maggie did as she was told. Yes, she could see Miss Bridges who was a tall elderly lady who always looked angry and seemed to delight in the children being scared of her. Her father had described her on other occasions, so Maggie was able to picture that she had white hair pulled back in a tight bun and wore small spectacles perched at the end of her nose.

      “Bert and I stopped laughing and waited for her to turn the corner to her office...”

      Maggie, with eyes still closed, could see that Miss Bridges was coming closer…

      William continued to tap gently on the workbench, mimicking the footsteps. Then suddenly, he tapped loudly twice, making Maggie jump.

      Miss Bridges had arrived.

      ‘“Lateness is not tolerated, do you understand?”’ said William, in a high-pitched voice as he mimicked his old Headmistress.

      Maggie opened her eyes and giggled at her father, and also to check that he hadn’t turned into Miss Bridges.

      “Miss Bridges stood there staring at us, she looked like a giant eagle ready to eat us up.” William spread his arms and swooped above Maggie making creaking bird noises that made her giggle even more. “She eyed us up and down with a very disapproving look. Mind you Maggie, we did look a sorry sight. Bert and I were dripping wet and our socks and shoes were muddy. We were both worried what our mothers would have to say about that. Bert’s shoelaces were undone and because they were wet they left a clear trail on the dusty floor. It looked like a garden worm had zigzagged after him.” William wiggled his index finger in front of Maggie then gave her a tickle.

       ‘“Lateness is not tolerated, do you understand?’ she repeated, and we both nodded solemnly. ‘I want to see both your mothers tomorrow morning, now get back to your class.’ Then she left us without saying another word, slamming the door behind her. Nothing about Miss Bridges was ever done quietly.

      “We made our way slowly back to class, not because we were ashamed but because we were listening very hard for what we knew was coming. We waited for a while then looked at one another with puzzled looks on our faces. At the end of the corridor we couldn’t stall any longer and had no choice but to enter the classroom.

      “The whole class, including our teacher, Mr Bennett, fell silent and stared at us wondering what we had gotten up to this time. ‘Sorry we are late Mr Bennett,’ we said.

      “‘Goodness look at you two,’ said Mr Bennett, ‘take your places and open your history books.’ We did as we were told and sat down.

      “I didn’t want to look at Bert because I knew that I would burst out laughing and I knew it was the same for him, so we opened our desk lids and hid behind them, pretending to search for our books while the urge to giggle passed.

      “Just then, there was a piercing scream,” said William, “Mr Bennett ran from the classroom to get to Miss Bridges and the whole class gathered around us. ‘It’s you two isn’t it?’ said Percy. ‘Of course

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