PART THREE:- Disappeared
The mid-morning bell rang and suddenly the corridor was filled with the sound of banging doors and running feet. One small figure was running so fast he ran straight into Alison with such force it took her breath away and very nearly knocked her over. Taking the child by the shoulders and holding him at arm's-length, she said, "Tyson Higgins, how often do I have to tell you - Walk, don't run."
"Yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss."
The child gave a terrified glance over his shoulder and Alison followed the direction of his gaze just in time to catch Benson and Phelps, the school bullies, skidding to a halt half-way down the corridor.
"Were they chasing you?"Alison searched Tyson's face anxiously, but he just pressed his lips together and shook his head. "If they're bullying you, you should tell a teacher and we can do something about it."
"Yes, Miss - I mean no, Miss."
She looked up as Benson and Phelps drew level, Phelps shooting a truly venomous look at Higgins as he passed.
"All right then."She let the child go and rubbed her stomach, which was still aching from the impact. "But don't forget."
"No, Miss. Thanks, Miss."
Tyson shot off in the opposite direction to that taken by the two bullies and Alison watched him go with troubled eyes.
Poor little bugger, she thought. What chance did he have? And what was the point of telling a teacher? You could maybe protect them while they were in the school, but what about after school? All the bullies had to do was wait round the corner and pounce on him on his way home. And why, for God's sake, did parents give their children names like Tyson? she wondered. They were doomed to turn out little and thin with National Health glasses and a runny nose. Tyson's nose ran so continually that the snot had worn grooves in his upper lip.
Alison sighed and made her way to her own class. First day back after the holidays was always the worst.
There was pandemonium as she opened the door and she heard Miss Blacker's voice quite clearly in her head - Never leave a class alone for more than two minutes!
With a groan, she made her way to her desk and tapped her pencil on the surface. There was instant silence as all the faces turned towards her. Thank you, Miss Blacker, she thought as she pinned a bright smile on her face and said, "Good morning 3B."
In Alison's opinion Miss Blacker was the best teacher that ever lived and breathed. She had taught her more about teaching in the few months she had been at Graystones than she had learnt in the whole three years of her education degree. The pencil trick was one of them. It always got their attention, although it played merry hell with the lead in the pencils.
Alison wanted to be Miss Blacker. She assiduously followed all her advice and she copied everything she did.
Miss Blacker made a point of coming in at least half an hour before classes began in order, she said, to get herself in the right frame of mind. Alison had done the same from her second week onwards. They often sat together, the only two teachers in the staff room, in companionable silence, both working on their lesson plans. Or they would discuss teaching issues, usually Alison's issues, usually solved by Miss Blacker. Miss Blacker would know what to do about Tyson, Alison thought, as she got her class re-arranging the classroom to look like a restaurant - another of Miss Blacker's suggestions - don't just read from the text books, get them to act it out.
Might be a bit tricky next week, though, she thought. Next week's text was a day at the zoo. Oh, I don't know, though, she thought, remembering how they were behaving when she first walked in. They might be naturals.
But Miss Blacker hadn't been in the staff room this morning. It was the first time since Alison had started at the school that Miss Blacker hadn't been there and her absence had left her feeling vaguely worried. She wasn't there at lunchtime either and when Alison asked around nobody seemed to know why.
"The Weasel is hopping mad,"the Head of Department remarked. "Apparently she didn't let anyone know and he had to organise the supply teacher at the last minute."
Alison chewed her bottom lip. That wasn't like Miss Blacker. Not like her at all. Miss Blacker was exceptionally well-organised. Her feeling of disquiet deepened. Miss Blacker lived alone. She could be ill. Too ill to get to the phone.
"Has anyone called her?"
"Well, I imagine the Weasel has,"said the Head of Department crossly. "It really is too bad of her. We've got the O levels coming up and it's not fair on the kids to leave them with a supply teacher."
Alison drew in a shocked breath. Miss Blacker could be lying in a coma or worse and all anyone could think about was the inconvenience! She should have been Head of Department, anyway. She'd been teaching years longer than the vile Mrs Dulwich and was a thousand times better than her. That's what happened when you were fat. Nobody took you seriously. At least not adults. The children adored Miss Blacker. Frowning, Alison left the staff room and made her way to the Secretary's office.
She stood for a moment staring at the notice on the Secretary's door. It said 'SECRETARYS OFFICE'. Then she knocked politely at the door. "Come in!"The voice sounded weary and harassed.
Miss Harding was a middle-aged spinster. She was thin and dried-up and wore a habitual air of disappointment. "Yes. What can I do for you, Miss ... er?""Metcalfe,"Alison supplied. "I was enquiring about Miss Blacker."
Miss Harding looked vaguely round the room as if she thought Miss Blacker might be lurking in one of the corners. "Yes?"
"Well, she didn't come in today and I wondered if something was wrong."Alison found herself shifting from one foot to another. Miss Harding hadn't asked her to sit down and she was beginning to feel like a pupil who had been sent to the headmaster's room to be punished for something.
Miss Harding gave Alison a long hard stare over the top of her glasses. "And what business is it of yours?"