06 Educating Jack by Jack Sheffield Read Free Book Online Page B

shop in Easington, Miss Evans,’ said Ruby. ‘Once she’s got ’er claws in, there’s no lettin’ go.’
    ‘Perhaps Ronnie could have a word with him,’ said Vera.
    ‘Ah don’t think so, Miss Evans,’ said Ruby, ‘’cause ’e’s as much use as a choc’late fireguard. Mind you, Miss Wojciechowski said its prob’ly jus’ a phrase our Duggie’s going through,’ said Ruby.
    ‘A
phrase
… oh, yes, I see,’ I said.
    Vera looked at her wristwatch. ‘Well, we must go now, Ruby. Eat your grapes and enjoy the children’s cards and try not to worry.’ I walked to the door but Vera hung back for a moment and I heard Ruby whisper, ‘Ah think our Ronnie’s gone t’one o’ them prawnbrokers, Miss Evans. Ah can’t find m’mother’s locket wi’ t’broken chain what ah got when ah got married. Y’know ’ow it is, Miss Evans … ah laugh in public an’ ah cry in private.’
    When we got back to the school car park Vera and I stood there for a moment. ‘Poor Ruby,’ I said. ‘I wish I could think of a solution.’
    ‘I might just have thought of one,’ said Vera mysteriously and she climbed into her car and drove off.
    Beth had an event at her school that evening, so at seven o’clock I locked up and walked across the village green to The Royal Oak for some hot food and a drink. As usual, assorted members of the Ragley Rovers football team were watching the news on the television above the bar. A man, attached by an elastic rope, had leapt from the Clifton Suspension Bridge and survived.
    ‘That could catch on,’ said Chris ‘Kojak’ Wojciechowski, the Bald-Headed Ball Wizard.
    Ronnie was sitting on the bench seat under the dartboard with his son Duggie. They looked deep in conversation and I decided not to intervene. I glanced up at the ‘Specials’ blackboard. Tonight’s gastronomic feast was a simple choice: corned beef hash or lamb’s liver. ‘I’ll have the beef and a half of Chestnut Mild, please, Don.’
    Don Bradshaw, the landlord and an ex-wrestler, pulled on the hand pump effortlessly and gave me a stubbly-faced grin. ‘On yer own then, Mr Sheffield?’
    ‘Yes, Don,’ I said. ‘And how’s Sheila?’ Don’s wife, now in her mid-forties, still wore her Sixties miniskirts and, according to the Ragley Rovers football team, possessed the finest cleavage in North Yorkshire.
    ‘She’s gone wi’ ’er mates to t’pictures,’ said Don, ‘t’see that
E.T
.’
    ‘What’s that when it’s at ’ome?’ said Big Dave Robinson, the six-foot-four-inch goalkeeper, captain of Ragley Rovers and local refuse collector.
    ‘It’s that new Steven Spellbound film, Dave,’ said Little Malcolm Robinson, his five-foot-four-inch cousin and fellow binman. ‘Me an’ Dorothy went t’see it.’
    ‘Yeah, but what’s it abart?’ asked Big Dave, supping deeply on his pint of Tetley’s bitter.
    ‘Well, E.T.’s an alien from outer space an’ ’e’s wanderin’ abart c’llectin’ samples an’ suchlike an’ ’is spaceship buggers off an’ leaves ’im be’ind,’ said Little Malcolm.
    ‘’E wunt be too thrilled then, this E.T.,’ said Big Dave.
    ‘Y’reight there, Dave,’ agreed Little Malcolm, ‘leavin’ t’poor little sod on ’is own on earth.’
    Don leant over the bar and began drying a pint glass with his York City tea towel. ‘So what ’appens then?’ he asked.
    ‘’E gets reight poorly,’ said Little Malcolm.
    ‘So not exactly a bag o’ laughs then,’ pondered Big Dave. ‘Ah can’t see me tekkin’ my Nellie t’see it. She’s more into ’Arrison Ford an’ a bit of adventure.’ Fenella Lovelace, or Nellie as she was known, was Big Dave’s sporty girlfriend and he was immensely proud that she could recite football’s offside rule word perfect.
    ‘Same ’ere,’ said Little Malcolm. ‘Mind you, my Dorothy prefers a bit o’ romance now an’ again.’
    The football team all gave Little Malcolm a knowing look. ‘So we’ve ’eard, Malcolm,’ said