Dolly's Mixture by Dorothy Scannell Read Free Book Online

felt quite hurt at this, for I had made up my mind to try really hard, dresswise, so that he would be proud of me. I wore a grey, tailored suit with navy-blue accessories and I thought I looked the perfect mother for such an affair. Chas was not looking forward to the evening with delight and when we arrived he was less than ecstatic, for the hall was crammed to capacity with boys and mums and dads. William disappeared with his friends to help with the refreshments and I prayed he would not slip on the polished parquet floor and deposit a cup of hot tea in a visitor’s lap.
    There was a sudden commotion at the end of the room and one young teacher was carried out. The room was terrifically hot and he had fainted. To my eternal shame, Chas made a joke – well, he thought it was funny and so did the boys lingering nervously around. He said, ‘Oh, one of the fathers has bashed a teacher.’ The man to whom Chas had made the joke remarked that he was disgusted at the behaviour of present day parents.
    We saw the maths master who informed us that, had he seen us before Open Day, he could not, in all honesty, have given us a good report as to William’s aptitude for figures. However, that day the master had received an intricate problem which was to be set for the school. It had been going the educational rounds with little success; indeed, the problem was of such intricacy that success was not expected even of an above-average student. ‘And what did I find?’ demanded the maths master belligerently. ‘Scannell had the correct answer.’ I sympathised with the master. It had just been a fluke, this Einstein streak in my son, but of course it was going to make the teacher’s report rather difficult if they were looking for a future scientist of genius, for no one could have been a poorer student of maths than William.
    We all queued up to see the head about our boys. Chas was tired, having been on his feet all day, but he stuck the wait gamely. In front of us was a dear little Jewish boy with his father. The head was listening patiently (I thought he looked a little bored), for the boy’s father was asking for ‘Work, more work for my boy, that’s what he  wants and that’s what I want.’ I listened, amazed and envious. Here was a happy little lad, keen to do well, whilst William and his friends complained bitterly at the amount of homework they had to do.
    I was nervous of saying my name to the head (Chas left it to me), for I had heard his resonant voice conveying cold, hard facts to several parents. At last came our turn, and in a timid whisper, so that no other parents would hear (for I knew they were, as I had been, all agog, although casually pretending not to listen to the parent in the enviable, or unenviable, position at the head of the queue), I said, ‘William Scannell.’ ‘William Scannell!’ shouted the head. ‘Ha ha ha ha ha....’ At his loud shout and roars of laughter the whole room seemed to me to become silent, and all heads craned in our direction. It was as though the wicked fairy had turned us all to marble. The head boomed on, ‘William is a cert for university, the ideal type. He must go, he will go, ha ha ha....’ Then he said, ‘I agree with all that the experts have said about him, and I believe too that, with this goal in sight, his isolation from his fellows will end, for he will be with people who speak his language.’ Chas looked amazed. I was delirious inside, although appearing calm and casual outside; I could have burst into song there and then. The head’s enthusiasm for my son was like a laurel wreath for me, but I put on my suitably modest look. Then the head, still smiling happily, made his final victory announcement. ‘William will go to college, provided, of course; that he learns to write. ’ We decided it was time to make a dignified exit.

Chapter 5
Bedtime Stories
    Because,