Village Centenary by Miss Read Read Free Book Online Page B

bottles. I only hoped I did not win any of them back again.
    But the books occupied me for the rest of the evening. I began in a fine crusading spirit, ruthlessly putting aside half a dozen novels which I told myself I should never read again. It seemed prudent, though, to cast a cursory glance over them, and in no time I was deep in one which I had completely forgotten and found enthralling. I put it back on the shelf to finish later.
    Meanwhile, crouched as I was on the floor, I became horribly stiff, and decided to look through the rest in my armchair. At a quarter to ten I realised that I had galloped through most of them, and five were put aside as absolutely essential to my needs. One book alone remained at hand for Mrs Willet's stall. I decided that I had done enough sorting for one evening. Tomorrow I would be firm and start again. It would be a good thing to clear out the bookshelves, but now bed called.
    1 took a final look at the rows of books. Would anyone read that life of Marlborough? Or that terrible edition of
Lorna Doone
with illustrations presumably executed in weak cocoa? And what about
Whitaker's Almanack
for 1953, and that glossy American cookery book full of recipes about squash and scallions and clams, and every one of them in cupfuls? Any takers, I wondered?
    Who would have thought that giving away books would prove so tiring? It would have to wait until tomorrow.
    I went to bed carrying my first rejected book with me.

    The next morning I determined to find out when Fairacre School had first opened its doors to the children of the village. The forthcoming celebration, once we had decided on its nature, should take place approximately around the same time of year, I felt.
    The earliest log book is a battered affair, leather covered and with beautifully mottled endpapers. It weighs several pounds, and the ink has now faded to fawn. The entries make fascinating reading.
    I was mightily relieved to discover that the school opened at the beginning of December in 1880. If we were to celebrate the occasion then at least we knew that it must be an indoor affair. No playground nonsense, wondering if the heavens would open in a summer shower. The longer I live in a village, the more 1 marvel at the touching faith with which folk organise outside affairs in our climate. June can be cruelly chilly, and F well remember that on Coronation Day on 2 June the most joyful moment was when we lit the bonfire and could huddle round the welcome blaze.
    No one would expect anything outdoors at the beginning of December, so that cleared the ground nicely in my opinion. Something in the school must be arranged and, if need be, repeated to accommodate all the parents and friends.
    The first headmistress was a Miss Richards, and her sister looked after the infants. Judging by the first entry, the opening of the school had been awaited for some time. The builders had not finished their work in the time allotted. Could some of Reg Thorn's forebears have been employed, F wondered?
    The two ladies obviously had difficulty with discipline. There are a good many entries describing canings, and one John Pratt who seems to have been a sore trial and quite unmoved by frequent chastisement. What became of him, I wondered? He was evidently a resourceful boy, for he was discovered 'putting on the Hands of the Clock with the greatest Audacity' in July 1882, and a little later released a frog during the vicar's lesson on the Good Samaritan.
    The two sisters resigned in 1885, giving their reason as ill health, but the boisterous spirits of their country pupils must have had something to do with it.
    A widow and her daughter came next, and this pattern of a headmistress and woman assistant continued for some years. It was interesting to note that for all its hundred years Fairacre School had remained a two-teacher establishment. There must have been some odd pairings, I guessed, but probably no more difficult than my present