Changing Seasons. Autumn part 3.

Autumn. Part 3 “Look at this place! Minnie’s transformed it! I last came in two weeks ago and it looked nothing like this. How has she done it?” “She called in a whole whack of favours from the son-in-laws. Sons-in-law? Anyway, her daughters’ husbands, all three of them. Plasterboard, paint, an industrial sander…”
“Hey, I wonder if we could borrow that? We’ve got a lot of floor.”
“You could always ask.” “Which reminds me, Clara, talking of doing places up. You know loads about this town. Where’s the school? I mean, eventually my children will need it, and I was wondering if the building was still usable. I did train as a teacher…”
“I could show you. I’ve been meaning to go and have a look for myself, but I haven’t got round to that bit of the town yet. I’ve heard loads about it…” For some reason Clara blushed, and went on. “Read about it, that is, in my great-great-aunt’s letters. She was one of the first few teachers there.” “We have to stop meeting like this.”
“Who? You and m-me or you and the baby?”
“Me and Joy,” Patience said firmly. “When are they supposed to sleep through the night?” “Good morning, my gorgeous floor and window fixer!” It was amazing how having the room looking better lifted Patience’s mood. She and the babies had decamped to Marcus and Annette’s for the day while Euan did the sanding! “Mmm, that was nice. Didn’t we use to do this more often?”
“I think you might be right. Can’t think what’s got in the way. I’m going out with Clara today, to see what sort of state the old school’s in. You okay to hold the fort?”
“Sure thing, Cap’n.” And Euan kissed her in return. “Well, this is it. First built in Victorian times, when it was used to educate children up to the grand old school-leaving age of ten or so.” Clara did a good imitation of a tour guide!
“Later on, the highly intelligent few would stay on until the age of fourteen. The headmaster had a house next door and used to teach the oldest there. There was originally one teacher for the whole school as well as the headmaster, and later there were two teachers – one for the younger children and one for the older ones…Do you want to look inside? I have the key.” It was a good solid-looking Victorian building. Patience followed Clara inside, hopefully. And the entrance hall didn’t look too bad. A bit shabby, but nothing that some paint couldn’t fix. Then Patience got a better look at the interior. This must have been the classroom for the youngest ones, judging by the wall frieze. And this for the slightly older ones? Through the window, Patience could see Clara playing hopscotch. This would have been a nice little school once. The other rooms were in much the same state. And the wooden interior walls had too many holes in them for it to be a safe place for young children to play. “I haven’t played this in years.”
“I’ll give you a game. And take you next door to show you the first headmaster’s once-amazing house. He didn’t teach for the income – he’d married a fairly well-off wife: her parents owned the first of the factories. He just loved teaching.” Clara was right – the house had lost some of its former glory.
“The next headmaster didn’t live in it,” Clara had explained. “He couldn’t afford it! So it was sold, and not everyone wanted to live next to a school. It sort of went gently down in the world.” Patience peered through one of the windows at the neglected interior. That was a sort of theme to this town, she thought, neglect. And yet she wasn’t unhappy here. In fact, when she had a baby-free moment to think in, she kind of liked it. Three babies happily cooing and crowing on the new rug – which now had a clean floor underneath it! – and Euan would be home soon. He’d taken to working in the evening: it was a cooler part of the day, plus he was around to help with the babies for those challenging mornings!
Though it was getting colder now, as they neared winter. Clara needed some new clothes, Patience thought. If only I had a sewing machine…Maybe Annette might spot a second-hand one in Newborough for her. “I came over to see if you’d started the b-bedroom,” Euan said laughing, at the sight of Marcus sitting down in a squishy mess of half-trodden grapes. “Is this some kind of new b-bathroom instead?”
“No!” Marcus said, frustration and laughter warring in his voice. “It’s not a bathroom – but it is instead of a bedroom, I’m afraid. This stuff was going at a bargain price. And we had been thinking about making wine next autumn, but this was too good a deal to pass up on.” “And people are going to drink something that your sweaty feet have trampled?”
“Hey! I washed them first! Annette made me.”
Euan watched Marcus for a bit longer and wondered why he was suddenly feeling so happy. There was the obvious entertainment value of course, but there was something deeper as well.
Optimism, he realised. Optimism and a return of his own confidence. Okay, he wasn’t earning much, but he was earning enough. They could reshape their lives here. And do well by their children. This was going to work. And he hadn’t failed his family.