Thompson’s Lost Plimsole

Part 25

The Headmaster, Mr Davies, was pacing back and forth in his office, stopping every so often in order to bang the side of his clenched fist against his forehead. “Come on, come on, remember, remember, where did you last see that handwriting?” The Headmaster’s raised voice alarmed the school secretary who was ensconced in the next room busily typing away. Miss Emily Fudge, a spinster of this parish, rose from her chair, took a few steps away from her desk and placed her ear against the door that divided their two offices. “Bugger, bugger, bugger!”, Mr Davies shouted. Miss Fudge knocked on the door, waited a few seconds and then entered the Head’s office. “Is everything all right, Headmaster?”, she enquired. “No it isn’t,” he replied. “I haven’t slept well for the last few nights, Miss Fudge. I have something on my mind, and I won’t be able to settle until the matter is sorted”. She paused for a while and asked if there was anything that she could do to help. “Not really, Miss Fudge”, he said, “however, if you wouldn’t mind, there are some papers on my desk that need filing away”. Emily picked up the stack of papers and whilst shuffling them into a neat pile, she let some of the papers fall to the floor. As she knelt down to retrieve them, Mr Davies quickly stepped forward to assist. “Let me”, he said, picking up the stray paperwork and handing it back to Miss Fudge. As he did so, he looked down at the papers and let out an almighty cry, “YES, YES, YES!”. He impulsively hugged Miss Fudge. “Emily”, he said, “I could kiss you, thank you, thank you”. “Oh… Headmaster”, she whimpered, “this is all very sudden”.  She had blushed bright red, her body did a little quiver, what were these things that she was feeling? For five years she’d been his secretary, this was the first time that he’d called her by her Christian name. “Oh dear”, she thought to herself. “What will his wife say when she finds out that we are having an affair?” Mr Davies released his grip, took the papers from her and strode out of the room.

Miss Fudge stood there for a few moments, smiled, adjusted her spectacles, preened her hair, straightened her tweed skirt, turned on her sensible heels and did a little skip back to her own office.

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