Miss Purdy's Class Read Online Free PDF

what I’m used to,’ Gwen said. She was feeling overwhelmed by the newness of the experience, the state of some of the children. ‘I suppose they weren’t too bad – I just feel rather at sea. How I’ll even remember their names I don’t know.’
    ‘Oh, it’ll come to you. They’re not bad children, most of them. And when you consider what some of them are coming from . . . It’s been an eye-opener to me, I can tell you. If you live in a different part of Birmingham it’s like another world. I grew up in Edgbaston. The way some people live – it beggars belief.’
    ‘There’s one boy who’s forever scratching and he seems to have scabs all over his skin . . . Is that impetigo?’
    ‘Umm – I should think so. Nasty. Sounds as if he’s over the worst, though.’ Millie rolled her eyes. ‘If you want infestations you’ve come to the right place!’
    She pushed the staffroom door open and Gwen saw a dingy space with a few old chairs scattered round and a table to one side with cups and saucers on it. No one else was in there yet.
    ‘You’ll want to wash your hands, and then you sit down and I’ll get us a cup of tea before you meet everyone properly.’ Millie disappeared into the little scullery at the back. Gwen felt tears of gratitude come to her eyes. The children had been testing her all morning to see what they could get away with and she had had to work hard to maintain authority over them. It was nice to feel taken care of now.
    As she was waiting, the door swung open and a woman marched in. Her hair was a lifeless brown, pinned up in a bun, and her expression severe. Her lips were moving as she came through the door as if she was completing an angry outburst at some absent culprit. She caught sight of Gwen sitting near the table, so Gwen smiled and stood up, holding out her hand. The woman stopped. Close up, she was younger than she at first appeared. She could barely have been forty, but she was dressed in shapeless brown clothes and flat shoes which made her look much older.
    ‘Oh! My, my . . .’ She laid her hand over her heart as if Gwen’s presence had endangered its welfare. Her voice was high and whining. ‘Who are you? The new one?’
    ‘Yes – I’m Gwen Purdy.’ Gwen’s smile faltered. How very rude , she thought.
    The woman stared at her. ‘I’m Miss Monk. How old are you?’
    ‘Actually, I’m twenty-one.’
    The woman gave her an unwaveringly hostile stare. ‘ Twenty-one? God in heaven.’ She tutted, apparently in outraged disapproval and went to the scullery. ‘Oh, for goodness sake, let me light it,’ Gwen heard her say impatiently to Millie.
    Gradually the other staff trickled in from their classes. Millie brought tea over, shared her sandwiches with Gwen and whispered, ‘Don’t worry about old Monk-face. She’s like that with everyone. Goodness knows why she’s a teacher. She loathes children.’ Millie rolled her eyes and moved even closer to Gwen. ‘I think she’s really the limit, to tell you the truth – but no one dares gainsay her. Not even Mr Lowry. Actually, Lowry’s the root of the problem.’
    Gwen frowned.
    ‘She’s mad for him,’ Millie hissed, with delicious glee. ‘And he never takes the blindest bit of notice of her.’
    Millie was the most cheerful part of Gwen’s day so far. She added her own comments to the introductions after the other teachers had said hello and sat back to drink their cups of tea. Gwen’s headache started to ease.
    She met Mr Gaffney, the teacher who had rung the bell outside as she first arrived. He was a gentle, middle-aged man with receding hair and trembling hands. ‘Something happened to him in the war. He’s very nervous. And he is one of the ones who’s never actually trained as a teacher,’ Millie said. And Mr Lowry was all right as long as you did everything to the letter. He was a Scout leader in his spare time. Very ‘pip-pip’. The dumpy-looking lady, Miss Pringle, who wore square-toed shoes, had