It was Wednesday, 15 October and in the hedgerows teardrop cobwebs shivered in the bitter wind and the red hips of dog roses were a forerunner of darker days ahead. Lily’s face glowed with health as she raced along and, as she cycled towards Ragley High Street, russet leaves blew across the road, while goldfinches pecked at the seeds of the tall teasels.

Lily dismounted at the school gate and walked up the cobbled drive. As she parked her bicycle the Robinson boys appeared, smelling of cigarettes and looking guilty.

‘Have you been smoking?’

‘Oh ’eck … yes, Miss,’ confessed Dave.

‘Well, at least that’s an honest answer.’

‘Yes, Miss,’ agreed Dave.

‘You know what Mr Pruett will do, don’t you?’

‘Yes, Miss.’

‘What did he say about smoking?’

‘It’ll be t’cane, Miss,’ said Dave. Secretly he was thinking there was a rule for teachers and a rule for pupils. He recalled seeing the headteacher smoking by the open window of his office.

‘We wanted t’be like ’im, Miss,’ said Malcolm forlornly, holding out the magazine cutting of the England footballer looking relaxed with his cigarette.

Lily took it from him, studied it and considered the power of advertising.

‘Boys, on this occasion, if you promise not to smoke again, I’ll let you off.’

‘Thank you, Miss,’ said Dave and Malcolm nodded vigorously.

‘Come to my classroom at playtime and I’ll give you some work to do.’

The boys breathed a sigh of relief and ran off.

In John Pruett’s class, after the children had chanted their tables, it was time for handwriting practice. John poured the precious black ink into twenty inkwells and made sure every child had a wooden pen holder with a broad metal nib. Then everyone was issued with a square of blotting paper and a sheet of lined paper.

‘Now I want you to copy this poem in your best handwriting.’ The children stared at the blackboard. The lines of William Wordsworth’s famous ‘Daffodils’ had been written neatly in white chalk. ‘I wandered lonely as a cloud,’ it read, ‘that floats on high o’er vales and hills.’

Reggie Bamforth put up his hand. ‘Please, sir.’

‘Yes, Reggie?’

‘What’s a vale please?’

Edie Stubbs shot her hand in the air. ‘Please, sir!’

‘Yes, Edie?’ said John, encouraged by the girl’s positive response.

‘It’s what m’big sister ’ad t’cover ’er face when she got married.’

Good try, thought John.