‘That you are,’ answered Mr Matthews as he came back in. This time he was smiling rather than looking harassed. ‘I take it you already know our school caretaker and groundsman, Hattie?’

‘Do I?’ I asked doubtfully.

I thought I recognised the other man’s voice, but surely it couldn’t be?

‘You’re more familiar with me in my taxi driving and head of festive illumination roles really, aren’t you, Hattie?’

‘Beamish,’ I said, taken aback.

He was the last person I had been expecting to see in school and I wondered if there was any area of Wynbridge where he didn’t play a crucial role. He’d got looking out for the elderly sorted, as well as town sports and chauffeuring, and now it appeared that even the youngest academics were covered by his all-encompassing skillset.

‘Yes,’ said Mr Matthews, ‘Beamish. He’s hardly been with us any time at all really, but he’s already our male equivalent of Mrs Anderson.’

‘I’m not sure what you mean by that,’ Beamish laughed.

‘You mean that Beamish here is an expert in his field of expertise, don’t you, Mr Matthews? Just like Mrs Anderson in the office.’

‘Exactly,’ Mr Matthews confirmed. ‘And Mrs Cook in the kitchen. Although,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘Beamish has so many fields of expertise that, by rights, he should be one of the largest landowners in the county.’

Mr Matthews laughed at his own joke, but was pulled up short when Mrs Anderson’s head appeared around the doorframe, a stern expression on her face.

‘Andrew,’ she hissed, ‘Mrs Jones is waiting.’

‘Sorry,’ he said, banishing the laughter, ‘I’ll be right there. Hattie, I do apologise for not being able to give you a better welcome back to the school, but . . .’

‘It’s fine,’ I told him. ‘I understand. As I said before, I can easily pop back at the end of the day and we can talk about everything then.’

‘Bless you,’ he said, rushing off, ‘and bless you too, Beamish.’

‘Right,’ said Beamish, clapping his hands together once he had heard Mr Matthews’ office door close, ‘as that’s us well and truly blessed, I suppose we’d better get on. Shall we start with the tour?’

Not all that much had changed since my last visit but some of the rooms were now being used for different things and there was a new kitchen area where the children had cooking and science lessons. I knew that Dolly ran a cooking club, as well as a knitting group, and that with the exception of the summer term, when the weather was generally more favourable, she was always over-subscribed.

Whichever room we poked our heads into Beamish was greeted with smiles from both the staff and the children, who had now been led inside and were getting ready to begin their day of learning.