7. Dikkerby Appoints His Successor
“Come in, Ed. Come in” Ed
was six foot four. The kids called him “Big Ed”, understandably. He came in. He
had to duck to avoid the top of the doorframe.
“Sit
down,” barked Dikkerby. He stood up as Ed sat. It was a matter of status.
Dikkerby’s gaze fell full on Ed, who was dressed in a Robin Hood costume: green
tights, suede boots, green tunic and a hat with a feather.
“It’s Dress as a Hero Day,” Ed stammered lamely.
“Of course it is.” Dikkerby looked over his glasses, as
though constantly amazed by the stupidities of ordinary people. “You might care
to....” Dikkerby made a short sweeping gesture towards his groin. Ed looked
down and saw that, to his mortification, part of his “tackle” was bulging from
the overtight red Lycra briefs. He hurriedly tucked the necessary back out of
sight. “Sorry, Headmaster. Sorry.” His face turned an interesting shade of
crimson.
“Don’t worry, old boy. Don’t think any more about it.
Now, Ed, I have some business to discuss with you. As you know I am not growing
any younger and, indeed, retirement beckons.”
Ed had heard about the large villa in the Pyrenees which
Dikkerby had bought for his retirement. The talk in the staffroom was all about
it and how on earth Dikkerby had come up with the money for this retreat. Staff
pensions had always been a thorny question in the school. None of the teachers
had one. Except for Dikkerby. Strange deductions were made from their wage
packets each month and the whispered rumour was that these had been involuntary
contributions to the Dikkerby Retirement Plan, but it was more than anyone
dared to confront him about the matter. Marching orders would have been
immediately forthcoming and the job market was not exactly overflowing with
prospects.
“With this in mind, Ed, I am going to recommend to the
Governing Body that you placed in sole charge of the school.”
“Really?” Ed looked like a rabbit caught in the glare of
headlights in the middle of the night. He was a nice chap, but he never dreamed
he would be asked to assume such responsibility. He was happy mingling with the
lovely young chaps of the Fifth form, chatting with them about their personal
problems, playing badminton with them three times a week and generally being a
“nice chap”. He was terrified.
“You all right?” Ed looked up to see Dikkerby leaning on
Ed’s chair in a very threatening manner.
“Fine. Fine, Dikkerby. Absolutely. If you say so. Yes.
Mmm”
“Good,” Dikkerby turned away, “that’s all settled then.”
I shall be leaving at the end of this academic term. You will need to
....familiarise yourself with “procedures” before that time. Clear?”
“Yes, Dikkerby.”
“Very well.” Dikkerby sat down and waved one hand
dismissively. Big Ed knew the sign. He rose and left, walking backwards.
Dikkerby picked up the phone and dialled a number.
“Hello, yes. Dikkerby here. Account EZ1234. That’s right. I wish to confirm
that I will be releasing £40,000 as a lump sum and I will require my full
pension to be paid from the first day of August. Is that clear? Good. Yes. Good
day to you.” He placed the phone on its cradle and steepled his fingers under
the mischievous smile and the twinkle of his eyes. The fruits of a long career
in Education were nearly in his grasp.
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