A school inspector calls

SIGHING with relief, Jessica placed a “Great Effort” sticker on her final piece of marking and added the copybook to the pile on the floor.

It had been a good day with her fifteen pupils but she was eager to get going.

She was meeting a friend for a belated birthday dinner to celebrate them both turning twenty-nine.

As she scooped up her bag, the silence of the empty classroom was pierced by a beeping sound outside.

A large flatbed lorry was manoeuvring into the tiny school yard.

A once yellow, now mostly brown skip was perched on the back.

The crew must have opened the gates without her noticing.

“Excuse me,” she called as she raced outside, pulling on what her dad called her posh principal coat. “Can I help you?”

A middle-aged man who had been directing the driver turned to face her.

“You ordered a skip a while back,” he muttered. “Here it is. We’ll collect it next week.”

Jessica blinked.

“I ordered it months ago, for a fresh start before the school year started.

“I kind of assumed you weren’t coming.”

The man rolled his eyes.

“So you don’t need it?”

“Well, it’s not ideal. It would be a bit of a hazard.

“Will we try again in the holidays?”

Her question was met with stony silence.

“Look,” she continued, “I’ll pay you for your trip and your trouble and we’ll pencil in a date for mid-August, perhaps?”

The man took a moment to size her up.

“Where’s Mrs B? I’ll chat this through with her.”

Jessica stiffened. Would she ever hear the last of her predecessor?

“Mrs Bryant retired at the end of last year. I’m the new principal, Jessica Shannon.”

“I see. Pity. Ah, well. Times change.”

“Yes,” Jessica replied wearily. “Yes, they do.”

She slipped a twenty-euro note out of her phone case, offering it to the man.

“Will this cover your expenses?”

He nodded and took the money.

“Thanks, love. But the skip’s going nowhere. There’s no room back in the yard this week.

“We’ll see you next Monday!”

The next morning, Jessica was still seething as she fumbled with her key in the school’s front door.

“No room in their yard, indeed!” she spluttered to herself as angrily as she had to her friend over dinner last night. “But what about our yard?”

Ballymahon Parochial School had only a small rectangle of concrete to the front, with a narrow outdoor corridor to the side and back of the building.

The school had access to local playing fields a short walk away, but for their regular playtimes the children were limited in their outdoor space.

Now, the skip was taking up a sizeable portion of that area,