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.‘There could be the ghost of the headless gardener or the vicar's little girl who fell off the cliff while she was picking flowers and was swept away by the tide, and who comes back at the dead of night looking for her parents, wandering from room to room, a-moaning and a-groaning.’‘I hope not,’ Velma said, pulling a face and shivering.‘I can't stand anything that's spooky and creepy, that moans and groans.’Almost as if on cue, the booming voice of Mr Risley-Newsome interrupted all conversation.‘Will everyone stop what you are doing for a moment, put down your cutlery and look this way.When you have finished your lunch, stacked your dishes tidily on the trolleys and wiped the tables, I want you to meet outside the entrance for the first of our visits.This afternoon we will be taking a short walk into the village of Thundercliff Bay via the church.It's a relatively gentle walk but you will need your outdoor coat, gloves, scarf, boots, clipboard and a sharp pencil.We will be walking along the clifftop, so keep your wits about you, stay on the path and behave yourselves.’‘And bring some money,’ added Miss Pruitt.‘You will be able to buy a postcard to send to your parents to let them know that you have arrived safely.’‘Scenic views,’ said Mr Risley-Newsome, ‘and not those rude cartoon postcards.’Sean, Michael and Gerald tried to smother their laughter, but Dominic, true to his aim to keep a low profile, looked down.As the children gathered at the front of the youth hostel for their trip to Thundercliff Bay, Miss Brewster approached Mr Risley-Newsome, who was studying a large map which he held before him.She was carrying a heavy, black book.Dominic positioned himself with his three friends masking him, well out of the teacher's line of vision but, being of a curious nature, he was close enough to hear the conversation which followed.‘It looks like rain again,’ said Miss Brewster pleasantly.‘As I said earlier, Miss Brewster, a little rain won't deter us,’ replied the teacher, not looking up.‘It really does come down heavily at this time of year.’‘I'm sure it does,’ murmured Mr Risley-Newsome, not really listening.‘Before you go,’ said Miss Brewster, ‘could I ask you to put the details of your trip in the book? I need to know where you are going and what time you are expected back.’The teacher looked up and frowned.‘Excuse me?’‘I said, could I ask you to put the details of your trip in the book? I need to know where you are going and what time you are expected back.’‘Why?’‘Well, just in case of an emergency.’Mr Risley-Newsome gave a little laugh.‘I don't envisage any emergency, Miss Brewster,’ he told her.‘I have a great deal of experience in leading school trips and I have never had any emergencies.’Miss Brewster sighed.‘I'm sure you haven't, but I do need to know where you are going and when you are expected back.It's a safety check and one of the requirements for all those who stay at the youth hostel, so if you wouldn't mind…’ She held out the book.‘Very well,’ sighed Mr Risley-Newsome, taking the book and scribbling in the details.‘If you are overdue for some reason,’ explained the warden, ‘I can contact the police.Better safe than sorry, I always say.’ There was a touch of sarcasm in her next sentence.‘Of course, I am sure it's just a formality for you, being so aware as you are of safety issues and what with all your experience in leading school trips.’‘Quite,’ replied Mr Risley-Newsome.When they were ready to set off for Thundercliff Bay, Dominic sandwiched himself between Michael and Sean, with Gerald placed strategically in front, well out of the eagle eye of Mr Risley-Newsome.The teacher, who frequently consulted his map and compass, was far more concerned with leading the crocodile of children in the right direction than bothering about Dominic and he strode ahead like Scott of the Antarctic, with Miss Pruitt bringing up the rear.‘Is he always like this?’ Sean asked Gerald, as they plodded behind Mr Risley-Newsome.He wished he had never asked.Gerald, who had been extremely quiet and shy when they had first met him, suddenly launched into a long and detailed account and there was no stopping him.‘Oh, yes,’ he said, nodding vigorously.‘Once he made all the class stand out in the playground in the freezing cold because somebody had talked on the way into school.And another time he tore pages out of everyone's books because the writing wasn't neat enough.When he marks your work he uses a really thick felt-tip pen and covers your page in red.It looks as if he's bled all over it.I hate handing work in to him.It comes back full of all sorts of comments.And at lunchtimes you're not allowed to leave anything on your plate.You can't get up from the table until everything is eaten.’‘Do you –’ began Sean [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]