Author's note: Well, finally the story continues! You'll be happy to know that I've finally found a way to get the Muirs out of the mess Candy's essay created – after getting them in a bit deeper first... So keep an eye out for updates, for most of it is already completed in written form, and just needs some editing and typing up!
And a little cautionary note in advance. Please remember that the views expressed in this chapter on a possibly controversial topic are an attempt to reflect the views on it as would be prevalent in the closed community of a small and remote country-town. They do not necessarily reflect my own opinion on the matter.
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Apart from a few barbs and odd looks Candy got to endure from her fellow students during the day, nobody in either Schooner Bay Elementary School or in Gull Cottage was aware of the wildfire of rumours that was spreading through the town. The school's principal was the first to learn of it, and he got it from – who else – Mrs. Eudoxia Hassenhammer.
"Mr. Hampton!" she began as she came sailing into his office just after classes had ended for the day.
"Yes, Mrs. Hassenhammer?"
"Mr. Hampton, I demand that as of tomorrow, you will move up my daughter to Mrs. Stuttard's class."
Mr. Hampton put down his pen and said pleasantly, "You need not worry, Mrs. Hassenhammer. Your daughter's study results are satisfactory, so there is no reason why she should not move up to fourth grade after the summer."
"Not after the summer – tomorrow, I said."
Mr. Hampton raised his eyebrows. "Mrs. Hassenhammer, I'm afraid I don't quite follow your line of thinking. Why would you want your daughter to move up a grade a few weeks before summer vacation starts?"
Mrs. Hassenhammer closed her eyes in horror. "To get her away from the influence of that awful Muir girl." She pronounced the name as if it were a dirty word.
"Ah." Mr. Hampton leaned back in his chair, reassured in the knowledge that he found himself in familiar territory again. "Yes, Mrs. Henderson told me about yesterday's incident. Regrettable of course, but these things happen sometimes. I'm sure Mrs. Henderson has..."
"Pardon me to interrupt you, Mr. Hampton, but I'm not talking about yesterday. I'm talking about every day. I will not have my Penelope go in the same class as the offspring of a ruthless pirate who's awaiting his death sentence."
Mr. Hampton couldn't help it – he burst out laughing. "My dear Mrs. Hassenhammer, I sincerely thought it was common knowledge here in town that Mrs. Muir is a widow. Her husband died a few years ago in a car accident. All the records say so, and so does Mrs. Muir herself."
"But not according to Candy." Mrs. Hassenhammer made an ugly face. "Imagine giving your child the name of sugary sweets... But anyway, Candy says her father is alive and well, and that he's a seacaptain. And rumour has it that the man is to be hanged in Venezuela within the next fortnight. For drug-trafficking."
Mr. Hampton shook his head. "I'm sure that's just what it is, Mrs. Hassenhammer – a rumour. And if you don't mind, I do not intend to run this school based on rumours."
Mrs. Hassenhammer narrowed her eyes. "So you're not moving up my daughter?"
"No, I'm not," he confirmed. "Not prematurely in any case. I'm sorry, Mrs. Hassenhammer, but the answer is 'no'."
Mrs. Hassenhammer straightened in regal defiance. "Well, wait till my Harry hears about this! There are other schools in the area, you know!"
"I'm well aware of that, Mrs. Hassenhammer, and if you think it best for your daughter to send her to another school, then you are free to do so." At least it'd spare him from her bullying tactics, just because her husband was a – mostly absent – member of the school board. And he concluded in a firm tone, "Either way, I will not have pupils moving classes at every parent's whim."
"Fine. But be warned that I have more strings on my bow." And with her head high, Mrs. Hassenhammer marched out of his office – only to barely avoid Mrs. Schoemaker who was coming in.
"Mr. Hampton," she began. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"
"Of course, Mrs. Schoemaker. What can I do for you?"
"It's that Muir boy. I don't want him in the same class as my Danny!"
Candy rested her head on her fist, and with a sigh she began to add the Y-s after thirty 'destro'-s. She was only halfway the first page, and already she began to question if adding one letter at the time on all the lines really was labour- and timesaving like a conveyor belt. And she still had four and half more pages to do after this one!
She looked up – happy with the distraction – when there was a knock on the classroom door and Mrs. Hassenhammer came in.
"Mrs. Henderson, can I have a..." She noticed Candy at her desk and sniffed. "Can I have a word with you – in private, please?"
"Of course." Mrs. Henderson put down her red pencil, and followed Mrs. Hassenhammer out into the corridor, with an exhortation for Candy to continue her work.
And while Candy began on a column of O-s (at least that was an easy one), Mrs. Henderson asked her student's parent, "What can I do for you, Mrs. Hassenhammer?"
"Mrs. Henderson, I don't want you to take this as a slight on your abilities as a teacher, but I think my Penelope is in need of extra challenge. And I thought maybe she could move up to Mrs. Stuttard's class now, and then after the summer move up with the present fourth grade to Mr. Sinclair's class. What do you think?"
Mrs. Henderson shook her head without hesitation. "I don't think that's a good idea, Mrs. Hassenhammer. Your daughter's work is only slightly above average. She gets along just fine in the grade where she belongs. Skipping a grade – which is what you are technically proposing – would leave her way out of her field. I cannot support that – I'm sorry."
Mrs. Hassenhammer sighed. "But could you at least make sure that she doesn't get in contact with the Muir girl? I know they're sitting fairly close to each other in class, but I really don't want my daughter to mingle with such rabble."
"Now, Mrs. Hassenhammer." Mrs. Henderson folded her arms across her chest. "I'm sure you'll recall we've had similar discussions before. You're free to decide with whom your daughter can and cannot interact outside school. But in Schooner Bay Elementary School, she'll just have to blend in with all the other students in her yeargroup. We are not going to forcefully segregate our students."
"But couldn't you at least place them further apart in class?" Mrs. Hassenhammer was grasping at straws now that she realized she wasn't going to get anywhere with the school personnel. "Preferably as far apart as possible? Surely you must understand that the daughter of a successful vice-president in the safety-pin business is no society for the offspring of a convicted pirate and drug courier!"
Mrs. Henderson raised her eyebrows. "Pirate? Drug courier? Mrs. Hassenhammer, Candace's father died in a car accident several years ago."
"That's what they say, yes." Mrs. Hassenhammer leaned forward and continued in a confidential whisper, "But surely you have read Candy's revealing essay last week?"
"Of course I have. But according to Mrs. Muir, Candace says she was merely making things up because she didn't recall enough about her father to write a proper essay." That she still suspected the girl to really believe in this Captain as an imaginary father-figure was none of Mrs. Hassenhammer's business.
But Mrs. Hassenhammer sniffed. "Of course she'd say that. But mark my words, Mrs. Henderson. The truth about the Muirs is finally being revealed!" And with the stride of an avenging angel she marched down the hallway and out of the building, leaving a frowning Mrs. Henderson to stare after her in involuntary curiosity as to what it could be that was being revealed about the Muirs.
Mrs. Muir had taken the opportunity to do some proofreading out in the sunshine on one of the benches in the playground as she waited for her daughter to be released. And when she finally appeared, she greeted her with the words, "Good, at least this part of the punishment is over." She gathered up her papers. "And we have to pick up something for dinner tonight. Anything you fancy particularly today, my dear?"
Candy's face lit up. "Fish fingers. And roast potatoes with applesauce."
Her mother gave her a hug and an amused grin. "Why did I even ask... Come on then. We can leave the car here; we won't have much to carry today."
It wasn't far from the school to the grocery store, and focussing on Candy who was complaining about having a lame arm after having written a hundred and fifty times that she should not destroy other people's property, Mrs. Muir remained unaware of the disapproving looks she got from the people they passed.
With so few groceries to buy, Candy and her mother were ready to proceed to the checkout within minutes. "Hello Eileen," Mrs. Muir greeted the young lady at the cash register. "How are you today?"
All she got in reply was a dark glare, leaving her rather taken aback.
Candy had seen the look from the usual chatty cashier girl, too, and after glancing up at her Mum, she asked concerned, "What's wrong, Miss O'Hara?"
"Nothing. That's two-forty, please."
Mrs. Muir paid in silence, received her change and her receipt in silence, and when she and Candy had packed up their acquisitions and were ready to leave, she bid the girl a hesitant goodbye. And was blatantly ignored – not because Miss O'Hara had other customers to attend to, but because she was busy studying her nails.
"That was plain rude," Candy commented when they were outside again.
"Yes, it was." But Mrs. Muir shrugged it off. "Maybe she's just had a fight with her boy-friend or something."
"Is that a valid excuse for being rude to people?" Candy inquired.
Her mother chuckled. "Not really. But it's understandable. Hi, Mr. Peevey."
"Hi, Mr. Peevey," Candy echoed cheerfully.
But all they got in reply was a haunted glance and a clearing of the throat before the local painter hurriedly crossed the street without acknowledging them.
Mrs. Muir's eyebrows knitted together in a frown, and Candy remarked morosely that apparently he had been fighting with his girl-friend, too.
Fifty meters further down the street, Deke Tuttle completely ignored their greeting, too, but it was quite possible, Mrs. Muir pointed out, that he simply hadn't seen them, for he had been across the street and on his way into the hardware store.
But all in all she had to agree with Candy that it was a bit odd the way the people of Schooner Bay treated them this afternoon. But by the time they got home, they'd forgotten all about it, as Candy went off to do her double load of homework, and Mrs. Muir went up to her room to finish her proofreading.
"Evening, Roddy." Without asking, Mick Jones drew the harbour master a beer and put it in front of him as he climbed up on one of the bar stools. The other men present nodded a welcome, too, in between their heated debate.
"I'm telling you, the man is a beast! Have you heard what he did in Mexico? He robbed one of the Maya tombs, and decapitated the guards and put them inside the tomb!"
"They say he attacks cruise ships as well. Plain high sea robbery!"
"And that's the guy she fell in love with! My, the silly notions pretty girls get into their head – marrying such a scoundrel."
"Scoundrel?! Criminal! Murderer!"
"Um..." Roddy MacInnes put down his beer on the bar and turned to the group behind him. "Who are we talking about?"
"Captain Muir of course," came the grunted reply from Ollie Wilkins.
Roddy MacInnes frowned. "Captain... Muir? As in...?"
"Yes, the husband of Mrs. Muir from Gull Cottage."
"But... I thought she was a widow!"
"Didn't we all! But you can forget about that," Seth Standish scoffed. "The pretty little thing is still married – to a convicted pirate no less!"
"Get out of here..." Roddy stared at the group in disbelief.
"No, it's true," Mick Jones confirmed from behind the bar. "Her daughter gave the game away. And she goes in my Sally's class."
"And her daughter, what's her name again..."
"Candy."
"Yes, Candy. She told the kids at school that her father is a convicted pirate?!" Roddy still seemed to have trouble grasping the concept.
"Well, not exactly. Candy insists he's a seacaptain who's hardly ever home. Of course she's embellishing things. Or maybe Mrs. Muir hasn't told the kids the truth about their father – that's a likely possibility, too."
"But it all fits in perfectly," Dan Schoemaker took over. "Her moving up here from the city and all. And if Mr. Muir really was a respectable seaman, wouldn't he have come to visit them by now? They've lived here for nearly a year!"
"But..." Roddy MacInnes frowned. "He has been here."
Beerglasses clanged down on the table. "What?" "When?" "How do you know?"
"A couple of months ago." Roddy took a long draught. "He came here on a yacht and..."
"A yacht?!"
"You heard what I said. A yacht, yes. Medium-sized, certainly seaworthy. Mrs. Muir and the kids were waiting for him on the pier, and he spent – I don't know – a few days with them or so. I can show you the entry in the harbour log. His name was..." He snapped his fingers a few times, trying to remember. "Something odd – Blake or Blythe or something like that. Dark-haired fellow, thirties, well-to-do... Thompson, that's it! Blair Thompson!"
"Blair Thompson?!" young Matt Wilkins gave back incredulously. "You mean...?"
"They're not...?" The men stared at each other in shocked silence as their realization of the facts turned into utter dismay. That Mrs. Muir, living in their respectable town... having two illegitimate children?!
"Holy cow!" Bill O'Hara breathed. "The gall of that woman...!"
"Well, what do you expect? City people!" old Ned Visser spat.
"And an artist to boot," Mick Jones added his two cents.
"They're just like rabbits!" Ollie Wilkins agreed.
"Yes, but two kids out of wedlock with that rogue of a seaman? The whore!" Seth Standish declared.
Roddy chuckled. "I doubt it. I clearly remember the guy. He is definitely..." He pulled a sissy face and made a telltale gesture.
Eyes widened all around him. "He's one of those?! Mrs. Muir has two children with a... a pansy?"
"I didn't even know they were capable of having children!"
"No wonder she hasn't married him!"
"Wait till my Betsy hears about this...!"
"Hey guys, wanna play tag? I'll be it!" Jonathan cast his reader onto the bench and ran across the playground to his friends.
But that was odd – they didn't scatter when he came close. And Jonathan skidded to a puzzled halt three feet away from them. "What's wrong?" They looked so gloomy. And Tommy blushed all the way up to the roots of his hair.
"What's wrong?" Jonathan repeated when none of his friends made an attempt to reply. They even did their best to look away from him, it seemed.
But Nobby shrugged. He looked almost embarrassed. "Come on, guys." And they turned their back on him and sauntered over to the jungle-gym – but not without a few nervous glances back at him.
Jonathan stared after them. What in the world was that all about? But then he quickly caught up with them. "Hey Nob, Nate, what's the matter?"
Tommy now turned scarlet; Nate just looked awkward. And Nobby shook his head. "Sorry. Can't talk now. I have to... to go and see Mrs. Wilkins about something," he finished in a hurry. Quickly, he ran over to the schoolhouse, with Tommy and Nate at his heels.
As well as Jonathan. "Hey guys, come on! What's up? You don't all need to go and see Mrs. Wilkins, do you?"
"As a matter of fact we do," Nate shot back over his shoulder.
"Yeah," Tommy agreed. "And you can't come. It's private."
Jonathan's jaw dropped. "Private enough for three?"
But his friends – his best friends – disappeared inside without another word, leaving Jonathan at the foot of the porch to kick the dirt by himself.
With a sigh of relief, Candy placed her pile of homework in the homework collection box. The double load plus the extra assignments Mrs. Henderson had given her for punishment had taken her all afternoon and all the way up to bedtime yesterday. Fortunately, Mum had been real sweet about it, and had let her stay up half an hour longer. And now that the work was handed in, hopefully the matter would be closed and things would get back to normal.
She drifted over to her desk and stuck out her tongue at Archie Davenport who was making silly faces at her. Over in the corner, Penelope and her satellites were having a whispered discussion, throwing reproving glances in her direction. But Candy chose to remain oblivious to them, and busied herself digging up her pencil-case from her bag.
When the bell rang, the latecomers hurried to their desks and Mrs. Henderson greeted the class as usual. "Good morning, children."
"Good morning, Mrs. Henderson," the class droned in reply.
Mrs. Henderson's eyes flitted to Candace in the second row, and she swallowed. Poor girl... It's hardly her fault, with such parents...
Nervously, she tore her eyes away from the fair-haired tom-boy in her class. But as she told her students to take out their mathbooks and look up page seventy-five, she couldn't help but wonder. Candace was so unlike the other girls in this class, with their colourful frocks and neat bows in their carefully groomed hair... Up till now, she had ascribed it to her city background and her artistic mother. But... could it be that Candace, like her father, was a bit... well, queer?
The thought seriously troubled her. She'd had tom-boys in her class before, but she had never, ever had such disturbing suspicions about them. Besides, those girls had turned out alright in the end; it was a just a phase some girls went through. But in Candace's case... would it indeed remain a phase, or...?
She tried with all her might to push the thought away. She was a teacher; she had a class to teach. But time and again she caught herself skittishly looking at Candace, trying to decipher what was on the girl's mind.
The children clearly were aware of the latest developments, too. She saw several of the boys making silly faces at Candace – who concentrated on her work as usual, and seemed to remain blissfully oblivious of her classmates' silent scorn.
She saw many of the girls and some of the boys staring and casting disgusted looks at Candace, too, when they thought their teacher wasn't looking. And those sitting nearest to her 'imperceptibly' leaned away from her. Alice and Scott had even moved their desks aside as far as they thought would go unnoticed.
She knew she should bring them in line. She knew she had to protect Candace against her classmates, if necessary.
But for the first time in her twenty-eight years' career as a teacher, Mrs. Henderson couldn't bring herself to intervene. Not as long as nothing serious happened, she told herself. Something more serious than stares and silly faces at least. For much as she disliked to admit it to herself, she understood the children's repulsion. She felt it, too. Candace's despicable descent was simply too alien for the principled, hard-working people of a respectable country-town like Schooner Bay...
