44 Scotland Street - Alexander McCall Smith [45]
Irene blinked. It was going to be extremely difficult to explain. The word vacca had two meanings, of course: cow (the common meaning) and woman of ill repute (the rude meaning). She assumed that Bertie had intended the more innocuous of these, but even that one could hardly be admitted. Then an idea came to her, and at a stroke she was rescued.
“It means La Macfadzean – that’s you, of course – is a . . . vacuum cleaner. What a silly, childish thing for him to write, but not insulting, of course.”
Christabel Macfadzean looked puzzled. “A vacuum cleaner?”
“Yes,” said Irene. “Isn’t that ridiculous? It’s just a piece of childish nonsense. A vacuum cleaner, indeed! Innocent nonsense. Bertie in Disgrace
93
Almost a term of endearment. In fact, in Italy it probably is. I shall look it up in the Grande Sansoni.”
“But why would he call me a vacuum cleaner?”
Irene frowned. “Do you use a vacuum cleaner here? Have the children seen you vacuuming? Could that be it?”
“No,” said Christabel Macfadzean. “I never vacuum.”
“Perhaps you should. Perhaps the children should see you doing these ordinary tasks, dignifying them . . .”
“Well, may I suggest that we return to the subject of this . . . this incident. We cannot tolerate this sort of thing, even if the insult is a piece of childish nonsense. What will the other children think?”
Irene sighed. “I’m sorry that you’re taking this so seriously,”
she said. “I thought that all that would be required would be for Bertie to be told not to do this sort of thing. There’s no need to over-react.”
Christabel Macfadzean turned to Irene. “Over-reaction, did you say? Is it over-reaction to nip juvenile vandalism in the bud?
Is it over-reaction to object to being called a vacuum cleaner? Is that an over-reaction?”
“But nobody will have understood it,” said Irene. “If the other children can’t read – nobody yet having taught them – then they won’t have understood. None of the children will know the first thing about it. They’ll assume that the writing is just another notice. No real harm’s been done.”
Christabel Macfadzean led the way back to the small office that she had at the front of the building. Gesturing for Irene to take the uncomfortable straight-backed chair before her desk, she herself sat down and rested her folded arms on a large white blotter.
“I very much regret this,” she said evenly, “but I’m going to have to suspend Bertie for a few days. It seems to me that the only way in which we can bring home to him the seriousness of what he has done is to suspend him. It’s the only way.”
Irene’s eyes opened wide. “Suspension? Bertie? Suspend Bertie?”
“Yes,” said Christabel Macfadzean. “If he’s as advanced as you 94
At the Floatarium
claim he is, then he will need to be punished in an advanced way. It’s for his own good.”
Irene swayed slightly. The idea that Bertie – who was effectively doing the nursery a favour by attending it – the idea that he should be suspended was quite inconceivable. And that this pedestrian woman, with her clearly limited understanding of developmental psychology, should be sitting in judgment on Bertie – why, that was quite intolerable. It would be better to withdraw Bertie, thought Irene, than to leave him here. On the other hand, this nursery was convenient . . . Irene closed her eyes and mentally counted from one to ten. Then she opened her eyes again and stared at Christabel Macfadzean. “I was proposing to take him out of nursery for a few days anyway,” she said. “He needs a bit of stimulation, you know, and I thought that I might take him to the museum and the zoo. He doesn’t appear to get much stimulation here, and that, incidentally, may be why he called you a vacuum cleaner. It’s his way of signalling his boredom and frustration.”
“You can call it taking him out of school,” said Christabel Macfadzean. “I’ll call it a suspension.”
Irene did not wish to continue with the exchange. Fetching Bertie from the corner where he was playing with the train set, she retrieved