Tuesday, 27 August 2019

Stamford Buns


 

I had just turned 14 when I saw Miss Stamford being straddled by Mr Crawford.

I blame Ralph.  Well actually, I partly blame Ralph.  In fairness to him he suggested pilfering a couple of her freshly baked buns after class.  I on the other hand proposed we take the lot, sell them and use the money for cigarettes.  Ralph didn’t smoke, but agreed nonetheless.

So there we were, an hour after lights out, stealthily sneaking down the corridor to Stamford’s domain. We knew she baked on a Thursday and that her wares would be handed out in the staff room the following morning as part of their “thank god it’s Friday” routine.

“George, I need to pee” Ralph whispered to me. Dear god I thought, any suspicion of the smallest of risks and Ralph’s bladder springs into life.

“Hold it in, we won’t be long”. I told him.

Crouching down at the classroom door, I glanced in the darkened room.  All the ovens were flashing the time 23:02, not a soul in sight.  Furtively I twisted the heavy brass knob and with the tiniest of creaks the door opened.  We were in!

We both silently scurried in. Me, impatient to get to the goods.  Ralph, eager to get this over with and return to the sanctuary of his lower bunk.

Just as I grasped the cupcake extraordinaire, the sound of muffled voices outside the door stopped me dead in my tracks.  What the hell? Poor Ralph, he looked terrified.  To be honest I wasn’t thrilled at the thought of Stamford catching me with a handful of her buns!

Grabbing Ralph “Quick, behind here” I whispered, nodding at the baking station at the back of the room.  Together we scampered behind the confines of the station, me holding the buns, Ralph holding his crotch.

The familiar creak of the heavy door made us both hold our breath.  The door closed and we both heard Stamford’s muffled laugh, and then, another set of footsteps. She wasn’t alone.  I looked at Ralph, he looked at me. We were both curious.  Slowly we raised our knees and diligently glanced over the steel hob.  She wasn’t alone, I couldn’t believe it, sour faced Stamford, hand in hand with crusty Crawford.  I held back the belly laugh, threatening to explode at any moment and clutched Ralph’s shoulder for support.

Ralph, looked at me.  You know the look?  Uncomfortable. Wanting to be anywhere than where he was right at that moment and I saw the accusation in his eyes.  “This is all your fault George”, he hissed at me.  I shrugged.

And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse Crawford lifted the ample proportioned Stamford onto the work station right at the front of the class. I mean, I couldn’t believe it. She harps on day in day out about cleanliness and there she is, large as life with her buttocks pressing down where pastry is prepared.  Talk about double standards.

Just as Crawford climbed up and straddled Stamford, Ralph let out an almighty moan and emptied his bladder all over his feet, my feet and the blasted buns.

I never saw Ralph again, which was a shame, he was a good friend to me, he lost his scholarship and never returned. Stamford took a leave of absence and hasn’t been seen since.

As for me, well father was called in, made a hefty donation to the school charity and all I got was a 4 week detention, every night, Monday - Friday with no other than the headmaster, crusty Crawford.

Hayley Mars