The Dyslexic Detective

Chapter 2

Next morning dad gave me a lift to school. Usually I caught the bus. It was drizzling so I should have been grateful. But I wasn't. Dad's car was nice enough but it had Madejski Taxi Services and a phone number written all along the sides in big red letters. Talk about embarrassing.

As we turned into the school entrance road, Dad pulled over, switched off the radio and cleared his throat.

'I hear there's a thief in your class. That money is going missing virtually every week and now some jewellery has been stolen,' he said.

'Who told you that?'

He shrugged.

'Taxi drivers get to hear things. And only last week a passenger was telling me what a rough school Eastfield is. She said there was bullying and all sorts going on that the teachers didn't know about.'

'Every school has its problems, Dad.'

'Yes, but some more than others.'

Very true, I thought to myself. When there wasn't a teacher about, Jack Rayling ruled the corridors with an iron fist. But I didn't tell dad that.

'Don't worry, Dad. I keep a low profile. I don't bother anybody and nobody bothers me.'

'But it's not the sort of environment we want for you. Perhaps a change of school would be for the best, don't you think?'

I shook my head in mock weariness.

'Let me guess, Dad. Nana was on the 'phone again last night. Telling you that I wasn't getting enough special help. That I was going to fail all my exams. And that I should move schools.'

Nana Madejski was my formidable grandmother. She'd grown up in Poland during the Second World War and was as tough as old boots. I was her only grandchild and the focus of all her hopes and fears. This was good for getting presents, less good for avoiding interference.

Dad smiled.

'You've been eavesdropping,' he said.

'No, but I do know what the bee in Nana's bonnet sounds like. I've heard it often enough.'

The rain began to fall more heavily. Ahead of us, students in coats and anoraks, bags over their shoulders, quickened their pace along the pavement. Dad turned on the windscreen wipers and spoke again.

'Your mother is also anxious and so am I.'

'Dad, I like it at Eastfield. Everyone knows I'm dyslexic. No one makes a big thing of it.'

'That's your grandmother's point. Perhaps they should make a big thing out of it,' he said.

'The way Nana talked you'd think I was the only kid with learning difficulties at Eastfield. I'm not. There are lots of us.'

'Yes, and from what we hear, most of them are in your class,' my Dad retorted.

I didn't deny it. You'd have to travel a long way to find a group of students like Class 10C. It wasn't that we were lazy or stupid. It was a lot more complicated than that.

'Look, Dad, thanks for the lift. I'll walk from here.'

Dad nodded. He knew I found the car embarrassing. He switched off the engine. He looked as if he was about to speak again so I ended the conversation by opening the door. Cold, damp air swept into the car. This was not a time to linger.

'Thanks for the lift, Dad.'

'No trouble, Matt. Have a good day. And say hello to Josh from me.'

'Will do.'

I shouldered my bag and set off towards school.

I was a little late for registration. That was unusual for me and Mrs Gilbert raised an eyebrow in my direction as she marked me present.