UNFINISHED

When Tom was a pupil there nearly twenty-five ago, they’d called her - not to her face of course -  Red Rum, after the three-time Grand National winner.  It was mainly  because of the way she laughed; an equine snort with acres of upper gum exposed. If anything, her bottom was more like that of a Shire horse than a racehorse, but who knew the name of a famous carthorse?  Anyway, her hair was red, defiantly so, not auburn or strawberry blonde, and always tied up – horses again - in a pony tail, although Tom’s class thought it unlikely Miss Howden had ever touched a drop of rum, or any other alcoholic beverage.