(3/13) News from Thrush Green
Page 19
'I am,' said Dimity drily. 'Now that Molly's gone he can finish with his acting.'
The rector made his way thoughtfully to his study. As a student of human nature, he gave his keen-eyed wife full marks. But who would have thought it?
Sometime later that month, Ella Bembridge strode across the green to collect her goat's milk from Dotty.
At last the weather had relented. May, the loveliest of months, was warm and sunny, and as if to make up for lost time, the leaves and flowers burst out of their sheaths and filled the air with glory.
Butterflies and tortoises emerged from their long hibernation. Bees hummed among the wallflowers, and the cats of Thrush Green sunned themselves on the warm stone walls.
Ella found Dotty watching the antics of Dulcie's new twin kids. They were a skewbald pair, white and brown, and already as nimble and wicked as their proud mother. They skittered away, prancing sideways, their eyes upon Ella as she approached.
'A handsome pair,' commented Ella, wisely keeping her distance from Dulcie. She knew, from painful experience, that Dulcie had a way of running rapidly round a person's legs, trapping them in her chain, and bringing them heavily to the ground. It was a pastime which never palled for Dulcie. The unwilling victims failed to see the joke.
'Got homes for them?' asked Ella.
'I shall keep one,' said Dotty, 'and that Prior child wants one; but whether his mother does, I don't know.'
'Not much room at Tullivers,' observed Ella.
'Well, I suppose she may well be at Harold Shoosmith's before the year's out,' said Dotty reasonably. 'Now Winnie's Richard has left the coast clear, I can't think why Harold doesn't move in for the kill.'
Ella, forthright as she was, could not help feeling that Dotty's expressions were rather stronger than necessary.
'Maybe he doesn't want to get married. And anyway, they may prefer to live at Tullivers, if they do make a match of it.'
'Doubtful,' said Dotty, taking out a man's red and white spotted handkerchief from her skirt pocket, and blowing her nose with a resounding trumpeting. 'Too pokey for Harold. All those cups and things he's got. And he's used to large rooms, living out in Africa, with all those natives fanning him.'
'Got any goat's milk?' asked Ella abruptly. The conversation seemed to be getting out of hand, and Dotty, once started, was deucedly difficult to stop.
'Well, for the kid's sake, I hope they make up their minds quickly,' continued Dotty, leading the way through a rabble of hopeful hens to the house, 'and plump for Harold's place. Plenty of good grass there, and a nice hazel hedge. I shall rely on you, Ella, to do your best to further this affair.'
'Who do you think I am?' cried Ella. 'Dan Cupid? If you ask me, Harold Shoosmith's quite capable of doing his own work. He knows his own mind, mark my words!'
But, if the truth were known, Harold was only now coming to know his own mind.
He had been at Frank's when Richard departed, and learnt from the Baileys about the young man's haste to go, after his visit to Tullivers.
'Sent him away with a flea in his ear,' said the old doctor, with some relish. 'Can't blame her, can you?'
'I think you're misjudging her,' said Winnie. 'She's too kind to deal over-ruthlessly with Richard. But you know how he is - hates to be crossed. He's been hopelessly spoilt ever since he was a child. He was bound to take this badly.'
'How is she?' asked Harold.
'As cheerful as ever. Very busy writing for your friend, as you know. She's said nothing to me about Richard's proposal. Probably thinks I don't know, but he burst in here that night, looking as black as thunder, and simply said: "She won't have me. I'm off next week!" And that was it.'
It certainly brought matters to a head for Harold, and as the days slipped by he studied his feelings as dispassionately as he could. There was no doubt about it. The girl was very dear to him, but the longer he postponed his decision to speak, the more certain he became that marriage was not for him.
All the arguments that he and Frank had discussed, when his friend visited Thrush Green, were gone over again. When Harold had stayed with Frank, only a week or so before, little had been said on the matter, except that Harold had intimated that he felt that he could not expect an attractive young woman like Phil to take him on, and that his own feelings were, perhaps, as Frank had once suggested, a compound of pity and protectiveness.
The more he thought about it, the stronger grew his conviction that he would never be accepted, even if he were brave enough to ask her. Time, his old ally, seemed to be slow in coming to his aid, and he was still troubled in his mind when he called at Tullivers, one fine morning at the end of May, to help Phil in her kitchen garden.
Their combined efforts had made it one of the tidiest and most attractive gardens at Thrush Green. Harold surveyed, with pleasure, the double row of sturdy broad beans, and the neat labels which showed where carrots, early potatoes and beetroot had been planted. The currant and gooseberry bushes, which he had rescued from suffocation last autumn, were making vigorous growth, and Phil's fruit trees had plenty of blossom. The walnut tree which grew at the end of the garden, by the Baileys' wall, was in young auburn leaf.
Everything, Harold thought, looked in good heart, and when Phil came from the house to join him, he thought how well she looked too. There was a radiance about her which was new.
Of course, he told himself, he had never known the girl when she had been free of worry. Now, with the winter and its tragedy behind her, she seemed to be responding to the spring with all the natural joy of young things. How easy it would be to take the plunge, to ask her to marry him, to leave it to the gods - and to Phil - to arrange his future!
He realised that she was looking at him, as though she read his thoughts.
She put out a hand and touched his arm, speaking quickly as though she had just come to a decision.
'Come and sit down for a minute. I've something to tell you.'
He followed her to an old garden seat which the admiral had placed years ago in a sunny corner against a southern wall. At Harold's feet an early bee was rolling over and over, its striped furry body entwined with a wallflower blossom from which it was zealously extracting the honey.
'I've some wonderful news,' said Phil, 'and I want you to be the first to know. Can you guess?'
Harold looked at her. He had always thought that poets grossly overstated things when they talked of eyes like stars. Now he began to understand.
'I was never good at guessing,' he confessed.
'I only knew myself yesterday. Frank has asked me to marry him. Say you're pleased.'
Harold took a deep breath. If he felt a pang of jealousy, it vanished at once. Wholeheartedly, he congratulated her.
'He's the luckiest devil in the world,' he told her sincerely, taking her hands in his.
'He's coming here tomorrow to arrange things with the rector,' said Phil. 'We had the longest telephone talk ever known to the Lulling exchange last night. We shall get married this summer.'
She leant forward and kissed Harold on the cheek.
'And will you give me away?' she asked.
'It's like asking me to part with my heart,' replied Harold, half-meaning it, 'but since you ask me, I shall count it an honour, my dear.'
They stood up and gazed across the garden.
'Will you leave Thrush Green?' asked Harold.
'We haven't got that far,' smiled Phil. 'But I don't think I could ever leave Tullivers. We could build on, I suppose.'
She looked about her vaguely, trying to envisage the future, and suddenly became conscious of the wonder of a life which contained such a precious element as sure joy to come.
She turned to Harold wonderingly.
'What is it about Thrush Green which makes it so special? Is it the air, or the green, or the people?'
Harold considered the question seriously before he spoke. In the silence between them they could hear the distant sounds of a Thrush Green morning. Miss Fogerty's child
ren called to each other in the playground, the rooks cawed above St Andrew's elms, and Winnie Bailey's voice could be heard as she opened a window to the sunshine.
'All those things make Thrush Green,' said Harold, 'and much, much more.'
He thought of his own restless wanderings abroad, and his present joy. Here he had found a home and deep happiness. He knew he shared this feeling with the girl beside him. Thrush Green seemed to have some magic quality which they both recognized instinctively.
'The power of healing,' said Harold softly, as if to himself.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Table of Contents
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Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Contents
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1 For Sale—Tullivers
2 Who is She?
3 The Priors Meet Their Neighbours
4 A Shock for Dotty
5 A Problem for Winnie
6 A Dinner Party at Thrush Green
7 A Question of Divorce
8 Gossip and Gardening
9 Sam Curdle Tries His Tricks
10 Harold is in Trouble
11 Albert has Suspicions
12 Albert is Struck Down
13 Christmas Preparations
14 Sudden Death
15 Harold Takes Charge
16 Harold Thinks Things Out
17 Richard Contemplates Matrimony
18 Harold Entertains an Old Friend
19 Richard Tries His Luck
20 An Engagement