by Miss Read
Dorothy affirmed that Ripon was indeed in Yorkshire.
'North Yorkshire, I think, is the correct postal address. Why we couldn't keep those nice Ridings heaven alone knows? A charming place, Agnes. I went there as a girl. One day, when we have retired, we must go north again. A coach tour of the Dales should be very pleasant. What put it into your mind?'
Agnes explained about the removal van, and her headmistress became very animated.
'But this must mean that Mrs Jenner's daughter and her husband have the post of warden. What good news! I wonder why we haven't heard before?'
'Betty Bell has usually left the school before we arrive in the mornings,' pointed out her friend.
'And we have gone when she comes after school on most days,' agreed Dorothy. 'We don't seem to hear as much local news as we did when Mrs Cooke cleaned the school.'
She sounded slightly wistful.
'But how much better Betty Bell does her work,' said Agnes robustly. 'And she is so honest and cheerful always. I really wouldn't wish to go back to Mrs Cooke's slatternly ways, would you?'
And Dorothy agreed, with some reluctance.
The advent of the removal van had been noted by many other eyes at Thrush Green. Albert Piggott, who never missed much, commented upon the various items of furniture which he had watched on their way from van to house, when he supped his mid-morning beer.
'Got a nice bit of carpet, and that'll be in a fine old muck with them paths still treadin' in,' he announced with some relish. 'Needs a bit of drugget over it, I reckon, but folks are too careless to bother with such things these days.'
'I daresay they know their own business best,' said the landlord.
'It's the jenners' girl as has got the job,' continued Albert. 'Name of Jane. Used to be a nurse down Lulling hospital years ago. Mrs Jenner told my Nelly about it at bingo last week.'
'She should be all right then,' said Mr Jones, swabbing down his little sink. 'What's the husband like?'
'Been a policeman,' replied Albert gloomily.
'None the worse for that, surely?'
'Ah, but he was a Yorkshire policeman. Not homegrown, as you might say.'
'I've met some jolly nice Yorkshire folk,' said Mr Jones sturdily. 'They tell you themselves they're the salt of the earth.'
'Well, I haven't met one at all. Still, now we'll have our chance, won't we? You'll have to keep to closing hours pretty sharpish, with him living on the doorstep.'
Pleased to have the last word, Albert put down his glass, and departed to his leisurely duties.
Ella Bembridge's front garden was an ideal viewing spot. Winnie Bailey had called with some magazines, and found her friend leaning on the gate, cigarette drooping from her mouth, and eyes fixed upon the activities at the new house.
'Who's moving in, d'you know?' she asked Winnie, as she opened the gate.
'Why, I thought you knew! Jane Jenner that was, and her husband. But there, it's all before your time.'
She stood waiting for Ella to take the magazines and lead the way into the house, but it was obvious that the lady was much too engrossed in watching the removal men negotiating the doorway with a Welsh dresser to attend to Winnie and her offerings.
Resignedly, Winnie sat down on the garden bench, and surveyed a sturdy clump of sedums. They were already changing colour from pale green to pink. Soon, thought Winnie with a pang of regret, they would be a brilliant coral, and autumn would have arrived.
'Ella!' she called. 'Don't you think you might embarrass the newcomers by staring so?'
Ella turned, her face a study of amazement.
'Why on earth? I wouldn't care a fig if people watched me. Come to think of it, they often do. I don't mind.'
Nevertheless, she left the gate, and took her place beside Winnie.
'You know this Jane woman then?'
'Since a child. I'm surprised you hadn't heard she'd been appointed as warden. Mrs Jenner's as pleased as Punch.'
'What's the husband like?'
'A good down-to-earth fellow, I believe. They'll be a first-class pair for the job. I know Charles Henstock was delighted when they were the successful couple.'
'Good! We can do with some fresh blood at Thrush Green. It'll be nice to have more neighbours. I still miss Dim about the house.'
Winnie handed over the magazines at last. She rose to go.
'Don't hurry away, Winnie. You can see things better from here.'
'I'll call when they have settled in,' Winnie told her. 'They've enough to cope with at the moment.'
Ella followed her to the gate.
Winnie looked back before turning into her own home. Ella had rearranged her bulk upon the gate top, and was watching proceedings as avidly as before.
Charles Henstock was indeed delighted with the appointment. He had not met Jane's husband before the interview, but was impressed, first of all, by his magnificent physique, and then by his quiet confidence.
He was the sort of man, Charles surmised, who would keep his head in any situation. Police training may have had something to do with it, but Charles guessed correctly that here was a particularly well-balanced person, intelligent and kindly, who would be as competent in dealing with a burst water main or an old person's heart attack, as he had been with a riot or a car accident.
The choice of those to live in the homes was being much more difficult, and the meeting of the selection committee had been quite stormy.
The list had been whittled down fairly easily at first. People, like Percy Hodge, who already had a home and were relatively young and able-bodied, were firmly rejected. Some hopefuls from far away, and with no connection with, or relatives living in, Thrush Green, were also crossed from the list, but the rest were dauntingly numerous.
A few general rules had been drawn up. One was that the residents should still be active, and that they should face the fact that minor illnesses such as coughs and colds, temporary stomach upsets and the like, could be coped with competently, with the warden's help, in their own homes, but anything needing sustained nursing must inevitably be dealt with by hospital treatment.
Another rule was that no animals could be allowed, and it was this which Charles did his best to alter. He made no secret of the fact that it was Tom Hardy who was in his mind.
He had broached the subject of a move when he had seen Tom one day, and was surprised to encounter far less opposition to the idea than he had imagined.
'Look at it this way, sir,' the old man said. 'My neighbour's a good sort, and does what she can for me, but I don't like to be beholden, and that's flat. And these meals on wheels I can't eat half the time, and I've had four home helps since you helped me do that form, and not one can I get on with, and that's the truth.'
You wouldn't miss your garden too badly? And the river?'
'I'm getting past it. It grieves me to see the weeds growing, and the trees needing pruning. And I don't know as the river damp don't make my joints stiffer than they should be. No, taking it all ways, I could up sticks and settle at Thrush Green. I know plenty of folk there, and I'd have Poll.'
The dog looked up and wagged her tail on hearing her name. The rector, the gentlest of men, wondered how best to broach this painful subject.
'At the moment,' he ventured, 'there is a feeling that pets could not be admitted, but I'm hoping to alter that.'
A flush crept up the old man's neck and across his wrinkled face.
'No pets, eh? Well then, that settles it. I ain't agoing anywhere without my Poll.'
And Charles knew, all too well, that there would be no budging him from that decision.
'But if we do it for one,' said Justin Venables, who was chairman of the committee, 'we must do it for all. And suppose someone has an Alsatian, and next door there is a Siamese cat? What then?'
Justin, who was a retired lawyer from Lulling, was a perfect chairman, patient, clear-headed, and cognisant of all the legal difficulties which cropped up. Since his retirement he had, of course, been r
ather busier than when he was in a full-time profession, but that was only to be expected, and secretly he was rather gratified.
Apart from one day a week in his old office to deal with any aging clients he still served, Justin seemed to spend his time on just such committees as this present one.
He felt considerable sympathy for his old friend Charles Henstock, and knew that no one was more deserving of a place than Tom Hardy, but the 'no pets' rule did seem to be a sensible one.
'Worse still,' put in Mrs Thurgood, who was also on the committee, 'would be a cat of any sort next door to budgerigars. I really think we must be firm about this.'
Charles began to feel that he was fighting a losing battle, but persisted nevertheless.
'Let's tackle this another way. Select the residents for our seven homes, see if any have pets, and then decide the next step. I agree that "no pets" is a sensible rule in the long term, but perhaps with these first tenants we might stretch things a bit.'
'I think Mr Henstock has a point there,' said Mrs Thurgood graciously. 'How far have we got?'
'The three doubles are already settled,' said Justin, turning over his papers. 'Mr and Mrs Cross, Mr and Mrs Angell and Captain and Mrs Jermyn. So we are now allotting the four singles, and I think it was generally agreed that old Mrs Bates from the end almshouse at Lulling should be offered one, as that is due to be gutted in readiness for a new laundry room and a store room there. We have her application here. It came in early.'
'So that leaves three?' said Mrs Thurgood.
Justin acknowledged this feat of arithmetic with a kindly nod.
'Let us go on with our selection then, shall we?' he suggested. 'Let's take the case of Miss Fuller, the retired headmistress from Nidden.'
The committee applied themselves to the application forms, among them Miss Fuller's, one from Johnny Enderby, an old gardener, and finally to that of Tom Hardy.
After an hour's hard work the homes were allotted. Now to discover if the lucky ones had pets, and if any arrangements had been made for them.
'Perhaps I could draft a letter,' suggested Justin.
'Why not telephone?' said Charles, who was growing increasingly anxious.
'But there was a note about all this somewhere on the application form,' pronounced Mrs Thurgood, turning over her papers with such energy that half of them fell on the floor.
John Lovell, bending to pick them up, hit his head against hers and the air was full of apologies.
When things were settled again, it was found that there certainly was an insignificant spot on the form asking for information about any pets already kept.
The Jermyns had put in: 'One Cat.'
Miss Fuller owned 'Two Love Birds.'
Tom Hardy had one dog.
The rest appeared to be without animals.
Justin Venables began to look relieved, and Charles less strained.
'The Jermyns are at one end of the block, and Miss Fuller's apartment is several homes distant, I see, and Tom Hardy's is some way off. And in any case, one imagines that the birds are accommodated in a cage. Well, ladies and gentlemen, what about it?'
'If I may,' said Charles diffidently, 'I should like to suggest that these first tenants are allowed to bring their present pets, on the clear understanding that they may not be replaced and if they cause problems an alternative home must be found for them. Any tenants who come after must realise that pets are not allowed.'
'I think that's an excellent suggestion,' said John Lovell. 'It means that people such as Tom Hardy will not be penalised for having a pet, and debarring them from the homes they really need. I propose it formally.'
'I'll second it,' said Mrs Thurgood. 'So much fairer to the pets,' she added, i know I should never consent to be parted from my dear pekes.'
'Those in favour?' asked Justin.
All hands went up, and to Charles's mortification he felt tears prick his eyes.
Letters to the successful applicants were to go out during the week, with the pets' clause clearly stated, but Charles took it upon himself to go beforehand to see Tom.
He had left the old man in some turmoil of spirit, he feared, and wanted to calm him.
He had intended to walk to the cottage by the river, relishing the prospect of gentle exercise in the company of moorhens, willow trees, and the pleasant burbling of the River Pleshey, but at breakfast time the heavens opened, the rain came down in a deluge, and Charles, standing at the window, watched the last of the petunias and marigolds being flattened under the onslaught.
Resignedly, he took out the car, and drove down the main street of Lulling through the downpour. The road was awash, the pavements streaming, and passing vehicles threw up a cloud of spray.
It was still pouring down when he drew up at Tom's cottage, and the rector, collar turned up, hurried across the slippery plank bridge, and gained the shelter of the little porch.
'Why, bless me,' exclaimed Tom, opening the door. 'What brings you out in this weather?'
'Good news, Tom,' said Charles, brushing drops from his jacket.
Polly advanced to meet him, putting up her grey muzzle to be stroked, and wagging her tail.
'You come right in before you tells me more,' said Tom. Kettle's hot. Coffee?'
'I'd love some,' said Charles.
He watched the old man moving slowly about his work, taking down a mug from the dresser, reaching for a jar of powdered coffee, making his way deliberately to the drawer where he kept the teaspoons. There was no doubt about it, thought Charles, although he could just about manage when things were going normally, there must be times when a kindly warden would be needed in the future.
'There you are, sir,' said Tom at last, putting the steaming mug before his visitor. 'Get that down you. There's a real autumn nip in the air this morning, and we can't have you ailing anything. Good people are scarce, they tell me.'
'This goes down well,' said Charles. 'Now the news!'
'About the little house?'
'That's right.'
'And Poll?'
'She can go there with you.'
Tom's face lit up.
'Well, that's wholly good news, I must say. What made them change their minds? You, sir, I expect!'
'Only in part, Tom. We all thought it out. It seemed wrong to part people like you from their animals, but I think the long-term idea is still "no pets". That will apply, of course, to the residents who come later.'
He took a long draught of coffee.
'You will be getting a letter in a day or two, Tom, but I wanted to tell you myself.'
'Any idea when we shall move in?'
'In the early part of October, I think. Can you get someone to help you with the move? If not, I'm sure some of the young fellows at my Youth Club could give a hand.'
'I might be glad of that, sir. Most of my friends are as shaky as I am now. More coffee?'
'No thanks, Tom. I must get back, but I'll call again in a few days' time.'
He bent to pat Polly.
'Coming back to Lulling with me again?' he asked her.
'She would too,' said Tom. 'She's as fond of you as she is of me, and that's the truth. But I wouldn't want to part with her, not even to you, sir.'
'Well, there'll be no parting now, Tom. You and Poll can soldier on together. Many thanks for the drink.'
He wrung his old friend's hand, and set forth again into the wild wet world.
9 Some Malefactors
JOHN Lovell's telephone call to the police superintendent had set loose a stream of local activity. He learnt a little from his friend when they met.
By the time we went to Leys Farm the birds had flown, as you might expect, but we found a few clues, tyre marks, paint scrapings, bits of cloth and so on, which the forensic boys are working on. However, I think these are the chaps directly involved, and it was bright of you to spot them.'
'Not bright enough to twig earlier,' said John ruefully. 'And as for recalling the makes of the cars and colours, n
ot to mention numbers, I'm afraid I'm a broken reed. All I had in mind, of course, was how my patient was reacting to my prescription. He'd had a pretty bad go of sickness and was seriously dehydrated when I first saw him.'
'He must have been in a very poor state for the others to have called you in. I bet that was the last thing they wanted – a visitor to the premises. Obviously, they hid the cars away when you were expected, but were caught on the hop when you turned up unexpectedly.'
'Have you any leads at all?'
'Well, all the other areas have been notified, and we're keeping a sharp watch on the ports which have car ferries, but no doubt they'll lie low for a bit. One thing in our favour, it isn't easy to hide a car. A small packet of heroin can be tucked away quite successfully. A thumping great Rolls isn't so simple.'
He rose to go.
'Anyway, you did a good job by getting in touch. I hope we'll be able to see you in court as a prime witness before long.'
'Heaven help you!' exclaimed the doctor. 'I've always lived in dread of someone asking me where I was on the night of October the fourth three years earlier.'
'Who hasn't?' laughed his friend.
Naturally, John Lovell had said nothing about the affair. All that John had allowed himself was a brief word to Ruth who, as a doctor's wife, was the soul of discretion.
Nevertheless, it was soon common knowledge in Thrush Green and Lulling that something delightfully wicked and illegal seemed to have been happening at Leys Farm over the past year.
Betty Bell was agog with news and conjecture when she went to clean at Harold and Isobel Shoosmiths'.
'Never knew such a carry-on,' she puffed, dusting Harold's study energetically. 'My cousin Alf opened the door, not three days since, to find Constable Darwin on the step with one of them little notebooks. Well, to tell the truth, he's not my real cousin, not like Willie Bond, I mean, but Alf's mum and mine used to work up the vicarage when they was young, and they was always good friends even after they got married.'