by Miss Read
He felt pretty sure that this extra expense would be met willingly by the trustees, all of whom had been severely shocked by the fact that the youngest and most agile of the inhabitants had been the first to succumb to this unnoticed hazard. Not a word of complaint, with the exception of John's caustic comment, had been levelled at Edward's design by the trustees, which made him all the more determined to put the matter right as quickly as he could. Since making this decision he had felt a lot better.
The occasional card-playing evenings had been resumed, and it was during one of these sessions that Edward made his suggestion.
'A client of mine has a house on the Pembrokeshire coast and has offered it to me if I'd like to have it for a fortnight's holiday in the summer. He's going abroad evidently.'
'Lovely!' cried Ruth. 'And will you go?'
'I think so. Joan and I like the idea, and there's a wonderful beach nearby. We wondered if you would like to join us when the children break up. Perhaps the last week in July and the first in August. What d'you think?'
'Will the owner be agreeable?'
'I'm sure he will. He said: "Bring any friends", and as the house has six bedrooms it seems a great pity to have the place half empty.'
Ruth looked at John. Here, if anything further were needed, was another gesture of Edward's goodwill. The two men's estrangement had worried Ruth far more than it had her more self-reliant sister, and she was anxious to restore the harmony which had always existed until this little rift between the two husbands.
'Well?' asked John of his wife.
'I'd love to go. We haven't been that way for years, and it all sounds perfect. If you really want us,' she added diffidently.
'Then that's settled,' said Edward, rubbing his hands together briskly, and then giving a yelp of pain.
John gave him a quick anxious glance.
'Where did that hurt?'
'One of those dam' scabs caught on my shirt.'
'That all? You'll live!' said his brother-in-law callously. 'Right then, Edward. Pembrokeshire it is, and very many thanks for asking us.'
***
The telephone call that Jane Cartwright answered was from Charles Henstock who explained that he had had a call from Mrs Thurgood.
Before he could proceed further Jane had said agitatedly: 'Oh, heavens! Mrs Thurgood! What's wrong?'
Of all the people who had interviewed them the redoubtable Mrs Thurgood had seemed to Jane, and to her husband too, the most formidable. Luckily, she had not visited the old people's homes very often, but Jane had felt remarkably apprehensive when she had, expecting some trenchant criticism.
Charles laughed.
'She is rather awe-inspiring, I admit, but this is about a quite different job from your own.'
He explained about the operatic society's problem, and the discussion he and Dimity had had about a temporary replacement for the stricken wardrobe mistress.
'And we came to the conclusion that the only person we knew who had any connection with theatre work was Carlotta Jermyn. Do you think you could sound her out?'
'I will, of course. Shall I tell her to get in touch with you?'
'I think it would be best if she telephoned Mrs Thurgood if she wants to know more.'
'Much the best idea,' said Jane, sounding so relieved that Charles laughed again.
'Well, Jane, I think the two ladies can face each other quite successfully, and we can fade into the background.'
'It certainly suits me to be there,' replied Jane. 'I'll call on her this evening, or at any rate tomorrow. Frankly, I'd like to see her happily occupied. She's the one who is taking longer to settle in than all the others.'
'If she can't settle down with you and Bill as guardian angels, then it's a pity,' said Charles firmly. 'We could do with more couples like you. The trust is always on the look-out, you know.'
Jane had half a mind to mention Vi Ellis's hopes, but decided that it was too early to confide even in such a discreet person as Charles Henstock.
'I'll do what I can,' she promised, and put down the receiver.
Kit and Connie had come back from Venice looking years younger and full of stories of that lovely city.
They had brought Dotty some lace mats from Burano and a pretty pale pink glass cream jug from Murano for Vi.
'I really think I must visit Venice again before I get too old,' said Dotty, i rather like the sound of that train that goes from Victoria. It looks very well equipped, and I always enjoyed train travel when I went abroad with Father. We always talked of going on the Trans-Siberian railway, but the trip would have taken up rather a lot of time in the summer holidays, and in any case we were obliged to visit my great-aunts in Broadstairs during August, which made things more awkward.'
'Well, we must think about a holiday for you,' said Connie diplomatically. 'Meanwhile, tell us how the workmen have been getting on.'
'Splendidly, splendidly!' cried Dotty. 'All should be finished by next month.'
'They've been saying that since before Christmas,' observed Kit, 'but let's go and have a look round.'
They left the room, and Dotty looked across at Vi.
'You know, they won't want me to go on that train – the Orient Express, isn't it? I can see that they think it will be too much for me. Perhaps you would think of accompanying me, Vi? I know they would be quite happy about me if you were going to be there. We have got on so well, haven't we?'
'We have indeed,' said Vi warmly. 'I've enjoyed every minute of my stay here.'
She did not respond to Dotty's tentative invitation, much as she appreciated her trust. A fortnight in Dotty's own home, with a certain amount of support from Betty Bell, Albert Piggott and innumerable kind friends, was one thing. A trip on the Orient Express, and the hazards of the waterways of Venice was another, and resourceful though she was, even Vi's stout heart quailed at the thought.
Much later, when she was safely back in her own home, Vi often thought of Dotty and her proposed holiday. Somehow, she could not imagine Dotty setting off for foreign parts even if Connie and Kit accompanied her, but it was very comforting to think that she had been invited to share the adventures of that indomitable old lady, even if they had come to naught.
As well as the snowdrops, budding shrubs, and melting puddles, there were other signs of spring at Lulling and Thrush Green.
The most superior clothes shop in the High Street had removed the thermal underwear, woolly hats, scarves, and padded jackets from the window, and had a tasteful display of frilly blouses, lightweight suits and pale handbags. A large placard adorned with daffodils exhorted the passerby to GREET THE SPRING, which though perhaps a trifle premature, was certainly hopeful.
At The Two Pheasants at Thrush Green, Mr Jones was cosseting his geranium cuttings and planting trays of lobelia and dwarf marigolds ready for bedding out.
He enthused about his seedlings to Albert, who seemed to have sunk back into his morose ways now that there was less to do at Dotty Harmer's.
'Seen old Perce?' Albert enquired. 'Hasn't been bad, has 'e? Seems a long time since I bumped into him.'
'I think he's courting again,' said the landlord, twirling a snowy cloth inside a glass.
'More fool him,' grunted Albert. 'Who's he after this time?'
'One of the Cooke girls, I heard.'
'He must be off his onion,' said Albert flatly. 'Them Cooke girls is no better than they ought to be, and their old mum puts 'em up to all manner of mischief.'
'Well, Percy's not a bad catch. Got a farm and a house, and a bit put by I've no doubt.'
'That's as maybe, but them Cookes are proper bad lots. In any case, old Perce is still married.'
'And when did that stop a man running after others?' said Mr Jones, with unwonted cynicism.
'That's true,' agreed Albert gloomily.
He finished his glass and pushed it across the counter.
'Well, I suppose it's the spring,' he said. 'But I should have thought old Perce would have had enough
of women by now.'
'Some,' replied the landlord, 'never learn!'
19 Various Surprises
WITH the end of February in sight, the countryside around Lulling grew greener. A mild westerly wind held sway, aconites and snowdrops adorned the cottage gardens, the chickenpox epidemic abated, and the village school had its usual quota of pupils.
The three teachers rejoiced as this gentle weather allowed the children to play outside, where they ran off their high spirits and returned to the classrooms slightly more ready for work than in the bleak weeks before, which had kept them confined indoors.
Little Miss Fogerty had discarded the silk scarf which had protected her neck throughout the winter, although she prudently retained her thermal underwear and some fine woollen stockings which Dorothy had given her for Christmas. Dorothy herself, despite her more amply padded figure, felt the cold, and was still ringing the changes with her tweed suits, twin sets and hand-knitted jumpers.
She was engaged in darning the sleeve of one of the latter garments when the telephone rang one evening.
'Drat the thing,' she exclaimed, heaving herself from the armchair, and sticking the needle in the jumper sleeve. 'Now who can that be?'
Dorothy always said this when either the telephone or the front door bell rang, and secretly Agnes found it slightly irritating. After all, no one could know until the bell was answered, could they? However, she had never voiced her annoyance. It might upset Dorothy, and she herself, no doubt, had equally irritating little ways.
She held herself in readiness to go to the telephone if the call should be for her, but she heard Dorothy saying: 'But how kind, Ray! When did you say?'
Agnes relaxed, and studied the crossword. It seemed harder than ever today, and obviously was compiled by someone who knew far more about Charles Dickens' characters than Miss Fogerty did. She wondered about Ray. Very rarely did Dorothy's tone sound so affectionate towards her brother, although Agnes knew that there was a strong bond between the two, but made somewhat tenuous when Kathleen was involved. Perhaps Dorothy was subconsciously jealous? No doubt Freud would have made something of it, but whether his conclusions would be correct little Miss Fogerty had her doubts. Such overemphasis on sex!
Dorothy returned looking pleased.
'That was Ray. They are going to spend a weekend with their Dorset friends, and want us to lunch with them at The Fleece on the Saturday, on their way down.'
'How very kind!'
'He said they had decided to break their journey there as Harrison can be put up in the stables, and have a peaceful lunch and a rest. Really, one sometimes wonders if they are talking about a young child!'
'He is one to them,' replied Agnes percipiently.
'In that case, he and John Todd would have a lot in common,' retorted Dorothy, resuming her darning.
At the old people's homes, Jane Cartwright had cause to be hopeful about the outcome of her visit to Carlotta Jermyn.
It had not been an easy encounter, for Carlotta had become rather haughty at the outset, pointing out that an actress was in quite a different class from a wardrobe mistress, and that the exceptional qualities needed to create a character were definitely more rarified than such practical matters as theatrical costume, which were the concern of lesser minds.
'I think really,' said Jane, 'that they need someone more in the way of a consultant. Someone who would know the best costumiers and wig-makers to approach, or perhaps someone who could simply give a hand in adapting costumes.'
Carlotta considered this.
'Well, of course, I have had some experience in these matters when I gave some advice to amateur companies now and again. But I really don't know what to say. I know that the Lulling Operatic people have quite a good name for their little efforts,' she added graciously, 'and I believe they give quite a useful sum to local charities.'
'They do indeed,'Jane assured her.
'And of course I should not want a fee,' went on Carlotta. 'And if they employed a professional it might cost them a tidy sum.'
Jane thought that Carlotta was beginning to weaken, and made a swift move.
'Why don't you ring Mrs Thurgood and see what is involved? You need not commit yourself today. But I know she would appreciate any ideas you have. You might think of someone else that they could approach.'
At this Carlotta's face took on a somewhat obstinate expression.
'I shall ring her as soon as I've had my gin and tonic,' she told Jane firmly. 'This is a Worthy Cause!'
Jane would have loved dearly to hear the conversation between the two autocratic ladies later that morning. No doubt each was a model of frigid politeness. Carlotta would make it quite clear that such an undertaking would not do justice to her true worth, but that if she could assist lesser mortals in the theatrical sphere then she felt it her duty to do so.
Mrs Thurgood would be equally high-handed, gracious in her appreciation of Carlotta's feelings, but not in any way servile in her attitude.
But the outcome was a happy one. Carlotta agreed to give the Lulling Operatic Society the benefit of her expertise, and also consented to help with such lowly but practical matters as altering costumes, should the need arise.
'One must do what one can in this world,' she told Jane. '"We pass this way but once," as someone said.'
On repeating this to Bill his comment was typical.
'"Pass" is about right! Since she's got interested in this lark, she's too busy to bob into our other old dears and annoy them.'
'That's true. Let's hope the Lulling Operatic Society makes her a permanent member.'
***
It was about this time that Jenny was admitted to Lulling Cottage Hospital for her tonsils operation.
The great man, Mr Pedder-Bennett, came down from the county town once a week to perform straightforward operations at the local hospital.
Tuesday was his day, and the staff of the hospital was extra alert. Castors on the beds were all turned to the exact angle, throughout the wards. Sheets were tucked in so securely that patients were unable to bend their toes. Hair was brushed, dentures put in, noses wiped, pyjamas buttoned and nightgowns adjusted for modesty.
Jenny was obliged to go in on the Monday evening, so that she could be prepared for Mr Pedder-Bennett's ministrations the next morning.
It was one of the longest evenings of her life. She had never before been into a hospital. Her foster parents had slipped away in the comforting familiarity of their own home, some years earlier.
She was fascinated by the variety of women about her, and full of admiration for the bustling nurses. The speed with which they raced from bed to bed, yanking patients upright, pummelling pillows, whisking vases, glasses, pens, spectacles, fruit, talcum powder and scent from bedside tables and putting them briskly below into cupboards which half the patients were unable to reach, fairly took Jenny's breath away.
What energy these girls had! And how tired the patients looked amidst all this activity!
She was allowed a light supper consisting of a bowl of some milky white substance which might have been anything from hot blancmange to thin porridge. It reminded Jenny of her orphanage breakfasts, and like them could have done with a spoonful of sugar. This repast was served at six-thirty which Jenny found surprising as it was called supper.
'Last meal for you, love,' the nurse said cheerfully. 'No breakfast before ops.'
Jenny cleared her bowl obediently, and lay back on the pillows. It was still only seven o'clock, and she wondered how Mrs Bailey was managing.
A few minutes later, the nurse came to collect her tray.
'Mrs Bailey's just rung up. Sent her love, and says she'll be thinking of you. Probably pop in and see you tomorrow evening if you feel all right.'
'Oh, I shall!'Jenny assured her.
'Well, we'll have to see, won't we?' said the nurse cryptically. 'Shall we have a bit of shut-eye now?'
Jenny slid down the bed, and closed her eyes, although sleep, she fel
t sure, would be impossible.
Dear Mrs Bailey, she thought gratefully! How she longed to be back with her at Thrush Green!
The pillow was warm against her cheek, the porridge warm in her stomach.
Jenny was asleep in five minutes.
It was while Mr Pedder-Bennett was at his delicate work the next morning, that Jane Cartwright went the rounds of the old people's homes and found all was well.
Polly and Tom were sitting in their porch enjoying the sunshine. Johnny Enderby was digging in Ella's garden across the road. Mrs Bates was making herself an apple dumpling. Miss Fuller was preparing to walk across to the school for coffee in the staffroom, and then an hour's reading practice with the slow readers. The Crosses were changing their bedlinen with the radio on full blast. Jack and Sybil Angell were away for a few days with friends. Carlotta was at a sewing session with the other ladies connected with the Operatic Society, and her husband Eric was reading the newspaper, as best he could, with Monty on his lap impeding his view.
After a few words with each, Jane stood at the end of the building and looked across Thrush Green. The sky was of that soft tender blue which only early spring can bring. A hazel bush nearby shook its yellow catkins, the golden dust powdering some young dandelion leaves below.
Somewhere a lark was singing, and a blackbird winged by, its orange bill carrying a whiskery bundle of dried grass for its nest building.
A beautiful brown and grey snail climbed slowly up the dry stone wall, leaving a glistening trail, and in the shelter of one sunny crevice Jane could see half a dozen ladybirds emerging from hibernation to enjoy this early sunshine.