It was bright and sunshiny; there was a light mist rising from the stream and the birds were singing joyfully. Apart from the birds not a creature was to be seen. Bel and the birds had the morning all to themselves.
There were quite a lot of people in church and the service was even more beautiful and satisfying than usual. When Bel came out of the dim building into the bright sunshine she felt happy and at peace. She did not linger in the churchyard, as some of the other members of the congregation liked to do, but set out for home at a brisk pace.
Bel had not gone far when she heard someone call her by name and looking round she saw Reggie hurrying after her. Obviously he too had been to St. Julian’s—it was surprising that she had not seen him. It was surprising to see him now, for she had imagined him slumbering peacefully in bed.
“Hallo, Bel,” said Reggie. “Do you mind if I walk home with you, or would you rather be alone?”
“Let’s walk home together,” said Bel smiling at him.
They fell into step and walked along companionably.
“Do you often do this?” asked Reggie.
“Yes, quite often. I enjoy it.”
“So do I,” he said. He added, “I could see you were a bit surprised to see me. As a matter of fact I was a bit surprised to see you. Funny, isn’t it?”
“Funny?” asked Bel.
“I mean strange. It seems wrong that we shouldn’t have known each other better. Neither of us knew that the other liked this sort of thing.”
“People don’t talk about it. That’s why. You can know people for years and yet not know in the very least what they think about religion.”
Reggie nodded. “You know what they think about politics and sport and whether they like yachting. They’ll tell you about their business, but . . .” he hesitated.
“Go on,” said Bel. “You’re thinking about something, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am,” he admitted. “I’m thinking about a sermon I heard some time ago. The text was, ‘Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another.’ Why don’t we speak often to one another about important things? I don’t mean just you and me, I mean everyone. Why is religion kept shut up in a cupboard and only taken out on Sundays—put on like your best hat?”
“It should be a part of everyday life.”
“Yes,” said Reggie. “Why don’t we talk about it? Of course the answer is that it’s ‘not done’. Fellows would think you had gone a bit queer in the head if you started talking about the Lord.”
Bel could not help smiling.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” asked Reggie.
“Yes it’s perfectly true.”
They were now walking along by the side of the stream. The mist had vanished completely and the sunlight was sparkling on the water as it rippled over the stones.
“Bel,” said Reggie. “I’ve decided to enter the Church.”
“Really? Do you mean——”
“Yes, really. I’ve been thinking about it for months. I haven’t told anyone else but I felt I’d like to tell you. Fortunately I have a little money of my own—not very much but enough to make it possible.”
“You’ll go to Oxford to take your degree?”
“Yes, if I can. I must find out more about it. I suppose you think I’m a fool to throw up my career——”
“No, of course not!”
“Other people will, but I’ve made up my mind quite definitely.”
“Tell me about it, Reggie. What made you think of it?”
“The idea began with that text from Malachi: ‘Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another’. I’ve told you already how it stuck in my mind and what I thought about it. When I was here, looking after the renovations at Fletchers End, I thought about it more and more.”
“And you kept on wondering what had gone wrong with the world and why people had stopped talking about the Lord?”
“Yes, something like that,” Reggie agreed. “You see I wasn’t well, and I had to rest a good deal, so I had time to think. Fletchers End helped me to make up my mind.”
“Fletchers End helped you?” asked Bel in surprise.
“It’s difficult to explain,” said Reggie thoughtfully. “I think it was because the old house satisfied me. It satisfied something in me—a sort of hunger, if you know what I mean. The house was made by men who took a pride in their work and did it to the best of their ability. Everything in the house is good and beautiful. I got to know it well—poking about in hidden corners—and I found that even in hidden corners every joint in the woodwork fitted perfectly. You can see the same meticulous workmanship in old churches. They were made by men’s hands for the glory of God.”
Bel nodded, “It didn’t matter whether or not their work was seen. They put their best into it.”
“Yes, that’s what I mean. All this worked together in my mind until I felt that I must learn to tell other people about it. That’s all, really,” added Reggie. “Perhaps you don’t see the connection between the two ideas—I don’t see it clearly myself—but it’s there, somewhere.”
They walked on together in silence.
At last Bel said, “If you feel like that I’m sure it’s the right thing for you to do. I hope you’ll be very happy in your new life, Reggie.”
“I think I shall,” he said. “I’m not at all happy in my present life—you know that, don’t you? Making houses with shoddy materials, running them up as cheaply and quickly as possible—there’s something very wrong about it, Bel.”
“You want perfection.”
He hesitated. “Perfection is a big word, isn’t it? I want to do something that I can offer to God, and you can’t offer Him anything less than your best.”
“That’s a lovely idea,” Bel told him. “I shall keep it safely and think about it.”
*
2
Reggie and Bel had arrived at the glass door by this time; here they paused for a few moments.
“You haven’t told Ellis?” asked Bel.
“No, I’m afraid he’ll be annoyed with me. He’ll think it’s foolish of me to chuck up my career just when I’m beginning to make headway. I don’t want to argue with Ellis; nothing he can say will make me change my mind so the argument would be fruitless. You can tell him, if you like, but not until after I’ve gone.”
Bel nodded. She understood.
Ellis had started breakfast when they went in; obviously he was surprised to see them come in together.
“Hallo, Reggie,” he said. “I didn’t know you had gone with Bel. I thought you were still in bed and I’ve been creeping about like a thief in the night so as not to waken you. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a few minutes for your ham and eggs; Mrs. Warmer was holding back until you were ready.”
Reggie laughed and said Mrs. Warmer’s ham and eggs were worth waiting for. After that they talked about other matters.
Apart from his dissatisfaction with the furniture Reggie was very pleased with Fletchers End; he enjoyed his short visit and the excellent food provided for his benefit by Mrs. Warmer. Of course he renewed his friendship with the good lady and spent a long time in the kitchen chatting to her. Bel wondered if they had talked about Louise and hoped that if so Mrs. Warmer had been tactful. It was a very faint hope for she was aware that tact was not Mrs. Warmer’s strong point.
Neither Bel nor Ellis mentioned the Armstrongs, but after they had bidden their guest good-bye and had watched him drive off from the gate, Ellis said, “He’s an awfully good chap. It’s a pity about Louise, isn’t it?”
“Oh, you know about that!” exclaimed Bel in surprise.
“It was pretty obvious,” replied Ellis smiling. “Of course poor old Reggie isn’t much to look at—I grant you that—but Louise might do a great deal worse.”
“I think he’s got over it,” said Bel.
“Yes, he seems very cheerful. I suppose he’s accepted the fact that she won’t have him and decided to make the best of it.”
Chapter Sixteen
Louise came over to see Bel quite often, though not as often as she would have liked for it was difficult for her to get away from home. One morning when she had dropped in unexpectedly for a cup of coffee Bel reminded her that she had said she would like to have a bath in the new bathroom; it was all ready now, even to the peach-coloured mat and towels and the gaily-coloured curtains.
“Yes,” said Louise. “I’d love to have a bath in your new bathroom—it’s the prettiest bathroom I’ve ever seen—but I haven’t time this morning.”
“Of course not, you donkey! You must come and stay for a week-end,” said Bel laughing.
“I don’t see how I could.”
“Do try,” said Bel persuasively. “I’m sure Dr. Armstrong would think it a good plan for you to have a little holiday.”
“Is there a special reason?” asked Louise.
There was a ‘special reason’ why Bel wanted her friend to come. She explained that Mrs. Brownlee was now comfortably settled in her bungalow at Bournemouth and was anxious for Ellis to pay her a little visit and see how delightful it was. She had asked Bel too, of course, but Bel thought it would be very much nicer for Mrs. Brownlee to have her son to herself.
“You’re quite right,” declared Louise. “When I have a son I’d like to have him all to myself occasionally. No matter how much I liked his wife I wouldn’t want her hanging on to his coattails all the time.”
Bel could not help smiling at this glimpse into the far-away future when Louise would have not only a son but a daughter-in-law into the bargain.
“Ellis doesn’t agree,” said Bel. “Ellis doesn’t like the idea of going without me—but I thought if you could come . . .”
“You want me to come and provide a good excuse for you to stay at home.”
“Partly that, but not only that,” explained Bel. “It would be so lovely to have you—especially while Ellis is at Bournemouth—because we could talk all the time. We never seem to have time for a really good talk nowadays. No sooner have you arrived than you have to rush away.”
“Yes, that’s true,” agreed Louise. “It certainly would be fun. I wonder if I could possibly get Mrs. Morgan to come for a week-end. She came before, when I had appendicitis, and she was a great success. She cooked well and was very sensible about telephone messages and of course she adored Daddy—everyone does. I’m sure Mrs. Morgan would come if she could. I’ll talk to Daddy and see what he thinks.”
Sometimes it is very difficult to arrange things to please everyone concerned and at other times things work out so easily that they may almost be said to arrange themselves. Louise’s plan regarding her visit to Fletchers End was of the latter sort. Dr. Armstrong was delighted at the idea that Louise should have a little holiday; Mrs. Morgan was available and more than willing to oblige; Ellis agreed—though somewhat reluctantly—to go to Bournemouth alone. His mother was very fond of Bel but all the same perhaps it would be better if he went alone—just this once—and Bel would be perfectly happy at home with Louise to keep her company.
Bel was very much excited at the prospect of Louise’s visit. She had been to stay with Louise so often—and now Louise was coming to stay with her! Nothing was too good for the eagerly expected guest and of course Bel had a staunch ally in Mrs. Warmer, for Mrs. Warmer was devoted to Miss Armstrong. They had long discussions about food, which in Mrs. Warmer’s opinion was of primary importance.
It was decided that the guest should be given the room which looked out on to the front garden and the path to the gate. The front garden had now been cleared and the hedges trimmed, so it was more like a garden and less like a jungle.
Bel spent a long time arranging the room comfortably, while Mrs. Warmer busied herself putting clean white paper in the drawers. It was all ready in good time for Louise’s arrival and on Friday afternoon Bel and Mrs. Warmer went in to have a last look round.
“A little vase on the dressing-table would just finish it off,” said Mrs. Warmer regretfully.
“Never mind,” said Bel in comforting tones. “We can’t help it. Miss Armstrong knows we haven’t any flowers. Next year we’ll have lots of flowers. Next year we’ll have sweet peas and roses and everything you can think of.”
“And vilets,” suggested Mrs. Warmer.
“Are you very fond of violets?” asked Bel in surprise.
“They’re not much to look at; it’s the smell——” began Mrs. Warmer.
At that very moment there was a loud hoot—a signal which always heralded the arrival of Louise at Fletchers End—so Bel turned and rushed downstairs at break-neck speed and reached the gate breathless, in time to welcome her guest.
They hugged each other ecstatically—as if they had not seen each other for months—and chattered and laughed like a couple of over-excited schoolgirls. Then, as they went up the path together, Louise dropped a curtsy very gracefully indeed and exclaimed, “Good afternoon, Mr. Fletchers End! You’re looking very handsome with your lovely new paint and shining windows,” and Bel, putting on a deep, gruff voice (the sort of voice which might conceivably belong to an elderly gentleman with side-whiskers) replied, “Good afternoon, Miss Armstrong! You’re in very good looks, yourself, if I may be permitted to say so.”
Mrs. Warmer, peeping at them from the bedroom window thought it was a crazy way for two grown-up ladies to behave—and one of them married!—but she could not help smiling all the same.
*
2
There was no doubt about it; Bel and Louise were just a bit crazy—a bit above themselves, as the saying is—but perhaps there was some excuse for their curious behaviour. They had the prospect of a whole week-end before them with nothing to do except enjoy each other’s company—a whole week-end of idleness. Of course there was still a great deal to be done in the house, but Bel had been working hard ever since she and Ellis had arrived (and she had been working hard all winter in the office) so she had decided that she would do nothing at all while Louise was here; she felt she could idle with a clear conscience. As for Louise; she certainly was due a holiday from the hundred and one duties which filled her days. Her father had told her to enjoy herself and she was determined to do so . . . and what a relief it was to know that even if the telephone-bell shrilled forth a peremptory summons it would not be her duty to rush and answer it!
The afternoon was fine and warm so, after Louise had seen her room and admired all the preparations which had been made for her comfort, the two friends went out for a walk along the stream. The sunshine glanced on the rippling water; the trees were putting forth their tiny new green leaves; there were primroses and daffodils—and a scatter of bluebells in sheltered hollows.
It was so peaceful and beautiful that for a time they walked along in silence and then at last Bel said, “Last Spring I was in London.”
“You were unhappy there, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but I didn’t really know how unhappy I was,” replied Bel thoughtfully. “It’s only now when I’m here with Ellis at Fletchers End that I realise what a wretched life I had. Everything is quite perfect now—so perfect that I’m almost frightened.”
“But we’re meant to be happy, Bel,” said Louise in surprise.
“I wonder . . . yes, I suppose we are . . . but so many people are unhappy. That’s the trouble.”
“Refugees.”
“Not only refugees but people here in our own country. When I lived in town and went to the office in the bus I used to look round at all the people. It was dreadful to see their faces—all so miserable and worried, so tired and careworn. When I think of them it seems wrong for me to be happy and safe.”
Louise did not reply. She understood, but only vaguely, for she had always been happy and safe.
&nb
sp; They walked along in silence, but after a little they began to talk again and became more cheerful. It was impossible not to be cheerful on such a lovely afternoon. They picked little bunches of primroses and golden king cups to take home with them and presently Louise called Bel to come and see what she had found. It was a little cluster of violets, fresh and sweet, hiding amongst their moist green leaves.
“Aren’t they darlings?” said Louise. “We won’t pick them, Bel. They wouldn’t like to be picked and taken away.”
Although it was only a small cluster the scent of the little flowers was quite strong and the two girls looked at each other understandingly.
“It has gone, hasn’t it?” asked Louise.
“Yes, I haven’t smelt it since that first day when you and I looked over the house together.”
“It was the alterations to the room,” said Louise. “It was the holes in the floor and the bow-window and all that frightful mess—but I hoped it would come back.”
“You don’t think we just imagined it, do you?” asked Bel doubtfully. “Nobody seems to have smelt it except you and me . . . unless perhaps Mrs. Warmer. I never thought of asking her, but funnily enough she said something about the scent of violets——”
“I asked her and she said it was floor polish.”
They smiled at each other.
“But it wasn’t,” said Louise firmly. “It wasn’t floor polish and it wasn’t imagination; it was the scent of fresh violets.”
Chapter Seventeen
It had been a warm day, very warm for April, but after dinner a breeze sprang up and it became cooler—cool enough for a fire to be very pleasant. As a matter of fact Bel liked to see a fire burning in the big stone fireplace in the drawing-room; it was comfortable to sit and watch it and chat. Fortunately Ellis shared this taste and, since their arrival they had had a fire every evening.
“Let me light it,” Louise said. “You know I love fiddling about with fires.”
Bel smiled and gave her the matches and watched Louise at the task. She was such a pleasure to look at, so unconscious of her grace and charm. Her face was serious and absorbed.
Fletchers End (Bel Lamington Book 2) Page 12