(7/13) Affairs at Thrush Green

by Miss Read

  'I do hope not,' said the rector alarmed. 'Percy will keep harking back to his first wife. I told him, at the time, he must look ahead not backward. I don't think that poor little Doris has had a chance.'

  'Poor little Doris,' Harold observed, 'is somewhat of a virago.' He had knocked about the world rather more than the good rector, and was well acquainted with the diversity of human nature.

  'Really? I've always found her a nice little thing.'

  'She probably is with you. She's not with Percy.'

  'I'll try to have a word with them. Separately, I think.'

  'A good idea. They ought to be able to make a go of it. Otherwise I foresee that he'll be badgering Jenny again.'

  'But he's married now!' cried the rector.

  'Infidelity has been known,' pointed out his friend. 'Not that Jenny would encourage him, but on the other hand why should she be pestered?'

  'Quite. I will try and call on Percy in the next day or two.'

  He watched Caleb wheel the barrow towards the churchyard. It was very peaceful under the tree. A bee investigated a clover flower which had escaped the mower, and a thrush ran about the border with an eye cocked for any passing worm.

  ' "And only man is vile," ' sighed the rector.

  'It does seem so, on a day like this,' agreed Harold.

  'And how's dear Isobel?'

  'Shopping. I'm picking her up in a quarter of an hour outside The Fuchsia Bush. Oh, and there's another thing, I should mention.'

  'And what's that?'

  'Nelly Piggott's back.'

  'Oh no! Not again!' cried Charles. 'Whatever will Albert say?'

  'I shouldn't enquire,' advised Harold. 'I hear he's absolutely furious, but she's refusing to go, and if it comes to a physical battle I'd back Nelly any day. Weight alone would settle that.'

  Charles shook his head sadly.

  'Another call to make, I can see.'

  The two men sat in silence for a few minutes, but the peace was soon broken by the return of Caleb, hurrying towards them.

  'Sir! Come quick, sir! Someone's been at the poor box. It's all smashed in, and not a penny to be seen.'

  'My God!' said Harold. 'We'd better get the police. Shall I ring them for you?'

  'Please do,' said Charles. 'I'll go over to the church with Caleb to see if anything else has been touched.'

  And the two friends hurried in opposite directions.

  That evening Dimity looked across at Charles who lay, with his eyes closed, in the armchair.

  'Do you know, my dear, it is the longest day today?'

  'I'm not at all surprised,' said Charles.

  12. A Question Of Housing

  KIT ARMITAGE, happily settled at Mrs Jenner's, was still searching vainly for a suitable house of his own.

  He realized that his present conditions were so pleasant that he was in danger of giving up the search altogether. It was good to have no responsibilities except such minor ones as getting his hair cut, paying his bills and cooking his own breakfast.

  He had time to wander about the summer countryside looking up old friends. His Thrush Green neighbours were ever welcoming, and he called often upon Dotty and Connie.

  He was on his way there one afternoon when he saw Edward Young looking over the old people's homes which were being constructed to his specification.

  Kit walked over to talk to him.

  'How is it going?'

  'With any luck, we'll have them ready by Christmas,' responded Edward. 'What do you think of them?'

  He smiled fondly at the muddle of planks, bricks, cement-mixers, wheelbarrows, drain-pipes and bulging sacks which littered the site. To Kit's untutored eye it simply looked an unholy mess.

  'How many homes will there be?' he asked, playing for safety.

  'Eight in all. Five along this south-facing aspect, and three at right angles. You can see by the footings.'

  Kit tried to look appreciative.

  'Later, of course, we may add three or four more, changing this L shape to an open E, so to speak.'

  'Ah, yes,' replied Kit, nodding sagely.

  'But that all depends on the money, of course. It really does look splendid, doesn't it? Such an improvement on that awful rectory. My blood pressure went up every time I looked at it. Now we shall be able to look out on these eight little one-storey poppets.'

  He smiled fondly upon the chaos surrounding him, and Kit envied him the inward eye which transformed this muddle into a vista of domestic beauty.

  'Got your name down for one?' asked Edward jocularly.

  'I'm seriously thinking of it,' replied Kit. 'I'm not getting much farther with my efforts.'

  'I'd forget them for a bit,' advised his friend, stepping over a squashed bucket as he accompanied Kit to the safety of Thrush Green's grass. 'Go and have a break somewhere.'

  'As a matter of fact,' Kit told him, 'I may well do that. An old school friend has invited me to a spell of fishing, and I'm sorely tempted.'

  'An excellent idea! This weather's too good to waste on duties.'

  He waved goodbye, and Kit noticed that he returned to his own duties with the greatest enthusiasm.

  Connie agreed with Edward when Kit told her later.

  'Something will turn up, probably when you are least expecting it,' she told him. 'Go and enjoy this break. It sounds just what you need, and you know you can always come back to Mrs Jenner. I gather you are her star lodger to date.'

  'She's certainly my star landlady,' said Kit. 'Well, I'll look forward to seeing you both on my return.'

  'Those Armitages were always charming,' said Dotty, when Kit had departed. 'His mother was a raving beauty. Such a pity the boy doesn't take after her.'

  'I think Kit is very handsome himself,' said Connie defensively.

  Dotty looked at her with unusual shrewdness.

  'Yes, you probably do, dear. They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And as a young man he was very much sought after. Those Lovelock girls made a dead set at him, and Justin's wife would have had him if he would have had her, if you follow me, but he was not keen—anyone could see that—and so she settled for Justin. A nice fellow, but very much second-best, we all thought.'

  Connie did not reply. She could hardly imagine Dotty and the Lovelocks and the Venables as young people, and in any case, they all seemed so very much older than dear Kit.

  The phrase 'dear Kit' echoed in her mind, and she was honest enough to admit now that he was indeed, in her own estimation, very much 'dear Kit'.

  She checked her thoughts sharply. This would not do. She had dear old Aunt Dotty to think about, and that was quite enough to engage her attention at the moment.

  Some two or three days later Connie and the faithful Flossie met Ella Bembridge on Thrush Green. Both women were going to post letters at the box on the corner near Tullivers, and Connie was carrying the milk can.

  'Glad I've seen you,' hailed Ella. 'I've got a glut of early lettuces and was about to bring you some and save you a journey with the milk. Have you got a minute to spare?'

  'I've got plenty of minutes to spare,' smiled Connie. 'Life at Thrush Green is delightfully leisurely, I find.'

  They walked back to Ella's snug cottage to collect the lettuces. A fine row of tight little Tom Thumb variety stood ready to be picked. Connie voiced her admiration.

  'Best sort to grow,' Ella told her, moving along the row, and puffing as she bent double to her task.

  'Quick growing, and all heart. That's how I like 'em, nice and crisp. And not too big for a woman alone like me. Five do you?'

  She straightened up, the pale green rosettes clutched together in her two hands.

  'Can you spare all those?' said Connie. 'Really two would be ample.'

  'Take 'em! Take 'em!' replied Ella, stuffing them in the girl's arms. 'You might get somebody calling in at supper time. Kit Armitage, say.'

  Connie was a little taken aback at this assumption that Kit was a regular visitor, and was stumped for words.
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  'I forgot,' went on Ella, 'he's just gone off to Wales to fish with the Olivers. Have you met them? They come up here occasionally to see the Lovelocks.'

  'No, I don't know them. I've heard Kit mention Peter Oliver but I haven't met his wife.'

  'He hasn't got one. It's his sister he lives with—or rather she's living with Peter since her husband died. Pretty woman. She'll be married again before she can turn round, you mark my words.'

  She led the way to the garden seat, and began to roll one of her untidy cigarettes. Connie sat nursing the lapful of lettuces, and Flossie settled with a sigh, in the shade.

  'We all thought she might be tempted by Kit Armitage. I gather she was a gorgeous looking girl in her youth. A proper raving beauty.'

  'So was Kit's mother, I gather from Aunt Dotty.'

  'Yes, I believe she was, but I never knew her, of course. Thrush Green seems to produce quite a few raving beauties. Perhaps Kit's gone down to see if she's just as attractive.'

  Ella puffed away blissfully. Connie felt suddenly irritated, and longed to be on her own.'

  'Well, I must get back,' she said, rising briskly. 'Many thanks for the lettuces. I know Aunt Dotty will be delighted.'

  She set off for the gate, and Ella accompanied her. Flossie straggled behind, disappointed at the brevity of her rest.

  'Give her my love,' called Ella to Connie's departing back. Really, the girl walked at an enormous pace!

  Connie, unusually disturbed, made her way swiftly past Albert's cottage and gained the comfort of the lonely lane.

  'To my mind,' she told the lagging Flossie, 'there are far too many raving beauties connected with Thrush Green. And alas, I'm not one of them!'

  Nelly Piggott, busy scrubbing Albert's badly stained wooden draining board with hot soda water, watched Connie as she passed the window.

  'Dotty's niece,' she told the cat, 'and single what's more. Some women have all the luck!'

  She paused for a moment from her labours, and sat down on a kitchen chair to get back her breath. Say what you like about doctors, thought Nelly, they may do a good job on one bit of you, but that anaesthetic and the stitches and whatnot fair played up the rest of you. She felt as weak as a baby these days.

  Albert was out. He was over in St Andrew's, supposed to be tidying up, but Nelly guessed correctly that he was simply keeping out of her way. Give him his due he'd behaved remarkably well considering the shock she had given him on her return.

  The house had been empty when she had arrived in the early evening, and Albert was next door at The Two Pheasants.

  Swiftly she had unpacked, putting her things in the spare bedroom, and making up the bed with the deplorable linen from the landing cupboard, before Albert's return.

  Downstairs she washed up the mounds of dirty crockery and cooking pans, and put some pork sausages in the frying pan over a low heat. Who knows? Their fragrance might mitigate her husband's fury. To tell the truth, Nelly was remarkably apprehensive about this meeting. If Albert took it into his head to push her out and lock the door, there was little she could do.

  She had a few pounds in her purse, and that was all, hardly enough to give her a bed for the night and certainly not enough to keep her going for a week. Her heart jumped when she heard Albert at the door, but she stood and faced him steadily in the last rays of the evening sun.

  It was quite apparent that he was fuddled with drink.

  'What you doin' 'ere?' he growled, his speech slurred.

  Nelly decided to speak the truth.

  'I've left Charlie. He don't want me any more.'

  'Don't blame 'im,' said Alert, making unsteadily towards a chair. 'Can't say I want you neither.'

  Nelly advanced towards the sausages and turned up the heat. She began stabbing the sausages with a fork, and they hissed cheerfully.

  She was very near to tears. It had been a long day, and she was exhausted with travelling, worry, and the after-effects of her operation.

  'Just cooked us a bit of supper,' she said. 'I know you like sausages, and I've had nothing all day.'

  She was surprised at Albert's lack of response. She had fully expected a stream of abuse, and perhaps physical violence. This moody sulkiness was unexpected. She did not know if it boded ill or good.

  The fact was that Albert was too dazed with drink to take it all in. He was also ravenously hungry, he realized, and the thought of pork sausages, cooked to a turn by Nelly, had a mellowing effect.

  They ate them at the kitchen table. Little conversation passed between them until Albert had mopped the grease from his plate with a crust of bread, and then leant back to survey his wife.

  'You ain't stoppin' you know,' he told her. 'Sausages or no sausages.'

  'Just tonight,' pleaded Nelly, i'm all in, and that's the truth. Let's talk about it in the morning. I've made up the bed in the back room.'

  'So I should hope,' said Albert nastily.

  Nelly packed the dirty dishes in the sink and filled them with water.

  'I'll do those in the morning,' she said wearily. 'I'm off to bed now, Albert.'

  'And don't snore,' shouted Albert after her, as she mounted the stairs.

  Ever since then an uneasy truce had been the order of the day.

  Nelly had remained subdued, conscious that she was at Thrush Green on sufferance. She cleaned the house from top to bottom, cooked for the two of them, and took gentle walks in the neighbourhood mainly to keep out of Albert's way.

  He, for his part, was secretly relieved to have his meals cooked and his house cleaned. As long as Nelly behaved with her present politeness he was prepared to let her stay.

  Of course, he put a good front on his attitude when teased by his cronies in The Two Pheasants.

  'Let her try any of her old tricks,' he told them, 'and she knows she's shown the door. But she's been in hospital and I'm not one to turn an invalid out, as well you know.'

  His listeners certainly knew him well, and guessed correctly that the present state of affairs suited Albert nicely. No one in Thrush Green thought otherwise, and many went so far as to say that he was a lucky man to have his wife back.

  Betty Bell was the most outspoken.

  'I don't know how that Nelly Piggott can face coming back to that pig-hole of a place! She must've been hard up to come to stay with Albert. He's in clover, all right. Lovely smell of stew as I passed. Keeping him sweet, I suppose. How she can!'

  'Well,' said Harold Shoosmith, putting down his cup, 'I suppose it's best for them both. Perhaps they'll make a go of it this time. I've always rather liked Nelly Piggott.'

  'Good heavens!' exclaimed Isobel. 'Why?'

  'I rather admire plump women,' smiled Harold, looking at his wife's slim figure.

  'I'll do my best to put on a stone,' she told him.

  Across the green, Winnie Bailey discussed the matter with Jenny.

  'D'you think it will last?'

  'It might this time,' answered Jenny. 'They're both that much older, and neither of'em too well. If Nelly got a job, they might settle down quite comfortably together. But she'd need to get out of that house for part of the day, and earn some money of her own.'

  'You've been giving it some thought,' observed Winnie.

  'Well, to tell the truth, I've been thinking about Doris and Percy. She's in such a state she's threatening to leave him. I met her in Lulling yesterday and we walked back together.'

  'Does she want a job?'

  'Not really. I think if Percy was a chap who went out to work regular, like Ben Curdle, and wasn't just a farmer in and out of the house and under your feet all day, she'd settle all right. I told her to get something herself, and have a change of surroundings, but there's not a lot of work going, as you know.'

  'What about Ted and Bessie Allen at The Drovers' Arms? She seemed to enjoy her time there.'

  'She told me she'd asked them, but they're well suited and I think they're a bit chary of coming between husband and wife. It would be all over Thrush Green an
d Lulling if they took sides, wouldn't it?'

  And Winnie Bailey agreed.

  Dimity Henstock was walking from Lulling vicarage to St John's while Winnie and Jenny were happily discussing Doris Hodge's affairs.

  She carried a trug filled with roses, pinks and peonies having offered to arrange the flowers whilst several of the regular flower ladies of the church were disporting themselves on holiday.

  The sun was warm. The church clock showed her that she had plenty of time to spare. Lunch was cold today, and she succumbed to the silent welcome of a garden seat placed in the shelter of the south side of the church.

  She placed the basket under the seat, in the shade, and prepared to enjoy her solitude.

  Not that one felt alone in a churchyard, she told herself. She had never understood the feeling of fear which so many people confessed to about churchyards. After all, one was so often among old friends who were at rest beneath their grassy mounds.

  She read the inscriptions near at hand. 'Eulalia Phipps', for instance. Now there was a name to enchant one! And it was good to know that she had been a devoted wife and loving mother to her nine sorrowing children.

  Close by was Amos Enderby enclosed in iron railings and with the top of his tomb a little askew. He had been a Justice of the Peace, a Benefactor to the Town and a Much Respected Citizen. He had died of a Seizure at the age of forty-eight to the Great Distress of his Family and Friends.

  The only sad thing, Dimity mused, was the thought of all the talents buried in Lulling's earth. Over there, was the grave of Lucy Bennet whom she well remembered as a superb needlewoman and cook. Her grandchildren had always been exquisitely dressed in handmade frocks with intricate smocking, topped by knitted cardigans made by their loving grandmother.

  And nearby was Tom Carter who had been renowned for his skill in layering a hedge. While close beside him rested his old friend Dick who had been a fine cabinet maker. His work stood in many a Lulling home as a reminder of his craftmanship.