(10/13) Friends at Thrush Green (25 page)

Bertha still maintained her air of perplexity about the amount of things collected in her room, and it was apparent to Violet that nothing much could be done about it. Was Bertha genuinely confused, or was she deliberately blaming others for her own behaviour? Violet guessed rightly that no one would ever know.

The only practical thing to be done was to return other people's property, and this unwelcome duty she undertook.

It was humbling to find how kindly friends responded to her apologies. In truth, the Misses Lovelocks' ways were such common knowledge in Lulling and its surroundings, that it was quite a pleasant surprise to see their property again.

'I must admit I had wondered where that coaster had hidden itself,' said Charles. 'It was one of a pair that Anthony Bull gave us one Christmas, with two bottles of exquisite claret. I am delighted to know it is safe.'

Ella was equally understanding about her purloined Victorian sugar tongs. The Shoosmiths welcomed back a bonbon dish, and also collected a cigarette box which had been Miss Watson's. The Youngs were glad to see an Edwardian dolls' tea-set again, and John Lovell was delighted to receive a silver ash tray which he had never missed.

All in all, Violet had an easier time than she had envisaged as she returned these long-held objects, and was grateful that no recriminations were forthcoming. It was, she felt, really more than she deserved, and said much for the generous spirit of their old friends.

As the days lengthened people's spirits rose. It was good to get out and about again in the light, and to go and come back from an afternoon tea-party without having to remember a torch.

The sun appeared almost every day, and gardeners were already busy. So were the birds, flying with grass and feathers trailing from their beaks, as they set about nest-building. Prudent housewives were already planning dates for the chimney sweep, the window-cleaner and painters and decorators.

The January sales were far behind, and Lulling shops already displayed summer hats and frocks, and even swimsuits for those who had been bold enough to book a holiday abroad.

It was a heady time, and at Barton-on-Sea Dorothy broached the subject of a few days away.

'We both need a change,' she declared. 'You've looked quite peaky ever since that last cold, and my hip is definitely getting arthritic. Somewhere fairly flat, I think, don't you? What about East Anglia? I had a wonderful cycling holiday there as a girl. Hardly ever needed to get off, you know, the slopes were so gentle.'

'There are some splendid churches,' said Agnes. 'We could go on day-trips by bus perhaps, if we found somewhere central.'

'We should have the car for that,' said Dorothy. 'I'm not so arthritic that I can't drive.'

Agnes fetched the engagement calendar, and the two ladies studied it.

'Very little on in the next few weeks,' commented Dorothy. 'I can swap church flower duties with someone, and we can cancel that Conservative lunch.'

'Good! I was already wondering what to wear. My best suit needs cleaning.'

'There's just Teddy, of course,' mused Dorothy, tapping the calendar with her pencil. 'Still, I should think Eileen could read the newspaper to him quite as well as I do.'

'Not
as well,'
said Agnes, 'but
adequately
, I expect, for such a short time.'

At the end of the month the schools of Lulling and Thrush Green broke up for half-term.

The weather continued to be mild, and the Lesters were ready packed to get off early on the Saturday morning. Alan's mother had said her farewells, and promised to return to the village in the summer.

'Or earlier if I'm needed,' she confided to Isobel, 'but I pray it won't be necessary. So far, so good. I can't tell you how I admire Margaret over this affair. She's doing splendidly.'

'She had your help,' pointed out Isobel, 'and the support of the family.'

'That was very little really. She knew it was a case of self-help, and she's stuck to it.'

Later, Alan came round to leave the key and the Yorkshire telephone number. 'I think I've switched off everything possible,' he told Harold, 'but no doubt I shall remember something vital when we're halfway up the Ml.'

'Then ting us,' smiled Harold. 'Go and enjoy yourselves. See you next week.'

Ten minutes later they saw the Lesters drive away, a bevy of hands fluttering their goodbyes.

18. The Birthday Party

MISS Bertha Lovelock had been born on February the Twenty-Eighth in a Leap Year. Her mother had often told her how narrowly she had missed being born on the last day of February in a Leap Year, and the horror of having only one true birthday every four years.

This particular year was Bertha's eightieth birthday, and Violet intended that the occasion should be marked by a party. It would only be a
small
one, all the sisters agreed, just for a few old friends, and after considerable thought and discussion it was decided to have a modest tea party at the house.

Consequently, Violet went next door one morning to The Fuchsia Bush to order a birthday cake, two dozen scones and other small cakes for the celebration.

Mrs Peters attended to her, and was extremely helpful. She was fond of her eccentric neighbours and Bertha's pilfering was now, everyone hoped, a thing of the past.

'Not too rich a mixture,' said Violet. 'We shall all be elderly, and not able to digest anything too heavy.'

'None of our produce is
heavy,'
protested Mrs Peters, stung by this criticism of her wares, 'but I do understand. Would you prefer a madeira cake, suitably iced, of course?'

Violet pondered awhile. 'No. I think a fruit mixture, but without brandy perhaps. I will leave the recipe to you and Mrs Piggott. I feel sure it will be delicious.'

'I wonder,' said Mrs Peters diffidently, 'if you would like one of my girls to come in and wait on you? It is early closing in the town on that day and we are never busy then. I could spare Rosa or Gloria for two or three hours if it would help.'

'That is most kind,' said Violet sincerely. 'We shall be about ten or twelve altogether, and should be glad to have one of the girls.'

So it was left, and Mrs Peters also made a note to order a small bouquet to be taken in as a tribute from all at The Fuchsia Bush. It was a great relief to have things on an even keel again. Keeping the boat upright, she thought, as she bustled about her duties, was a tricky job anywhere. Next door to the dear old Lovelocks, it was doubly so.

The great day was blessedly mild and sunny.

Violet took a suitably celebratory breakfast, the brownest boiled egg, boiled lightly, to her sister, and she and Ada sat sipping their tea as Bertha unwrapped their presents.

Ada had given her a silk scarf which all three recognized as a Christmas present to Ada from a distant cousin. Naturally nothing was said about this, but the three frugal sisters secretly approved.

Violet's gift was a box of Floris soap, and this she had actually bought at the local chemist's. It was much appreciated.

'Now you must take things gently today,' said Violet. 'Ada and I are going to cut a few sandwiches after we've had our afternoon rest, and then we shall dress in readiness for our friends.'

'Are they all coming?'

'Well, no, dear. I think I told you yesterday that the Bulls are abroad, and Ella is staying with a school-friend in Scotland.'

'So who are we expecting?'

'The Henstocks, the Venables, and Winnie Bailey. There's just a chance that Dotty Harmer will come, but she was expecting some wire netting to be delivered, and particularly wanted to see the man as the last lot started disintegrating far too soon, according to Dotty.'

'Oh dear! I wonder how long she had had it?'

'Since Coronation Year, I gather, but Dotty thinks it should have gone on for another ten years or so.'

'Well, we must just hope that we will see her,' said Bertha, putting aside the breakfast tray. 'Anyway, it is going to be a lovely day for me. I suppose
eighty
really is a great age?'

Her sisters assured her that it was indeed an achievement.

It had been decided when plans for the party had been drawn up, that only the Lovelocks' contemporaries would be invited. Anthony Bull and his wife were the exceptions.

Justin Venables—known locally as 'Young Mr Venables' to distinguish him from his father, now long-dead, and his wife, had grown up with the Lovelocks. They had attended the same dancing classes in Lulling, fox-trotting to 'Tea For Two' and 'She's My Lovely', in the far-off twenties and thirties.

They had shared picnics in ancient open cars, made up parties for the local Hunt Ball, and attended private dances at some of the large houses in the surrounding countryside. They had organized innumerable projects for charity, and had seen Lulling change from a sleepy little Cotswold market town, to a busy community in which strangers thronged the streets, and far too much traffic struggled to pass through.

It was an altered world, but their memories of the past held them together with ties which endured.

Dimity and Ella, though a little younger, had also played a close part in the sisters' lives, and Dotty Harmer, who was almost exactly the same age as Bertha, was another friend who had shared in the early Lulling activities. The fact that her father had been a much respected (perhaps 'feared' would be more truthful) headmaster of the local grammar school for many years, strengthened Dotty's position as a pillar of society in the town.

Charles Henstock had appeared in Lulling some time after the war, and although he knew little of the Lovelocks and Venables in their youth, was welcomed as a man of the cloth, and later, as Dimity's husband.

It was the absence of Anthony Bull which caused Bertha the greatest regret. Her admiration for this handsome priest was absolute, and his was the first name she had put on her list.

However, it had to be faced. Anthony and his wife had promised to go to Italy with another couple, and the hotel and flight had been booked for months. Bertha had to be content with a congratulatory cable, and an arrangement of spring flowers from Interflora from the absent Bulls.

By half-past three the ladies were in a flutter of anticipation: Bertha was resplendent in navy silk, Ada in pearl-grey, and Violet, as the youngest, quite dashing in coral-pink.

True to her word, Mrs Peters had sent in Rosa complete with a sheaf of daffodils and irises, and a card saying:

'From all at The Fuchsia Bush
Congratulations and Best Wishes'

Bertha was much touched. Violet, watching her, wondered if any trace of guilt added to her sister's high colour, but dismissed the thought as unworthy of this occasion.

Justin and his wife arrived first, bearing a large box of Bendick's mints which they knew Bertha loved. The Henstocks came a few minutes later with a bottle of Bertha's favourite eau-de-cologne, and Winnie arrived with a box of exquisite linen and lace handkerchiefs.

The birthday cake stood on a side-table, and everyone agreed that The Fuchsia Bush had excelled itself. Ada and Violet's sandwiches were sampled, the buttered scones were passed round by Rosa, who was seemingly awed by her surroundings and the venerability of the guests, and all went swimmingly.

The conversation, rather naturally, was of the past.

'And Justin was a demon on the tennis court,' Bertha told Charles. 'A terrible smashing service he had, I remember.'

'So did Winnie,' Violet reminded her. 'She was one of the first Lulling ladies to serve over-arm. We were all greatly impressed.'

'And do you remember your first car, Justin?'

'Only too well. It let me down on Porlock hill which wasn't too awful, but when it practically exploded in Lulling High Street, my father said it was a disgrace to the firm and that clients would be taking their affairs elsewhere.'

Back and forth the reminiscences flowed as Rosa cleared the tea things away. The cake was to be cut a little later, and taken with a glass of champagne. This was Violet's idea, and she had kept the champagne a secret, knowing full well that she would have been chided for gross extravagance if she had told Bertha earlier.

The sun was still shining, and the company took a turn about the garden to admire the crocuses and the budding daffodils. Secretly, Justin grieved over the neglected state it was in. In their young days, a full-time gardener had been employed, and the kitchen garden had produced all that was needed to supply the Lovelock family and staff. Now a young man came once a fortnight to cut the shabby lawns, and the weeds in the borders were strangling the perennial pinks and peonies and roses which had once been the pride of the family.

The outside paintwork, he noticed, was also neglected and flaking. Some of the Cotswold roof tiles had slipped, and one or two were missing. It was sad to see such a noble property in disrepair, but he knew that the Lovelocks' parsimony would never let them spend even the smallest amount on repairs, and this project would certainly need several thousands to put it back into its former state.