(10/13) Friends at Thrush Green (9 page)

'Agnes and Dorothy managed it,' said Phil.

'Agnes and Dorothy,' responded Winnie, 'were two remarkable women, whose lives were outstandingly exemplary and virtually an open book.'

'Well, let's hope the Lesters will prove the same,' said Phil, rising to return next door.

'Let's hope so indeed,' echoed Winnie.

While the two ladies were conversing in the garden at Thrush Green, the subjects of their discussion were studying a Trust House Hotels' brochure with much interest.

It had been Dorothy's idea that another short break would do them both good.

'After all, Agnes,' she said, 'you had to spend quite some time in bed when we were at Thrush Green. The visit really didn't do you the
benefit
it should have done. What about somewhere further north?'

'Scotland, do you mean?'

'No, no, no! There's no need to go somewhere as extreme as that, all mist and murk.'

She turned the pages briskly.

'I'm really quite content to stay here,' ventured Agnes.

'I'm sure you are,' said Dorothy, 'but the fact remains that in this humid weather Barton seems as hot and sticky as most places. I should like somewhere more wooded, and with a few nice hills.'

'What about Wales? Are there any Welsh hotels in that brochure?'

'Quite a few.'

She browsed in silence for a time.

'What I like about these Trust House places is that they have a kettle in the bedroom.'

Agnes looked bewildered.

'For tea, dear, or coffee,' explained Dorothy in the tone she used to address somewhat dim-witted children in her teaching days. 'It does mean that one can have a cuppa in the privacy of one's room rather than having to be civil to strangers in the lounge.'

It was quite clear to Agnes that they would certainly be setting off for another few days' holiday within the next few weeks, and she adapted herself to the idea, though with some remaining misgivings.

'What about your meetings? And Teddy?' she added.

'We can pick a time when we haven't any commitments; and I have no doubt that Eileen would be only too pleased to read to Teddy.'

She sounded a little waspish, Agnes thought. She disliked Eileen's noisy ways as much as Dorothy did, but recognized the fact that Eileen was a lonely woman, and also extremely kind-hearted. In fact, Agnes remembered, with a wave of gratitude, she had offered to look after dear Timmy if they were away.

'There's Timmy—' she began.

'Well, we know all about Tim,' said Dorothy, shaking out the brochure impatiently to find the map. 'We faced the problem of Tim when we took him on. No doubt one of the neighbours will feed him.'

'I was just going to say so,' said Agnes. 'Eileen mentioned it only the other day. Anytime, she said, she would look after him, and I'm sure she meant it.'

'I'm sure she did,' agreed Dorothy, spreading the map on the table. 'There's nothing Eileen likes more than seeing inside other people's houses.'

Agnes fell silent. It was the only thing to do when Dorothy was in this mood.

'There seem to be some nice hotels in the Derbyshire area,' said Dorothy.

'Isn't that rather a long way to drive? Isn't Birmingham in the way?'

'Well, Birmingham doesn't stretch
right the way across!
We could drive to the left or right of it, if you see what I mean.'

Agnes joined her friend and studied the map too.

'There are certainly some lovely old houses to see,' she agreed. 'Kedleston Hall and Hardwick, and lots of others. And of course we should get the hills, shouldn't we?'

At that moment the telephone rang, and Dorothy hastened into the hall to answer it. She was smiling when she returned.

'It was that nice Terry Burns,' she told Agnes, naming one of the churchwardens. 'He's bringing round some gardening books at about six. I wonder if we've any sherry? He likes it dry, I seem to remember.'

'There's some of the Tio Pepe left that Isobel gave us,' Agnes reminded her, relieved to see how much happier Dorothy seemed now that Eileen was forgotten.

'Perfect,' replied Dorothy, folding up the map. 'What should we do without our friends?'

A few days after Violet's visit to the vicarage, Charles Henstock made his way down the High Street to call upon the Misses Lovelock, and Bertha in particular. His heart was heavy. This was one of those duties which had to be undertaken, but it filled him with foreboding. However, he had promised Violet that he would have a word with her sister, and so it must be done.

Violet opened the door to him; her expression of joy and relief as she greeted him was more than compensation for the good rector's endeavours.

'Ada is shopping,' said Violet, 'and Bertha is in bed, not too well. I will lead the way.'

Charles followed Violet's bony legs upstairs and along a dark landing to a bedroom overlooking Lulling High Street.

'I've brought you a visitor, Bertha,' said Violet.

'Well, what a nice surprise,' replied Bertha, removing a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles. 'How kind of you to call, Charles.'

She extended a fragile hand. It felt almost like a bird's claw as Charles held it in his own plump one.

'Would you like coffee?' enquired Violet.

'Not for me,' said Bertha.

'Not for me, many thanks,' smiled Charles.

He was aware of Violet's agitation by the unusual flush which now suffused her face and neck, but he could not help admiring the aplomb with which she was carrying out her duties as hostess.

'Then I shall leave you to talk,' she said. 'If you will excuse me, I will go back to my kitchen affairs.'

She closed the door, and Charles had a chance to look about the room as Bertha busily folded up the newspaper she had been perusing. It certainly was uncomfortably crowded, and Charles recognized one or two pieces of furniture which had once had their place in the drawing-room downstairs.

A glass-fronted china cabinet was squashed between the dressing-table and wardrobe. It appeared to be crammed with exquisite porcelain, and on top stood a heavy silver rose-bowl which Charles knew had once been presented to the sisters' father.

More silver pieces were lodged on top of the mahogany wardrobe: Charles could see mugs, salvers, wine coasters, jugs and at least three silver teapots. A little Sheraton sofa table, another exile from the drawing-room, stood by Bertha's bed, and this too carried a host of miniature silverware. Charles recognized a dolls' teaset, a miniature coach-and-four, and a windmill.

There was certainly something very odd happening in this house, and Charles felt a shiver of apprehension. Here, he knew, was madness—madness of a mild kind, no doubt, but something strange, sad and ominous.

'And how is dear Dimity?' enquired Bertha.

'Very well, thank you, and sends her love.'

Bertha inclined her head graciously. She seemed to be completely in charge of herself, but Charles noticed that the bony hands which smoothed her bed-covers were quivering.

He decided to broach his painful duty. 'I see you have had some things transferred from downstairs.'

'I like to have pretty things around me.'

'But don't your sisters miss them?'

Bertha looked at him sharply. 'They are not their property. And in any case, they can see them when they come up here.'

Charles decided on another approach.

'But don't you find they get in the way? It must be quite difficult to move around with so much in here.'

'I can manage,' she snapped.

Silence fell. A car hooted in the street below, a baby wailed, and a dog barked. The life of Lulling continued as usual outside in the fresh air, and Charles became aware of the stuffiness of this cluttered bedroom.

'I
want
the things here,' said Bertha at last. 'Ada and Violet don't appreciate them, and never have. I've taken them into my care, and I intend to see Justin Venables about changing my will.'

'Changing your will?' echoed Charles, much bewildered.

'Everything in this room is to go to St John's church in gratitude for Anthony Bull's ministrations.'

Charles was stunned. He felt as if he had been struck with a hard and heavy object, and was conscious of his head throbbing and his heart behaving in a most unusual fashion.

'Would you mind if I opened the window a little, Bertha?' he asked.

'Please do. Violet is inclined to keep the windows closed.'

Charles struggled from his chair, and heaved at the large sash window furthest from Bertha's bed. It was a relief to see the normality of Lulling outside, and the cool air revived him. He took several deep breaths and returned to his chair.

'My dear Bertha,' he began, 'it is a most generous gesture of yours, but before you do anything about the will, please consult your sisters and tell them what is in your mind.'

'I shall do nothing of the sort,' Bertha rapped out. She looked at him suspiciously. 'You are on their side! They've put you up to this!'

'I'm on nobody's side,' protested poor Charles, 'and no one has "put me up", as you say, to anything.'

'I shall tell Justin to call here,' replied Bertha. She was now very flushed and breathless. Charles knew that it was useless to try to reason with her. He had failed in his mission, and it was time to depart. It was obviously going to be impossible to go into the matter of taking things from The Fuchsia Bush at this stage.

He got up from the chair and approached the bed. He took Bertha's hand and patted it.

'I am sorry to have upset you, Bertha, and I'm going to leave you to rest now. But please think about my suggestion. I hope you will decide to talk to Ada and Violet.'

'I told you—I shall certainly
not
consult them.'

Charles released the hand. 'Then I beg of you,' he said earnestly, 'to consult your conscience instead.'

And with that he left.

Violet was fluttering about in the hall as he descended the stairs.

'Come into the drawing-room,' she whispered.

They sat down facing each other.

'Well?' queried Violet.

'Not well at all, I fear,' said Charles. 'I haven't really helped much.'

He told her, as gently as he could, about her sister's plan to alter her will, virtually laying claim to all that was in her bedroom. However, he purposely did not tell Violet about Bertha's idea of leaving all the treasures to St John's church. There was no point in burdening her with this extra problem, and he disliked the idea of this crazy plan of Bertha's being discussed in the parish.

'And she intends to see Justin?' gasped Violet. 'What shall we do?'

'I should do nothing while she is safely in bed,' replied Charles. 'I gather that the only telephone is in the hall down here, and any letters will pass through your hands. If she does propose getting in touch with him, then I think you must speak to him first and explain matters. If need be, I will have a word with him whenever you give me permission.'

'Charles! I hope it won't come to that.'

'So do I. In any case, I am sure that Justin will know exactly what to do in this sort of situation. I seem to recall something at the beginning of a will to the effect that: "I, being of sound body and mind etc." and I'm sure it is now sadly plain that Bertha is
not
of sound mind at the moment.'

'I fear not,' agreed Violet, much agitated.

'I must go,' said Charles. 'I'll come again in a day or two to see how things are going. Get in touch at once, if you are worried, but I'm sure we can only wait and hope that she will realize how foolish she is being.'

'Thank you, Charles, for everything. I shall take your advice.'

As Charles returned to the vicarage he felt a great sense of failure. He also turned over in his mind Bertha's strange intention to leave everything to the church. The fact that the gift was to be a tribute to his predecessor Anthony Bull, who now had a parish in London, did not perturb or surprise him. Anthony was an old friend, and Charles was the first to recognize and appreciate his dynamic qualities.

Anthony Bull's outstanding good looks, his charm of manner, and his almost theatrical delivery of his sermons, had won the hearts of all who met him. It was not surprising that Bertha Lovelock had felt such burning affection for him. She was only one of many in his congregation to whom he had brought colour and comfort.

It was also quite logical that she should wish to repay the inspiration he had given her, and to do it through the church she had always attended rather than as a direct bequest to the man himself, showed a certain delicacy of feeling, and a sense of propriety quite consistent with the attitude of the Lovelocks.

But Charles hoped sincerely that nothing would come of Bertha's alarming plans. Rumours of her incipient kleptomania were already rife in Lulling, and Dimity knew that he had made today's errand in the hope of being able to help. He would have to tell her that he had failed in his mission, but that he hoped to try again.

The business of the will, he decided, should remain secret.

7. Preparing to Move

IT came as no surprise to anyone to find that the school house at Thrush Green had little to show in the way of additions when the school holidays began. To be sure, there was an area at the back of the house which had been marked out with pegs, and one morning in early August a lorry had backed in and deposited a load of sand.