(7/13) Affairs at Thrush Green (16 page)

The thing was what to do about it all? They couldn't go on like this. Let's face it, he had tried time and time again to make the woman see reason, but she simply enjoyed being awkward. Why, she'd even asked for a
private allowance!
Percy shuddered at the very remembrance.

When he had pointed out the rank impossibility of such a measure, she had said that, in that case, she proposed to look for work and if it were far from Thrush Green that would suit her very well.

On that belligerent note the two had parted. Percy had gone into the garden and Doris had set about the pastry with such ferocity that Percy foresaw an even tougher meal than ever ahead.

Ah well, he sighed! Time alone would tell how things would work out. If only it had been Jenny in his kitchen!

Someone had said those two words if only' were the saddest in the language.

Percy, resting on his hoe, agreed wholeheartedly.

Little Agnes Fogerty was sitting in a deckchair in the garden of the school house, relishing the warmth of the June sunshine.

School was over, and Dorothy Watson was in the kitchen preparing their simple tea, which they proposed to have outdoors.

Miss Fogerty was looking forward to her cup of tea and one biscuit, with more than usual relish. She was on a strict diet, and quite frankly, she felt all the worse for it.

Loyal though she was to dear Doctor Lovell, she could not help feeling that it was a pity he ever went on that course about the Place of Diet in Arthritis and Allied Diseases. He had talked of nothing else since his return, and those of his patients who had creaked and hobbled about Thrush Green for years, were now enduring a most uncomfortable time.

All meat was banned, all white bread, and sugar of any colour whatsoever. Anything made with flour was out, and dairy products were forbidden.

'It doesn't leave much,' Miss Fogerty had protested, but was quickly told about the advantages of fruit and vegetables, on which, it appeared, she would have to exist for the foreseeable future.

'Boiled water only for the first two days, 'John Lovell had said, his eyes alight with a fanatical gleam. 'Then citrus fruits for three days, and after that perhaps a small apple. Then we can get you on to vegetables, particularly pulses. Pulses are absolutely essential to counteract any acid in the system.'

'But I shall be absolutely bursting with acid if I'm on citrus fruit for days,' exclaimed Agnes. 'I really cannot take lemon juice or grapefruit in any quantity. Even oranges upset me.'

Doctor Lovell, in the thrall of his latest obsession, hardly listened. Consequently, poor Agnes had braved the boiled water for two days and was now struggling through the three devoted to citrus fruits. Frankly, she was starving, and dizzy with weakness.

Doctor Lovell was going to be forgotten while she drank a cup of tea, complete with forbidden milk, and munched the digestive biscuit which Dorothy had insisted she should eat.

'I should take that diet of John Lovell's with a pinch of salt,' she said, arriving with the tea tray, and setting it down on a stool between them.

'Salt's forbidden,' said Agnes.

'What isn't?' replied Dorothy tartly, pouring the tea.

'How marvellous that smells,' said little Miss Fogerty. Her small stomach gave a thunderous rumble, as she reached for her cup and the tempting biscuit.

'It should taste even better than it smells,' Dorothy assured her with a smile.

' "Forbidden fruits are sweet," ' quoted Agnes.

'I wouldn't mind betting,' said Dorothy, 'that John Lovell is settling down to buttered toast and doughnuts at this very minute.'

'Oh
don't!'
begged Agnes in anguish.

And Dorothy apologised.

Charles Henstock was also in his garden on that warm June day.

The grounds of Lulling vicarage were extensive, and by tradition had always been opened for any parish activity.

They were not as immaculate these days as they had been when Anthony Bull and his wife had employed a man full time to keep the place aglow with flowers and the lawns velvety smooth.

The same man came now, but Caleb was getting old, and he only attended to the garden on one day a week.

He combined this work with his job as sexton to St John's, and on the whole did his chores very well if rather slowly. Charles and he were fond of each other, and Caleb found his new master far less demanding than the old one.

They were working together on a long border when Charles heard the wrought-iron gate clang and saw his old friend Harold Shoosmith from Thrush Green approaching.

'Harold!' cried the rector, dusting his palms down the side of his trousers. 'How good to see you! Come and sit down in the shade.'

They retired to a garden seat under the ancient cedar tree.

Harold waved to Caleb in the distance.

'Am I interrupting anything?'

'No, no. We were just tidying up. Caleb's having a bonfire this evening in the churchyard, and we thought our little bits could go on it.'

'This is bliss,' said Harold leaning back. 'Wish my news were too.'

'Oh dear!' said Charles. 'Trouble in Thrush Green?'

He thought sadly that really he had enough of that commodity in Lulling alone, let alone his other three parishes. Mrs Thurgood and her daughter had never appeared again in his church, and one or two other ladies seem to have taken her part, and were not attending St John's. Could he be failing in his duties? He was most unhappy about it.

'Well, I think you should know that the Hodges are pretty acrimonious, and as far as I can see there's going to be a break-up in that marriage.'

'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?'