(8/13) At Home in Thrush Green (25 page)

Vi did not enlighten her.

The bitter winds brought a roaring blizzard during the next few days, and considerably added to the usual winter miseries.

The only people to enjoy this weather were the children. Screaming with joy, they rushed about, mouths open to catch the snowflakes, faces scarlet and eyes shining.

Those with sledges found themselves unusually popular with their schoolmates, and after school little bands of children hurried to the slopes behind Harold Shoosmith's garden, and set off on their toboggans on the run down to Lulling Woods.

Only when darkness fell and hunger became acute, did they go reluctantly home, praying that this miraculous weather would hold.

Miss Fogerty and Miss Watson, in company with the other adults in the neighbourhood, were less ecstatic about the weather conditions.

'What a blessing we invested in a freezer,' said Dorothy one evening. 'At least we don't have to go shopping every day. I feel really sorry for people struggling up and down the hill. Willie Marchant said it was like glass when he brought the post this morning.'

'You must be extra careful,' said Agnes solicitously, 'with that hip of yours. They do say that a pair of socks over one's shoes is a great help in slippery weather.'

'You did warn the children, I take it, about the dangers of making slides in the playground?'

'I certainly did.'

'I only ask, dear, because that wretched Todd boy was starting to make one near the lavatories. Just where it wouldn't be seen from the school windows.'

'He really is a
dreadful
child! I fear he will become a delinquent.'

'He's that already,' said her headmistress firmly. 'Mark my words, that boy will either end up in prison, or go on to win the VC if we have another war, which heaven forbid! He's that sort of character, I'm afraid.'

'I shall speak to him tomorrow morning,' said Agnes, looking almost ferocious. 'I can't say that I shall be sorry to see him leave the infants' class, except that he will be one step nearer your own class.'

'You need not worry about that,' replied Dorothy robustly. 'I've sorted out many a John Todd in my time, and I don't think I've lost my touch.'

***

Winnie Bailey was sorely troubled about Jenny, who seemed to take a long time to recovery from her tonsilitis.

Jenny fretted at the delay, and was impatient of the restrictions put upon her by Doctor Lovell and her employer.

'I don't like the idea of you going out in this weather,' she croaked to Winnie.

'I'm not going out anywhere,' said Winnie calmly. 'The baker, the milkman and the butcher are calling, bless them, and we are managing very well. We've enough provisions in the house to withstand a month's siege, thanks to you, Jenny, so just sit back and relax. You won't get better if you worry so.'

'As soon as she's over this,'John told Winnie privately, 'and the weather cheers up, I think we must get those tonsils out. She seems to get a severe bout of throat trouble every winter, and septic tonsils can lead to a number of complications.'

'Good heavens, John! What do you mean?'

'Oh, trouble with the retina at the back of the eye. Nodes on ligaments here and there. Sometimes infection spreads to the respiratory system. Best to have 'em out.'

'Of course, if that's the case. But surely it's rather a horrid affair, isn't it? Having one's tonsils out at Jenny's age?'

'Oh, she'll be all right,'John assured her. 'Not half as much blood these days. I'll get Pedder-Bennett to do it. He's getting a bit senile, but still manages a very neat little tonsilectomy.'

Winnie, despite having married a doctor, could not help feeling that the profession as a whole seemed remarkably off-hand about their patients' fears.

'Well, I shall say nothing of this to Jenny obviously,' she said, it's entirely your business. But I don't want her to have anything done until she is really fit. And if you think that there is anyone better – younger, I mean – perhaps more skilful she faltered to a halt.

'Than old PB? Oh, he'll be quite competent. As long as he remembers his spectacles, of course.'

It was that evening, when he had returned from surgery, that John read in the local paper about the court case.

It involved the two older men who had pleaded guilty to stealing cars and selling them. All three had appeared again before the Lulling magistrates who, in view of the number of charges and the large amount of money involved, had sent them to the Crown Court for sentence.

'I see they have given these chaps bail,' commented John to Ruth. 'I'd have put 'em inside.'

'Well, they might be there for months,' said his wife. 'Legal processes seem to take their time, and the gaols are full up, so one reads.'

'That's true. Evidently they've had to surrender their passports, so they can't nip over to their overseas customers, and their sureties will have to find a thousand apiece if they decamp. I wonder when the case will come up?'

'Will you have to appear?'

'I'm not sure. I can't be of any help with these two fellows. I shouldn't know them from Adam, and I've no idea what the cars were that they had in the barn. I could look up my records to establish the two dates when I called, but that's about all.'

'Well, that's one thing you need not bother about,' said Ruth comfortably.

John hoped that she was right. His earlier appearance at court, even in the witness box, had been an ordeal. How he would feel if he were ever to stand in the dock one day, he trembled to think.

***

During this snowy period, Nelly Piggott was one of the unfortunate people who had to slither down hill to Lulling and struggle up again at the end of the day. It was true that the council men had salted the paths, but nevertheless Nelly wished that there were still a stout handrail at the edge of the pavement, as old photographs of the steep hill showed in times gone by.

On this particular morning, she was setting off early. Mrs Peters had telephoned the day before to say that she was smitten with the prevailing influenza, and was obliged to keep to her bed. Nelly was off to take charge.

'Don't you fret now,' she had said to her partner. 'Business is slack in this weather, and we can cope easily.'

'Fortunately there are no outside commitments this week,' said Mrs Peters, 'and with any luck I should be back by the weekend.'

Nelly's confidence had grown amazingly since starting work at The Fuchsia Bush, and the necessity of having to make decisions in her friend's absence daunted her not at all.

During the morning the snow took on a new intensity. There was a bitter east wind blowing, and the trunks of the trees lining the High Street were soon plastered with snow on the windward side. The few people who had braved the weather hurried by, bent against the onslaught. Windscreen wipers worked madly to try to cope with the flurries, and the window ledges of The Fuchsia Bush soon bore two or three inches of snow.

Just after twelve, Nelly hurried through from the kitchen. Only two tables were being used, she noticed, as she set a tray of freshly-filled rolls on the counter for the office workers and shop assistants who might be expected very soon.

The windows were steamy, but she noticed a figure studying the name above the shop. Soon the door bell gave its familiar tinkle, and a snow-plastered man appeared.

An icy blast accompanied him. He took off his snowy cap and shook it energetically.

'You get some cruel weather up here, Nelly,' he said.

To that lady's horror, she saw that it was her old paramour Charlie, once visiting oil man at Thrush Green, who had turned her away from his bed and board when he had discovered a more attractive partner.

'And what,' said Nelly, in a tone as frigid as the world outside, 'do you think you're doing here?'

'You don't sound very welcoming,' replied Charlie, looking hurt.

'I don't feel it after the way you treated me,' responded Nelly. She became conscious of the interest of the two customers, and lowered her voice. A quick glance had shown her that this was not the spruce, confident Charlie that she remembered. Snow apart, there was a seedy look about his clothes, his shoes were cracked, he had no gloves, and the canvas hold-all was soaked. Despite herself, Nelly's heart was touched.

'Well, we can't talk here. Come through to the kitchen, and I'll put your things to dry.'

What a blessing, she thought agitatedly, that Mrs Peters was away! How to have explained this unwanted visitor would have been a real headache.

Charlie stood about looking awkward while Nelly hung up his outdoor clothes near the massive stoves. Gloria, Rosa and the two kitchen maids gazed at him open-mouthed.

'Just carry on,' said Nelly. 'I'll be with you in two shakes. Come through to the store room, Charlie.'

Here there was silence. Nelly pushed a pair of steps forward for Charlie's use, and sat herself in the only available chair.

'Well, Charlie, let's hear all about it. Where's Gladys?'

Gladys was her erstwhile friend who had usurped her place in Charlie's fickle attentions. It was Gladys who had caused Nelly's return to Albert a year or two ago. As can be imagined, there was not much love lost between the two ladies.

'She upped and left me. Went back to Norman, same as you went back to Albert. And how's that old misery?'

'You can keep a civil tongue in your head about my husband. He's no Romeo, but he's treated me right since I got back, and we've settled down pretty solidly. Don't think you've any chance of getting me back, Charlie, because I'm not coming. Times have changed, and I'm doing very well for myself here.'

'So I heard. That's partly why I came. Thought you might have a job for me.'

'A job?'

'The fact is things went from bad to worse for me. Gladys was always at me for more money. In the end I sold the business.'

'But what are you living on?'

'Social security mainly. I flogged the furniture, so that brought in a bit. Now I'm looking for a job.'

Nelly took another glance at the cracked shoes and the wet ends of his trouser legs. For a moment she weakened, for she was a kind-hearted woman. But reason held sway, and she spoke firmly.

'Look here, Charlie. There's nothing here for you in the way of work. Lulling's as badly hit as all the other towns, and no one's going to employ a chap your age with no real qualifications.'

Charlie looked down at his hands, twisting them this way and that in his embarrassment.

'Well, if that's the case, I'd better be off. I thought I'd make my way to Birmingham to see old Nobby.'

'Nobby?'

'Don't you remember Nobby Clark? Mary was his missus. They kept the ironmonger's on the corner. Nice pair.' is he offering you a job?'

'Yes, in a way. When his dad died in Birmingham, he left Nobby his shop. A sweetshop, it is, with newspapers and postcards, and all that lark. He said he could do with some help if I needed work.'

'Sounds the best thing you could do,' said Nelly decidedly. 'Does he know you're coming?'

'No. I thought I'd see you first.'

And worm your way into my affections again as well as finding a job, thought Nelly.

'Before you set off,' said Nelly, 'you're going to have a good hot meal, and you can ring Nobby from here to say you are on your way. Where are you staying?'

'With them, I take it.'

'In that case, she'll need a bit of notice to make up a bed. You can use the phone in the office, and then go straight through to the restaurant. I've got to be getting back to my work. We're short-handed with the boss away ill.'

Charlie nodded his agreement, and Nelly ushered him into the office while she bustled back to the kitchen.

'That's an old acquaintance of mine,' she said to the girls. 'Down on his luck, and off to Birmingham this afternoon. Don't charge him, mind. Give the bill to me.'

Within the hour, just as The Fuchsia Bush's regular customers were beginning to struggle in, shivering with cold, Charlie had finished his meal.

He went through to the kitchen to fetch his clothes and to say goodbye to Nelly.

He was looking all the better for his meal, she noted approvingly. There was a hint of the old chirpy Charlie who had first stolen her heart, but she had no intention of succumbing to his charms again.

She was alone in the kitchen, and she took advantage of their privacy to enquire about the state of his immediate finances.

He held open his wallet. It contained two five pound notes.

'I've got a bit of loose change,' he said, rattling a trouser pocket.

'That won't get you far,' said Nelly, opening her handbag. 'Here, take these two fivers. It'll go towards the fare. The bus to Oxford goes in ten minutes, and you'll have to get a train or bus on to Birmingham from there.'

He put them with the other two notes in his wallet, and muttered his thanks, so brokenly, that Nelly looked at him in surprise. To her amazement she saw tears in his eyes for the first time.

Much embarrassed, she hastened across the kitchen to the dresser where the remaining ham and tongue rolls lay in the wooden tray.

She thrust two into a paper bag and held out the package.