(9/13)The School at Thrush Green (23 page)

Meanwhile, he drowsed in the heat, one gnarled hand resting on the glossy head of his beloved Polly beside him.

At the school the children looked expectantly at the wall clock. Would it never be time to go home, to be free, to grab bathing things and rush down to the shallow pool in an arm of the river Pleshey?

The backs of their thighs stuck to their wooden seats. Their sunburnt arms smelt of fresh-cooked biscuits, and sweat moistened their brows.

In Agnes's terrapin classroom it was hotter than ever. The door was propped open with one of the diminutive wooden armchairs, giving a view of the shimmering playground and the Shoosmiths' hedge beyond, but little relief from the heat.

Agnes, clad in a blue checked gingham frock and Clarks sandals worn over lightweight summer stockings, read
The Tale of Jeremy Fisher
, hoping that its background of rain and ponds and water-lilies would give some refreshment on this afternoon of searing heat, but she too was relieved when the hands of the clock reached three-thirty and she could let her young charges go free.

It was very peaceful when at last she was left alone. She locked her desk and the cupboards, brought in the little armchair, and closed the door. She stood there for a moment, looking at the well-loved view towards Lulling Woods in the blue distance.

In this brief pause between activities, she suddenly became conscious of living completely in the present. It came but rarely. One was either looking back anxiously wondering which duties had been left undone, or forward to those duties which lay before one.

Now, in temporary limbo, she felt the sun on her arms, heard a frenzied bee tapping on the window for escape, smelt the dark red roses which stood on the desk, and saw, with unusual clarity, the iridescent feathers of the wood pigeon pecking in the playground. All her senses seemed sharpened. It was a moment of great intensity, never to be forgotten.

The spell was broken by a child opening the classroom door.

'Forgot me book,' he said, retrieving it from the top of the cupboard, and then vanishing.

Little Miss Fogerty sighed. She was going to miss Thrush Green school sorely. She wondered if Dorothy had any real misgivings about the ending of a long and successful career. They had, of course, talked of such things in a general way, but latterly so many day-to-day problems had beset them that little had been said of the deeper emotions.

It was only natural, Agnes supposed. They were both women who abhorred emotional outbursts, and kept their private feelings well under control. Maybe it was a good thing that they had so much to think about from the practical point of view. Time enough to be sentimental when term was over, Agnes told herself robustly.

Meanwhile, she would hurry across to the school house and put on the kettle. Perhaps a few tomato sandwiches would be pleasant? They could have tea in the shade of the apple tree, and look out for the dear little cat, still to be named.

'
Our
cat,' said Agnes aloud, with infinite satisfaction.

She left the classroom and made her way home, happy in remembering Dorothy's generosity of spirit, and looking forward to the future.

To Agnes's delight, the tabby cat pushed its way through the Shoosmiths' hedge and approached the two ladies cautiously, as they sat in the shade relishing their rest and the tomato sandwiches.

When it was within a few yards of the garden seat, it sat down, very upright, very dignified, its eyes fixed upon Agnes.

it really is a handsome cat,' commented Dorothy in a low voice. The cat was still wary of her, which was understandable, but it was rather hard, she thought, to be so steadily ignored, when Agnes could now call her new friend to her side without much effort.

It's only to be expected,' said Agnes, reading Dorothy's thoughts. 'After all, I have been feeding it for some time now. Before long, it will come to you just as readily. I feel sure.'

The cat yawned, displaying a healthy pink tongue and sharp teeth.

'It's time it had a name,' said Dorothy. 'What do you think? It's obviously male. We had a very sweet white cat once called Butch.'

Agnes looked pained. 'I don't think this one looks like a Butch. I rather thought of Tim, after Tiger Tim, you know - he was striped like this one.'

Dorothy nodded approval. 'What pleasure we had from that comic! I was a great devotee of Mrs Bruin. Perhaps that's why I took up teaching?'

'Possibly,' agreed Agnes. She poured some milk into her saucer and put it down gently beside her Clarks sandals.

'Tim! Tim!' she called softly.

Dorothy held her breath.

The cat came fearlessly to the saucer and began to lap quickly.

'Poor thing,' said Dorothy in a whisper. 'This heat has made it terribly thirsty.'

'You see,' said Agnes happily, 'it really did answer to its name.'

'I think,' said Dorothy, with a hint of malice, 'that it would have come if you had simply said: "Milk! Milk!"'

'Possibly,' said Agnes equably. 'And I think we ought to call it
him
now, don't you?'

'Without a doubt,' agreed Dorothy, helping herself to another sandwich.

Later that evening, as the evening air cooled, the two ladies discussed their future housing plans.

Things had now got to the interesting stage of dealing with something that they both wanted.

Agnes had found herself charmed by Ursula's aunt's property when Dorothy had taken her to see it one weekend. She liked its sunny aspect, its small neat garden, the mature shrubs, and the fact that there were no exhausting hills in the neighbourhood. She had not admitted to anyone that she was beginning to find the steep hill from Lulling rather more than she could cope with now that her arthritis was taking hold.

Inside, the house was light and warm. There were two good-sized bedrooms, a large sitting-room and kitchen, and what was called by Ursula's estate agent 'a morning room'. This, it was agreed, should be Dorothy's study, though what she intended to study was not stated.

'But it would be handy to keep my desk in there,' said Dorothy, 'with the bills and things. Besides, if someone should call particularly to speak to just one of us, it would be somewhere to take them if the television happened to be on.'

'An excellent idea,' agreed Agnes.

The big kitchen, they decided, was where they would eat.

'At our age,' said Dorothy, 'we don't need a dining-room anyway. Any visitors will be invited to a cup of tea, or a glass of sherry. If we are
retired people
, then we have retired from cooking large meals as well as from school-teaching.'

Agnes admired such masterly forethought.

'But what about Ray and Kathleen?' she ventured.

'We take them out to one of the excellent hotels nearby,' said Dorothy firmly.

They had gone ahead. A Lulling estate agent, used by both Harold and Isobel in their earlier househunting, was engaged to make a survey of the property, to negotiate an acceptable price, and young Mr Venables, now well into his seventies, had agreed to deal with the conveyancing and any other legal matters.

'And now,' Dorothy had said, 'they can all get on with it while we concentrate on the end of term. I want to leave everything ship-shape for the next head. The poor young man has never had a headship before. I only hope that he realises what he is taking on.'

From the way she spoke, one would have thought that the new headmaster was about to undertake the running of the United Nations single-handed, instead of a small and efficient country school, but Agnes observed a prudent silence, knowing from experience that Dorothy occasionally enjoyed seeing herself as an unsung heroine overcoming fearful odds.

The date of the move was something which gave the two ladies some concern. There seemed to be so many ifs and buts about the timing. If the survey proved satisfactory. If the legal arrangements went forward smoothly. If the alterations to the new house were finished. If they could stay where they were until everything was ready for the move. All these matters gave the ladies much worry, but two facts also gave them comfort.

The education authority was obliging about the timing of their departure, simply stating that as soon as the house was on the open market would be soon enough, and implying that this contingency was not expected to occur until late in the year.

The other factor was the attitude of the incoming headmaster, who made it clear that he would be making the journey from his present home, some twenty miles away, while he looked for a house in Lulling or Thrush Green, at his leisure.

The two ladies had hoped that he might put in an offer for the school house, but this did not happen. Whether he, or perhaps his wife, just disliked their much-loved abode, no one knew. Perhaps, Agnes surmised, he did not like 'living over the shop'?

'Always been good enough for us!' Dorothy had snorted.

But she agreed that it was a great relief to know that they would not be thrown out, on the last day of term, like orphans in a storm.

The sunny spell of weather continued unabated, and the first rapturous welcome to the heat began to turn to disenchantment. The flaunting poppies dropped their silky petals. The lupin spires turned rusty. Brown patches appeared on lawns, and cracks grew wider on well-trodden earth.

Stern notices appeared in the local press about the use of hoses and sprinklers in the gardens, with dire threats of the fines to be imposed on malefactors.

The river Pleshey dwindled visibly, exposing fast-drying mud banks, and giving forth unpleasant odours in those stretches where the river weed dried in the heat. The cattle took to standing in the water, tails ever-twitching, and heads tossing to scare away the clouds of flies.

Dotty's new plants languished by the pool, and gave her great concern. Albert, when appealed to, took a strong line.

'We got plenty of rain-water in them butts,' he told her, 'and we be going to use it.'

'But when that has gone, Albert?'

'We use tap.'

'But Albert, you know it is forbidden.'

'Only them hoses and sprinklers the paper say. It don't say nothin' about watering cans.'

'But it is just as wrong, surely?'

'I'll slip down after dark. What the eye don't see, the heart don't grieve over.'

Dotty, brought up on the stern precepts of her father, looked unhappy.

'Think of them poor plants,' urged Albert. 'Ain't hardly got to know theirselves before this hits 'em. It's cruel to let 'em die for a drop of water.'

'I do see that,' agreed Dotty doubtfully. 'But I still dislike breaking the law.'

'That ain't the law, that old stuff from the local. Just some jumped-up know-nothin' like Councillor Figgins! You leave it to me.'

'Well, I only hope it rains before the rain-water butts dry up,' said Dotty, seeing that Albert was adamant. 'Otherwise, I can see us both in court.'

In Lulling High Street the sun awnings gave a gay continental look to the Cotswold scene. People kept to the shady side of the road. Cars were too hot to touch. The trees were beginning to turn yellow, and dust eddied in the gutters and veiled the window-sills.

At The Fuchsia Bush a brisk trade in ices and lemonade took the place of the usual tea and coffee, and Nelly Piggott found that the demand for cakes at teatime had much decreased.

'Too hot to eat,' she told her friend Gladys Lilly who had called in for a vanilla ice-cream after her shopping.

'Too hot to sleep too,' said Gladys. 'I don't get off until about two these nights. In fact, I usually go for a walk, just before it gets dark, to cool off.'

'Well, walk up our way sometime,' suggested Nelly, it's quite fresh sitting out on the green once the sun's gone down.'

'Thank you, dear. I might do that. Not tonight though, I've got a heap of ironing to do. Doreen is everlasting changing that child's clothes, but don't offer to do the ironing of 'em.'

'She settled down now?'

'Far from it. Seems proper restless, but it's no good my questioning her. She shuts up like a clam. Funny girl, though she is me own flesh and blood.'

She scooped up the last melted spoonful, and stood up. 'Probably pop up tomorrow night, all being well. About nine, say?'

'Suits me,' said Nelly, and the two friends returned to their separate duties.

Ben Curdle had made a neat square hole in the back door of the school house, and had fitted a new cat flap for the convenience of Tim. Needless to say, the cat completely ignored this innovation, and continued to wait near the french windows or by the dustbin.

'He doesn't seem to understand it,' said Agnes, much bewildered. 'Ben has been so patient, propping up the flap with a cork in the join so that Tim can see through, but he still won't venture in.'

'He's bound to be over-cautious,' Dorothy said reassuringly, 'having had to look after himself for so long, and exposed to all sorts of dangers.'

'That's true,' agreed Agnes.

'And he's not likely to come in during this heat wave. He seems to prefer that cool patch under the holly bush.'

'Yes. I do see that. It's just that I did so hope to get him used to indoor life before we go away.'