(16/20)Summer at Fairacre (16 page)

'And he's so very kind to his mother!' On the whole, this tends to be the last word on our dear Basil Bradley, and what's wrong with that?

At this moment, Gerard Baker was ushered in by James, and after introductions around the room he arrived at the sofa. Mrs Hare, Amy's cousin, had been collected by the vicar and his wife to go and inspect the garden, and so he sat by me, and I enquired about Aloysius, our local Victorian poet.

'It's really rather exciting,' said Gerard. 'We shall be coming out to Fairacre pretty soon to film Tyler's Row where he lived.'

'Do the Hales know?'

'Oh, 1 expect so,' he said, somewhat vaguely. 'The producer is a very conscientious young fellow.'

'Will they keep pretty closely to your script?'

'I'm not doing that!' He sounded taken aback. 'There are three, maybe four, chaps doing the writing. You need a large team for a half-hour on the telly, you know.'

It sounded extravagant to me, especially as I had read Gerard's excellent and masterly account of Aloysius's life and work. I should have thought anyone could have knocked a script into shape with some of Aloysius's regrettably flowery poems interspersed to make up the time.

'I suppose it makes work,' was the best I could do by way of comment.

We strolled out into the garden with the others. The sun was going down fast behind a clump of beeches in the distance.

Against a south-facing wall there were already some scarlet flowers on the japónica, glowing even more brilliantly in the rays of the setting sun.

Horace Umbleditch appeared at our side.

'My sister Irene makes the most marvellous japónica jelly,' he said to Gerard. 'We have it with cold meat. Delicious!'

'Japónica Jelly!' exclaimed Gerard. 'Now that sounds exactly suitable for the name of a film star, don't you think?'

'Or the title of one of Aloysius's poems perhaps?'

'Far too obvious,' observed Gerard. 'Aloysius liked such titles as "The Winnowed Seed" and "The Bashful Maiden". But look, Amy is calling us to heel.'

The vicar was on Amy's right and I was next to him. On my right was Horace whom I always enjoy meeting. He teaches at a local prep school, and his first words at the dinner table were surprising.

'I thought you were an excellent speaker at that children's do a month or so ago.'

'Good heavens! Were you there? I didn't see you. Come to think of it, I really saw
nobody,
I was so terrified. Just a pinkish splodge of mixed faces. A horrifying sight.'

'Well, we enjoyed it. I brought along our new school secretary, Eve Masters. You must meet her sometime.'

I said that I should like that and wondered privately why Horace should choose such a dreary outing for the poor woman.

As if he knew my thoughts Horace said:

'Her uncle is a big noise in the Save The Children business. It was her idea to go to the Caxley evening. To be honest, I wanted to go to the Marx Brothers' revival.'

'I wish I'd seen you. Did you linger after the show and have some refreshments?'

'We had to get away fairly early as one of the chaps on the staff was standing in for me until ten o'clock, and I didn't want to be too late back. But we heard Miss Crabbe.'

'Oh good!' I said politely.

'What a misguided old fathead she is!' observed Horace, turning over the delicious chicken in a creamy sauce which was our main course. 'She'd have been burnt as a witch two hundred years ago!'

I found myself feeling fonder of Horace than ever. What a wonderfully perceptive fellow he was, to be sure!

'Well, she was warmly applauded,' I replied, trying to be fair.

'That was only general rejoicing at the cessation of the lady's voice,' Horace assured me, and turned to talk to Amy's cousin beside him.

'I have met Gerald Partridge of Fairacre this week,' said the vicar. 'What a charming fellow! Tell me, does he let the children address him by his Christian name?'

'Good heavens, no!' I exclaimed. 'I shouldn't allow it for one thing, and I don't think it is respectful, do you?'

'
Respectful
,' repeated the young man doubtfully. 'I was not so much thinking of
respect
as of
friendliness.
I wondered if the children of Bent would like to call me "Cyril".'

'Well, that's your affair,' I answered, trying not to sound too shocked. 'I only know I should never dream ofletting them use my Christian name. They don't seem to suffer any terrible traumas by having to address me as "Miss Read". What did you do about the problem in your last parish?'

'I'm afraid the children there were rather impudent, and some of them took advantage of my goodwill.'

I suddenly felt sorry for him.

'Well, if you'll take an old schoolmarm's advice, I'd say, remember that children on the whole
are
impudent, and
will
take advantage of gentleness. Time enough to indulge them when you know you can control them, but they soon get the upper hand if you are not firm from the beginning.'

'You are probably right,' he said, looking downcast.

'This is fresh fruit salad,' announced Amy, lifting the lid top from a beautiful scooped-out canteloupe melon. 'Or James will give you chocolate mousse, if you prefer it.'

The vicar cheered up at once, I was relieved to see. Food is a great comfort in times of stress.

As we were going to our cars at the end of the evening, James caught me alone as I was about to drive off.

'I'm sorry I was so brusque with you on the telephone the other evening. I was worried to death, as I'm sure you knew.'

'Of course, James. I was feeling just the same. I think Amy's little break has done her good, don't you?'

'Funny affair, really. After all, she has everything she can want here. It seemed so odd to push off into the blue like that. I can only think it was a slight mental breakdown.'

I felt a twinge of irritation. Was he really so obtuse or was he trying to square his conscience?

'She told me,' I said, 'that she simply wanted to be herself-to be her own person—with no ties of any sort. I can understand it.'

James studied his fingers on the edge of the car window. He looked thoughtful. James is no fool and I was wondering how he would react.

'I do love her, you know,' he said at last, very seriously.

'I don't doubt it for a minute,' I told him truthfully. 'And she's equally devoted to you. But no matter how happily people are married, they are still
individuals,
and have to have time now and again to realise it.'

'Yes. It's a point to bear in mind.'

'Dear old Donne,' I went on, watching Amy waving to a departing car, 'stressed that no man was an island, and so on. But I think each man is an island, and no one knows his neighbour completely. That's what's so shattering when someone we think we know well does something horrifying like stealing or committing suicide.'

James laughed suddenly. 'Do you want me to have night terrors? No more sermons now, or I'll burst into tears!'

He gave me a kiss through the window, and ruffled my hair as though he were my big brother.

'Goodbye, James, and thank you,' I cried, moving off.

'Thank you for casting pearls,' he replied cheekily.

Trust James to have the last word.

It was quite apparent that Mrs Pringle was not going to come again to clean my house, and so I felt free to accept Isobel's kind offer to approach the lady who lived between Fairacre and Beech Green.

'Just see if she's willing,' I said, 'and I'll pop along after school one day, or at any time that suits her, to arrange things.'

Isobel was as good as her word, and two days later I found myself sitting in little Mrs John's kitchen watching her spoon custard into her youngest's mouth.

She was small and neat, with quick movements and bright dark eyes. She reminded me of a wren or a robin.

'You wouldn't mind if I brought Teresa with me, I suppose?' she asked tentatively.

I assured her that Teresa would be very welcome. If she liked, I added, she could play with some toys with the babies' class.

This seemed to clinch the matter and it was arranged that the two of them would come on Wednesday afternoons, and a satisfactory wage was negotiated. Then a thought struck me.

'You will have to push Teresa in the pram, won't you? It's a good mile and a half. Can you manage it? Suppose it rains?'

Mrs John laughed.

'I sometimes push her to Caxley,' she replied. 'Not often, I grant you, but I enjoy walking, and when I was a child in Wales we walked everywhere.'

'If the weather is really bad,' I insisted, 'you mustn't venture out. I shall understand.'

'I'll be there,' she promised, and I felt pretty sure she would be.

By the end of the week the school was looking grubby despite all our endeavours at self-help. Curmudgeon though she was, and a sore trial at all times, Mrs Pringle was a first-class cleaner, and the school missed the touch of her heavy hand.

On the following Saturday she arrived at my house, and I invited her in.

'No, I'm not stopping,' she replied.

'At least sit with me in the garden,' I said, making for the rustic seat, it will rest your leg before you go back.'

She lowered herself slowly and sighed as she came to rest.

'Well, doctor says my leg's no better, and forbids me to work,' she told me, with evident relish. I was not surprised.

'That settles it then,' I said. 'I'll advertise at once for someone to take over. Does this mean you will be retiring for good?'

She drew in her breath sharply.

'Who said "
for good
"?' she demanded. 'I'm not giving in my notice and stopping "
for good
" for anyone! It's just while my leg's flared up. I told the doctor that.'

'In that case,' I said, 'we shall have to advertise for temporary help.'

'No need to waste money on advertising,' said the lady. 'My Minnie'd give a hand while I'm laid up. That house of yours could do with a bottoming by now, as well as the school, I don't doubt.'

I explained, with secret pleasure, I must admit, that Mrs John had been engaged for my work.

Mrs Pringle bridled. 'And who might she be? You'd better warn her about the weight of that spare bed of yours, and the way the bath tap comes apart if you aren't careful. Poor soul, whoever she is, she'll find plenty to do.'

I explained who she was, and mentioned young Teresa.

Mrs Pringle shook her head gloomily.

'Ten to one she'll put her fingers in the electric sockets,' she warned me, 'and play with the switches. And you'll find fingermarks all over the place, no matter how careful this lady is. We knows children, Miss Read. You'll rue the day, I've no doubt.'

She rose to her feet.

'Well, I must struggle back, leg or no leg. Shall I tell Minnie to come up?'

Panic enveloped me. I thought of the state of the school wash basins, and the floor of the infants' room. I also thought of the time it would take for the advertisement to be answered, and wondered if hopeless Minnie might just possibly be of use for the next few days.

I took the plunge.

'Yes, ask Minnie to come and have a look at the work. Make it clear to her that it will only be for a day or two until we get someone to take your place.'

'She'll have to bring her youngest with her,' said Mrs Pringle. 'But if you're having that Teresa I suppose you won't mind a toddler under your feet.'

'Take care of your leg,' I said in farewell.

'I'm the only one that does,' she replied bleakly.

I returned to the garden seat and pondered on the future. The thought of Minnie, toddler or no toddler in tow, was daunting, but surely she could not do much damage to the basins with a tin of Vim and a dishcloth. It might be wise to supervise the scrubbing of the infants' room floor, I told myself. Minnie was quite capable of shaking Harpic into the hot water instead of soap powder, as she could not read, and any white powder would seem suitable to her.

And I'd better make sure all the cupboards were locked, I decided. On one never-to-be-forgotten occasion she had decided to wash the shelves of the stationery cupboard, and had put back all the exercise books, coloured tissue paper, gummed squares and cartridge paper on the wet shelves, with disastrous results. As for the sacrosanct register which all teachers are supposed to guard with their lives, snatching it from any fire which may be engulfing the school, I thought it would be prudent to take it across the playground every night to my own house, while Minnie was at her mayhem.

Tibby appeared from a clump of clove pinks, a mouse dangling from his mouth.

Seeing me, he gave a triumphant mew. The mouse, having been dropped, beat a rapid retreat, pursued in vain by Tibby.

Two minutes later, he returned lamenting loudly.

'Cheer up, Tib,' I said, 'we all have our troubles.'