(16/20)Summer at Fairacre (24 page)

'Leave it for the moment,' I said at last, i shan't be drafting an advertisement until after we've broken up, and she may have come forward by then. What a problem it is!'

I accompanied Bella to the gate and watched her wobble away down the lane on her bicycle. She had served us nobly in our time of stress. I only hoped that Mrs Pringle would see fit to take up her duties again with the same dedication.

On the last day of term we had a little ceremony to present Miss Briggs with her wedding gifts and to wish her well.

The vicar represented the governors of the school and made a graceful speech, brief and to the point, and the children tried not to fidget as they impatiently awaited the unwrapping of presents.

Miss Briggs, flushed with excitement at being at the centre of the scene, looked almost pretty. She made a grateful speech to the vicar, and then set about undoing the largest parcel which was from the children.

I had shown them the tray secretly beforehand, and received their commendations. It was an oval one, with splendid gilt handles, and a garland of wild flowers painted on it. The children approved my choice, and now we awaited Miss Briggs' reaction.

It was altogether satisfactory. Her delight seemed genuine, and she thanked the children warmly. They sat, beaming and smug, exchanging congratulatory glances. Weren't they clever, they seemed to say?

The governors had given her a pretty little travelling clock which folded into a scarlet case, and I had put my gift of a Coalport flower vase with the other presents to swell the pile.

The girl seemed absolutely delighted with everything, and when the youngest infant staggered from the lobby with a bouquet almost as big as himself, she was speechless with pleasure.

After more congratulations from everyone, the vicar said grace, exhorted the children to behave well during the holidays, to help their mothers, and to remember to come back on the third of September.

He then shook hands with Miss Briggs and with me, and departed. Within five minutes the school room was empty, except for Miss Briggs and myself.

The girl was busy rewrapping her presents, and when she looked up I was surprised to see that she was very near to tears.

'It all went beautifully,' I said. 'You gave the children no end of pleasure with such a nice little speech of thanks.'

'Not as much pleasure as they've given me,' she responded shakily. 'And you too. It's a wonderful school. I've been so lucky.'

She blew her nose energetically, and I bent down tactfully to lock up the cupboards.

'See you at the wedding,' she said, collecting her parcels. 'I'll give you a ring before then.'

She still looked Mr Willet's 'fair old lump of a girl', I thought, watching her make her way to the car, laden with her bounty, but a very nice one at that.

There was a full week before I needed to set off for the wedding, and I employed it by doing some shopping, which included a magnificent hat to wear with my wedding ensemble, and various other less glamorous items such as greaseproof paper, jampot covers, a new milk saucepan and a new doormat.

The swallows had not improved the latter, and as it had given me many years of service I thought it would be prudent to throw it out at last.

I also brought back from Caxley some patterns of curtaining, wondering if I might get round to choosing something suitable to replace the present shabby curtains in the sitting room.

When I worked out how many yards I should need and how much they would cost me, even without paying for the making up, pelmets, fringe, lining, tape and so on, my heart began to sink. Perhaps it would be wiser to wait until I had returned from my holiday?

A cousin of mine, recently widowed, had begged me to accompany her for a week in Guernsey in August, and to this I had agreed. We rarely met, as she had married a farmer in Cumbria and been much engaged in bringing up a family of boys, but she sounded so pathetic on the telephone, when she broached the possibility of going with her to Guernsey, that I was glad to be of some use at this sad time.

It was while I was busy leafing through the pattern book and wondering whether it would be worth cashing some national savings' certificates to buy the material and to look upon the transaction as a wise investment, or whether I should shelve the whole idea for a time, that Miriam Quinn appeared.

'Lovely to see you!' I enthused, it seems ages since we met at Amy's party. What have you been doing?'

Of course, I rather hoped that she would say: 'Seeing Gerard' but she did not. Miriam is not one for girlish confidences, for which I respect her. Nevertheless, she looked more animated than usual, and I wondered if I should learn more. Or were the village rumours unfounded? They so often are.

'Holding the fort at the Caxley office, I'm sorry to say. Barney had a business tour in the Middle East, all very high-powered and lucrative, and he left me in charge for three weeks. I've hardly had time to breathe.'

I knew that Miriam was private secretary to Sir Barnabas Hatch, the financier, and that he recognised the value of this imperturbable and competent young woman. I only hoped that she was suitably rewarded, and I suspect that she was. If anyone should appreciate a sound investment it was Sir Barnabas, and he certainly had a treasure in Miriam.

I showed her the patterns and explained my problem. Should I or shouldn't I?

'Let's look at the present ones,' said she practically, and we went to study the sitting room curtains.

'I should let them do another year,' said Miriam. 'There's nothing wrong with them. Or do you loathe them?'

'Far from it. And I'm only too glad to take your advice. My mother used to say that Procrastination was my middle name. But in this case the thought of finding two or three hundred pounds is more telling.'

'As much as that?'

'More, probably. I was not going to decide anyway until after my trip to Leamington and then Guernsey.'

I told her about my holiday plans, and she said that she was having a fortnight when Barney returned, and proposed to spend it in Norfolk with her brother Lovell and his family.

'And later,' she added, 'I'm having a week or so, probably in the autumn.'

'That will set you up for the winter,' I said.

'I really called,' said Miriam rising, 'to invite you to a small dinner party I'm giving soon. It's on Thursday week. Can you manage it?'

'Dammit, no! I shall be at Leamington then. I'm so sorry. It would have been lovely.'

'Never mind. There'll be lots of other occasions, and I'll think of you enjoying wedding cake and champagne.'

She waved goodbye from the gate, and I returned wondering, yet again, why it is that one can go for weeks without an invitation to something pleasant, and then when one does arrive it is on the same day as an earlier engagement.

Sometimes life seems as contrary as a cat.

When I set off for my few days in Leamington, the sun was reigning once again, and the weathermen, including Mr Willet, forecast a return to halcyon days.

My spirits were high as I trundled towards Oxford. I had double-checked all switches at home, and left Tibby in Mr Willet's care. He had promised to visit the house night and morning and to see that the cat enjoyed his usual expensive meals.

'Not that it'd hurt him to starve for a few days,' he commented.

'If that cat don't die of fatty heart I shall be surprised. Lives like a lord, don't he?'

In the back of the car was a suitcase with my everyday clothes and toilet things in it. Another one held my wedding garments. A new cream-coloured silk suit was carefully swathed in as much tissue paper as Amy might have used, and my new cream shoes were my pride and joy, surpassed only, in my affections, by the superb large hat smothered in silk tea roses.

Even Amy had been impressed by this confection.

'Why, you ought to be the bride yourself in that gorgeous rig-out,' was her flattering comment, when I displayed my ensemble to her. This was high praise indeed. I am rarely able to impress Amy, least of all with my clothes, and I made the most of it.

'Though when I'm going to get a chance to wear this lot again, I'm blowed if I know,' I told her.

'They'll never date,' said Amy comfortingly. 'Put them aside for other weddings, or even a garden party. You never know—you may need them for your own wedding, but now that Horace Umbleditch has rushed so madly into that quite misguided engagement, I must admit that the outlook seems somewhat bleak.'

'I'll bear up,' I promised.

'Of course, you might meet someone suitable at the wedding,' continued Amy, brightening at the thought. 'An uncle, say—'

'Or a grandfather,' I put in. 'Or some eighty-year-old friend of the family, creaking along on his last legs.'

'Yes indeed,' agreed Amy, ignoring my sarcasm.

Still, I told myself, as I took the northern bypass skirting Oxford, it was good to have such a lovely collection of matching clothes with me, and I resolved to enjoy the occasion thoroughly.

I approached Woodstock on the dreaded A34 road and passed the gates of Blenheim Palace, recalling the action of the Duchess Consuelo, of American birth, who had had the good sense to put out the uneaten food from the ducal halls in two containers, one savoury, the other sweet, for the poor of the town. For years it had all been thrown in together, I gathered, like so much pig swill.

My way took me east of Stratford-upon-Avon but I noticed a sign to Charlecote Park where it is alleged the young William Shakespeare did some poaching, and then on to Royal Leamington Spa.

It was early afternoon when I arrived at the hotel, not far from All Saints' Church where the ceremony was to take place. It was in a quiet street of elegant Georgian houses, and I was glad to be shown to my room to unpack and refresh myself.

The next day was free. The wedding was to be the following day, and I spent my time exploring the town. It reminded me of Bath with its graceful terraces, and I did a great deal of window shopping in the Parade. I even tried the water in the Royal Pump Room, and decided that I should never become an addict.

The Art Gallery and Museum was a pleasant haven on a hot afternoon, and I admired some modern paintings and some Wedgwood and Worcester pieces of porcelain which I coveted.

Altogether, I decided, I should come again one day. This visit was obviously going to be too short.

Our Miss Briggs was a wonder to behold as she came up the aisle on her father's arm, and I wished Mr Willet could see her now.

The Caxley dressmaker had created a beautiful dress of white silk, with a short train edged with ruched lace. She carried a Victorian posy of white rosebuds and wore a little matching garland on her head. Two young friends acted as bridesmaids, and were dressed in sprigged voile. The whole effect was youthful and unsophisticated.

The Briggs were lucky enough to live in one of the tall Regency houses. We walked straight through to the marquee in the garden where the most sumptuous spread was set out.

Wayne, looking handsomer than ever, gave me such an enthusiastic hug and kiss, that my gorgeous hat was knocked askew, but it was a small price to pay for such a warm greeting. In any case, by the time the celebrations ended, I was past caring whether my hat was on or off, and by the time I was safely back in my hotel bedroom all I could think of was the blessed fact that I could sleep as late as I liked, without interruption from anybody, and that I had another two days to enjoy the delectable Royal Leamington Spa.

18 Away From it All

THE sun was setting when I returned to Fairacre. I stopped at Mr Willet's to pick up the key and to thank him for feeding Tibby.

'That cat of yourn don't grieve, you know, when you ain't at home, so don't go thinking you're missed at all.'

'I suspected as much.'

'Golloped down best part of a half-pint of milk, and polished off two saucerfuls of grub a day. Just like them cats on the telly. Which reminds me, we're on tomorrow.'

'On what?'

'The telly. Us. Fairacre. Tyler's Row. Loyshus. The lot. About a quarter past six.'

'Marvellous!'