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

But he hoped suddenly that Connie was expecting to go out. Much as he admired dear crazy old Dotty, he was sorry for this gallant niece who seemed to have very little fun, but who never complained of the lack of it. From the few times he had met her, Connie appeared to him to be completely selfless, and yet at the same time refreshingly free from the solemnity which so often accompanied that saint-like quality.

He liked her laughter, her strong sense of the ridiculous. He liked her gentleness with her odd charge. He liked the way she appreciated the books and records he lent her, and he was sure that those in the carrier bag, now resting on a fine clump of coltsfoot by the wall, would be enthusiastically welcomed.

Altogether, he thought, stamping his foot to make sure the shoe was as it should be, he just liked Connie.

He strode along the path, happy to think that he would be in her company for the next hour or so.

Albert Piggott, upstairs in his bedroom, had noted the passing of Winnie Bailey and then Kit Armitage along the lane that ran beside his cottage.

He was in the act of trying to fit a piece of cardboard into one of the window-panes. A sudden gust of wind had wrenched the window from its shaky fastening one night, and one pane had shattered.

Albert was getting tired of the moaning noise and the fearful draught when he was abed, and at last had decided to do something about it. By rights, he should inform the rector who would see that a proper glazier did the job, and the church would pay the bill, for Albert's cottage was church property.

'But by the time I've been all through that rigmarole,' grumbled Albert to his cronies at The Two Pheasants, 'I'd be down with the pneumonia, and in me grave, dug with me own hands, I don't doubt.'

'Won't hurt you to patch it up,' said the landlord heartlessly. 'See you all right for a bit until the rector can find a proper man for the job.'

'You saying I'm not a proper man?' queried Albert nastily. 'I can keep my place up together as well as the next.'

'Well, it don't look like it did when your Nelly was there,' asserted Mr Jones, unrepentant.

Albert had choked into his beer mug at the mention of his wife's name, and had departed very soon afterwards.

'Proper touchy, old Albert,' said one man to another. 'Don't dare mention his Nelly, that's for sure.'

It was immediately following this conversation that Albert had started his repair work. Now, cardboard still in hand, he crossed the small landing to the back bedroom, now unused, to follow the progress of the travellers towards Lulling Woods.

'Ah!' said Albert to the cat which had followed him upstairs. 'Off to see old Dotty, I'll be bound. I wish 'em joy of her tea table if they stay that long.'

He stood for a few moments watching the scene, and then returned to his own bedroom which looked out upon St Andrew's church. It was there that he and Nelly had wed, worse luck!

A tremor shook him as he thought of the awful possibility of his wife returning. What was the position, he wondered? If she'd left him of her own free will then surely he would not be obliged to have her back? He supposed that, in the eyes of the law, he was still married to the wicked old besom, for that's what she was, he told himself, edging the cardboard gingerly over the damaged glass.

If only it did not cost good money he would go to one of those solicitor fellows like Justin Venables and ask for advice. But then he might suggest a divorce, and though it would be nice to be free again, there'd be the hell of a lot of gossip about it at The Two Pheasants, and the rector might give him a talking-to and tell him to forgive and forget and all that stuff.

Women were kittle-kattle, thought Albert morosely, giving a sharp tap to an awkward corner. A man was better off without them. He wanted no more truck with Nelly, and if she was so bold as to come to Thrush Green again he'd run her out of town, that he would!

Emboldened by this sudden blaze of spirit he gave the cardboard a last shove. There was a sickening crack, and a moment later, the distant tinkle of shattered glass hitting the pavement. At the same time, the cardboard buckled and fell inward upon the grimy bedroom floor.

A stiff breeze blew into the room stirring the net curtains.

'Lord love us!' shouted Albert. 'It's enough to drive a man barmy!'

He stumbled towards the stairs, the cat fleeing from his wrath before him.

He wrenched open the front door, and nearly fell over a diminutive figure about to post a note about the school jumble sale through the letter box. One of Miss Fogerty's more trustworthy pupils gazed at Albert with round blue eyes.

'Mr Piggott, sir! Your top window's bin and fell out,' he announced importantly.

Albert's reply was terse and to the point. When the small boy repeated it to his mother, later that day, he was sent into the scullery to wash out his mouth at the sink, poor child.

At Dotty's cottage the two visitors were prevailed upon to stay to tea.

Kit had accepted the invitation with alacrity. Winnie had begun to demur, Jenny's warnings still in mind.

As if she read her thoughts, Connie said: 'It's all very simple. Just some scones I've just taken out of the oven, and a pot of honey that Dimity gave me.'

'I can't resist hot scones and honey,' said Winnie, settling back in her chair.

She turned to Dotty.

'And are you eating well now? I expect Connie plies you with all sorts of goodies.'

'I've a better appetite now that I can get into the garden,' said Dotty. 'There are some beautiful young nettles in the paddock that I should cook if I could get there, but Connie says the spinach from the freezer has more vitamins, so we had that today.' is that the stuff Popeye the Sailor-man used to eat in our youth?' asked Kit. 'He was welcome, from the look of it.'

Connie laughed.

'Very strengthening, you know. But tell me all the news from your end of Lulling. How are Charles and Dimity?'

'Working too hard as usual, and Charles is still worrying about those confounded kneelers. Some battle-axe—' he stopped suddenly. 'Not a friend of yours, I hope? I'm still putting my foot in it, forgetting how everyone is related in these parts.'

'If you mean Frances Thurgood,' replied Connie with spirit, 'I don't think she has many friends. Not in this house anyway. Aunt Dotty can't bear her ever since she caught her putting poison down by her garage. She said she had rats, but Aunt Dotty ticked her off about other animals picking up the stuff, and there was a right royal battle.'

'How did Dotty come across this scene?'

'She'd been invited to lunch, I gather, but after telling Frances what she thought of her, she stumped off. There's a lot of her father in Dotty, you know.'

'A very strong character,' agreed Kit, looking across the room at the two women engaged in animated chatter. 'You don't find her too demanding?' he asked diffidently.

'I can't deny that she can be very self-willed,' replied Connie, in a low voice, 'but she is very dear to me, and I'd never leave her. We get on well, and I think she realises that she must have someone at hand, and she would rather have me than anyone else. It's a very pleasant place to live in.'

'I just wondered if you would ever be free to come out with me one evening? I know Charles and Dimity want to ask you too, but to be frank, they asked me to see how you were placed with Dotty-sitters.'

'Betty Bell has obliged, as they say, and although I hesitate to do it too often, I should love to have an evening off some time.'

'Then we'll arrange it,' said Kit cheerfully, and followed his hostess into the kitchen to help her by carrying in the tea things.

Later that night, Lulling Woods and the surrounding fields lay silvered under a full moon.

Connie, in bed, was happily tired. It was good to look forward to a change of scene in the company of kindly Kit Armitage. Aunt Dotty had enjoyed her impromptu tea party, and she felt all the better for the company.

She plumped up her pillow, turned on her side, and was asleep in five minutes.

Next door, Dotty lay awake, but she too was content with her day. It was strange, she thought, surveying her bony hands spread out on the moon-lit quilt, how pleasant life was even though her movements were so restricted.

If anyone had told her a year ago, that she would not be able to walk much farther than the length of her garden, she would have been shocked to the core. But now that it had happened she found that there were compensations.

She studied her small confines with more attention to pleasurable detail. Only this morning she had enjoyed looking at the thrum-eyed and pin-eyed primroses beneath the hedge. She had noted the tight buds of the lilac and the stiff green spears of the iris leaves.

The comings and goings of the garden birds meant more to her now than the flocks of lapwings and rooks which she used to watch on her travels farther afield. The antics of a bumble bee at the window engaged her attention as sharply as Flossie's chasing across Thrush Green had in earlier days.

And there was as much joy to be had from the surprise visit of two old friends, as from all the dozens one used to meet at social gatherings. One had much to be thankful for, thought Dotty.

There was no doubt about it. God tempered the wind to the shorn lamb, as her old father would say. And despite the lack of Mrs Curdle's Fair, she thought inconsequently, it had been a good first of May.

She pulled the bed clothes around her bony shoulders, and went contentedly to sleep.

10. Mrs Thurgood Fights Again

CHARLES HENSTOCK's suspicions that the redoubtable Mrs Thurgood would return to her onslaught on the Lady Chapel kneelers were well-founded.

He had seen very little of the lady for several weeks, and had noted the empty pew with some misgivings. Had she taken umbrage and left his church? If so, which one was she now attending? And had he failed in his duty towards this parishioner?

His questions were answered when he heard that Mrs Thurgood and her artistic daughter were enjoying a tour of Italy, 'taking in,' as one of his congregation put it, 'Rome, Florence and Venice.' It sounded rather indigestible to Charles who preferred his culture in book form whilst sitting peacefully in his study.

Nevertheless, he was relieved to hear that the lady had not swept in dudgeon from St John's for ever. Perhaps she would return from her travels with a more informed sense of beauty, and would realise that the kneelers looked very well as they were in their ancient setting.

On the other hand, thought Charles with a pang of alarm, the daughter might have decided to copy some hangings of the Doge or the Borgias and was already returning with a folio of designs ready sketched out on graph paper.

Charles chided himself at this point. He was letting Mrs Thurgood dominate his thoughts, and all to no good. It was no use allowing his imagination to run away with him. No doubt, she would return much refreshed, and in a more amenable state of mind. He resolved to do nothing until Mrs Thurgood raised the matter herself. After all, he and Dimity had given time and attention to the problem, and he knew he was on firm ground.

But these kindly and rational notions were swept away one sunny May afternoon, when the rector was alone in the vestry checking one of the church registers in response to an overseas correspondent who had asked for details of his grandparents' marriage.

It was the sort of job that Charles enjoyed, and he was happily turning the pages at the vestry table, when he became conscious of voices.

Two women were obviously visiting the church and were now in the Lady Chapel. Charles decided to let them continue their tour while he went on with his investigations. If their visit was protracted he proposed to emerge and welcome them, showing them some of the more unusual features of his beautiful church.

But suddenly, the voices became much clearer.

'I shan't leave it at that, you know,' said one woman stoutly. 'You can see for yourself the state they're in. It would never have done for dear Anthony.'

With horror, Charles realised that his adversary was back. Should he declare himself, or hope that they would soon go away?

Before he had time to make a decision, the younger woman spoke.

'You're quite right, mother. But then what can you expect from this Henstock fellow? No idea of how to run things.'

'I agree. No standards at all. A vulgar little man, and a wife to match. Just take a look at this one, dear. Very badly frayed.'

Charles Henstock closed the register, coughed loudly, and made his way past the organ into the Lady Chapel. To be called 'a vulgar little man' did not upset him. But to hear his adored Dimity spoken of in such scathing terms was more than he could bear.

Nevertheless, his demeanour was calm as he confronted the two women.

Apart from a sharp indrawn breath from Mrs Thurgood, and a certain reddening of her daughter Janet's complexion, the ladies appeared free from any guilty reactions.

'We are just back from Italy,' announced Mrs Thurgood, 'and we are going through the kneelers again. What neglect! The sooner they are replaced the better.'