Village Affairs (17 page)

I did as I was bid.

'I hope you're wrong,' I went on, 'about village feelings. Lord knows there's enough to keep all the gossip-mongers busy at the moment, what with Minnie Pringle's affairs, and Mrs Pringle's spasmodic dieting, and talk of Doctor Martin retiring at last, and Mr Lamb's brother and his family coming over from America very soon, and the mystery of two dead rats in the rainwater butt outside the vestry door.'

Amy broke into a peal of laughter, and sat down on the side of the bed clutching a black velvet evening cape to her ribs.

'Heavens, how you do go on in Fairacre,' she managed to gasp. 'No wonder you don't want to leave with all that happening around you! But, mark my words, there will still be time left to attend to you and your affairs, even if they do have to compete with two dead rats in the vestry's rainwater butt.'

She shook out the velvet cape and studied it with her head on one side.

'For bridge parties, should you think?'

'For the jumble pile,' I told her.

And, for once, she obeyed.

A few days later, I set off for a short holiday in East Anglia, staying with friends and revisiting on my way to Norfolk the little resort of Walton-on-the-Naze where I had stayed as a
child with my grandparents. The air was still as bracing as I remembered it from my youth, and I felt no desire to plunge into the chilly waves of the North Sea, despite the sunshine.

I forgot my cares as I travelled. It was a relief to leave all gossipers to get on with their tongue-wagging and wonderful not to have to guard my own conversation. I returned to Fairacre, after nine days of enjoyment, much refreshed.

It was Mrs Pringle's day for 'doing' me, and she was in the kitchen when I went in, doing something complicated with an old toothbrush at the sink.

'A dirt-trap, these 'ere taps,' was her greeting. 'I'd like to meet the fellow as designed 'em. No room to get behind 'em to scrub out the filth. And filth you can always reckon to find in this kitchen, I can tell you!'

She did, quite often, but I forbore to say so.

'I'm having a cup of tea,' I said. 'Will you have one too?'

'I don't mind if I do,' she said graciously, attacking the crack behind the taps with renewed vigour.

'Well,' I said, when the tray was ready, 'what's the news?'

'Plenty,' she said. 'Our Minnie goes from bad to worse.'

'What now? Is she moving?' I asked, my heart taking a hopeful leap. Would Friday afternoons revert to their former tranquillity again?

'Moving? I wish she was! No,
she's
not moving, but that dratted Bert of hers is. He's moving in.'

'But what about her husband? Ern, isn't it? I thought
he
was going to move in.'

'I settled him,' said Mrs Pringle grimly. I remembered her threat of sleeping with the rolling pin on one side and the poker on the other. Perhaps Ern had met his match.

'After all Ern's hullabaloo Bert said his place was at Minnie's side.'

'But that's just what Ern said!' I expostulated. If all the men who had received Minnie's favours over the years suddenly decided that their place was at her side, she would undoubtedly have to look for larger premises.

Mrs Pringle blew heavily upon her tea, creating a miniature storm in the cup.

'Well, Bert's not a bad chap, although no better than he should be, of course, when it comes to Minnie, and no doubt he could settle Ern's hash if he comes back in a fighting mood. So he's gone to live with our Min. In the spare room, of course,' she added austerely.

'A lodger.'

'A paying guest,'
corrected Mrs Pringle. 'Five pounds a week. All found.'

I was musing upon the expression 'all found' when Mrs Pringle casually threw in her bombshell.

'So maybe she won't need to do as much cleaning work now. I'll find out if she wants to give you up, for one, shall I?'

'Yes, please,' I said fervently.

I poured Mrs Pringle a second cup. My feelings towards Bert, the philanderer, whose relationship with Minnie I had hitherto deplored, became suddenly much warmer. When it came down to brass tacks—Minnie's moral welfare versus my self-preservation—the latter won hands down.

As always, the holidays rushed by at twice the speed of term-time, reminding me of vague wisps of Einstein's theory of relativity which was once explained to me at Cambridge and involved something to do with Wordsworth's 'Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.' I may have taken in one hundredth of the explanation at the time, but now I remember nothing clearly, except the fact that things are not what they seem. Certainly, this time business is purely relative, and I give Einstein points for that.

Hilary Norman was there in the infants' room, looking remarkably fresh and competent on her first morning, in a pale blue denim trouser suit.

The children, round-eyed, and in an unusually quiet mood, studied her with curiosity. I don't think they can ever have had quite such a young teacher before, and they were enchanted. Later I heard that one of them had told his mother that: 'We've got a little girl to teach us now.'

We pushed back the partition between the two classrooms,
to the accompaniment of ear-splitting squealings from the steel runners, and embarked on a full assembly, starting with 'We plough the fields and scatter the good seed on the land' which seemed a little premature to me at the end of August, until I looked out of the window to see one of Mr Roberts' tractors busily turning the golden stubble into lovely long ribs of chocolate-coloured earth. Farmers, these days, certainly hurry along with their work, and the gulls were having a splendid time following close behind, mewing and squawking like a trodden cat, as they swooped upon the bounty below them.

As they sang lustily, and not very tunefully—music is not one of our stronger accomplishments -1 thought how small the school was just now. Despite the fact that two new infants had joined Hilary Norman's class, we were two down on last term's numbers, as one family had moved into Caxley, taking four children whom we could ill afford to lose at this critical stage.

What would happen to us? I was surprised that nothing further had been heard from the office, but supposed that the summer holidays had meant a postponement of any decision. No doubt we should hear in good time. It seemed that the general feeling was that closure was inevitable. Far better to know the worst than to hang on like this in horrible suspense.

The matter was further aggravated for me at playtime when, mugs of tea in hand, my assistant and I roamed the playground to keep an eye on would-be fighters and coke-pile climbers.

Things were remarkably tranquil, reflecting the golden summer day about us, and I was beginning to relax into my usual mood of vague well-being when Hilary spoke.

'I heard that the school may have to shut before long? Is there any truth in it?'

I came to earth with a jolt.

'Where did you hear of this?'

'Oh, at my digs. My landlady's old friend was visiting her yesterday evening, and she lives at Beech Green, and there seemed to be a pretty strong rumour that our children will be going there before long.'

So our affairs were already being discussed in Caxley! Not that I was surprised, having lived in a village and knowing how rapidly word is passed from one to another. Nevertheless, it was beginning to look as though something definite must be heard soon from official sources if so many people were assuming that the matter was settled.

'If it's true,' continued Hilary, 'I don't think I should have applied for this post. It's very unsettling to have a short time in one's first school and then have to find somewhere else.'

I could quite see her point of view. She was beginning to wonder if we had kept things from her, and I hastened to explain.

'Truthfully, these are only rumours, and we are no nearer a decision now than we were when you came for interview. If there had been anything known definitely, you would have been told. General policy is to close small schools, but it may be years before Fairacre's turn comes.'

I felt it right that she should know that the managers were resisting any such move, and that if need arose there might well be a village meeting to find out more about local opinion and I told her so.

'This far from happy position lasted for over ten years at
Springbourne,' I told her. 'It's always a long drawn out thing. I feel sure that your post wouldn't have been advertised at all, if there had been any thought of closing in the near future, so I think you can look forward to several years here, if you want to stay.'

The girl looked much relieved.

'I think I
shall
want to, you know. It's a lovely place to teach, and the children seem angelic.'

At that moment, two children fell upon each other with the ferocity of starving tigers upon their prey, and a ring of interested spectators assembled to cheer them on.

'You spoke too soon,' I said, striding into the centre of things.

August slipped into September, and the signs of early autumn were all around us. Already the scarlet berries of the wild roses and crimson hawthorn beaded the hedges, and old man's beard made puffs of smoke-like grey fluff here and there.

In the cottage gardens, the dahlias made a brave show, and the last of the summer annuals, love-in-a-mist, marigolds and verbena added colour in the borders. It was a time to, enjoy the last of the summer, for already it was getting chilly in the evenings, and I had lit an occasional fire in my sitting-room, much to Mrs Pringle's disgust.

I had purposely refrained from asking about Minnie's affairs. The lady still flapped about my premises on Friday afternoons, like a demented hen, and wet dusters appeared in the unlikeliest places. By now I was resigned to my lot and had given up hope of ever being free of her attentions.

But one afternoon, Mrs Pringle accosted me when she
appeared to wash-up the crockery after school dinner. Her mouth was turned down ominously, and her limp seemed more pronounced to me.

'Got trouble at 'ome,' she said, 'I'll be off as soon as I've done the pots.'

'What is it? Not Minnie again?'

She nodded portentiously, like a Chinese mandarin at his most impressive.

'Ah! Minnie it is! That girl and them kids of hers come up my place just now, because Ern's arrived.'

'Where? At Springbourne?'

'That's right. She left him cooking sausages and chips. I must say he'd had the decency to bring the sausages with 'im. Probably knew our Minnie wouldn't 'ave nothing worth eating in the house. Strikes me they lives on cornflakes.'

'Is she staying with you?'

'She'd better not. She knows my feelings on the matter. I've told her to clear off home, but she won't take a hint, that girl.'

Some hint, I thought, but Mrs Pringle was in full spate and I was obliged to listen to the unedifying tale.

'She seems scared stiff of that fellow, and I reckons when Bert turns up after work, there'll be a proper set-to atween 'em. Well, I told her straight: "The house is in your name now. You pays the rent to the Council, so your place is inside it." After all, that Ern—or Bert, for that matter—is no more than paying guests, only they don't pay, and if Minnie would only stand her ground, she could get rid of both of them.'

'But will she?' I managed to slip in, as Mrs Pringle drew breath.

'You may well ask,' said Mrs Pringle, unrolling a flowered overall and donning it ready for her session at the sink.

'Sometimes I wonders,' she went on, 'if our Minnie is quite right in the head, I really do.'

I could have told her, but common civility kept me silent.

AUTUMN is one of the loveliest times at Fairacre. We are not as wooded as Beech Green, but small copses at the foot of the downs turn to bronze and gold as soon as the first frosts come, and the tall elm trees near the school send their lemon-yellow leaves fluttering down. A few sturdy oak trees rise from the neighbouring hedges, and these are the last to turn, but when they do, usually sometime in November, their colour is superb.

Now the children arrive with poisonous-looking toadstools for the nature table, and sprays of blackberries, mostly hard and red fruits remaining, as the juicy black ones have vanished down young throats on the way.

We do well for nuts too, in this area, and walnuts from cottage gardens, sweet chestnuts and beech nuts from the woods, and hazel nuts from the hedgerows also find their way to school. Horse chestnuts, of course, are put to more vigorous use, and the strings of conkers He coiled on the long desk at the side of the classroom, awaiting their owners at playtime.

This year we were lucky enough to have a sunny October, with those peculiarly clear skies of Autumn which show up the glory of blazing leaves. We took a great many nature walks, watching the flocks of rooks stabbing the newly ploughed furrows for worms and leatherjackets, and noting
the starlings, excited and chattering as they wheeled around the sky, the flock getting larger and larger until the great day came to set off together.