(12/13) The Year at Thrush Green (6 page)

He had once suffered from 'Dotty's Collywobbles' after drinking one of Dotty's brews, and had learnt to be prudent.

Her next telephone call was to Lulling police station, a charming building near the great parish church of St John's.

The local police had a reputation as good gardeners as well, of course, as of being exemplary officers, and the police station was adorned with climbing roses and wisteria, and tubs of fine fuchsias each side of the front door, as well as hanging baskets dripping with lobelias, geraniums and petunias in the summer.

In February there was not quite the same pressure on the force's horticultural pursuits, so Dotty was attended to by the sergeant on duty within seconds.

He listened to Dotty's account, and put a few questions.

'In good health, you say, madam?'

'Splendid, apart from some drowsiness still after sedation.'

'And you would like us to take it into custody? I mean, into care?'

Dotty became agitated. 'No, no, no! I am quite capable of caring for him here, as you know.
All
my animals thrive. It is simply that I want you to have the facts so that the owners can be found.'

'We'll do our best, madam,' replied the sergeant, holding the telephone some distance from his ear.

'I can't think why the poor little thing has been abandoned,' went on Dotty, in full blast now. 'He has obviously been looked after very well, coat in excellent condition, nose just the right degree of dampness, and the most expensive basket and rug. It is a complete mystery, officer. A complete mystery!'

The sergeant acknowledged a mug of coffee being put before him by one of his younger colleagues, rolling his eyes heavenward at the same time to show how much he was enduring.

'Leave it with me, Miss Harmer,' he said at last. 'I'd better send someone along to make a few notes later today. For our records, you know.'

'Of course, of course. I shall be at your disposal for the rest of the day. If you are here about four I can offer you a cup of fresh herbal tea. I know you must not take alcohol on duty.'

'Thank you, madam, but no doubt one of us will call before four.'

He put down the telephone with a sigh. 'John,' he said to the younger policeman. 'There's a job for you up at Lulling Woods early afternoon. A Miss Dotty Harmer. And whatever you do don't eat or drink anything while you're there.'

'Why not?'

His superior officer told him.

March

...daffodils
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty.

William Shakespeare

March came to Thrush Green like a lamb rather than a lion.

The mild weather of February continued during the first few days of the new month. The sun shone, the birds began a flurry of mating and nest-building, and the flowers of spring began to appear in woods, meadows and cottage gardens.

At Winnie Bailey's house the new month was greeted with more than usual activity, for this was the day on which her old friends were coming to lunch.

After much cogitation and rearranging, the menu had been settled. Avocado pears would be followed by cannelloni served with spinach and runner beans from the freezer and cauliflower from the Women's Institute stall.

The dessert course had proved more difficult. Jenny was loud in her praises of 'a good crumble-top', and cited the home-grown gooseberries and plums bottled last summer.

'Rather
searching
perhaps?' mused Winnie, still anxious about the digestive efficiency of her aged guests. 'I think a well-sweetened apple meringue would be better, and perhaps a fruit jelly as well. And we must remember to order plenty of cream from Percy Hodge.'

'Cream might be too rich,' commented Jenny, slightly piqued at being denied the pleasure of making a large crumble-top, and the undoubted compliments she would have received on bringing it to the table.

'We might have yoghurt,' said Winnie doubtfully. 'What do you think?'

'Things are quite fancy enough with avocado pears and cannelloni,' said Jenny firmly. 'Yoghurt as well would put some of the old ladies into a proper tizz-wazz. They'll like a nice English dish like your apple meringue and cream.'

And no doubt, she thought rebelliously, they would have preferred a nice gooseberry crumble-top if they'd been given it.

By twelve o'clock on the great day the table was spread with a fine pink cloth and matching napkins. The silver was dazzling after Jenny's ministrations, pink candles added to the ensemble, and a low pot of dwarf pink tulips stood in the centre. The sun shone upon all this splendour, the cannelloni was ready for the oven, and Winnie and Jenny hovered by the windows awaiting their guests.

Ella and Dimity were the first to arrive, each bearing a pot of recently made marmalade, and were greeted affectionately, and while they were being helped with their coats, Joan Young's car drew up and the three Misses Lovelock were assisted from it.

'I'll fetch them,' Joan had said when she had heard about the invitation. 'The thought of having to hire a taxi would spoil the whole day for them.'

This was probably true, Winnie realized, but only someone as forthright as Joan would have said so. And no one as generous, thought Winnie, would have so readily have offered to fetch the ancient sisters.

Soon they were all ensconced in the sitting-room sipping sherry, or mineral water, or orange juice, while Jenny shuttled between the kitchen and the visitors, keeping an eye on the cooking.

Dotty and Connie were the last to arrive, and the conversation turned naturally to the extraordinary affair of the abandoned dog.

'Doing very nicely,' Dotty assured them. 'Very friendly, eats well, gets on with Flossie, though of course she finds him rather boisterous.'

'But whose was he?' queried Bertha Lovelock.

'Still a mystery,' Dotty told her. She dipped a finger in her orange juice and sucked it.

'Do you think I might have a knob of sugar, or preferably a little honey in this?' she enquired. 'It seems a little sharp.'

Without a word Jenny went from the room and reappeared bearing a pot of honey on a saucer flanked by a teaspoon.

Oblivious of all eyes upon her, Dotty scooped out a spoonful and stirred it briskly into her glass. The spoon she sucked with relish before replacing it on the saucer.

Amidst a stunned silence Dotty took a sip.

'Delicious!' she announced, and took up her tale again.

'So far we've had no reply to all the questions we've asked. As you probably saw, the local paper had a paragraph about the dear thing, asking for help in tracing the owners.'

'And a charming photograph,' said Winnie. There was a polite murmur of assent, though in truth the photograph had been rather fuzzy, and as the photographer had posed them with the dog held close to Dotty's face, it was quite difficult to distinguish the rough white hair of one from the other. Luckily, Dotty's spectacles came out clearly, which helped a little.

'Could it have been stolen, and then dumped because the thieves were scared off?' asked Dimity.

Ella pointed out that thieves would hardly take the trouble to bring a basket and rug for their captive, and to make sure it was humanely secure in the church porch, and comment was brisk and wildly conjectural until Jenny announced that lunch was ready, and with much fluttering and cries of appreciation the ladies took their places.

The mystery of Dotty's dog was left, as other local topics were discussed over the avocado pears.

'Was it true,' asked Violet Lovelock of Joan Young, 'that there might be an addition to Rectory Cottages?'

She had heard, she said, that the original common room, or drawing-room, or whatever it was called, was turning out to be too small, even with the added extension.

Joan, fiercely protective of her husband's reputation as an architect, parried the question.

'It's the first I've heard of it,' she replied. 'That room has always seemed adequate to me, and I know Edward went into the dimensions most carefully when the building was designed.'

'Oh, I'm quite sure of that!' agreed Violet, helping herself to a spoonful of spinach. She was conscious that she had made a gaffe, which was particularly unfortunate as Joan had been kind enough to collect her and her sisters, and would be needed very soon to return them to Lulling.

'If they do want more room,' said Dotty brightly, 'those glasshouses you stick on the end of one room might be just the thing.'

'But that's been done,' said Joan.

'The new fellow near the Drovers' Arms,' continued Dotty, 'has just had one put outside their dining-room, and I had coffee there the other morning. Very good, wasn't it, Connie?'

'Very warm and light,' agreed Connie.

'I meant the coffee,' began Dotty, quite ready to embark on coffee, tea, herbal beverages of all sorts, not to mention the recipes for making them, but was forestalled by Jenny who helped her to runner beans and stopped the flow.

Conversation grew more general, much to Joan Young's relief, though she still worried about the possibility of the enlargement of the room Edward had originally designed. She was sure that he had not heard any of these rumours, and she hoped that he never would.

Joan was devoted to Edward, but knew only too well that criticism infuriated him, and that peace would vanish from their household if he felt that his work was being denigrated.

'And how is Paul?' asked Winnie, sensing tension.

'Ah, Paul!' smiled Joan. 'We had a marvellous time when he was home at half-term.'

And to Winnie's relief, she was told about a visit to an animal sanctuary which had been a day in paradise for a twelve-year-old schoolboy.

Less controversial topics than the possibility of an enlargement of Rectory Cottages were being discussed around the table. Connie enlarged on the beauty and intelligence of the new dog. Ada Lovelock told Jenny about a wonderful new cure for arthritis which Jenny might be glad to know about as time passed so quickly when you reached seventy. As Jenny was still in her forties, she might have resented this aspersion on her age, but being a good-hearted woman and quite used to the eccentricities of the Lovelock sisters, she listened with every appearance of interest.

Ella told her neighbour about the tapestry she was making for an altar kneeler, and Dimity told Bertha Lovelock that milk was supposed to be good for cleaning patent leather shoes, and Violet Lovelock told everyone within earshot about the brisk business being done at the Fuchsia Bush these days, and Jenny and Winnie exchanged contented glances at the success of the party which had been their main concern for so long.

By half past three the last of their visitors had gone. Dotty had returned for her handbag, but otherwise all had departed flushed and happy with their modest outing, and Winnie and Jenny subsided into armchairs.

'I'll stack the dishwasher,' said Jenny, attempting to get up.

'You won't yet,' said Winnie. 'And before we do that we'll have a cup of tea. But first all, Jenny, do you think there's any truth in these rumours about the old people's home? I hope it's not true. Edward would be so upset.'

'Well, let's hope it's only a rumour,' comforted Jenny.

There were other people who could have told Winnie more about the rumour.

On that February day when Charles Henstock had enjoyed lunching with Harold and Isobel, he had gone afterwards to see his old friends and parishioners at Rectory Cottages.

Jane Cartwright, one of the wardens, had welcomed him, and without preamble, the rector mentioned the matter of enlarging the room. Was it necessary, he asked?

Jane looked a little taken aback, but answered readily. 'I'm not sure how this cropped up, and in ordinary circumstances the room is quite big enough now that we have that glass annexe. If we have a party of visitors then I must say it is a bit of a squash.'

'The thing is,' said Charles, 'finding the money. We've raised an amazing amount over the last few years for Nathaniel Patten's settlement in Africa, and the Roof Fund and the Organ Repair Fund, and one or two items for the school and so on, and I really don't think we can face another large fund-raising effort if it is not needed.'

'Quite,' said Jane. 'Besides, it might upset Edward Young.'

'That is so,' agreed Charles, looking unhappy.

'Though that's his chicken,' said Jane robustly. She had no time for imagined rebuffs, and was used to coping with the day-to-day misunderstandings among her elderly charges which she privately dismissed as 'senile tantrums'.

'I must sound out one or two other people,' went on the rector, 'and you might make a few enquiries here to see if people feel the need for a larger room. Perhaps we could enlarge the conservatory? What do you think, Jane?'

Jane said that if it came to it, then adding to the conservatory would be lovely. What had put this idea into his mind?

Charles was hard put to it to tell her. Something to do with the church fête in July. Not that anything like the amount from the receipts would cover the cost of this extra glass affair, which was why he was anxious not to start another large fund-raising project so soon after the others.

Leaving matters at this unsatisfactory stage, the rector bade Jane farewell and went to visit her charges.

Molly Curdle was the innocent cause of the rumour coming to the ears of Edward Young.

In Joan's kitchen one morning, she asked Joan if Mr Young would be asked to add to Rectory Cottages if the need arose.

Edward Young, who was searching in a dresser drawer for a particular old kitchen knife in constant demand by all the household, turned to confront Molly. Joan's heart sank.

'What's all this about?' he demanded.

Poor Molly recognized at once that she had made a serious gaffe. She knew the signs of wrath well enough, and had been familiar with the raised voice, red face and blazing eyes for many years.

'It was just something I heard,' she faltered.

'Who from?'

'It may have been my dad.'

Joan came to the rescue. 'Calm down, Edward. You know what John told you.'