(5/13) Return to Thrush Green (21 page)

'No, I'm sorry. I will keep an eye open for her.'

'It's so upsetting,' continued Dotty, hitching up a stocking with a claw-like hand. 'I fear she must be on heat, and I hadn't realised it.'

She peered at Harold sharply.

'I don't embarrass you, I trust?'

'Not in the least,' responded Harold. 'I have been aware of the facts of life for some years now.'

Any gentle sarcasm intended was lost upon Dotty, in her present state of perturbation.

'Of course, of course! But it is so annoying. She may have gone along to Nidden. There is a collie dog there, at the farm, to whom she is rather partial. The results of such a liaison would not be acceptable to the Kennel Club, I fear, but there it is.'

'Well, I'll certainly keep a look out, but it might be as well to call at the rector's, or Miss Bembridge's. They might catch her before she gets into the traffic at Lulling. Would you care to use my telephone?'

'You are most kind! Most kind! But I think I will walk across while I'm here. Besides, I am disturbing your activities.'

'I was only going to cut the grass at Tullivers,' said Harold.

Dotty's wrinkled countenance lit up with pleasure.

'All ready for Isobel? She will be grateful, I'm sure.'

She fluttered off in the direction of Ella's house, leaving Harold to his thoughts.

***

Betty Bell, always exuberant, seemed to bring Isobel Fletcher's name into the conversation more frequently than Harold could have wished, but he had the sense to hold his tongue on these occasions. There was no point in adding fuel to the fire, he told himself.

But, one morning, Betty arrived in a rare state of indignation.

'D'you know what?' she demanded. 'That fat Nelly Piggott's been trying to get my job off of me!'

'What, here?' asked Harold, alarmed.

'No, no! I'd see you was looked after,' said Betty, as though indulging a backward child. 'No need for you to worry. No, that besom—excuse my French—has been crawling round Miss Fogerty, I hear, and would have gone in to see Miss Watson too, if Miss Fogerty hadn't put her foot down. The very idea!'

'She wasn't successful, I take it,' ventured Harold.

'I should hope not!' snorted Betty. 'Why, I keeps that place
beautifull Beautiful,
I tell you! Toffee papers, squashed chalk, bubble gum and all. You could eat your dinner off of the floor when I've done with it.'

'I'm sure you could,' Harold agreed, wondering why anyone should be expected to want to eat dinners from floors or, for that matter, why it should occur to anyone to
serve
dinners in such a peculiarly uncomfortable position.

'And if I sees her about,' went on Betty wrathfully, 'I shall give her a piece of my mind!'

'I shouldn't bother,' said Harold, alarmed at the prospect of a noisy row on Thrush Green.

'Or the flat of my hand,' added Betty, and flung out of the room.

***

There was sudden activity at the Youngs' house. Edward's plans had been passed with unusual rapidity, and the builders, whom he had alerted earlier, were beginning to move in with all their paraphernalia.

Milly and Robert decided that they would make their way back to Ealing.

'I've no excuse for lingering,' said Mr Bassett. 'Thrush Green has put me on my feet again, and we shall only be in your way with the building going on. It's time we went back and put our affairs in order.'

'We shall miss you,' said Joan, 'but you'll be back for good before long. What a marvellous thought!'

'For us too,' said Milly. 'We've been blessed with two wonderful daughters. This would have been a terrible time for us without you to help.'

A week later, Edward drove them to Ealing in their own car, with Joan following behind. They settled the parents in the house, and were relieved to find that Frank had taken an hour or two off work to welcome them home, and to give Robert the latest news of the business.

'I shall be relieved to have them near us,' said Joan, as they drove back to Thrush Green together. 'How long do you think it will be before the stable block is ready?'

'Quicker than builders usually are!' promised Edward. 'I'll see to that!'

It was mid-July before Isobel was freed from her affairs in Sussex.

She arrived on a sunny afternoon, and spent an hour with her new next-door neighbour, Winnie Bailey, before unlocking the door of Tullivers.

Isobel looked tired, Winnie thought, as she poured tea for them both, but then she had had a long journey and probably a good deal of worry in the last few weeks.

'No, still nothing definitely settled,' said Isobel, in reply to her query. 'You know how it is with selling a house. If my present would-be buyers can sell their own, all's well. But they're waiting to see if
their
buyer can sell
his.
How far back the queue stretches, heaven alone knows.'

'And it only needs one to default, I suppose, for the whole chain to collapse?'

'Exactly. Never mind, here I am, and Williams and Frobisher have sent me four possibilities, so I shall go ahead and enjoy looking at them. Better still, it's lovely to think I have so much more time to spend in Thrush Green. Tell me how everyone is.'

Winnie told her about the Youngs' plans.

'Lucky Bassetts! I envy them the stable conversion. If I didn't want a small house and garden, I think I'd rush across and plead for the top floor flat! Someone's going to have a nice home there.'

Winnie went on to tell her about Ben and Molly Curdle, the Henstocks, Ella, and finally, Harold.

'He's worked so hard in the garden,' said Winnie. 'The lawn looks immaculate, and the roses at Tullivers are the best at Thrush Green.'

'Let's go and see it,' cried Isobel jumping up. 'I feel a new woman after that tea. Once I've unpacked, I shall go to see Harold. He must have been working so hard.'

'I'm sure it was a labour of love,' said Winnie.

But Isobel, leading the way, did not appear to hear.

Now that Isobel had arrived, Harold's happiness grew daily, but he was anxious not to call too frequently at Tullivers, and so lay open the unsuspecting Isobel to the wagging tongues of Thrush Green.

Isobel, as it happened, was not so unsuspecting as Harold imagined. She was used to the admiration of men, and liked their company. An exceptionally happy marriage and a wide circle of friends had given her ease of manner with the opposite sex, and Harold's feelings, although carefully concealed, were guessed by the sympathetic Isobel.

In such a small community it was inevitable that they saw each other frequently, and they enjoyed each other's company more and more.

Isobel took Harold to see some of the places which she had known well in her girlhood around Stow, north of Thrush Green, and he accompanied her to look at one or two of the houses which Williams and Frobisher had recommended.

On the whole, it was a dispiriting job. The houses which were large enough to house the furniture which Isobel wanted to keep, were usually much too large, with endless corridors, high ceilings, and a formidable number of stairs. Those which were of manageable proportions were sometimes thatched, which Isobel disliked, or the rooms were small and stuffy.

'What I want is something in between,' sighed Isobel, as they emerged from one such cottage, Harold almost bent double to miss striking his head on the porch. 'I'm beginning to wonder if I shall ever find what I want.'

'Cheer up,' said Harold. 'I went through all this too when I was looking. It's disheartening for you, but I must confess I'm thoroughly enjoying myself.'

Isobel laughed. 'Well, I should have given up long ago if you hadn't been such a support. It's made all the difference to have some company.'

Harold seemed about to speak, thought better of it, and opened the door of the Alfa Romeo for her.

'Are you feeling strong enough to face "a bijou residence set like a gem amidst panoramic views"?' asked Isobel, consulting her papers.

'I can face any amount of them,' replied Harold bravely.

'Right,' said Isobel, letting in the clutch. 'It's about three miles from here.'

'And after that,' said Harold, 'I'm taking you to lunch at the Fleece. You need to keep up your strength when house-hunting.'

***

Little Miss Fogerty was as delighted as Harold to have Isobel at Thrush Green, and visited Tullivers frequently.

Miss Watson was now back at school, limping about her duties with a stick, and thankful to be of some use again. Agnes was very anxious about her, and insisted that she returned to her bed for a rest after school dinner and this Miss Watson agreed to do, with surprising meekness.

Now that she was back, the supply teacher departed, much to the relief of all.

'I'm quite sure she did her best,' Agnes told Dorothy earnestly. 'She was very
sincere
and
conscientious,
and most diligent in reading reports, and the leaders in
The Times Educational Supplement,
but I think she found the children rather a nuisance.'

'A case of putting the cart before the horse,' agreed Dorothy. 'It's good to be back on our own.'

It also meant that Agnes had more time to see Isobel, and the two old friends had much to talk about. It was clear to Isobel that Agnes still worried about Miss Watson being alone in the house.

'She's still very unsteady,' she told Isobel. 'One stumble, and she'd be quite helpless, you know.'

'You must let her do as she wishes,' comforted Isobel. 'After all, it could happen anyway, whether you were in the house or not. I'm sure she will be sensible. Lots of women have to live alone. Look at me!'

'But do you
like
living alone? I mean, I'm quite glad to know that the Whites are under the same roof as I am when I go up to bed. It makes me feel safer.'

'No, I can't say that I like living alone,' said Isobel thoughtfully. 'But then I'm not used to it yet.'

'Perhaps,' ventured Agnes, 'you might, in time, of course, marry again.'

'I can't imagine it,' said Isobel. 'At our age, Agnes dear, one doesn't think about it. No, I think I shall be quite happy if I can find a little house here, and know that I'm safely among friends. One really can't ask for more.'

The hot weather continued, one blazing day following the other. Harold Shoosmith reverted to his practice of taking a siesta, as he had throughout his working life overseas, and most of Thrush Green did the same.

The nights seemed to be as hot as the days, and when the full moon shone through Harold's window, he Hung off the sheet which was his only covering, and wandered about the house.

A field of corn stretched towards Nidden, and ran hard by his boundary hedge. He leant from the window, relishing a faint breeze that ruffled his hair refreshingly.

In the moonlight the corn was silvered, glowing with an unearthly sheen. In the heat of the day, he had heard the ripe ears crackling under the fierce sun. The harvest would be early this year, although the farmers were already predicting a light yield. What would be in the field next, he wondered? And would Isobel be here by then to see it?

An owl's cry trembled upon the air, and soon he saw the bird swoop silently from a lone oak, sailing downwind upon its rounded wings. What a vast number of lovely things one could see at night, normally missed by having one's head on the pillow! A restless night had its compensations, he decided.

He crossed the landing, and went to see Thrush Green from the window of the front bedroom. The moonlight was so bright that he could see all the houses clearly. It gleamed upon Nathaniel Patten's bald bronze pate, and edged the folds of his frock-coat with silver. A cat was sitting on the plinth at his feet, washing its face.

Harold's eye travelled from Ella's cottage on his far right across the grass, along to Winnie Bailey's, and then next door to Tullivers where, he hoped, Isobel was having a less wakeful night. She had been to see yet another house that afternoon, although on this occasion she had gone alone.

Harold felt deeply sorry for her in this fruitless search, and his mind turned, once again, to the problem that concerned him. How much simpler it would be if she would marry him and live here! But would she want to? And could he ask her, so soon after her husband's death?

He had no doubts now about his own feelings. More than anything in the world he wanted to marry Isobel, and he could think of nothing else.

Harold sighed, and returned to his restless pacing about the house. He knew his own feelings well enough, but what were Isobel's?

18. Hope for the Curdles

JOAN YOUNG, mindful of her promise to Molly about looking out for an opening for Ben, now set about the task with extra zeal.

With her parents back in Ealing, she had more time to devote to her own affairs. She heard of several jobs, but somehow none seemed quite right for Ben. She was beginning to despair, and told Edward so.

'I'm seeing Tim Collet this afternoon,' he said. 'I'll have a word with him.'

Collets was a family firm of agricultural engineers in Lulling. It had been in existence for over a hundred years. Originally a blacksmith's, such simple tools as scythes, bill-hooks, horse ploughs and pig troughs figured largely in the early years of the firm. More sophisticated equipment such as threshing machines and harvesters soon came along, giving way eventually to the complicated monsters, costing thousands of pounds, which modern farming demanded.