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From where she sat, she had a clear view of the top of the hill, and longed to see their old van arrive with Ben at the wheel.

To her left lay the golden bulk of the Youngs' house, beyond the chestnut trees and the railings which ran along the front of the house. She could hear the noise of the builders at work, the chink of metal on stone, the rumble of a wheelbarrow, and an occasional voice as one workman shouted to another.

If only they could live there! If only Ben had landed this job! She began to tremble at the thought of failure. It would be like getting to the gate of heaven and being turned back. There was nowhere in the world that she wanted to be more. This was home. This was her element, as necessary to her as air to a bird, or water to a fish. Without it she would be nothing, simply an adjunct to Ben's life, going where he went, and making the best of any of the places in which he settled.

But here, at Thrush Green, life would be rich and vital. She and Ben would flourish like plants in a sheltered garden, and George would grow up in perfect surroundings, heir to all the joys of Thrush Green.

The sound of the van chugging up the hill sent her flying across the grass, followed by young George.

There was no need to say anything. Ben's glowing face said it all.

'Oh Ben!' cried Molly, clinging to him, and struggling to control tears of relief.

Ben patted her shoulder.

'There! Let's go straight across to Mrs Young, Moll, and tell her the good news.'

19 Miss Fogerty has a Shock

NELLY PIGGOTT faced her last day's work at the Lovelocks' with mingled relief and apprehension.

The job had been a frustrating one. It was not only poorly paid, but the parsimony of her employers had tried Nelly's patience to breaking point. It had been a considerable effort to hold her tongue under such extreme provocation, and only the thought of the comparatively short time she needed to endure it, had kept her from outspoken rebellion. No, she would not be sorry to leave this post.

On the other hand, the outlook for any other work seemed bleak. This puzzled Nelly. She was known as a good worker and an exceptionally fine cook. Why was it that she was unable to land another job?

She had haunted the Job Centre. She had asked a dozen or more Thrush Green and Lulling folk if they knew of a job, but always there was some difficulty. One of the reasons, Nelly felt sure, was her past flightiness. Lulling did not approve of wives leaving their husbands, even such unpleasant ones as Albert Piggott, to run off with oil men as glossy and dashing as the one who had persuaded Nelly to throw in her lot with his.

There were other reasons too. Most of the people who were lucky enough to have domestic aid, had employed their helpers for years, as Winnie Bailey had her Jenny, and Dotty Harmer and Harold Shoosmith their energetic Betty Bell. Others, who might have looked for help in the past, had long ago come to terms with doing everything for themselves and had found the result far more satisfactory, and far less expensive. One way and another, it was plain that there were no jobs waiting for Nelly.

As she returned to her house on Thrush Green, on the last afternoon of her employment, Nelly took stock of her position. Financially, she was a little better off than when she had arrived at Thrush Green. Prudently, she had put aside the money she had earned in her Post Office account. By diligent methods, she had been able to abstract some money from Albert, ostensibly for housekeeping, but a certain amount had been added to her own nest egg.

She owned an ancient gold watch, and a gold locket of hideous Victorian design, and these she knew would bring in a pound or two, if she were really hard pressed. The point was, could she afford to break with Albert?

She had long ceased to feel for him any affection or loyalty, but he did provide a roof over her head and enough to feed them both. But he grew daily more cantankerous, and Nelly knew that, before long, just such another row as that which had sent her into the arms of the oil man would blow up.

Crossing the green, Nelly decided that she would give Albert a week's trial. Who knows? Work might turn up to take her out of the house for a few hours a day. Albert might become a reformed character, though that chance was infinitesimal.

She would bide her time for a little longer, and then make her decision.

Albert was emerging from the Two Pheasants as Nelly opened the cottage door. For once, she did not start nagging at him.

Albert was rightly suspicious. What was up, he wondered?

On the appointed Saturday, Miss Watson was collected by her brother and his wife, and departed to the seaside.

Little Miss Fogerty had made her farewells the evening before as she helped Dorothy with her last-minute packing. Watching her assistant's deftness in folding garments and spreading tissue paper, Dorothy thought, once more, how invaluable dear Agnes was, and how dearly she would like to invite her to share the schoolhouse. Perhaps an opportunity would occur during their week together, but, on the other hand, there was always this difficulty of Agnes's unselfishness. If only the suggestion could come from her!

Well, it was no good worrying about it, thought Miss Watson, limping towards the car on that bright morning. Time alone could unravel that problem, and meanwhile she intended to enjoy her much-needed change of air.

Meanwhile, Miss Fogerty set about a number of jobs which she had been unable to tackle during term time.

The position of temporary headmistress, in which Miss Watson's sad accident had placed her, had meant putting aside a great many day to day activities which she normally tackled methodically.

Her mending, for instance, which was usually done after ironing, when she studied her sensible underwear and blouses for splitting seams, holes, ladders or missing buttons, had been neglected. The filling of innumerable forms had taken first place, and there had been parents, representatives from educational publishers, and other visitors to the school, who seriously impeded the steady progress of the work which Agnes so much enjoyed.

Now was the time to catch up with her own affairs, and she spent the next day or two replying to letters from friends, doing some shopping, taking shoes to the repairer's, and all the other little chores which she wanted to see finished before embarking on the longed-for week with Dorothy.

But two days before the great day, poor Miss Fogerty received the shock of her life. St Andrew's clock had just chimed four o'clock, and Miss Fogerty was about to switch on her kettle and make a cup of tea, when Mrs White called from below to say that she had just made a pot of tea, and would she like to join her?

It was while they were sipping the refreshing beverage in Mrs White's immaculate sitting-room, that the blow fell.

'I've been trying to summon up courage to tell you all the week,' confessed Mrs White. 'Arthur's got promotion, and we're moving to Scotland.'

Her face turned pink with the anxiety of imparting this news. Poor Miss Fogerty's turned white at hearing it.

She put down her cup with a clatter.

'Oh no!' she breathed at last. 'I can't believe it! You mean—?'

'I'm afraid so,' nodded Mrs White, beginning to look tearful. 'I can't tell you how sorry I am about it. You've been a wonderful lodger, and a real good friend too, but Arthur can't afford to turn down this chance. It'll make a deal of difference to his pension, you see.'

'Of course,' said Agnes. She felt numbed with the shock. What a terrible thing to happen! How soon, she wondered, would she need to go?

As if reading her thoughts, Mrs White resumed her tale.

'There's no need for you to worry about leaving just yet. We don't go until the end of August, and Arthur's job starts on the first of September. There's a house that goes with it, and with the extra he'll get we hope to be able to buy our own house, ready for retirement one day.'

Agnes did her best to collect her scattered wits.

'I'm very glad for you both,' she said sincerely. 'The future certainly looks bright. It's just that I'm a little taken aback, you know, and at a loss to know where to find other lodgings. I doubt if I shall ever be so happy elsewhere as I have been with you.'

Mrs White sighed with relief.

'You've taken it wonderfully. I can't tell you how I've dreaded breaking the news.'

She turned briskly to her duties as hostess.

'Now let me give you a fresh cup of tea. That must be stone cold by now.'

Like my heart, thought poor Agnes, doing her best to hide her feelings. What on earth would she do now?

Later that evening, she went along the road to Thrush Green and called to see Isobel at Tullivers.

Her old friend was alone, and Agnes poured out all her troubles. Isobel was almost as upset as she was herself.

'If only I had found a place here,' was her first comment, 'you could have taken refuge with me. The awful thing is, Agnes dear, I shall probably be back in Sussex by the time you need another home. Does Mrs White know of other digs?'

'She didn't say anything.'

'Could you stay at the schoolhouse?'

'I'm sure Dorothy would let me stay there temporarily, if need be, but I really must find something permanent.'

'If I were you,' said Isobel, 'I should go and enjoy your holiday, and then come back to face this problem. The best thing to do, I think, would be to put an advertisement in the local paper, as soon as you return.'

'I thought I might tell the rector. He's so kind. He helped with finding a place for you with Miss Bembridge, you remember, and he would know the sort of place I wanted.'

'An excellent idea! I'm positive something will turn up before the end of August. Meanwhile, Agnes, you are going to stay to supper with me, I hope.'

'I can think of nothing nicer,' said little Miss Fogerty, much comforted.

The intense heat ended, as expected, with a crashing'thunderstorm which began at seven in the evening and continued for most of the night.

The people of Lulling and Thrush Green waited eagerly for the rain to fall. Water-butts stood empty, flowers wilted, the summer pea pods were shrivelled on their stems, and even the farmers, now that the harvest was largely gathered in, looked forward to a downpour.

For some hours it looked as though nothing would fall. Crash followed crash, angry rumblings echoed round the sky, and sheet lightning lit the scene with eerie flashes, but still the rain held off. It was almost midnight before the welcome sound of pattering drops cheered the waiting inhabitants.

The relief was wonderful. The delicious smell of rain water cooling hot stones and earth was then more appreciated than the most expensive scent. Rain splashed on the parched grass of Thrush Green, and pattered on the great dusty leaves of the chestnut trees. It gurgled down the gutters to Lulling, and formed wide puddles across the road outside St Andrew's church. It sent the local cats, out upon their nightly forays, scampering for home, and encouraged the thirsty wild creatures to venture forth for their first satisfying drink for many a long day.

The air grew blessedly cool and fresh. The wakeful ones sought those blankets which had been unused for weeks, and snuggled into their beds with thankful hearts.

The morning after the storm dawned clear and fresh. The world of Thrush Green sparkled in the sunshine, and everyone relished the slight coolness in the air, and the rejuvenation of all living things.

Even Albert Piggott gave the green a grudging smile as he walked across to St Andrew's. Here he proposed to spend a leisurely hour or two surveying his domain, safe from Nelly's gaze.

Nelly had finished at the Lovelocks', and mightily relieved she was to be able to set to and do her own chores without one eye on the clock. The Misses Lovelock had been sticklers for punctuality, and would not have been above docking Nelly's wages if she had arrived late. Knowing this, Nelly had been very particular in arriving promptly.

She had been paid in full, and wished goodbye by all three ladies. Miss Ada had been gracious enough to say that she would be willing to supply a reference if Nelly required it at any time. Nelly thanked her civilly.

The snag was that there was still no work available, and the thought of being at close quarters with Albert, day in and day out, was a daunting one.

She thought about her future as she dismantled the stove and prepared to scour each part in strong soda water. Albert had been at his grumpiest for the past week. The truth was that he disliked the heat, and that Nelly's cooking was again playing havoc with his digestion. He enjoyed venting his ill-humour upon Nelly, and during the thunderstorm whilst they were hoping for rain, he had been particularly unpleasant about Nelly's chances of employment.

'Can't expect decent folks to take on a trollop like you,' was the phrase that hurt most. It still rankled as Nelly attacked the cooker. The thing was, it was near the truth, and Nelly knew it.

She began to think of Charlie, the oil man. With all his faults, he had never been unkind to her, or insulted her as Albert did. Looking back now, she forgot his meanness, his dishonesty with money, and the long evenings she had spent alone, trying to keep his supper hot without it spoiling.