(6/13) Gossip from Thrush Green (17 page)

'Nice men aren't hurt for long,' said Bessie robustly. 'They find someone else quite easily, believe me. Mark my words, if you turn down your Percy he'll be married within the year! I've seen it happen time and time again, and no hearts broken either.'

And then the subject of Percy was shelved, and for the next few hours the talk was of what happened to Mary Carter, and to Joan King, and to the two sisters who ran away and incurred the wrath of the Principal.

Later, Jenny walked back to the hotel through a rose and lavender sunset, and loitered in the garden before going to her room.

The air was fragrant with night-scented stock, mignonette, and the aromatic spiciness of the cypress trees.

For the first time for months, Jenny felt at peace. That old saying about a trouble shared being a trouble halved was perfectly true, she reminded herself as she went thankfully up to bed.

12. Bessie's Advice

W
INNIE
returned to her empty house and, much to her surprise, found that she quite enjoyed having it to herself.

Jenny's presence was always a comfort to her, particularly after dark, and she certainly missed the chatter of Jeremy after his few weeks' stay. But now that high summer was here, and the scents and sounds of Thrush Green floated through the open windows, Winnie felt no hint of loneliness and found a certain quiet pleasure in having no interruptions to her train of thought as she moved about the house she had lived in for so long.

Perhaps, after all, she would not miss Jenny so desperately if Percy's suit were successful. It was a surprising thought, and one which gave Winnie some pleasure. It must mean that she was over the worst of the shock of her dear Donald's death. Time, it seemed, as everyone had kept telling her, did heal wounds. She had not really believed it, but now she wondered. At least, this new-found confidence was welcome, and if Jenny were to leave her then she could bear it with greater fortitude than she had thought possible.

Her happiness continued through the week. Jenny was due to come home at teatime on the Saturday, and Winnie had instructed her to take a taxi from Lulling Station, despite Jenny's protests about the expense.

'I'm not having you walk over a mile, and uphill at that, struggling with a suitcase and all the rest of the luggage. And suppose it rains? No, you must do as I say, Jenny.'

And Jenny had agreed.

But on Friday afternoon Percy Hodge had appeared on the doorstep with a bunch of Mrs Sinkin pinks as big as a cauliflower and had announced that he would be meeting the 4.10 train.

'But we've arranged for Jenny to come up by taxi,' explained Winnie, somewhat taken aback.

'I know that. But I'd particularly like to have a word with Jenny, and it's a pleasure to meet her off the train. No need for a taxi when I've got the car.'

Winnie could do no more than thank him, but the expression 'like to have a word with Jenny' sounded ominous. Was he going to propose marriage between Lulling Station and Thrush Green? And what would Jenny think when she found Percy waiting at the station? And suppose that Percy was a little late and Jenny had already taken the taxi? Oh dear, what a muddle!

By the time seven o'clock came Winnie was decidedly agitated, although she realised that Percy and Jenny's affairs were their own business. In the end, she decided to ring Jenny at Torquay, and to let her know that Percy was meeting the train, and to leave it at that. At least, the girl would be prepared.

As it happened, Jenny had spent her last evening with Bessie and Harry, but Winnie left a message with the girl at the switchboard and could only hope that Jenny would get it when she returned. In a way, it was a relief not to have to speak directly to Jenny. She might have wanted lengthy explanations.

Winnie went to bed, telling herself that she had had quite enough for one day, and the morrow must take care of itself.

The morrow, as it happened, brought Ella Bembridge to the door at ten o'clock in the morning.

Winnie had been in her garden picking roses and inspecting the raspberry canes. It looked as though there would be a fine crop this year, but rain would be needed to plump up the berries. The sky was cloudless, as it had been now for a week or more, and despite the needs of the raspberry canes, Winnie could not find it in her heart to pray for a change in the weather.

'Another glorious day!' she greeted Ella.

'Not for the Lovelock girls!' replied Ella. As none of the three sisters would ever see seventy-five again Winnie could not help feeling that
girls
was not the exact word for her three aged friends.

'Not ill?' exclaimed Winnie.

'Burgled!' said Ella, sitting down heavily on a delicate Sheraton chair which creaked a protest.

'No! When? How? What have they lost?'

The answers are: Yes. Yesterday. By a person or persons unknown. And they're not sure yet what has gone, but it's nearly all old silver.'

Poor old darlings! It will break their hearts. They loved their bits of silver.'

'Well, they were told often enough to keep it in a cupboard or the bank, but you know them! They said they enjoyed seeing it about them.'

And why not? What's the fun of having lovely things if you don't enjoy them? My mother was left a diamond bracelet by her grandmother, and it was so wickedly valuable that it never saw the light of day but was in the bank's vault. My mother often grieved for it, I know.'

Best place for it,' said Ella sturdily. You remember what that police officer told us about keeping valuables out of sight?'

'
Of
course I remember. And as a matter of fact, I've even locked the front door when I've been shopping in Lulling recently. What's more, I forgot where I'd hidden the key, and had to wait for Jenny to let me in. I'm sure people weren't so dishonest in our young days. It does make life very difficult for everyone.'

'Well, I thought I'd let you know in case you were seeing the girls some time soon.'

'I'll ring them to see if I can help,' said Winnie, 'but quite what to do is the question, isn't it? Their silver must have been worth a fortune. I suppose they were insured?'

'Lord knows!' replied Ella, heaving herself from the protesting chair. 'By the way, d'you want gooseberries? Bumper crop I've got, so come and help yourself. The Lovelock girls were picking theirs when the thief got in evidently.'

'What a bold fellow! And yes, please, I'd love some gooseberries to bottle. Nothing nicer than hot gooseberry tart on a bleak December day. Can I come one day next week when Jenny's back?'

'Any time you like,' said Ella, and stumped out into the morning blaze.

It was Miss Violet Lovelock who spoke to Winnie on the telephone, and although she sounded upset, her account of the burglary was remarkably clear and detailed.

'It's the
effrontery
of the crime that has so shaken us,' she cried, in her high quivering voice. 'We were only in the garden, you know, all busy picking our beautiful golden gooseberries for bottling. The wretched fellow must have pushed open the front door and seen us at it through the hall window. It gives a clear view of the garden as you know.'

'But why should he open the door?'

'Well, dear, the milkman normally leaves our bottles in that rather fine cache-pot by the doorstep, but in this hot weather Bertha said it might be wiser for him to put it just inside the front door, and she left a note to that effect in the cache-pot. The thief must have seen it.'

'Very likely.'

'The milkman has been so unpunctual lately. We never know when he will appear. He's courting May Miller at the draper's, and his van stands outside for
hours.
I wonder he's not had up for loitering with intent.'

'You can't have a van charged with loitering, Violet dear.'

'Well, anyway,' went on Miss Lovelock, 'this wretched fellow lifted a carrier bag from the hall stand, went into the dining room and put
everything
—simply
everything
—from the sideboard into it. He also took everything from the hall table too.'

'And no one saw him?'

'Well, dear, a man on the bus saw him, we gather. The thief must have stepped into a bus as soon as he emerged. Extremely fortunate for him when you consider the paucity of public transport these days. This man—who saw him, I mean—has given a description to the police. He noticed that the carrier bag
clanked,
but as it was a Debenham's bag - such a
respectable
firm - he simply supposed that he had been buying kitchenware of some description, saucepans and fish kettles and so on.'

'Do Debenham's sell kitchenware?'

'I'm not sure. Shops sell such odd things these days, though never what you want. Bertha is having such a job buying double satin baby ribbon to thread through her best nightgown. It seems to have vanished from the market.'

'What's the next move, Violet? Are the police being helpful?'

'Oh, very! Most sympathetic. The only thing is that we are having such difficulty in providing a correct list. I wake in the night and think: 'Now, did I mention the pseudo-Lamerie posset cup which although made in Birmingham in 1905 was solid silver and quite charming?' The young officer who is dealing with us is patience itself, and always ready for a cup of Earl Grey tea. Luckily, he doesn't take sugar.'

There speaks a true Lovelock, thought Winnie, frugal even in adversity.

She put down the telephone after further expressions of sympathy, and went about her domestic duties.

The news about Molly's coming baby was soon general knowledge at Thrush Green. Everyone, with the exception of the baby's grandfather-to-be, Albert Piggott, was delighted.

'Lot of fuss about nothing,' growled Albert when congratulated by his fellow-drinkers at The Two Pheasants. 'If you ask me there's too many people in the world already, without adding to 'em.'

'You'll have to look after yourself a bit more, Albert me boy,' said one sagely. 'Can't expect Molly to do as she usually does for you, with another on the way.'

'D'you think I ain't thought of that meself?' snapped Albert, and gazed gloomily into his empty glass.

Little Miss Fogerty decided to put aside the cardigan she was knitting for next winter and to buy some baby wool at once for a jacket for the new child.

She was somewhat agitated about the choice of colour for the finished garment.

'I like pink myself,' she told Miss Watson, as they cracked their boiled eggs, 'and I've no doubt Molly is hoping for a girl this time. But if it is another boy, pink looks so
effeminate,
doesn't it? Perhaps blue would be safer. Girls look just as pretty in blue, don't you think?'

Miss Watson agreed somewhat absent-mindedly, and Agnes was instantly alert.

'Tell me, Dorothy, is your leg paining you?' Her own problems were forgotten at once.

Miss Watson sighed.

'To tell you the truth, Agnes, I had a most disturbed night with it.'

'Then we'll call in Doctor Lovell immediately.'

'No, no. I saw him not long ago, you remember, and he told me then that it was nothing to worry about. It was only
referred pain
, he said.'

'So what!' remarked little Miss Fogerty, quite militant on her friend's behalf. 'If it's pain, it's pain, and hurts! What's the difference between
legitimate
pain and this
referred
variety?'

'I quite agree,' confessed Miss Watson, wincing as she moved her chair. 'All very unsatisfactory, but is one in a position to argue? I think we'll wait a day or two, and see how it goes on. I may have slept in an awkward position, and put my pelvic girdle out a little.'

'Maybe,' agreed Agnes. 'That's the worst of bones. They're all joined on and, I must admit, in the most careless fashion at times. But I warn you, Dorothy, I shall have no hesitation in summoning the doctor if I see you are suffering.'

Miss Watson smiled at her good friend. On the rare occasions when she was roused she looked, as she did now, like a ferocious mouse.

'I've no doubt I shall be as fit as a flea tomorrow,' she assured Agnes.

But even fleas, she reminded herself, as she rose painfully from the table, must have their off days.

Dimity and Charles Henstock, now happily installed at Mrs Jenner's, met Dotty Harmer in the lane leading from Thrush Green to Nidden. They told her the news of Molly's expectations.

Dotty stood stock-still, looking bemused, while Flossie snuffled happily at Charles Henstock's legs, her plume of tail greatly agitated in her pleasure.

'Due in December? What a long time. Are you sure that's correct, Charles? I've forgotten the gestation period for humans. Goats, rabbits and cats I am perfectly sound on, but
babies
now...'

'I can assure you, Dotty, that December is correct,' said Dimity. 'Nine months, you know, is the time needed, and now it's June, so in six months' time the baby will arrive.'

'Yes, yes, I'm quite sure Molly would know. Such a competent little mother as she is. It's just that I had forgotten for the moment.'

'Come and have some tea in our new home,' suggested Charles. 'You've thought no more, by the way, about adopting a child of your own?'

'I can't say I've had any encouragement,' retorted Dotty. 'From the adoption societies - or from you, for that matter, if you recall, Charles dear. I've decided to give up the plan. With much regret, I may say.'

Charles heaved a sigh of relief.

'And, yes please, I should love a cup of tea with you at Mrs Jenner's.'

They began to retrace their steps. Flossie bounding ahead.

'Of course,' said Dotty conversationally, as they entered Mrs Jenner's gate, 'elephants carry their young for two years. I think that is what was confusing me. Poor things!' She added pityingly.

Charles and Dimity, following Dotty's scarecrow figure up the path, exchanged glances of shared joy.

What would they do without Dotty?

As Jenny's train rushed eastward from Torquay through the June countryside, she looked back upon her holiday with great contentment.