(6/13) Gossip from Thrush Green (24 page)

'No, thank you, officer. You have been most helpful. There was just one other little matter,' added Bertha, the natural spokesman of all three.

'Yes, miss?'

'Have you been on outside duty this morning? On your beat, I believe is the correct expression?'

'Well, no, miss. I was detailed by Sergeant Brown to stand by this lot this morning. Very valuable stuff here. But I'll pass on any message.'

Bertha wondered if this fresh-faced young man would really be experienced enough to deal with the unpleasant matter of the Corn Exchange's graffiti, but she decided swiftly that he had probably been adequately trained and was quite used to seeing—and perhaps even hearing—the phrases written on the wall.

'We just wanted to direct your attention, officer, to some quite dreadful messages written with some prominence on a public building near by.'

'Oh, them scribbles on the Corn Exchange,' replied the constable, with relief. He had begun to wonder just what else these old tabbies were going to disclose. 'Don't you worry about them. One of the Cooke boys, no doubt. Anyway, young Armstrong's been told off to clean it up, so everything's under control.'

'I'm delighted to hear it,' said Bertha graciously.

'In very bad taste to deface a building with such words,' added Ada in support.

'And not even correctly spelt,' said Violet, adding her mite.

'I think,' said Bertha ominously, it is time we returned home.'

17. Housing Plans

T
HE
first two weeks of the summer holidays were spent by Miss Watson and Miss Fogerty in recuperating from the rigours of the term.

They also managed to fit in a number of personal arrangements which had been postponed during term time. Miss Watson had her hair permanently waved, one troublesome tooth extracted and two filled, and had several shopping expeditions for new corsets and other underwear.

Miss Fogerty, whose hair was straight 'as a yard of pump water', as she said, dressed it in a neat bun, and washed it herself. She did, however, need to visit the dentist who luckily only found one filling which needed attention. Her modest shopping resulted in a new flowered overall for school use, a pair of light sandals, and a petticoat. She was sorely tempted to buy a navy blue jersey suit, reduced in the summer sales, but with the possibility of helping with the purchase of a shared home she decided it would be imprudent to spend too lavishly.

The friends had reserved rooms at their favourite Barton guest house on the front for two weeks from the middle of August, and both ladies looked forward to the break eagerly. The discussion of money affairs about the buying of a permanent home there did not take place until a day or two before their departure. Dorothy Watson had obviously given the matter much thought.

'Now, I know just how independent you are, Agnes dear, and I very much appreciate your offer to help in buying a place to share, but I've decided against it.'

'But, Dorothy - ' protested Agnes, but was cut short. Miss Watson was at her most decisive, a schoolteacher at her firmest and fairest.

'It's like this. I should like to buy the house so that I can alter my will and leave it, with any other little things of value I might have, to be shared between my three nephews. I do not intend to leave anything to Ray and Kathleen apart from my mother's tea service which I know Ray would like. They have quite enough as it is, and I consider that they have forfeited any claim on my property after their dreadful behaviour. But I like the three boys, and I think they are making their way in the world quite splendidly, despite their parents.'

'Yes, I do see that, Dorothy, but nevertheless—'

Miss Watson drove on relentlessly.

'Of course, I shan't see you left without a roof over your head, Agnes dear, should I go first. The house will be left so that you can stay there for as long as you wish, and when you have done with it, then the three boys shall have it.'

'Oh, Dorothy, you are too good! But I pray that I may go first.'

'First or second, Agnes, hear me out. I've given a great deal of thought to this matter. Now, if you
insist
on putting something towards this venture—'

'I do. I do indeed!'

'Then I suggest that you could contribute to the furnishings which we are bound to need. No carpet or curtain ever seems to fit a new home, and I'm sure we shall need various extras, and possibly redecoration, although I think we should share that expense.'

'I agree wholeheartedly with anything you suggest,

Dorothy, but it really isn't enough from me. At least I can pay rent, surely?'

'I was coming to that. If you feel that you can pay the same amount as you do here, Agnes, it would be a very great help, believe me. Now, what do you think?'

'I think you are being uncommonly generous, as always, Dorothy.'

'Well, it seems the simplest and most straightforward way of arranging things. I thought I might go and put the matter to Justin Venables. He will deal with things if we do find somewhere, and I should like him to know what we have in mind. Will you come with me? I only hope he won't retire before we've finished with his services. One wonders if those youngsters in the firm have quite the same wisdom as dear Justin.'

'Of course I will come. And I don't think we need to have any doubts about the junior partners, Dorothy. I am sure that Justin has trained them quite beautifully.'

'Let's hope so,' said Dorothy. 'And now that that's over, I think I'll go and look out some of my clothes ready for packing.'

'And so will I,' replied little Miss Fogerty.

The two ladies retired to their bedrooms, one congratulating herself on a difficult matter successfully dealt with, and the other to think, yet again, about the boundless generosity of her friend.

The abrupt conclusion of Percy Hodge's courtship of Jenny had occasioned plenty of comment at the time, but as the weeks had gone by other topics had taken its place until Percy's suit had almost been forgotten, if not by Jenny, at least by the majority of Thrush Green's inhabitants.

It was some surprise then to Harold Shoosmith when Betty Bell, crashing about his study with the vacuum cleaner, shouted the information that Percy was looking elsewhere for a wife.

To tell the truth, Harold had not heard clearly for the racket around him, and was on the point of fleeing to more peaceful pastures.

Betty, seeing that she might be baulked of her prey, switched off the machine and began to wind up the cord.

'Percy! You know, Percy Hodge as was hanging up his hat to Jenny at Mrs Bailey's,' she explained.

'What about him?'

'I just told you. He's courting someone else now.'

'Well, good luck to him. No harm in angling elsewhere if he hasn't succeeded in landing his first fish.'

'I don't know as Jenny'd care to be called a fish,' said Betty, bending down to wind the cord carefully into figures of eight on the cleaner's handle.

Harold watched this manoeuvre with resignation. If he had asked Betty once to desist from this practice which cracked the cord's covering he had beseeched her twenty times. It made no difference. At some point in her career, Betty had decided to wind cords in a figure of eight style, and stuck to it.

'Well, who is it, Betty? Come on now. You know you're dying to tell me. Someone we know?'

'You might, and you might not. Ever been up The Drovers' Arms?'

'Beyond Lulling Woods? No, I can't say I have. Does the lady live there?'

'Works there. Name of Doris. She cleans up, and helps behind the bar of a Saturday. She's from foreign parts, they say.'

Really? What, Spain, France, or further afield?'

Betty looked shocked.

'Oh, not
that
foreign! I mean she speaks English and goes to our church. No, she's from Devon, I think, or maybe Cornwall. A long way off, I know, but speaks very civil really.'

'And you think Percy calls there? It may be that they keep the sort of beer he prefers.'

'Percy Hodge,' said Betty, setting her arms akimbo and speaking with emphasis, 'was always content to have his half-pint at The Two Pheasants. What call has he got to traipse all the way to The Drovers' Arms, unless he's courting?

Besides, he's always carrying a great bunch of flowers, and he gives 'em to this Doris.'

'Ah!' agreed Harold, 'that certainly sounds as though he means business. I hope you all approve at Lulling Woods?'

'Well, he could do a lot worse. She's a hefty lump, anu can turn her hand to helping on the farm, I'm sure. Clean too, and cooks quite nice. Not as good as Percy's Gertie, I don't suppose. She was famous for her pastry and sponges. But still, this Doris can do a plain roast, they tell me, and is a dab hand at jam making. She should do very nicely, we reckon.'

'I'm glad she's approved,' said Harold gravely, 'and I hope that Percy will soon be made happy.'

He nodded towards the cleaner.

'Finished in here?'

'I wondered if you'd like your windows done. They look pretty grimy from your tobacco smoke.'

'Better leave them,' said Harold, deciding to ignore the side swipe at his pipe. 'No doubt Mrs Shoosmith will tell you the most urgent jobs.'

'Come to think of it,' said Betty, trundling the cleaner towards the door, 'she's waiting for me to help turn the beds. It flew right out of my head with you chatting away to me.'

She vanished before Harold could think of a suitable retort.

That same afternoon, Ella Bembridge left her cottage to post a letter at the box on the wall at the corner of Thrush Green.

It was warm and still, and she was just wondering if she would take a walk along the lane to Nidden to call on Dimity and Charles when she saw her old friend approaching along the avenue of chestnut trees.

Dimity was on the same errand with a half a dozen letters in her hand.

'Coming back with me?' enquired Ella, after their greetings.

'I mustn't, Ella. I've a nice joint of bacon simmering away, so I can't be long. Charles has gone sick visiting at Nidden.'

'Well, let's sit down for a minute or two here,' replied Ella, making her way to one of the public seats generously provided for exhausted wayfarers at Thrush Green. 'Heard any more about your housing plans?'

Dotty looked perturbed.

'Not really, but Charles had a letter this morning confirming these rumours about amalgamating the parishes.'

'First I've heard of it,' announced Ella. 'What's it all about?'

'Well, Anthony Bull's two parishes of Lulling and Lulling Woods are to be merged with Charles's Thrush Green and Nidden.'

'Good heavens! Anthony will have a massive parish to work, won't he?'

'It looks like it.'

Ella suddenly became conscious of Dimity's agitation.

'And what happens to Charles?'

'Nobody knows. All the letter gave was the news that the four parishes would be merged.'

'Do you think this is the reason for not hearing about rebuilding the rectory?'

'It looks very much like it. I simply can't get Charles to do anything about it, although I've done my best to press him to make enquiries. We really ought to know where we stand. It is all most worrying. I'm so afraid he will now be moved. If it is too far from Lulling and Thrush Green, as it might well be, I shall be so lost without all our old friends.'

Dimity sounded tearful, and Ella patted her thin hand comfortingly.

'Cheer up, Dim! Worse troubles at sea! You'll probably hear in a day or two that building's beginning on the old spot over there, and you'll have a spanking new place to live in.'

'Somehow I don't think so. I'm afraid any spanking new place we have to live in will be miles away.'

She blew her nose forcefully, and jumped to her feet.

'Well, it's been a comfort to talk to you, Ella, as always, but I must get back to the bacon. You shall be the first to know if we hear anything definite.'

She hurried away across the green, and Ella returned more slowly and thoughtfully to her own house.

As it happened, it was Edward Young, the architect, who heard more about the empty site at Thrush Green.

The rumour reached him by way of an acquaintance who was on one of the planning committees.

'About eighteenth hand,' Edward told Joan, 'so one takes it with a pinch of salt, but I think there's something brewing all right. Evidently, the Church is putting it on the market and the local council would like to buy it.'

'But what for?'

'Well, it's only a small area, but this chap seemed to think that a neat little one-storey unit of, say, four or six houses for old people might be put there. Actually, he said there were plenty of tottering old bods at Thrush Green that could do with them.'

'He's not far wrong,' commented Joan.

'Or perhaps a health clinic. I think that's a better idea myself. The one at Lulling's had its day, and it's a long way to walk there. Particularly if you are pregnant like our Molly.'

'It would certainly be useful,' said Joan. 'Which do you think it will be?'

'My dear good girl, don't ask me! You know what these rumours are. But I'm pretty sure he's right about the site being sold. And we'll keep a sharp eye on what gets put up on it, believe me. We've had our years of penance with that eyesore of a Victorian rectory. I hope our children will see something less horrific in its place one day.'