(8/13) At Home in Thrush Green (30 page)

'Coffee? A drink?'

'Nothing, thank you. Just a sight of you both, and the dear old church and vicarage. How's it going?'

They spent some time exchanging news, and the two men went out into the spring sunshine to look round the garden. Charles told him about the new homes at Thrush Green, and the alterations to the church almshouses hard by.

'And where is my friend Mrs Bates then?'

Charles explained that she had been the first to be housed afresh.

'She was the best silver cleaner I ever met,' said Anthony.

'She still is,' Charles told him.

They began to stroll back again towards the vicarage. The church clock gave three sonorous chimes, and Anthony, pulling an elegant gold half-hunter from his waistcoat pocket, compared times.

'I don't need to be in Gloucester until six,' he said, 'and I would dearly love to see these new homes and my old friends again.'

'Let me take you up there,' said Charles. 'I know they would all love to see you.'

'Come in my car,' said Anthony, 'and I'll run you back.'

'There's no need for that,' replied Charles. 'I shall visit one or two people there, and enjoy a walk back.' in that case,' said Anthony, 'I must make my farewells to Dimity. It has been so good to see you both again.'

Ten minutes later the two men approached Thrush Green. As they came within sight of the new homes, Anthony stopped the car, and looked across to the spot where Charles's rectory had once stood.

'I miss the old house still,' said Charles.

He sounded wistful, and Anthony shot a glance at his sad countenance.

'It was a dreadful shock,' he said. 'But now these new homes have arisen, you see, like a phoenix from the ashes.'

Charles smiled slowly.

'I like that idea.'

Silence fell as the two men gazed at Thrush Green, golden and tranquil in the afternoon sunlight. Both were engrossed with their memories.

'Well,' said Anthony at last, 'it's no good harking back, Charles. We have to go forward, you know. And with hope.'

They got out of the car, and stood a moment, enjoying the fresh breeze.

'Come on, Charles,' cried Anthony, stepping out. 'Let's go and see our old friends.'

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Miss Read is actually Mrs. Dora Saint, whose novels draw on her own memories of living and teaching in a small English village. She first began writing after the Second World War, mainly light essays about school and country matters, for several journals. Her first book,
Village School,
was published in England by Michael Joseph and then in the United States by Houghton Mifflin Company in 1955. She has since delighted millions of readers with both the Fairacre series and her equally well loved series about the Cotswold village of Thrush Green. Miss Read and her husband, a retired schoolmaster, have one daughter and enjoy a quier life near Newbury, Berkshire.