(8/13) At Home in Thrush Green (6 page)

She 'put the school to rights' each morning, and on two days a week she worked as well at the Shoosmiths' home. When Harold Shoosmith had arrived in Thrush Green as a single man some years earlier, Betty had looked after the cleaning and also did some cooking, but since he had married, Isobel undertook most of the household work, and Betty's duties were much reduced.

She espied Willie Bond, the fat postman, ploughing his way towards her, and waited to see if he had any post for the Shoosmiths.

'How's tricks then, Willie? Got any letters for us? I'll save you a few steps maybe.'

Willie dismounted heavily, and fumbled in his canvas bag.

'Two from abroad it seems, and one of them bingo nonsenses as says you're going to win half a million what you never do.'

Betty accepted them.

'And how's auntie?'

Willie Bond and Betty Bell were first cousins.

'Worriting, as usual. Reckons the price of things is enough to give her the dumps. She's wondering whether to apply for one of these 'ere houses, but I don't reckon she'd like it.'

'Well, let's face it, Willie, she never liked anything much. Always a moaner, your mum.'

Willie sighed.

'True enough. Bet my girl. Well, I'd best be speeding off.'

He clambered again on to his bicycle and weaved his way to deliver letters at the schoolhouse.

'At least there are no bills this morning,' said Harold to Isobel, across the breakfast table. Upstairs the hum of the vacuum cleaner joined Betty Bell's voice uplifted in song.

'All's right with the world then,' commented Isobel, looking out at the sunshine, as Harold read his letters.

They had both found a perfect place for retirement, she thought yet again. It was good to be part of the small community of Thrush Green, and she was particularly fortunate to have made such a happy second marriage. She relished, too, the friendship and nearness of Agnes Fogerty, who was a staunch companion from college days.

'Which reminds me,' she said to her husband. 'I've promised to look out some jumble for the school sale at the end of term. I must do it this weekend.'

Harold passed over the two letters.

'They sound happy enough in Africa, although there seems to be quite a lot of opening doors to find chaps waiting there with pangas at the ready. All in all, I'd sooner be at Thrush Green, wouldn't you?'

'Without a doubt,' responded his wife.

***

Next door, little Miss Fogerty and Miss Watson were preparing to go across the playground to their school duties.

The breakfast things had been washed, beds made and dusting done, for both ladies were early risers, as schoolteachers need to be, and were quick with their daily routine. Now they were on their way.

'I do so hope that Ray and Kathleen got their card this morning,' said Dorothy, still glowing with the thought of her forgiving gesture.

'Bound to have done,' Agnes assured her. 'It caught the afternoon post and had a first-class stamp on it.'

George Curdle, aged six, and one of her most promising pupils, now approached and presented her with a splendid posy of sweet peas.

'Why, thank you, George! How lovely! Did your father grow them?'

The child nodded, conscious of Miss Fogerty's sincere pleasure, and the gracious smiles of his headmistress.

'Tell him I am very pleased indeed with them,' said Agnes, passing on.

'Ben Curdle,' observed Dorothy, 'could always do anything. Took after his dear grandmother, no doubt. I still miss the May Day fair she used to bring here yearly.'

'So do I,' agreed her assistant, 'but it is much more peaceful teaching without it.'

'Well, we should have a peaceful enough day today, Agnes. The children will be able to play outside, and we shall get a little rest.'

It was not to last long.

Later that morning, across the green, the appetising smell of cheese scones scented Jenny's kitchen. They had turned out perfectly, nicely risen and gilded with egg yolk. Jenny admired them as they aired on the wire rack. Richard should enjoy those, she thought. A pity his wife could not sample them too.

After lunch Winnie Bailey fell asleep in her chair, and woke to find it almost three o'clock. Perhaps a good thing to have had a nap, she told herself. Richard's company was always exhausting, no matter how pleased one was to welcome him.

By half past four the trolley was ready in the kitchen, and the kettle was filled. Jenny hovered anxiously, one eye on the clock.

'If he's not here by five,' said Winnie, 'we'll have ours.'

But at ten to the hour, Richard arrived, tea was made, the trolley trundled into the sitting room, and Winnie awaited the details of his marriage.

He certainly looked very fit. He still had a good head of fair hair when so many of his contemporaries were losing theirs. His blue eyes, behind the spectacles which he had worn since childhood, were as bright as ever. His appetite too was keen, and he demolished five of Jenny's scones before Winnie had started her first.

Winnie had half-hoped that he would make some complimentary remark about the scones which she could have passed on to Jenny, to that lady's pleasure, but he appeared to demolish his tea simply to satisfy the inner man.

'Do you still follow your friend Otto's diet?' asked Winnie, remembering earlier visits when the dining room table had bristled with Richard's bottles of pills.

'No. I'm afraid he was exposed as something of a charlatan. His pills were mostly sugar with a mild opiate added. If he had been on any medical register he would have been struck off. A great pity about Otto. Quite gifted in some ways.'

Winnie remembered some trenchant remarks of her husband's about Otto and his products, but forbore to tell them to Richard.

'Now, please, I'm all agog. Tell me, when was the wedding?'

'Three weeks ago, Aunt Win. Very quiet affair at our local registry office. We both wanted that.'

'And her name?'

'Fenella. We met about two years ago at a party. She runs an art gallery with a distant cousin of hers. Quite lucrative.'

He helped himself to a slice of fruit cake, and munched busily.

'So will you live in London?'

'Oh yes, when I'm there. There's a flat of sorts over the shop, so to speak. Not very big, but as I'm away such a lot it should do us quite well. Fenella's lived there ever since she started at the gallery.'

'So that's why she couldn't come with you today, I suppose, with the gallery to see to?'

'Well, partly. At the moment she's not too fit.'

'Oh dear,' cried Winnie, envisaging some frail creature lying on a sofa with a severe headache, 'nothing serious, I hope?'

'No, nothing serious,' replied Richard, dusting cake crumbs briskly from his knees to the carpet. 'But our baby's due next month, and she finds the stairs rather trying.'

Winnie, who had been brought up in the days when one's baby did not appear for at least nine months from the wedding day, adjusted herself to this news whilst refilling Richard's cup.

'Which is really why I wanted to come today,' continued Richard.

'I rather hoped you might want to see me,' smiled Winnie.

'Oh well, of course it is always nice to see you,' replied the young man, looking bewildered, 'but it was Fenella I was worrying about. You see, she will be having the baby at our local hospital, but no doubt will be sent out on the third day, if not earlier.'

He paused to take a gulp of tea.

Winnie's heart sank. If she were to be asked to travel to London to look after a nursing mother and new baby, for which she had no qualifications, she would have to refuse. And the stairs sounded daunting too, at her time of life.

'My suggestion is that she comes straight down here, if you could put her up. It's so quiet and peaceful, and the air would do her good.'

'But has she nowhere else to go?' asked Winnie.

'Her mother lives at Wimbledon, but they don't hit it off together awfully well, and in any case she's getting on. She must be well into her fifties.'

'And I'm well into my seventies,' said Winnie, with some asperity. She was about to remonstrate further when Richard spoke again.

'Of course, Timothy might be a problem. He'd have to come with Fenella.'

'Timothy?'

'Yes, he's four now. By Fenella's first husband. Full of life, is Timothy.'

Winnie began to feel slightly dizzy.

'But where will you be, Richard, when this child is born?'

'Oh, that's the point! I have to do a tour of Australia in about three weeks' time, so that's why I'm trying to get things settled before I go. I talked it over with Fenella, and I told her that you had Jenny to help in the house, and John Lovell practically on the premises if anything went wrong, and it all seemed ideal to us.'

Maybe, thought Winnie, with growing astonishment at these plans, but far from ideal for Jenny and for me! How right Donald had been when he described Richard as the most self-centred individual he had ever met! His calm assumption that two elderly ladies would disrupt their lives to accommodate his wife and two children, while he left all his responsibilities behind, astounded her.

She put down her cup very carefully, and took a deep breath.

'Richard, Fenella and the new baby, and the little boy, are your responsibility. You must have known about this situation for months, and should have made plans properly. To my mind, you should have cancelled the Australian trip, and been with them at this time.'

'But that would have been quite impossible, auntie. The contract was signed a year ago. Besides, I wanted to go.'

There speaks Richard, thought Winnie.

'In any case, it is impossible for me to take on your responsibilities. Now that Jenny lives here, we have only one spare bedroom, and really no facilities for coping with a mother and new baby, let alone Timothy.'

'Well,' said Richard, looking much taken aback, 'I really didn't foresee this!'

'Then you should have done. I am in my seventies, and Jenny not much less. I look forward to meeting Fenella and the family before long, but to expect us to cope with the present problem is remarkably naive of you and – I must say it, Richard – uncommonly selfish too.'

'Then what am I to do?'

'You must make arrangements for a younger and better qualified woman than I am, to care for your family, if you must go on with this tour, which I consider ill-advised and again extremely selfish. Suppose something goes awry with the birth? How are people to get in touch with you? How will Fenella feel, trying to cope with everything? I'm getting crosser every minute with you, Richard. Have another cup of tea.'

He passed his cup in silence. Winnie found herself breathing heavily. All this was most upsetting. It was against her kindly nature to refuse help at such a time, but the facts were as she stated, and Richard was putting her into an impossible situation.

'So you won't have them?'

'I
can't
have them, and that's top and bottom of it. It would have been more thoughtful of you to have broached this subject months ago. I could have told you then, as I've told you now, that Jenny and I are beyond it, and you would have had more time to make other plans.'

'I'm very disappointed. I shall have to think again.'

'You most certainly will,' agreed Winnie, with some spirit. 'I advise you to try and get someone to live in for a month or so to look after things. No doubt the local district nurse will call as often as she can, but there should be somebody there – you, preferably – to cope with the day-to-day running of the household.'

Richard began to look sulky, reminding Winnie of the time when he had been refused a sixth chocolate biscuit at the age of five. He did not seem to have matured much in some ways.

'You've made things very awkward for me, Aunt Win. I really don't know what to do next.'

'There are plenty of agencies in your part of London,' Winnie told him, 'who will be only too pleased to send you someone who can cope with the nursing and the housework. I remember going to Kensington with my mother years ago when we needed a cook-general.'

'But it will cost money,' protested Richard.

'Naturally,' agreed Winnie. 'If you are expecting skilled and reliable service you must be prepared to pay well. Personally, I should have thought it a small price to pay for help in the circumstances.'

Richard looked at his watch.

'Too late to do anything today, I suppose. I think I'd better get back to town and discuss things with Fenella. I'm afraid she will be as disappointed as I am. I know she was looking forward to a week or two here to recuperate.'

Winnie refused to be browbeaten.

'I'm quite sure she will understand, Richard. Are you driving straight home?'

'Yes, of course. My lecture tomorrow isn't until the evening.'

'Then, in that case, I will pick her some roses. They are particularly fine this year. And you must wait while I write a note to go with them.'

Richard followed her into the garden as she snipped among the rosebeds. He still seemed upset, but Winnie ignored his restless pacing to and fro.

A quarter of an hour later, he was in the car, the roses, beautifully shrouded in tissue paper, on the back seat, and Winnie's letter in his pocket.