Mrs. Ames (37 page)

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Authors: E. F. Benson,E. F. Benson

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‘You shall have it your own way, Henry,' said she. ‘I am quite willing that you should think it was a twelvemonth ago, if you choose. But I suppose you will not dispute that they went away in October, which is a very odd time to take for a holiday. Of course, Mrs Evans stopped here all August, or so she says, and she might answer that she wanted a little change of air. But for my part, I think there must have been something more, though, as I say, I cannot guess what it is. Luckily, it is no concern of mine, and I need not worry my head about it. But I have always thought Mrs Evans looked far from strong,
and it seems odd that a doctor's wife should not be more robust, when she has all his laboratory to choose from.'

Henry lit his cigarette, and strolled to the window. The lawn was still white with the unmelted hoar frost, and the gardener was busy in the beds, putting things tidy for the winter. This consisted in plucking up anything of vegetable origin and carrying it off in a wheelbarrow. Thus the beds were ready to receive the first bedded-out plants next May.

‘I remember, my dear,' said Henry, ‘that you once thought that there had been some - some understanding between Mrs Evans and Major Ames, and some misunderstanding between Major Ames and Dr Evans.'

Mrs Altham brought her eyebrows together and put her finger on her forehead.

‘I seem to remember some ridiculous story of yours, Henry, about a bunch of chrysanthemums in the road outside Dr Evans' house, how you had seen Major Ames take them in, and there they were afterwards in the road. I seem to remember your being so much excited about it that I made a point of going round to Mrs Ames' next day with -with a book. I think that at the time - correct me if I am wrong - I convinced you that there was nothing whatever in it … Or have you seen or heard anything since that makes you think differently?' she added rather more briskly.

‘No, my dear, nothing whatever,' said he.

Mrs Altham got up.

‘I am glad, very glad,' she said. ‘At any rate, we know in Riseborough that we are safe from that sort of thing. I declare when I went to London last week, I hardly slept with thinking of the dreadful things that might be going on round me. Dear me, it is nearly ten o'clock. I do not know whether the hours or the days go quickest! It is always half an hour later than I expect it to be, and here we are
in November already. I shall rest for an hour, Henry, and I will write to Mrs Ames before lunch saying we shall be delighted to come on Saturday. November the twelfth, too! Nearly half November will be gone by then, and that leaves us but six weeks to Christmas, and it will be as much as we shall be able to manage to get through all that has to be done before that. But with these Swedish exercises, I declare I feel younger every day, and more able to cope with everything. You should take to them, Henry; by eleven o'clock they are finished and you have had your rest. With a little management you would find time for everything.'

Henry sat over the dining-room fire, considering this. As has been mentioned, he did not want to make any change in his excellent health, but, on the other hand, a little rest after breakfast would be pleasant, and when that was over it would be almost time to go to the club.

But it was impossible to settle a question like that offhand. After he had read the paper he would think about it.

Mrs Altham came hurrying back into the room.

‘Henry, you would never guess what I have seen!' she said. ‘I glanced out of the window in the hall on the way to my room, and there was Mrs Ames wobbling about the road on a bicycle. Major Ames was holding it upright with both hands, and it looked to be as much as he could manage. Yet she has no time for Suffragettes! I should be sorry if I thought I should ever make such a hollow excuse as that. And at her age, too! I had no time to call you, but I dare say she will be back soon if you care to watch. The window seat in the hall is quite comfortable.'

Henry took his paper there.

 

The Bloomsbury Group: a new library of books from the early twentieth-century chosen by readers, for readers

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THE BRONTËS WENT TO WOOLWORTHS

As growing up in pre-war London looms large in the lives of the Carne sisters, Deirdre, Katrine and young Sheil still cannot resist making up stories as they have done since childhood; from their talking nursery toys to their fulsomely-imagined friendship with real high-court Judge Toddington. But when Deirdre meets the judge's real-life wife at a charity bazaar the sisters are forced to confront the subject of their imaginings. Will the sisters cast off the fantasies of childhood forever? Will Toddy and his wife, Lady Mildred, accept these charmingly eccentric girls? And when fancy and reality collide, who can tell whether Judge Toddington truly wears lavender silk pyjamas or whether the Brontës did indeed go to Woolworths?

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‘The family at its most eccentric and bohemian – a pure concoction of wonderful invention. What an extraordinary meeting I have just had with the Carnes'
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WOLF MANKOWITZ

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For in the embattled working-class community of 1950s East End London, there are plenty of people in need of good fortune. The only thing Mr Kandinsky wants is a steam press for his shop; his assistant Shmule, a wrestler, just needs to buy a ring for his girl; and all Joe and his mother wish for, more than anything, is to join his father in Africa. But maybe, just maybe, Joe's unicorn can sprinkle enough luck on all his friends for their humble dreams to come true.

*

‘Wolf Mankowitz possessed the now largely vanished gift of being able to write about romance and sentiment without being ever sentimental'
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‘A small miracle. He writes of the teeming streets round the Whitechapel Road with such glowing warmth and love that they come triumphantly alive. Wolf Mankowitz, you are not a star. You are a planet'
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ADA LEVERSON

LOVE'S SHADOW

Edith and Bruce Ottley live in a very new, very small, very white flat in Knightsbridge. On the surface they are like every other respectable couple in Edwardian London and that is precisely why Edith is beginning to feel a little bored. Excitement comes in the form of the dazzling and glamorous Hyacinth Verney, who doesn't understand why Edith is married to one of the greatest bores in society. But then, Hyacinth doesn't really understand any of the courtships, jealousies and love affairs of their coterie: why the dashing Cecil Reeve insists on being so elusive, why her loyal friend Anne is so stubbornly content with being a spinster, and why she just can't seem to take her mind off love…

A wry, sparklingly observed comedy of manners,
Love's Shadow
brims with the wit that so endeared Ada Leverson to Oscar Wilde, who called her the wittiest woman in the world.

*

‘Saki meets Jane Austen in the delectable Edwardian comedies of Ada Leverson. A great discovery awaits her new readers'
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‘A perceptive, witty and wise portrayal of an ill–assorted marriage and unrequited love'
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FRANK BAKER

MISS HARGREAVES

When, on the spur of a moment, Norman Huntley and his friend Henry invent an eighty-three year-old woman called Miss Hargreaves, they are inspired to post a letter to their new fictional friend. It is only meant to be a silly, harmless game – until she arrives on their doorstep, complete with her cockatoo, her harp and – last but not least – her bath. She is, to Norman's utter disbelief, exactly as he had imagined her: eccentric and endlessly astounding. He hadn't imagined, however, how much havoc an imaginary octogenarian could wreak in his sleepy Buckinghamshire home town, Cornford.

Norman has some explaining to do, but how will he begin to explain to his friends, family and girlfriend where Miss Hargreaves came from when he hasn't the faintest clue himself?

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‘A fantasy of the most hilarious description – the kind of novel, I fancy, that is badly wanted at the moment, and its central idea is one which has rarely, if, indeed, ever, been used before'
SUNDAY TIMES

‘Having met Miss Hargreaves, you won't want to be long out of her company – Frank Baker's novel is witty, joyful, and moving but above all an extraordinary work of the imagination'
STUCK-IN-A-BOOK.BLOGSPOT

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D.E. STEVENSON

MRS TIM OF THE REGIMENT

Vivacious, young Hester Christie tries to run her home like clockwork, as would befit the wife of British Army officer, Tim Christie. Left alone for months at a time whilst her husband is with his regiment, Mrs Tim resolves to keep a diary of events large and small in her family life.

When a move to a new regiment in Scotland uproots the Christie family, Mrs Tim is hurled into a whole new drama of dilemmas; from settling in with a new set whilst her husband is away, to disentangling a dear friend from an unsuitable match. And who should stride into Mrs Tim's life one day but the dashing Major Morley, hell-bent on pursuit of our charming heroine. Hester soon finds herself facing unexpected crossroads…

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‘The writer's unflagging humour, her shrewd, worldly wisdom, and her extremely realistic pictures of garrison life make it all good reading'
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‘Delightful domestic comedy'
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JOYCE DENNYS

HENRIETTA'S WAR

NEWS FROM THE HOME FRONT 1939–1942

Spirited Henrietta wishes she was the kind of doctor's wife who knew exactly how to deal with the daily upheavals of war. But then, everyone in her close-knit Devonshire village seems to find different ways to cope: there's the indomitable Lady B, who writes to Hitler every night to tell him precisely what she thinks of him; flighty Faith who is utterly preoccupied with flashing her shapely legs; and then there's Charles, Henrietta's hard-working husband who manages to sleep through a bomb landing in the neighbour's garden.

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‘Wonderfully evocative of English middle-class life at the time … never fails to cheer me up'
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JOYCE DENNYS

HENRIETTA SEES IT THROUGH

MORE NEWS FROM THE HOME FRONT 1942-45

The war is now in its third year and although nothing can dent the unwavering patriotism of Henrietta and her friends, everyone in the Devonshire village has their anxious moments. Henrietta takes up weeding and plays the triangle in the local orchestra to take her mind off things; the indomitable Lady B, now in her late seventies, partakes in endless fund-raising events to distract herself from thoughts of life without elastic; and Faith, the village flirt, finds herself amongst the charming company of the American GIs. With the war nearing its end, hope seems to lie just around the corner and as this spirited community muddle through, Lady B vows to make their friendships outlast the hardship that brought them together.

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PAUL GALLICO

MRS HARRIS GOES TO PARIS &

MRS HARRIS GOES TO NEW YORK

Mrs Harris is a salt-of-the-earth London charlady who cheerfully cleans the houses of the rich. One day, when tidying Lady Dant's wardrobe, she comes across the most beautiful thing she has ever seen – a Dior dress. She's never seen anything as magical and she's never wanted anything as much. Determined to make her dream come true, Mrs Harris scrimps, saves and slaves away until one day, she finally has enough money to go to Paris. Little does she know how her life is about to be transformed forever…

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