(6/13) Gossip from Thrush Green Page 12

  Ella was in her garden, sitting in a deck chair. Across her lap was draped a small sack, and across that lay some strands of raffia in gaudy colours. A large needle threaded with a piece of scarlet raffia was in Ella's hand, but it was not being used.

  Ella was asleep, her mouth ajar, her head lodged sideways. Dotty surveyed her for a few moments, trying to decide if she should tiptoe away. However, the recipe was needed immediately if she wanted to pick really fresh elder flowers.

  She coughed discreetly, and Ella awoke.

  'Golly!' exclaimed Ella, reverting in her bemused state to the ejaculations of her childhood. 'You made me jump!'

  I'm sorry about that, but the front door was wide open, so I just came through.'

  'And quite right too,' said Ella. Pull up that other chair and relax. What weather! That's why I opened the front door. You get a nice breeze right through the house that way, though I don't suppose the police would approve.'

  'Was that young officer a good speaker? I couldn't come to the W.I. last Wednesday. One of the hens was indisposed, and I felt I should be at hand, you know.'

  Quite,' said Ella, envisaging Dotty crouched in the hen run holding a flaccid claw in her own skinny hand. 'How is she now?'

  'Oh, quite recovered, thank you. I was sorry to miss the talk. About safety precautions, wasn't it? Not that I ever think of locking the house, though I suppose one should.'

  He seemed to think that opening the door to strangers was even worse.'

  'But why? After all, one is obliged to open the door to see if they really are strangers.'

  'Evidently, they are inclined to knock you on the head,' replied Ella, 'and then take anything of value before you come round.'

  'How very unpleasant! I can't say I get many strangers, do you?'

  'The odd tramp now and again. I always fill their billycans with hot water as requested, and give 'em a slice of bread and cheese.'

  'I must admit that I do too. My father was quite outspoken about tramps, and said some very wounding things to them, I thought. You know, about Satan finding mischief for idle hands to do, and able-bodied men always being able to find work if they really looked for it. They seldom called twice.'

  'I must say, I try to protect myself from an inundation of tramps by warning them not to leave any of their cryptic signs on the gate post.'

  'Do they do that?'

  'So I'm told. You know - a circle means: "Here's a soft touch," or a cross means: "Look out! The old cat chucks water over you!" Something of the sort.'

  'I must look out for those things. By the way, Ella, what are you making with that sack?'

  Ella held up her handiwork.

  'Peg bags. Always sell well at sales of work, and the raffia brightens them up, doesn't it?'

  'Yes, indeed,' agreed Dotty doubtfully. 'But won't the colours run if the bag gets wet?'

  'Why should it get wet?' protested Ella. 'You don't leave your peg bag out in the rain, do you?'

  'Yes,' said Dotty.

  Dotty would, thought Ella.

  'But as it's a good stout bag made out of father's old Burberry years ago, it doesn't come to any harm, you see.'

  Here Flossie, who had taken advantage of some shade under a lilac bush, yawned noisily and thumped her tail upon some defenceless forget-me-nots.

  Dotty took the hint.

  'Time we were off, Ella dear.'

  'Won't you stay to tea?'

  'No, thank you. Dulcie must be picketed elsewhere for the rest of the day. She's eating voraciously now she's pregnant, and I thought a short spell by the hazel bushes would enliven her diet. Goats really do appreciate variety. That's why I never get cross when I find that the dear thing has pulled something off the line for a snack. She's obviously short of some particular mineral or vitamin.'

  Flossie struggled to her feet and lumbered over to her mistress.

  'She feels the heat,' commented Ella, charitably ignoring the havoc caused by the spaniel's progress through the flower bed.

  'Perfect weather,' she went on, 'to be on holiday. It will do Winnie and Jenny a power of good by the sea.'

  Ella accompanied Dotty through the cool hall and out into the blaze of Thrush Green. She watched her old friend cross the grass and turn into the walled lane of golden Cotswold stone on her way to Lulling Woods and the most pampered goat in the locality. It was not until next morning that Dotty realised she had forgotten to ask for the recipe.

  At Torquay, the Sunday tea party was a great success, and Winnie departed for home on the Monday morning feeling relieved that Jenny had such good friends in the neighbourhood.

  Bessie and Harry lived over the shop, not far from the harbour, and from their upstairs sitting room there was a view of the sea which delighted Jenny.

  She was invited to lunch on the Tuesday, and when Harry had returned to his duties below, the two old friends settled down to compare the course of their lives since leaving the orphanage.

  They sat comfortably on a little balcony overlooking the steep street and the distant sea, their feet lodged in the decorative ironwork and their heads in the shade of the canopy above them.

  Jenny sighed contentedly.

  'Who'd have thought we should find ourselves so comfortable when we were at the orphanage?'

  'We've both been lucky,' agreed Bessie. 'And Harry's the perfect husband. I wonder you didn't marry, Jenny. You were always a pretty girl.'

  'Never had much chance,' replied Jenny. 'Ma and Pa took up all my time. Not that I grudged it, mark you. They was good to me, and I was glad to pay 'em back, but I didn't get out and about much.'

  'But now they're gone,' persisted Bessie. 'Don't you ever think of it?'

  In the silence that followed only the distant sea gulls cried. Jenny wondered if she should unburden herself to her old friend, and perhaps get her advice. On the other hand, her natural shyness made her reluctant.

  But the sun warmed her legs. The sea air was exhilarating. Thrush Green and its gossipers were far away, and for once Jenny threw aside her caution.

  'Well, as a matter of fact, Bessie, there is someone at the moment,' she confessed, and the tale of Percy's attentions, her own embarrassment and uncertainty, Winnie Bailey's kindness and her needs, all came tumbling out.

  Bessie, eyes closed against the brilliance of the afternoon, listened attentively. In common with the rest of mankind, Bessie loved a story, and here was a romantic drama of real life—its heroine lying close beside her and, better still, asking for her advice.

  'So there it is,' finished Jenny, feeling mightily relieved after such an outpouring, 'and I hope I'll know what to do by the time I get back. It's my belief Mrs Bailey got me away to give me a chance to sort out my feelings rather than improve my health.'

  'It's a bit difficult to know where one ends and the other begins,' said Bessie sagaciously. 'I had stye after stye on my eyelids when Harry was courting me, but as soon as I said "Yes" they vanished.'

  'But what do you think? He's such a good chap and he does miss his Gertie terribly. She was a wonderful manager, and the best cook in Thrush Green some said. He's lost without her, and his clothes are gettng something dreadful - buttons off, cuffs frayed—you know how men get their things.'

  Bessie sat forward and propped her chin on her fist. She gazed out to sea as she spoke slowly.

  'It's like this, Jenny. I don't doubt he's in need of a wife, and I don't doubt he'll find one pretty soon, if he's the nice fellow you say. But it's you I'm thinking of. Do you want to live with this Percy for the rest of your days? Do you want to give up the life you've just found simply because Percy's clothes need mending? You've always been unselfish. I can remember that from when we were little kids, and you've spent all your time till now looking after Ma and Pa. I don't say Percy wouldn't be grateful, and would treat you right. I'm sure he would. But is it what you want?'

  'If you put it like that,' said Jenny, 'I suppose I should never have thought of Percy in that way, if he hadn't come - well, I sup
pose you could say - courting.'

  'I'll tell you something else, Jenny, which always helped me when I was trying to decide about a man. I was no flibbertigibbet, mind you, but I did have quite a few lads in my time, before I met Harry, and I used to say to myself when they started to get serious: 'Now, would it break my heart to see him with someone else?' And, d'you know, half the time I used to think it would be a relief if they did find someone! Then I knew my own feelings!'

  Jenny laughed.

  'What a sensible way of looking at it! I can't tell you how you've helped, Bessie, and I think I'll know my own mind before I go back to Thrush Green. It's just that I hate to think of Percy being hurt.'

  '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

  WINNIE 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.