(6/13) Gossip from Thrush Green Page 13

  The news about Molly's coming baby was soon general knowledge at Thrush Green. Everyone, with the exception of the baby's grandfather-to-be, Albert Piggott, was delighted.

  'Lot of fuss about nothing,' growled Albert when congratulated by his fellow-drinkers at The Two Pheasants. 'If you ask me there's too many people in the world already, without adding to 'em.'

  'You'll have to look after yourself a bit more, Albert me boy,' said one sagely. 'Can't expect Molly to do as she usually does for you, with another on the way.'

  'D'you think I ain't thought of that meself?' snapped Albert, and gazed gloomily into his empty glass.

  Little Miss Fogerty decided to put aside the cardigan she was knitting for next winter and to buy some baby wool at once for a jacket for the new child.

  She was somewhat agitated about the choice of colour for the finished garment.

  'I like pink myself,' she told Miss Watson, as they cracked their boiled eggs, 'and I've no doubt Molly is hoping for a girl this time. But if it is another boy, pink looks so effeminate, doesn't it? Perhaps blue would be safer. Girls look just as pretty in blue, don't you think?'

  Miss Watson agreed somewhat absent-mindedly, and Agnes was instantly alert.

  'Tell me, Dorothy, is your leg paining you?' Her own problems were forgotten at once.

  Miss Watson sighed.

  'To tell you the truth, Agnes, I had a most disturbed night with it.'

  'Then we'll call in Doctor Lovell immediately.'

  'No, no. I saw him not long ago, you remember, and he told me then that it was nothing to worry about. It was only referred pain, he said.'

  'So what!' remarked little Miss Fogerty, quite militant on her friend's behalf. 'If it's pain, it's pain, and hurts! What's the difference between legitimate pain and this referred variety?'

  'I quite agree,' confessed Miss Watson, wincing as she moved her chair. 'All very unsatisfactory, but is one in a position to argue? I think we'll wait a day or two, and see how it goes on. I may have slept in an awkward position, and put my pelvic girdle out a little.'

  'Maybe,' agreed Agnes. 'That's the worst of bones. They're all joined on and, I must admit, in the most careless fashion at times. But I warn you, Dorothy, I shall have no hesitation in summoning the doctor if I see you are suffering.'

  Miss Watson smiled at her good friend. On the rare occasions when she was roused she looked, as she did now, like a ferocious mouse.

  'I've no doubt I shall be as fit as a flea tomorrow,' she assured Agnes.

  But even fleas, she reminded herself, as she rose painfully from the table, must have their off days.

  Dimity and Charles Henstock, now happily installed at Mrs Jenner's, met Dotty Harmer in the lane leading from Thrush Green to Nidden. They told her the news of Molly's expectations.

  Dotty stood stock-still, looking bemused, while Flossie snuffled happily at Charles Henstock's legs, her plume of tail greatly agitated in her pleasure.

  'Due in December? What a long time. Are you sure that's correct, Charles? I've forgotten the gestation period for humans. Goats, rabbits and cats I am perfectly sound on, but babies now...'

  'I can assure you, Dotty, that December is correct,' said Dimity. 'Nine months, you know, is the time needed, and now it's June, so in six months' time the baby will arrive.'

  'Yes, yes, I'm quite sure Molly would know. Such a competent little mother as she is. It's just that I had forgotten for the moment.'

  'Come and have some tea in our new home,' suggested Charles. 'You've thought no more, by the way, about adopting a child of your own?'

  'I can't say I've had any encouragement,' retorted Dotty. 'From the adoption societies - or from you, for that matter, if you recall, Charles dear. I've decided to give up the plan. With much regret, I may say.'

  Charles heaved a sigh of relief.

  'And, yes please, I should love a cup of tea with you at Mrs Jenner's.'

  They began to retrace their steps. Flossie bounding ahead.

  'Of course,' said Dotty conversationally, as they entered Mrs Jenner's gate, 'elephants carry their young for two years. I think that is what was confusing me. Poor things!' She added pityingly.

  Charles and Dimity, following Dotty's scarecrow figure up the path, exchanged glances of shared joy.

  What would they do without Dotty?

  As Jenny's train rushed eastward from Torquay through the June countryside, she looked back upon her holiday with great contentment.

  To have been by the sea would have been happiness enough. So seldom had she seen it that the wonder of its immensity and its changing moods, even viewed from the serenity of Meadfoot Beach, filled her with awe and excitement.

  She remembered the thrill of paddling at the edge of the waves, watching them frilling round her ankles. She had not ventured to bathe, paddling was as much as she dared to do, but the sight of her feet, grotesquely distorted beneath the green water, filled her with joyous amusement.

  The sea itself and the soft salty air had worked wonders for her spirits. Jenny began to realise how very run down she must have been, and would always be grateful to Winnie Bailey for recognising the state of affairs, and for dealing so briskly and generously with it.

  Swaying gently to the rhythm of the train, Jenny watched the telegraph poles flicker past against the background of green woods and fields. She would never be able to repay Winnie's kindness. The holiday had been wonderful, and an added bonus had been the joy of meeting Bessie again. The warm contentment which now engulfed her was due as much to Bessie's friendship and advice as to the healing properties of Torquay's sea and air.

  Yesterday evening Bessie had raised again the subject of Percy Hodge, guessing that Jenny must be feeling some tremors again at the thought of returning to Thrush Green and to facing her admirer once more.

  She did not know, of course, that Percy was to meet Jenny's train. Winnie Bailey's guarded message still awaited Jenny's return to the hotel. But she thought it would do no harm to see if her old friend were more settled in her mind. She raised the matter delicately, and Jenny sighed.

  'I remember what you told me about imagining someone else with your young man,' she said, 'and it worked, you know. If only some nice woman would take on Percy I think I'd be truly relieved. He does need someone so.'

  'I'm glad to hear you say that,' replied Bessie. 'But it needn't be you who supplies it. After all, Jenny, if his lost buttons and frayed collars worry you, then you could always offer to do some mending for him, as an old friend. You don't have to marry the fellow, now do you?'

  And Jenny had laughed and agreed.

  How sensible Bessie was! Of course, that was the right way to deal with Percy's ardours. Perhaps if she had had as many admirers as Bessie had in her young days, she would not have worried so much about dear old Percy's attentions. It was the sheer unexpectedness of being wanted by someone which had so agitated her. Bessie was probably quite right to say that Percy would find someone else within the year. She hoped he would. He was a good man and deserved some comfort and companionship.

  As for her own feelings, well—it was nice to have been courted. She would always be grateful to Percy for singling her out. But what a relief it would be to be freed from the necessity and embarrassment of thanking him for flowers, eggs, soap, plants and all the other kind presents which Percy had brought to the door!

  She closed her eyes against the Wiltshire meadows flashing past, and gave a sigh of contentment. Now she knew what to do. Now she could face Percy at the station. Probably he would say very little and just pick up her case, and talk about the weather. Then there would be no need to say anything much, except to tell him about Torquay. That should last beautifully until they reached Thrush Green. There really would not be much time to discuss feelings, thought Jenny with relief, and in any case, Percy was not a demonstrative man. And who knows, with any luck, his passion - such as it was—might have cooled in her absence, and meeting the train might simply be the gesture of an old frien
d.

  As would be her offer to do his mending, thought Jenny, if the occasion arose. Well, at least she was in command of her own affairs now, and could cope with whatever Percy offered.

  She dozed a little as the sunlight roamed around the carriage. The train's brakes squealed and the rhythm altered. Jenny awoke to see familiar fields running alongside.

  She lifted down her case and stood by the window, swaying in the movement of the rattling carriage. In the distance she could see a little knot of people, and one figure standing alone. It was Percy.

  He ran along by the side of the train and wrenched open the door. Jenny smiled and handed down the case as the train squealed to a halt.

  Perfectly in command of her feelings, she began to step down, but before her foot had reached the platform, she was lifted bodily by Percy and enveloped in a great bear hug.

  'How I've missed you, my girl!' cried Percy.

  And Jenny's heart sank.

  13. Jenny Decides

  WINNIE Bailey awaited Jenny's arrival eagerly, but with a certain amount of anxiety. Had she received her message about Percy? How would Percy greet her? Would she have come to any firm decisions about her future whilst at Torquay?

  The train was due at Lulling Station soon after four o'clock. Winnie prepared a tea tray. Jenny would need some refreshment after her journey, and over it perhaps she would hear something of Jenny's plans, as well as an account of the holiday.

  By a quarter to five Winnie was beginning to feel slightly worried. If Percy had driven Jenny straight through Lulling High Street and up the sharp hill to Thrush Green, they should have arrived by half past four at the latest. Of course, she told herself, the train might have been behind time, but the more disturbing possibility was that Percy had made a detour to find a quiet spot to make a proposal.

  She surveyed the tea tray. There were two cups and saucers, some tomato sandwiches and home-made biscuits. It might be as well to put out another cup in case Percy was now a fiancé. Trying to control her agitation, Winnie went to find a third cup, and to check the kettle.

  At that moment, she heard a car stop, and hurried to the window.

  Jenny alighted, and Percy lifted out her case from the back seat. They held a short conversation, and Winnie thought that Jenny seemed rather put out. Percy's face expressed his habitual happy bemusement when in Jenny's company, and he seemed to want to carry the case to the door.

  Jenny lifted it herself, said farewell to her suitor, and strode determinedly up the path. Percy waved, and got back into the driver's seat, as Winnie hurried to open the front door.

  'Won't Percy come in?' she asked.

  'He's got to get back,' said Jenny shortly, watching the car pull away from the kerb.

  'Well, my dear, it's lovely to have you home, and I'm just making some tea, so come and sit down.'

  'I can do with a cup,' said Jenny thankfully. 'Percy can be a bit of a trial at times.'

  And Winnie, pouring boiling water in the teapot, felt a pang of blessed relief.

  Over the tea-cups, Jenny gave an account of her surprising welcome at the station.

  'I was fair taken aback, as you can imagine, and I told him pretty straight not to behave so silly. But, bless you, he don't seem to take much notice when he's set on something, and he drove round the back way—he said to dodge the traffic, but that was all my eye and Betty Martin - which is why I'm so late. He would stop in the old avenue, and there he went on about how he'd missed me, and now I was back we could think about getting married, until I could have hit him.'

  'And what did you say, Jenny?'

  'When I could get a word in edgeways, I said I was sorry but I wasn't planning to get married to anyone, and certainly not to him. But you might just as well talk to a brick wall as Percy Hodge. He didn't seem to take it in. In the end I got quite wild, and begged to be put down so as I could walk home to get a bit calmer. But he wouldn't have it.'

  'A persistent fellow,' agreed Winnie, feeling more cheerful every minute.

  'More tea, Jenny dear?'

  Jenny passed her cup.

  'It's thirsty work turning down chaps, I can tell you,' she said, 'especially when they're as pig-headed as Percy. Well, in the end he said he was off to Wales tomorrow morning to get some cattle, and he'd be away two or three days, so I could get used to the idea of being engaged, and he'd call when he got back.'

  'Oh dear, Jenny! Are you sure what you want to do?'

  'Mrs Bailey,' said Jenny earnestly, 'I've thought of all this ever since I've left here, and I'm positive I don't want to marry Percy. What's more, I don't want to leave you.'

  Winnie felt tears of relief pricking her eyes.

  'Well, it's wonderful news for me, of course, and I'm glad you know your own mind. But I shouldn't like you to throw away your future happiness out of loyalty to me. Percy's a good fellow, and would make a kind husband, I'm sure, and he's obviously devoted to you. It's a good thing you have these few days to think things over.'

  'I don't need a few days,' said Jenny robustly. 'I know now, and I feel all the better for coming to a decision. When Percy comes back I'll make it quite clear to him.'

  'But do be kind!' pleaded Winnie. 'He'll be so disappointed.'

  'Bessie says she wouldn't mind betting he's happily married within a year,' said Jenny shrewdly. 'But it won't be to me! I'll just go and rinse the tea things.' She jumped to her feet.

  'You won't,' said Winnie. 'You've had enough to cope with in the past hour. Tea things can wait.'

  ***

  There was no doubt about it. Jenny's holiday had set her up again, and she attacked her work with renewed vigour. Winnie rejoiced in her return to health and good spirits.

  She said nothing more to Jenny about Percy, nor did she breathe a word to anyone else in Thrush Green, but somehow or other it seemed to be general knowledge, by the end of a week, that Percy Hodge had received his marching orders from Jenny.

  Comment at The Two Pheasants was now completely contrary to earlier views expressed. Far from thinking that Jenny might have done very well for herself as Percy's second wife, the general opinion seemed to be that she had shown very good sense in repelling his advances.

  Some went even further.

  'Take my word for it,' said one worthy, 'she found something better down in Devon. You can tell by the look of her. Fair come to life since going to Torquay. There's a man at the bottom of it, I shouldn't wonder.'

  'Can't blame her. After all, old Perce has been no more'n a thin string of misery since his Gertie went. Jenny's got herself to think of, and she's well enough off as she is in Doctor Bailey's place.'

  'Talk about a lot of women clacking,' cried the landlord, 'you chaps is worse than the lot! Putting two and two together and making half a dozen! Maybe Perce hasn't asked her yet.'

  'He ain't been near the place since he called after he got back from Wales. Why, he was everlasting mincing along with ruddy great bunches of flowers and that before she went away. Now look at him! Ain't I right?' he appealed to his fellow drinkers.

  There were confirmatory grunts of agreement. Albert Piggott had the last word.

  'It's my belief they've both seen the light, mates. This marrying and giving in marriage, what is cracked up so, can be a terrible let-down. And I'll have another half-pint of bitter, please, seeing I'm a free man without a wife to nag me.'

  It was soon after this that Harold and Isobel Shoosmith had a little party. Encouraged by the blissful spell of June weather, when the roses and pinks were at their most beguiling, and the sun was still above the horizon at nine at night, they invited some two dozen old friends to have a drink with them.

  The Henstocks and the Hursts arrived together. Frank Hurst had known Harold for many years and had been introduced to Phyllida by him when she was trying desperately to earn her living as a free-lance writer and had first come to live at Thrush Green.

  Agnes Fogerty was one of Isobel's oldest friends. They had met as girls at college, and it
was a shared joy now to live next door to each other. Dorothy Watson, chic in navy-blue silk, accompanied her assistant. The Youngs, the Bassetts, Winnie Bailey, Ella Bembridge and Dotty Harmer were all at the party, as well as several Lulling friends, including Anthony Bull, Lulling's handsome vicar.

  The evening was warm and windless, and the guests wandered about in the garden congratulating Harold and Isobel on their superbly mown lawns and weedless garden beds.

  'All Harold's doing,' Isobel told them. 'I'm just the dead-header of roses and pansies—a very lowly assistant gardener.'

  'Any news about your new home?' enquired Anthony Bull of Charles, as they stood together under a copper beech tree.

  'I gather there is some debate about building a smaller place on the old site, or finding a readymade establishment and selling the existing plot. I suppose that the land might command a good price, although I know very little about these things.'

  'It is not very big,' observed Anthony. 'I wonder if it would fetch a good price. Doubtful, I should think. But tell me, are you comfortable at Mrs Jenner's?'

  Charles's chubby face was lit with a smile.

  'Incredibly comfortable! Dimity and I had no idea one could be so warm and happy. The windows face south, you know, and the light is wonderful. I never need to put on my desk light when I am writing. I can't get over the joy of it.'

  'It's a house I've always admired,' said Anthony. 'Much the same age as our vicarage. Those eighteenth century builders knew what they were doing, didn't they?'

  'Without a doubt,' agreed Charles. 'Without a doubt. Although I grieve for our poor departed home, I'm just beginning to realise that it was badly designed, and dear Dimity must have put up with most uncomfortable surroundings, without a word of complaint.'

  'Ah! You married an angel, Charles, and I did too. We are fortunate fellows.'

  Phyllida Hurst came up to them.

  'Good news! The Thomases' baby arrived yesterday. A boy, and Jack sounded so pleased on the telephone. Wasn't it sweet of him to ring?'