(19/20) Farewell to Fairacre Page 15

  The halcyon weather which we had enjoyed changed abruptly with a spectacular thunderstorm one June night.

  The bedroom windows streamed with rain, and flashes of lightning lit up the countryside. The thunder shook the cottage, and Tibby scratched at my bedroom door, was admitted and dived for cover under the eiderdown.

  Sleep was impossible, and it was almost four o'clock before the storm abated. I suppose I must have had a few hours' sleep, but when the alarm clock went off at seven I could have done with more.

  But everything smelled wonderful after the rain. The clove pinks in the border gave out their spicy smell and the madonna lilies above them added to the morning's perfume.

  The lane from Beech Green to Fairacre was still damp from the night's downpour, and steam was rising as the sun's strength grew. Small birds were busy foraging for insects which had ventured forth into the morning dampness, and larks were already up and away soaring into the blue above.

  It was going to be a wonderful morning, but the weather man had warned us not to expect it to last, and sure enough, by mid-morning the clouds rolled in from the west, and by dinner time the rain was falling again.

  'You're off to Oxford tonight, aren't you?' said Mrs Richards, as we dealt out school dinners.

  I said that I was, and wondered yet again how she had acquired the news. Not from me, so presumably my date with John Jenkins was common knowledge. This did not surprise me after so many years of village life, but just bow the rumours get about continues to flummox me.

  I was home before four thirty in time to make myself a cup of tea before arraying myself in my new finery. John was to call for me at six and we were having a meal before the concert began.

  I had invited him to eat at my house before we set off, but he was so quick to suggest a meal out that I was prompted to wonder if he did not like my cooking. However, it meant that I need not bother, and that was a welcome relief.

  I think Amy would have been proud of my appearance, for the vastly expensive blouse was splendid, and went well with the older parts of the ensemble. Apart from the fact that I looked decidedly heavy-eyed from lack of sleep the previous night, I decided I was passable, even by Amy's standards.

  The rain grew heavier as we set off, but we were both in good spirits as we neared Oxford. John had booked a table at an Italian restaurant near the concert hall, and we studied the menu. John predictably settled for a steak, but I ordered a delicious chicken breast stuffed with asparagus and ham.

  As we waited for our food to arrive John said, 'Would you like today's proposal now, or as we go home?'

  'Oh John! Must we have one at all?'

  'Definitely. I'm working on the principle of water dripping on a stone. I think your heart is pretty flinty.'

  'I deny it strongly. I take in stray cats and wounded birds, and always put spiders out of the window instead of squashing them.'

  'But what about love-lorn middle-aged men?'

  'I'm extremely kind to them and go to concerts with them.'

  'So shall it be now or later?'

  'Let's have it now.'

  '"And get it over", I expect you to say! So, here goes. Is there any change in that stony heart?'

  I smiled at him. Give him his due, he was a trier.

  'Not really, John. I shouldn't bother any more if I were you.'

  He shook his head but he was smiling too, as the waiter arrived with our food.

  I thoroughly enjoyed our meal, the concert and John's company throughout the evening.

  I liked him even more when he declined my invitation to have a drink when he dropped me at my door, gave me a kindly kiss, and drove off in good spirits.

  A nice man, but not for me.

  The vicar and his wife had been away for a few days, but on his return he called at the school to tell me of the governors' decision.

  They had appointed one of the women, Miss Jane Summers, and I knew at once that the children, and their parents, would wholeheartedly approve.

  If I had favoured any one of the four candidates it would have been this person. She was large and jolly, in her thirties, and looked as though she had enough energy and humour to cope with all the problems which would confront her.

  Even Mrs Pringle grudgingly admitted that 'she looked a motherly sort', who would be a comfortable figure for the new babies to confront on their first school day.

  'But how she'll get on with them little monsters of boys in your room,' she said gloomily, 'the Lord alone knows. They could do with the strap now and again. The state of my lobby floors this week is enough to break your heart.'

  I said, not quite truthfully, that I felt sure that Miss Summers would be as anxious about the lobby floors as she was herself.

  'Well, that'll make a nice change,' said the old harridan. 'When have yon worried youself about them, I'd like to know!'

  She made her way out with no hint of a limp. Any such little triumph does her bad leg a world of good.

  Mr Willet was less censorious, but cautious in his approach to a new set of circumstances.

  'I don't like changes, as well you know, and I daresay this new lady will do her best, and no doubt we'll all shake down together in good time. But I tell you straight, Miss Read, you've been a treat to work for, and me and Alice'll be real sorry to see you go. You've been a proper headmistress, and you'll be missed.'

  I only wished that Mrs Pringle had been present to hear such compliments, but she, of course, was in the lobby grieving over the floor.

  Naturally, the news of the appointment went through the village with the speed of a bush Are, and I received a great many comments.

  Mr Lamb said that he was sure the new head would be welcomed but, he added gallantly, no one could possibly take my place. He wished though that a man had been appointed, for some of those boys could do with a clip now and again, and women were a bit soft that way.

  Alice Willet said she wished I'd change my mind and stay on. Mr Roberts, the farmer, said he liked the look of the new woman. He always thought fat women were better tempered. Nothing personal, mind you, and if you were a bit skinny it couldn't be helped, but give him a plump woman every time.

  The two newcomers, Mrs Bennett and Mrs Cotton, were inclined to be tearful, which I found surprising. But they pointed out that they had only just got used to me, and my school ways, and there I was gone

  Eve and Horace Umbleditch said it was a pity their boy would not have the inestimable privilege of starting his school career under my guidance, and that Jane Summers, no matter how worthy and clever, could never be a patch on me. Nevertheless, they agreed that I was Doing the Right Thing and Horace was already counting the years to his own retirement.

  It was all very flattering, and I was duly grateful for these unsolicited tributes. But why, I wondered, did it need my retirement to prompt these kindly compliments?

  In future, I told myself, I should make a point of expressing my admiration and respect for any deserving person who crossed my path and was still hale enough to relish my remarks.

  The vicar called to remind the children about the outing on the following Saturday, and then drew me aside in a conspirational manner.

  'I have been asked to request you to make a list of things you would like as your leaving present, so that the committee could choose something that you really want.'

  'Oh, but please, you know that I really don't—' I began, but was cut short.

  'Just jot down a few ideas. The whole village wants to contribute, and we already have a vast sum, so let us know what you would like.'

  I stammered my gratitude to his retreating back, and sat down feeling stunned.

  What was 'a vast sum'?

  Knowing our vicar's complete lack of financial understanding I thought it might be anything from five pounds to five hundred. And in any case one could hardly ask him what 'a vast sum' was.

  Here was a problem. I really had no idea what I wanted. I knew that I needed some new nail scissors, but it did not
seem quite the thing to put on the list.

  I decided to shelve the problem until I got home, and as soon as I had refreshed myself with tea I set to work.

  But before I began, Amy arrived with a bunch of roses from her garden, and was greeted with even more delight than usual.

  'They're gorgeous,' I cried, taking them from her. 'I'll put them in a vase.'

  'They could really do with a rose bowl,' said Amy, looking round hopefully. Til do them for you. I don't care for your grip-and-drop-in arrangements.'

  I refused to take umbrage.

  'You shall have a choice of vases,' I told her. 'I've never had a rose bowl.'

  As she arranged them in two vases, I told her about my problem. She immediately began to organize things, much to my relief.

  'How much is this "vast sum"?'

  'That's the snag. I've no idea, and I don't want them to spend a lot on me. They know that, but they won't listen.'

  'Well, we shall just have to make a list with a good range of price. Anything in the kitchen line you'd like?'

  'The back-door mat is pretty shabby.'

  'That's not suitable for the list,' said Amy in a brisk manner. 'What about a new gadget? Have you got a food-mixer?'

  'I don't want a food-mixer. I should have to wash it up, and I'd be bound to lose all the twiddly bits.'

  'A microwave? A steam iron? A coffee-maker?'

  'Ah! D'you mean like yours? With a lid that pushes down over the grounds?'

  'Yes. A cafetière.'

  'I'd like that.'

  'Well, at least we've made a start,' said Amy, writing busily.

  'Now,' she went on, fixing me with a sharp eye, 'we'll take it room by room. Anything needed in the dining-room?'

  After some heavy thought I decided that a sauce boat and new table mats could go down.

  'Sitting-room?' said Amy briskly. 'I should think you might ask for a silver rose bowl.'

  'I'd never use it. Besides I'd have to polish it. Perhaps another table lamp might be useful, or a clock.'

  'You'd better be careful about a clock,' advised Amy, 'or you'll get landed with a black marble job in the form of a Greek temple like those that dominated our grandparents' mantelpieces.'

  'I could stipulate a small brass carriage clock,' I suggested.

  'Excellent,' approved Amy. 'Now for upstairs. What's wanted there?'

  'I really need a new face flannel,' I said thoughtfully.

  Amy threw down her pen in exasperation. 'You can't ask for a face flannel,' she protested.

  'I know I can't. But you did ask me.'

  She retrieved her pen.

  'What about a hand-held shower?'

  'Too messy. I'd sooner get in the tub.'

  'Anything in the bedroom?'

  'Oh, Amy, I can't be bothered any more! Let's have a turn in the garden.'

  It was bliss out there, fresh and scented under a pale blue sky. We felt better at once.

  'Tell you what,' said Amy, 'you could do with a nice plain teak garden seat, to replace that poor decrepit thing over there. Or a bird bath. Or even a nesting box or two.'

  'The seat sounds rather expensive, but the others could go down.'

  'Put the seat down too. This "vast sum" might well run to it.'

  'Perhaps a small one,' I said weakening. 'A two-seater, say.'

  Amy was looking round in a contemplative manner.

  'Of course, if it really is "a vast sum" you could rethatch the cottage, or buy a new car. Haven't you any idea of how much this "vast sum" might be?'

  I told her that the vicar's idea of a 'vast sum' could be anything around a hundred pounds.

  'It's so difficult,' agreed Amy. 'You see, if James used that expression he would be talking about several millions.'

  'Well, it won't be that, I'm thankful to say,' I told her. 'Let's go in and add those garden ideas to the list.'

  We did that, refreshed ourselves with a glass of sherry, and I saw her on her way.

  At least I had a list of sorts to offer the vicar, thanks to Amy's firm direction.

  What should we do without our friends?

  CHAPTER 14

  The Outing

  The Outing gathered at eight thirty sharp, as directed by the vicar, outside the Post Office at Fairacre.

  The bus was already there and we scrambled aboard. Joseph Coggs elected to sit by me, and was kind enough to offer me an unwrapped mint humbug, rather fluffy from his pocket, but I explained that it was a little too early in the day for me to eat sweets, and he nodded cheerfully and ate it himself.

  To my surprise, I saw that Henry and Deirdre were approaching and were soon settled across the gangway. Henry was looking very relaxed in a striped blazer, and Deirdre, true to form, had arrived with a gauzy blue scarf round her head, but this was removed when they had settled in their seats.

  Henry, of course, as the vicar's right-hand man, had sometimes accompanied us on the annual outing, but I had not expected to see him this time as I knew that Deirdre would be at his house.

  We exchanged chit-chat as we bowled along, and I thought that Deirdre seemed rather more animated than usual. Perhaps Henry's presence was stimulating.

  I remembered the last time Henry, Deirdre and I had taken a bus trip together to the falconry, and how embarrassing I had found Henry's attentions to me, and his marked coolness towards his guest. It was a relief to have him less tiresome, but I was glad too to have Joseph Coggs ensconced at my side.

  How well I remembered an earlier trip to the seaside resort of Barrisford, for which we were bound again this morning. As usual, after an outing, I had suggested to the children, during the following week, that they might draw a picture of something that they had enjoyed during that day.

  Joseph had come up with the picture of a small man who, he insisted, was the Old Man of the Sea and had a palace on the sea bed beyond the end of Barrisford pier. He had stuck to his story adamantly, although we found out later that he had encountered one of the midget acrobats who were appearing that week in an end-of-pier show.

  As far as I knew, Joseph still believed the story which had been told him, and even now, I surmised, he might be hoping to encounter him again.

  Barrisford remained the most popular choice for our annual outing. Sometimes we had changed our destination and had visited Longleat and its animals, Bournemouth with its variety of entertainment and other renowned re-sorts on the south coast. But somehow we always returned to Barrisford, to its shining sands, its quiet respectability, and above all, to tea at Bunce's, the famous restaurant on the esplanade where Mr Edward Bunce himself waited upon us with never-failing courtesy.

  Barrisford, we all agreed, was the real place to go for an outing.

  Most of the party dispersed to the sands, but Deirdre made a point of joining me and suggested that we took ourselves to Bunce's for a refreshing cup of coffee. Henry waxed enthusiastic.

  When we were settled at a table overlooking the bay, I enquired how the house-hunting was getting on.

  'We looked at two yesterday,' said Henry.'Quite possible, I thought.'

  'I didn't,' said Deirdre. 'They were poky.'

  'Most cottages are,' I agreed, 'but that has its advantages. Less to heat, less to clean, and usually pretty snug.'

  'One was near Springbourne,' went on Henry, ignoring his companion's dislike of the topic, 'on the hill there. Lovely views.'

  'Not a house in sight,' said Deirdre with disgust. 'One would go melancholy mad.'

  The coffee arrived at this moment and the subject of houses was dropped until a little later when Deirdre had departed to the ladies' room and Henry and I were alone.

  'I fear that Deirdre wants somewhere with bigger rooms. She's got used to living in my house, you know, and I think it has influenced her choice overduly.'

  I thought of Henry's magnificent rooms in part of the Queen Anne house which had been old Miss Parr's when I first went to Fairacre. It would be hard to find such elegance in the small houses Deirdre w
as inspecting.

  Henry sighed, and put his hand on mine by the coffee pot.

  'If only things had been different,' he said.

  I looked at him squarely. 'But they aren't, Henry, and never have been. At least on my side.'

  'I had hoped,' he began, 'when I first came—'

  'Henry, I don't care to think about that time. You meant nothing to me, except in a friendly way, and you know what a bundle of trouble village gossip put us to.'

  He removed his hand, and stood up to welcome back Deirdre who had removed the gauzy scarf and looked, to my eyes at least, very attractive.

  'Now I shall see you two settled,' said Henry, 'and then I'm off for a swim. Nothing like salt water!'

  I was about to say, 'Probably laced with sewage', but felt it was kinder to remain silent. Henry had had quite enough chastening for one day, I decided.

  Deirdre and I sat in the shelter of a rock and watched our fellow villagers disporting themselves on land and sea.

  Henry was being splashed vigorously by three or four of my schoolchildren, but was giving as much as he was getting, amidst shrieks of delight.

  'I'm very fond of Henry,' remarked Deirdre languidly. 'What do you think of him?'

  'He's always been a good friend. Not only to me. Everyone in the village likes him.'

  Deirdre gazed out to sea. Henry's head was now bobbing in the foreground.

  'He's very fond of you. My cousin, you know, never really appreciated Henry. In fact, she stayed with me in Ireland for nearly two years, she was so fed up with him.'

  I remained silent. I well remembered Henry's time alone when Fairacre supposed that he was a bachelor or widower, and well qualified to marry a single school teacher.

  'She was horribly bossy,' said Deirdre. 'Henry never had a say in anything. He needed kindness, and I think that's why he was attracted to you.'

  I was startled into speech. I had not thought of kindness as one of my more obvious virtues.

  'I can assure you that I had no idea that Henry was attracted to me at that time. I must admit there was some village gossip, but one ignores that.'