(9/13)The School at Thrush Green Page 16

  'If only Mrs White were here,' cried Agnes, shoulders still heaving. 'I know she would take me back again, and the cat too. She adored cats.'

  At the thought of Mrs White's affection for the feline world, Agnes's tears broke out afresh.

  There was little that Isobel could do apart from patting her friend's back and uttering words of comfort.

  At last, the paroxysm passed, and Agnes was able to mop her eyes and control her breathing again.

  'Oh, Isobel!' she wailed. 'What a comfort you are! What am I going to do?'

  'You are coming home with me,' Isobel told her. 'And you are going to have a rest until you feel better. Does Dorothy know you are out?'

  A look of panic crossed Agnes's tear-stained face. 'No, I'm sure she doesn't. Oh, please don't say anything to her! I shouldn't want to upset her.'

  'Don't worry,' said Isobel. 'The first thing to do is to get you to my house for a little drink.'

  'But Harold – ' quavered Agnes.

  'Out at a meeting,' replied Isobel. 'We shall be quite alone.'

  The two friends made their way through the evening sunshine to the house next door.

  There, feet up on the sofa, and a restorative cup of coffee to hand, Agnes recovered her composure, regretted her outburst, and thought, yet again, how much she loved Isobel.

  Dorothy meanwhile, ignorant of all the upset her words had produced, was engrossed in a television programme about education.

  Those taking part were obviously more theorists than practitioners, and Dorothy's disgusted snorts accompanied many of the panel's remarks.

  The programme which followed was about birds, and Dorothy found this equally absorbing and far less irritating. It did occur to her, half-way through, when a hummingbird was extracting honey from a trumpet-shaped exotic bloom, how much Agnes would enjoy it, and where could she be, but she guessed – correctly, as it happened – that she was probably next door visiting Isobel.

  So that when the sitting-room door opened a chink, and Agnes said that she proposed to have an early night as her head ached, Dorothy replied that it was a sensible idea and she would come up later, and kept her eyes glued to the television screen, quite unconscious of all that had devastated her friend's evening.

  True to her word, at ten o'clock she switched off the set, and made her way upstairs.

  She knocked gently on Agnes's door, but there was no response. She eased it open and listened. There was no sound at all. Presumably, Agnes was asleep, and she closed the door, with infinite care, and crept across to her own room.

  She was asleep within half an hour, but next door Agnes lay awake, too agitated to settle, until she fell asleep at five o'clock completely exhausted.

  When Harold Shoosmith returned from his meeting, Isobel told him what had happened.

  'Poor old dear,' was his response, 'but not much we can do about it. After all, this cat business is their affair.'

  'I agree. But I feel rather responsible for Agnes.'

  'Good heavens! Why?'

  'She has no family. She talked wildly of staying on at Thrush Green in digs - somewhere where she could have the cat.'

  'You mean she's thinking of ditching Dorothy, and Barton, and all the rest of it?'

  'At one stage this evening, she certainly was. And how would she manage? Her pension won't be much. She'll be horribly lonely. I'm quite willing to have her here for a few weeks until she finds lodgings, if that's what she really wants, but the long-term outlook is so dismal.'

  'She can't possibly intend to leave Dorothy!'

  'No, I don't think she will when it comes to it. But it does show how desperate she is. I don't think Dorothy has any idea how much she wants that cat. I think I shall have to tell her.'

  Harold sighed.

  'Well, watch your step, my dear. It's really such a storm in a teacup.'

  'Not to Agnes. I've never seen her like this, and I'm appalled to think she may be jettisoning her future - and Dorothy's too, for that matter. If I get the chance, I shall let Dorothy know how things are, and what's more I shall try and persuade her to accept the cat into the household.'

  'You're a brave woman,' said Harold.

  16. A Trip to Barton-on-Sea

  WHILE little Miss Fogerty was weeping in the shelter of the hedge, attended by Isobel, two more old friends were enjoying each other's company on the other side of Thrush Green.

  Dimity had called to see Ella Bembridge. She looked with affection at the cottage which they had shared for several happy years before Charles had proposed and she had gone to live at the bleak rectory across the road.

  A fire had razed that home to the ground, and now some very pleasant homes for old people were on the site, called Rectory Cottages in remembrance of the former building.

  Ella appeared to be wrapped in a brightly stitched garment reminiscent of those worn by Peruvian peasants. Actually, it was one of the stitched rugs which so engrossed her at the moment, and after she had disengaged herself from its folds, she showed her work to Dimity with some pride.

  'It's wonderfully colourful,' said Dimity politely. Secretly she thought it downright garish and quite unsuitable for the cottage. A nice plain beige Wilton now, thought Dimity, would look tasteful anywhere.

  'It's a runner for the hall,' explained Ella, looking fondly at her handiwork. 'Nice cheerful welcome it'll make, won't it?'

  'Very colourful,' repeated Dimity, trying to be truthful without giving offence, a common predicament among well-mannered people.

  'Let's have a cup of something,' suggested Ella, 'or a glass. Which, Dim?'

  'Nothing for me,' said Dimity.

  'Well, I must have a gasper. I'm cutting down but it's killing work, I can tell you.'

  She rooted among the clutter of bright wools, magazines, ashtrays and two apples on the table, and found the battered tin which constituted her cigarette-making factory.

  As she rolled a very thin, and very untidy, cigarette, she asked Dimity about any news from Lulling.

  'Charles is getting rather agitated about the Lilly girl at the Lovelocks.'

  'What's the trouble? Slave driving?'

  'Pretty well. They are adamant about how little they ask of her, but I gather she's already talking of giving in her notice. Gladys Lilly is pretty cross about it.'

  'So why does Charles worry?'

  'He feels he's letting down Anthony, you see. It was his idea to see if the Lovelocks would take on the girl. I don't think he realises how demanding they are.'

  'Tell him from me to forget it. Half the time these things blow over. In any case, he acted in good faith and if things have gone wrong I don't see that it's any fault of his.'

  Dimity took some comfort from these stout words.

  'And now your news. I heard about the house at Barton. Have they seen it yet?'

  'Next weekend, I believe. I hope something comes of it. This hanging about would drive me up the wall.'

  Patience, Dimity knew, was not one of her old friend's strongest virtues, and was not surprised when she changed the subject to Muriel Fuller who had evidently called earlier in the day.

  'What's known as "an excellent woman",' said Ella, shaking ash in the vague direction of the ashtray. 'She came here at eleven o'clock just when I was counting twenty-five holes on my canvas, and stayed until twenty-past twelve.'

  'Was she collecting for something?'

  'Yes, she always is. Something to do with an African mission. I gave her fifty pence and hoped she'd go, but I had to listen to the history, customs, marriage rites - and very unpleasant they were, I can tell you - not to mention how much they needed my money. She really is the most outstanding bore.'

  'Oh, come!' protested gentle Dimity. 'She's only trying to do good.'

  'All I can say,' said Ella forthrightly, 'is that doing good always seems to bring out the worst in people.'

  Charles Henstock's concern about Doreen Lilly's position at the Misses Lovelock was shared by the ladies themselves.

 
They certainly expected too much of the girl, and Violet at least recognised this.

  All three sisters had been used to first-class resident help until the last ten or twelve years. They still expected the house to look immaculate, the meals punctually on the table, the laundry snowy and the prodigious array of silver in sparkling condition.

  While their parents were alive, a cook, a general maid and a parlour maid had occupied the two attic bedrooms, and served the family devotedly from seven-thirty in the morning until ten-thirty at night.

  It was hardly surprising that, with the sketchy domestic help now available, the house and its contents had lost their pristine look, and that the mingled fragrance of beeswax polish and home-baked bread had been superseded by a general fustiness.

  The three old ladies did their best in the circumstances, but they were untrained in the art of housekeeping themselves, and had no knowledge of the effort needed to keep such an establishment as theirs in perfect order. They found Doreen's ministrations deplorably inadequate, and became more and more querulous.

  'Surely she knows that the bedroom furniture needs polish on it,' protested Ada. 'Why just do the dining-table?'

  'Because she sees it gets marked,' explained Violet. 'So she gets out the polish and tackles it.'

  'And she hoovers for hours,' added Bertha, 'but never thinks to dust the skirting boards.'

  'I have told her,' said Violet, 'but I don't think she takes in anything very readily.'

  'And she's getting a little impertinent,' added Ada. 'Tossed her head at me when I pointed out the smears on the landing window, and said she had no head for heights. Why, dear old Hannah thought nothing of balancing a plank across the stairwell when she did the high parts of the landing and stairs.'

  'Dear old Hannahs have gone,' said Violet shortly.

  There was a heavy silence, broken at last by Ada. 'Well, what's to be done? Do we give her notice or not?'

  'Who could we get in her place?' queried Bertha. 'You know how difficult it was to find Doreen.'

  'Carry on as we are,' advised Violet. 'It wouldn't surprise me to find that we get given notice, not Doreen.'

  And so the unsatisfactory state of affairs was left.

  Gladys Lilly was equally worried about her daughter.

  She confided her fears to Nelly Piggott one evening before the bingo session began.

  'She's proper unsettled. Back to biting her nails, like she used to do as a little mite. Always was secretive. I tell you, I'm real worried about her.'

  'I can't say I'm surprised,' said Nelly. 'That house of the Lovelock ladies would get anybody down. Can't she find some other place?'

  'I doubt it. And to tell the truth, I'm not so sure the work is the real trouble.'

  She looked around the hall, dropped her voice, and spoke conspiratorially to Nelly. 'I think she's fretting for that useless chap of hers. He's out again, we do know that. One of his pals told us. I've told Doreen time and time again to keep clear of him, but you know what girls are!'

  Nelly and Gladys sighed heavily together over the shortcomings of susceptible females.

  'Things were different in our young days,' agreed Nelly. 'We took heed of what our parents said. And I was always told to bring home any young man who was being attentive.'

  'Quite right,' approved Gladys.

  But there were quite a few attentive young men in the youthful past of both ladies who had certainly not been presented to their parents. And these they dwelt on, secretly and fondly, as they settled down to bingo.

  ***

  Isobel had been busy on her neighbours' behalf and had arranged for the ladies to visit Ursula's house at the weekend.

  She had offered to take them down in her car, but Dorothy was looking forward to her first long drive in the Metro, and turned down Isobel's invitation politely but firmly.

  However, on Friday evening she spoke to Isobel over the hedge. She sounded somewhat agitated.

  'Oh, Isobel! So glad to catch you. Poor Agnes is not too fit. In fact, she's been very much off-colour all this week, and I'm afraid she won't be able to face the journey tomorrow.'

  'Oh dear! Well, shall I take you? I think we ought to go as Ursula has planned everything.'

  'No, no! But if you don't mind coming with me, I should be most grateful. I feel quite competent about the driving, but should anything happen to the engine, I must admit total ignorance, although Ben did explain how it worked.'

  'Well, I shan't be much better,' confessed Isobel, 'but I could always go for help. And of course I should love to keep you company, and introduce you to Ursula.'

  It was Harold who pointed out later that this was the heaven-sent opportunity to broach the delicate subject of the tabby cat.

  'I suppose so,' said Isobel doubtfully. 'On a straight piece of road where she won't get too agitated.'

  And so, soon after ten o'clock on a glorious June morning the two ladies set out, leaving Agnes to enjoy the peace of the school house and a possible visit from the cat.

  It was true that she had been remarkably quiet, even by her standards, since her outburst. The headache had never really departed. She was sleeping badly, and occasionally found herself trembling violently.

  She did not intend to bother Doctor John Lovell with these minor ailments, recognising only too well that they were the result of all the worry over the cat, the future, the extra labours involved in clearing out the debris of many years' teaching, and general anxiety about her relationship with Dorothy, as retirement drew ever closer.

  But she was relieved not to have to make the journey. She was quite sure that Dorothy was a good driver, but then there were so many people on the roads who were not. She did not mind admitting that she was most unhappy in the passenger seat, and foresaw all sorts of appalling situations involving hospitals, firemen cutting one out of the wreckage, bodies and blood strewn over the road, followed by interminable court cases about two years later, when one could not reasonably be expected to remember a thing, not to mention permanent injury with possibly one or more limbs missing.

  While Agnes was quietly pottering about with the duster, hoping for a few minutes with the cat, Dorothy and Isobel were enjoying the countryside on their way south, and the latter was trying to pluck up courage to approach the subject of Agnes's unhappiness.

  Luckily, it was Dorothy who brought up the matter.

  'She's too conscientious,' said Dorothy. 'Everything has to be done perfectly, and of course she gets over-tired. I shall be mightily glad when we've finished at the school. Of course, we shall find it all a great change, and I think Agnes worries more than I do about missing the children. She needs something to love. More than I do, I must admit.'

  Isobel took a deep breath. The road was straight, and there was very little traffic.

  'That's why she is so devoted to the stray cat,' she began.

  'I know she is fond of it - ' said Dorothy.

  'But I don't think you realise how fond,' broke in Isobel, and began to tell her about the sad scene she had encountered behind the garden hedge.

  Dorothy listened in silence, and then drew in quietly at the next lay-by.

  'Tell me more,' she said, her expression very grave. She shifted sideways in her seat so that she could study Isobel's face as she unfolded the tale.

  Isobel, taking the bull by the horns, spared her nothing, even recounting Agnes's anguished doubts about their future happiness together.

  'It's so little to ask,' went on Isobel, 'and there is so much to lose. She would be most unhappy if she really took this idiotic step of staying behind. From the practical point of view, I don't think she could manage financially. And then she would be so lonely.'

  'And so would I,' said Dorothy. 'I can't imagine why I have been so dense, and so thoughtless. I honestly had no idea that she felt like this. It makes me want to turn round straightaway, drive back, and apologise.'

  'Well, we can't do that now,' said Isobel practically, 'as Ursula is expecting us. But
I felt that you should know how Agnes is feeling. I love her dearly, and have for years. I should hate her to throw away her future with you.'

  'And so should I. I've always enjoyed her companionship enormously. The cat will be invited in tonight, and made welcome.'

  Isobel gave a great sigh.

  'You know,' said Dorothy, looking at her steadily, 'you must have dreaded telling me all this. What a brave woman you are!'

  'It's true,' admitted Isobel, 'and I've still to face Agnes's dismay when she finds what I've done. But I can truthfully say I'm glad it's all in the open now.'

  'I shall never forgive myself,' said Dorothy, starting the car, and continuing the journey. 'To have been so cruel to my most loyal friend!'

  'As long as you make it plain that you are truthfully happy to include the cat in the household,' said Isobel, 'I think everything will sort itself out splendidly. And there's no need to abase yourself too much with Agnes. Least said soonest mended. It would only upset her, and if she realises that you have simply had a change of heart about the cat, all should be well.'

  'I shall get Ben Curdle to make a cat flap in the back door,' said Dorothy, adjusting to this new situation with her usual common sense. 'And I propose to buy Agnes a splendid cat basket in Barton, and take it back with us this evening. What about that?'

  'You couldn't make a more generous gesture,' Isobel assured her.

  Meanwhile, at Thrush Green, Winnie Bailey had just welcomed her nephew Richard, who had arrived, as was usual, quite unannounced.

  'I had to return some books to Aubrey Hengist-Williams,' he explained. 'He rang up last night and said that he wanted them urgently. Getting some lecture notes ready for next term.'

  'Isn't that the great Professor? I think I've had a glimpse of him on Open University on television when I've been trying to get the right time.'

  'Well, he's on television, I know, but that hardly makes him great,' replied Richard. 'Actually, I've always thought him a very silly fellow, and I never have been able to subscribe to his theory on the side-effects of nuclear fission. Have you?'