(9/13)The School at Thrush Green Page 20

  Winnie Bailey was another person who was busy in her garden now that it was cooler.

  She was pulling up groundsel and some obstinate weeds from the flower border, whilst picking a summer nosegay for the house, when Jenny hailed her from the kitchen window.

  Telephone, Mrs Bailey! It's Richard.'

  Winnie hurried indoors, and sank thankfully into the chair by the telephone.

  'May I call to see you tomorrow morning?'

  'Of course. Can you stay to lunch?'

  'I'd love to.'

  'And Fenella?'

  'Afraid not. She's not up to travelling. Rather poorly at the moment.'

  At once, Winnie saw Fenella in hospital, probably in the intensive care department, with some fatal disease which would leave Richard without a wife, and the two children motherless. She was already trying to decide on a boarding-school, a reliable housekeeper, or possibly a second wife for Richard, when she heard herself say, quite calmly, 'I do hope it's not serious, Richard?'

  'No, no! Just that she's feeling rotten first thing now. Morning sickness, you know. We're having a baby after Christmas.'

  'Well, I'm delighted,' cried Winnie, much relieved. 'What good news! Now, would she like me to do some knitting for her, or does she bring her babies up in those gro-bag things?'

  'I'll ask her,' said Richard. 'Yes, we are very pleased. Puts the kybosh on Roger, I hope.'

  Richard sounded unpleasantly smug, Winnie felt, and slangy with it. However, she was so pleased to hear the news, that she forgave her nephew, said that she looked forward to seeing him, and then went to break the news to Jenny.

  'Good thing we had that chicken from Perce,' said Jenny. 'With plenty of stuffing and a pound of chipolatas, it should do us a treat.'

  With great plans of knitting and cooking to engage them, the two friends resumed their tasks.

  'It's high time,' said Dorothy one evening, 'that Tim came in to sleep. What about bringing his basket into the kitchen tonight, and shutting the shed door?'

  'But it's so wet everywhere,' protested Agnes. 'And it seems to rain every night.'

  'Exactly. If he can't get into the shed, he'll look for his basket elsewhere. Let's put the cat flap wide open, and put his basket just inside where he can see it. I'm sure it would work.'

  Agnes looked unhappy. Already she had a vision of her beloved cat, shivering in a rain storm, coat spiky with wetness, eyes half-closed in anguish.

  'Perhaps we could leave a folded sack in the shed as well,' she suggested, 'and leave the door ajar as usual. Then he has the choice.'

  'We don't want to give him any choice,' said Dorothy firmly. 'Let him find his basket and use it.'

  There was no gainsaying Dorothy in this headmistressy mood, and Agnes gave in.

  She went up to bed in a very unhappy state. A steady rain pattered against the windows and cars swished through the puddles bordering Thrush Green.

  The cat flap had been propped open to its widest extent, with a cork firmly wedged at the top of the join, and Tim's basket, with its blanket plumply folded, stood just inside.

  Dorothy had left these little arrangements to Agnes, and had volunteered to go down the garden to shut the shed door. She was half-afraid that Agnes would be tempted to leave it ajar as usual, and Dorothy was intent on cat-discipline tonight.

  She fell asleep within ten minutes of climbing into bed, but poor Agnes next door lay listening to the rain and grieving for her pet.

  At about two o'clock she could bear it no longer, and sliding out of bed, she crept downstairs.

  The house was still and quiet. Only the whispering of the rain outside stirred the silence. Agnes tip-toed to the kitchen door, and gently turned the handle.

  There was no flurried movement of a cat making his escape, or the creaking of a wicker cat basket.

  Timidly, fearing the worst, Agnes pushed the door farther open, so that she had a clear view of the cat basket.

  There, curled up in deep sleep, one paw protectively over his nose, lay Tim, oblivious to all about him.

  A great surge of happiness engulfed little Miss Fogerty. He had come in of his own accord! He had used the cat flap, and found his old familiar bed! There was no doubt about it. He was a highly intelligent cat.

  And what was more, thought Agnes, creeping back to bed, he now looked upon this house as his rightful home.

  She slept as soundly as the cat below.

  20. Last Days

  THE last day of term was as cool and damp as those which had preceded it, but for young Miss Robinson, in a bustle of responsibility over the presentation of two bouquets and two' boxes of chocolates, the atmosphere seemed feverishly hot.

  Directions to the Lulling florist had been explicit and much repeated. The flowers were to be delivered not later than two-thirty to Miss Robinson herself, who would be waiting in the lobby to receive and then secrete them.

  One small girl had been coached ad nauseam to present Dorothy's bouquet, and another who was in charge of Agnes's, was equally well primed.

  Two little boys, with extra clean hands, and comparatively polite manners, had been detailed to present a box of chocolates apiece. It all sounded simple, but as any teacher will know, such apparently spontaneous gestures need a week or two of anxious preparation, and then they can easily go wrong. Poor Miss Robinson suffered.

  It was open house at Thrush Green school that afternoon, so that parents, governors, representatives from the local education authority, friends, neighbours crowded into the classroom in a much more informal manner than at the PTA presentations earlier.

  Dorothy and Agnes knew exactly what was going on for a number of children had informed them of the proposed tributes, adding for good measure, the sum which they themselves had contributed to the general largesse. It was a good thing that Miss Robinson, in her innocence, knew nothing of this.

  It was a happy party, and the children did their duties admirably. Dorothy and Agnes expressed their surprised delight, and thanked everyone - particularly Miss Robinson - for such beautiful flowers and delicious chocolates.

  There were no other speeches, but Dorothy informed the throng that cups of tea were available in Miss Fogerty's terrapin, as Mrs Betty Bell and Mrs Isobel Shoosmith had kindly arranged this. At this juncture, Agnes whispered in her ear, and she added that the Thrush Green Women's Institute had most kindly lent their cups and saucers, and this courtesy was very much appreciated.

  In the mêlée that followed, she and Agnes mingled with the guests, accepting good wishes and sometimes a personal present, and it was past four o'clock before the school emptied and the two ladies bore their tributes to the school house. The flowers were deposited in a bucket of water to await later arrangement, and the friends sank thankfully into their armchairs.

  'It all went beautifully, didn't it? Do you know,' confessed Dorothy, i wondered if I should find this parting too much for me. But it was such a jolly afternoon, wasn't it? I shall telephone Miss Robinson this evening to thank her particularly. I think she's going to be a tower of strength to the new head.'

  Agnes agreed, still amazed that Dorothy should admit to the frailties from which she herself suffered. Somehow it made the bond between them even stronger. She too had dreaded the last afternoon, and had been relieved to find it a wholly cheerful occasion.

  'And of course,' continued Dorothy, 'we shan't really be saying goodbye for some time yet. It's a comforting thought.'

  'Anyway,' added Agnes, 'we can always come back to visit Thrush Green from Barton.'

  Dorothy began to tear away the cellophane from her box of chocolates.

  'I don't see why we shouldn't celebrate, Agnes. The square ones are hard, I warn you.'

  Nelly Piggott had kept her word and accompanied Gladys Lilly to Lulling police station with the postcard from the errant Doreen.

  'Well, thanks very much,' said the sergeant on duty. 'You did right to bring this in, Mrs Lilly. I'll pass it on to the officer in charge of the enquiries. Might
be a Vital Clue.'

  The ladies departed feeling much comforted by this encounter, and Gladys was already making plans to welcome her daughter and grandchild to her home again.

  Nelly was not so sanguine, but said little about her doubts to the hopeful mother.

  However, later that day she met her good friend Mrs Jenner who was walking across the green to see her daughter Jane, the warden at Rectory Cottages.

  To her, she admitted her reservations about bringing the culprit to justice, and Mrs Jenner nodded her head in agreement.

  'If you ask me,' said that lady, 'poor Gladys won't see her Doreen, nor Gordon and the boy, for a very long time. And the Lovelock ladies won't ever set eyes on their missing silver either.'

  And Mrs Jenner was quite right.

  It had been Dorothy's idea that they should spend a few days at Barton, staying at their favourite guesthouse, as soon as they broke up.

  'Now that the business side is settled,' said Dorothy, 'we can chivvy the electrician and decorator if we are down there.'

  Dorothy, thought Agnes, seemed to think that her presence would hasten the completion of the work in hand, and maybe she was right. In any case, Agnes looked forward to a few days by the sea, and to visiting the new house again.

  They set off on the Saturday morning, planning to stop for a pub lunch near Andover. Isobel had been given minute instructions about the feeding and general care of Tim the cat.

  'It's such a relief to know that you are looking after him,' said Agnes. 'He half-knows you already, and he won't be scared away if he sees you about. I'm so anxious that he keeps up the habit of sleeping indoors, and gets thoroughly used to the cat flap.'

  Isobel assured her that she would undertake her duties with every care, secretly rather amused at Agnes's earnestness.

  'Good thing,' was Harold's comment, when she related this matter to him. 'All the devotion she's put into looking after scores of infants is going to be funnelled into that lucky cat's welfare. I hope the animal knows when it's well off!'

  One of the first things that Agnes wanted to see to was the installation of a similar cat flap at the Barton house. Dorothy was more concerned with measuring for carpets and curtains. As always, it seemed, not one pair of the latter could be transferred to Barton, a common disappointment to all who move house.

  They arrived at the guesthouse soon after two, and then set out on foot to visit their new home. As it was a Saturday, no one was at work there, and the house was very still. Their footsteps echoed on the bare boards as they went from room to room.

  The biggest job to be done was the rewiring of the whole place, and as this was a messy job, involving cutting channels in the walls, Dorothy had decided that the decorating might just as well follow this upheaval.

  'One thing I have insisted on,' said Dorothy, surveying the work, 'is that the plugs should be half-way up the wall. I don't see why we should grovel about bent double to find switches on the skirting board. They can site them just behind the curtains. Perfectly simple when you think about it.'

  Agnes, mindful of her arthritis, applauded this sensible suggestion.

  'And we'll have a telephone extension beside each bed,' went on Dorothy, 'and good rails by the bath. I'm afraid we shall have to replace the present bath sometime. It's got badly stained. But we will have time to choose something really pretty.'

  They wandered into the garden, but rain began to fall, and they left the few late roses and clematis, the tussocky lawn and weedy borders, and returned to the shelter of the house.

  'What a pity we didn't bring a couple of deckchairs with us,' said Agnes. 'I could do with a rest.'

  Dorothy surveyed the empty kitchen.

  'Nothing simpler,' she announced. She went to the kitchen sink, and pulled out two of the drawers below it. Turning them over, she put them near the wall. 'Try that, my dear,' she said, with understandable pride.

  Agnes lowered herself cautiously and rested her back against the wall. Dorothy sat on the other upturned drawer beside her. There was a protesting squeak from the wood, but the temporary seating held well.

  'How very clever!' commented Agnes.

  The two friends sat side by side, legs stretched out above the dusty kitchen floor, and saw in their minds' eye a fully-furnished, warm and comfortable haven.

  To Agnes suddenly came comfort. Her thoughts had been sad ones when she had had time to consider them. She hated change, and her natural timidity made her apprehensive of the unknown. She grieved at leaving her friends, her home and the loved surroundings of Thrush Green.

  But, for the first time, sitting inelegantly on the kitchen floor, she began to look ahead with stirring excitement. This was going to be her home! Here she would have the company of Dorothy and dear little Tim. There would be new friends in her life, new interests, new countryside to explore.

  'And we can always go back,' she said, thinking aloud.

  Dorothy seemed to know what was in her mind.

  'Of course we can,' she said cheerfully, 'and the Thrush Green people will come and see us here. We're certainly not losing friends by this move, Agnes, but simply finding a lot of new ones.'

  Agnes sighed happily. Dorothy consulted her watch.

  'Well, I think we should be getting back. If you could manage to stand up first, I should appreciate what the children used to term "a good lug-up".'

  And little Miss Fogerty, much refreshed in body and spirit, obliged.

  Back at Thrush Green, the future of the two ladies was a prime point of conversation, and the fate of the school house one of pleasurable speculation.

  Betty Bell told the Shoosmiths that she had received an official letter asking her to continue to look after the school until further notice.

  'And that's a real relief, I can tell you,' she informed Isobel and Harold, i mean the money's regular, which is more than you can say about some.'

  She must have noticed the bewilderment on her hearers' faces for she added hastily, 'Not but what you do pay me pronto - always ready done up in a clean envelope as soon as the work's done. But poor old Dotty - Miss Harmer, I should say - she don't know if she's coming or going, and sometimes it's weeks before she remembers.'

  'But, Betty,' protested [sobel, much shocked by this disclosure, 'surely Mrs Armitage sees to that?'

  'Well, no. You see, Dotty wanted to do it, and of course Mrs Armitage thinks she does, but she don't, if you follow me.'

  'Then you must mention it to her,' advised Isobel, mentally making a note to do it herself as well. 'Things can't go on like that.'

  'Lor' bless you,' laughed Betty, 'they've been going on like that for years down Dotty's!'

  Albert Piggott was doing his best to persuade Mr Jones of The Two Pheasants that he should put in a bid for the school house and turn it into a small hotel.

  'And where would I get the cash for that?' appealed the landlord. 'Don't get very fat on your and Percy's half-pints of bitter, I can tell you.'

  Even Ella Bembridge, across the green, flirted with the idea of changing her residence for one short afternoon.

  Dimity was horrified. 'You aren't serious? You've been quite happy in the cottage, haven't you?'

  'Well, yes, of course I have,' replied Ella, blowing a cloud of acrid cigarette smoke towards the ceiling. 'But it would make a change. Besides there are twice the number of cupboards over there, and mine are uncomfortably full.'

  'Then have a good clear-out for the next Jumble Sale,' advised Dimity, 'and go on enjoying this place.' The folk at Rectory Cottages were perhaps the most keenly interested in the future of the school house. One school of thought was positive that it would be razed to the ground, and eight or ten houses would be built on the site. Tom Hardy maintained that it would be turned into offices, and Muriel Fuller surmised that the education authority would incorporate it into the school itself, possibly as a store and school kitchen.

  'Well, at least,' said Winnie Bailey, summing up the general feeling, 'that's all in the future.
We shall have Agnes and Dorothy with us for some time yet, thank heaven.'

  The two schoolmistresses returned from their break feeling that much had been accomplished. Dorothy had enjoyed urging the electrician and decorator to brisker efforts, and had purchased some particularly attractive cretonne, at sale prices, for curtains and chair covers.

  Agnes had given a local handyman minute instructions about the cat flap. They had attended the local church and met the vicar of whom they both approved. The postmistress seemed welcoming and helpful, and the owner of the guest-house had recommended a jobbing gardener. All in all, the ladies were well content.

  They were now in a relaxed enough frame of mind to enjoy the spate of informal invitations which came along from old friends and well-wishers. It was a joy to be free during the day to accept coffee in the morning with Ella and Dimity, or afternoon tea with Isobel and Harold next door. With no worries about the term ahead to daunt them, life took on a wonderfully relaxed air, and Agnes and Dorothy blossomed in these first early days of their retirement.

  The cat, by this time, now kept them company, though always showing a preference for Agnes, rubbing round her legs, purring loudly, and even jumping on to her meagre lap, much to her delight. Dorothy was large-hearted enough to approve, and only hoped that she too, in time, would be so honoured.

  The relaxation of her responsibilities seemed to mellow Dorothy. She even offered the school house curtains and carpets to Ray and Kathleen, when they moved to Barton, and for good measure threw in the nest of coffee tables, much coveted by her sister-in-law, as there was really nowhere to put them in the new house.

  'I only hope,' said Isobel to Harold, 'that this general goodwill prevails. They are so happy at the moment. I wonder if they will start having pangs when term begins? I wouldn't put it past Dorothy to drop in on the new head to tell him where he is going wrong.'