(12/13) The Year at Thrush Green Read online

  Joan and Edward, as the first people to welcome the couple, were overjoyed and set about arranging a celebratory party as soon as possible. It had to be planned very quickly, as Carl was taking Elizabeth to America to meet his relatives. They were to be married there, which was a disappointment to Charles Henstock as well as the rest of Thrush Green. After a brief honeymoon they would return to Scotland for a short time while Carl continued with his work there.

  The Saturday after the news had broken was chosen for the party, and the telephone wires buzzed from the Youngs' house to all parts of Thrush Green and Lulling. On this day Nelly Piggott was busy in the kitchen of the Fuchsia Bush filling trays with delectable tit-bits to accompany the drinks.

  It was a clear dry evening when the first guests arrived at six o'clock. The stars twinkled above St Andrew's church and the bare branches of the horse-chestnut trees. Underfoot the ground was crisp. There was going to be a hard frost.

  But inside all was warmth and happiness. Carl and Elizabeth stood by the Youngs to welcome, and be welcomed by, their friends.

  Nelly Piggott was in Joan's kitchen supervising sizzling pans of miniature sausages, while Gloria and Rosa had volunteered, with rare enthusiasm, to act as waitresses, a tribute to Carl's charm.

  About twenty or so guests made the room hum with excitement. Ben and Molly Curdle were there. Charles and Dimity Henstock, the Shoosmiths, Ella, Winnie and Jenny, the Cartwrights and a number of Carl's friends from Rectory Cottages swelled the throng.

  At last the time for informal speeches and toasts arrived, and Edward gave a short, elegant and warm-hearted tribute to Carl and Elizabeth, amidst general applause.

  Carl, flushed, happy and handsomer than ever, responded, his arm around Elizabeth's shoulders. He spoke movingly of his mother who had waited at Woodstock for her American to return after the war to claim her as his wife.

  'That wouldn't have happened,' he said, 'but for Mrs Curdle. In fact, I shouldn't be here at all, if it were not for her advice to my mother, as some of you know. So would you raise your glasses once more, my friends, to the immortal memory of the great Mrs Curdle.'

  'Mrs Curdle,' came the hearty response.

  'Thank you,' said Carl when the toast had been drunk.

  He smiled at Elizabeth, and added: 'As you see, we Andersens always come to Woodstock for our wives.'