(7/13) Affairs at Thrush Green (27 page)

'Nonsense!' Kit said. 'You wait and see. There'll be a queue from here to Nidden when the word goes round that there's a flat here to let. You'll be able to pick and choose, and state any rent you like.'

'I'm not sure I shall let at all,' said Mrs Jenner. 'Percy keeps badgering me to have him here for good. I've said to him, time and time again: "Look here, Perce! I don't want you, so stop asking!" But, you know, he won't take a hint.'

Some hint, thought Kit privately! It sounded a straightforward ultimatum from sister to brother to him. He hoped that Mrs Jenner would not weaken. It was time she had life a little easier, and Percy could look after himself quite well, if he would get over his self-pity.

'I tell him,' went on his landlady, 'that I want the place to myself now and again. Percy would expect a cooked dinner prompt at twelve o'clock, meat and two veg and a proper pudding. Well, I'm not starting. A boiled egg and a slice of toast does me, and I've had my fill of cooking over the years. Besides, I'm enjoying getting out of an evening now. I like my choral nights, and Bingo.'

'Have you won anything?' asked Kit.

'Well, I once won eighty pence, but you'll never believe this! Nelly Piggott won fifty pounds last week. Think of it! But don't breathe a word, will you?'

'Of course not. But surely there were dozens of people present who know all about it?'

'Maybe, but Nelly doesn't want Albert to hear of it. She's putting by as much as she can in case he ever throws her out again.'

This was news to Kit, who had always understood that it was Nelly who deserted Albert, not the other way about.

'She's a good sort,' went on Mrs Jenner, 'and a real hard worker. They say The Fuchsia Bush is coining money since she started cooking there. I've got quite fond of her over the last few months, and I reckon she's had a hard time.'

'Well, you can count on me,' Kit assured her. 'I shan't say anything about her winnings. But I hope their marriage won't break up again.'

'Well, marriage is a proper lottery, isn't it? And when's yours to be?'

'Soon after Christmas. There's quite a bit to be arranged. I must sort out some of my furniture still in store for one thing.'

'And it will take some time to get the plans passed for the new wing on Miss Harmer's place, won't it?' said Mrs Jenner conversationally.

As neither Kit himself nor Connie had breathed a word of their hopes to anyone, he realized that this was just another prize example of rural communication at work.

'That's quite right,' he agreed resignedly.

As Dimity had remarked to Ella on an earlier occasion, Christmas seemed to have sneaked up on Lulling and Thrush Green, and no doubt on the rest of the British Isles as well.

At Thrush Green School Miss Fogerty had set her children to making Christmas cards and calendars already. Miss Potter's slightly older children were promoted to bookmarks with tassels, knitted string dish cloths and covers for the
Radio Times
and
T. V. Times,
in crash embroidered with lazy daisy stitch.

Miss Watson's class, as befitted the most experienced and talented members of the school, were engaged on such heady projects as tea-cosies, handerkchief sachets, decorated boxes and tea pot stands.

As well as all this handicraft activity, Christmas carols were being practised and plans were afoot for a Christmas party. Anything more ambitious had been vetoed this year after much earnest discussion in the school house.

'I really don't think I can face another nativity play,' confessed Miss Watson. 'I know the mothers are marvellous in getting the costumes done and helping with the make-up, but there's always some crisis or other. Do you remember when the three wise men all wore dreadful robes which clashed terribly? And then John Todd's mother was so difficult about providing a beard for Joseph? And really the floorboards are far too splintery for all that kneeling, and I do detest taking my rug over for the front of the manger. In any case, I don't think Axminster looks reverent enough.'

'A nativity play certainly makes a lot of work,' agreed Agnes. 'And the one pantomime we tried years ago was a little amateurish, I felt.'

'To be honest,' said Dorothy, 'I suppose we are getting past all the effort. But after all, if things had been as we wanted we should be retired by now. I really don't think we need to feel too guilty, at our age, for making Christmas simpler.'

'In any case,' pointed out Agnes, 'we are having the carol service in the church this year, instead of at the school. It should be a very impressive afternoon, and I'm sure the parents will appreciate it.'

'Mrs Todd won't. She's staunch Plymouth Brethren, and is refusing to let John set foot in St Andrew's.'

'Sometimes one wonders if church unity will ever be realized,' said Agnes, shaking her head.

'Well, I've a scheme which I think ought to be realized,' said Dorothy, changing the subject. 'As soon as term ends, I propose that we spend Christmas at Barton and have a thorough rest.'

'What a wonderful idea! But can we afford it?'

'We're going to,' said Dorothy firmly. 'You are not really fit yet, and my leg is still a nuisance. I think it would do us both a world of good to have a week by the sea, and to let other people wait on us. What's more, we might even hear of a little house for sale while we're down there.'

'But what about the parties we usually go to? And the Christmas Day service at St Andrew's?'

'They'll have to do without our presence for once. No, Agnes, my mind's made up. No bothering with Christmas catering, no standing about at cocktail parties drinking stuff you don't want while your headache gets worse, no last-minute presents to deliver. We're going to have a very quiet, lazy week indulging ourselves. And surely, Agnes, at our age, we deserve it?'

'Indeed we do,' agreed little Miss Fogerty.

Across the green, Christmas preparations were also going on. Jenny was surveying a splendidly rich fruit cake, and deciding on its future icing. Ella Bembridge was sorting out scarves and ties of her own weaving for the unfortunate recipients of her bounty. Joan and Edward Young were trying to fix a convenient date to have a mammoth Christmas shopping spree, and in every house where there were children notes were being sent up the chimney to Santa Claus, most of them asking for presents of such magnitude and expense that parents' hearts quailed.

At Lulling the pace was even faster. The shops were beginning their pre-Christmas fever, and the council men were threading the lime trees with coloured lights.

The Fuchsia Bush had a mouth-watering display of Christmas cakes, boxes of home-made sweets and shortbread, most of them made by Nelly Piggott and her helpers. Mrs Peters was looking forward to a bumper Christmas this year, and congratulated herself on being able to keep Nelly in her employ as well as Mrs Jefferson.

Next door, the three Lovelock sisters were already going through the little gifts which had been put aside throughout the year. Some had been bought at local bazaars or coffee mornings. Some had been given to them and were unwanted. This useful store was now being allotted to various friends, many of whom would recognize the gift, when the time came, as something they had given to one of the sisters on an earlier occasion. It was all part of the fun. One particular vase, of hideous shape and unsteady on its base, had been bandied about the Lovelock circle for more years than could be recalled, and was looked upon as a peripatetic old friend. People had been known to say with pride: 'I've got the vase this year!'

It was early in December that Charles and Dimity had unexpected visitors.

The morning was clear and cold, the grass glittering with hoar frost. At Dimity's bird table greenfinches, tits and chaffinches squabbled for the nuts and fat, and on this sharp morning even the rooks from the trees in the churchyard had flown down for Dimity's largesse.

Charles was in the greenhouse picking dead leaves from his geranium cuttings, and doing a little watering. He found the brilliant morning a comfort to his spirits, for he had been unable to throw off entirely the unusual melancholy which seemed to envelop him.

He had said nothing about it to Dimity. The feeling was nebulous, and Charles chided himself for harbouring these unwanted spells of sadness. They would pass. He did not intend to burden anyone, and certainly not his dear wife, with such vague twinges of discomfort.

Working among his plants, ministering to their needs in peaceful warmth, the good rector felt calmed and useful. He set about repotting some penstemon cuttings, enjoying the feeling of the moist compost in his hands, and the sight of tiny white roots thrusting bravely into the world.

He was so engrossed in his job, cares forgotten for a while, that he was surprised to find that his wrist watch said eleven o'clock. Dimity would be brewing coffee, and he dusted his hands, and went off to the house.

The frost still furred the grass, and there was ice on the bird bath. But the sun was beginning to shed warmth, and the sky was a brilliant blue.

Hurrying to the front door, Charles was surprised to see a large shining car there, and recognized it as Anthony Bull's.

He and his wife had just arrived and Dimity was taking their coats. Her face was alight with joy.

'Isn't this marvellous?' she said. 'I was just going to send a search party for you.'

The Bulls were equally pleased at this reunion.

'We are on our way to Cirencester,' Anthony said, 'to deliver Christmas presents to an aged uncle of mine, and we couldn't resist dropping in. Have we interrupted anything vital?'

'Nothing!' Charles assured him.

The two women went out to the kitchen to superintend the coffee making.

'It all looks splendid,' said Anthony, gazing across the garden to his former church. 'And how are things going?'

'I love the place,' said Charles, 'and so does Dimity. And I have had the greatest kindness from so many people.'

'From
all,
from what I hear.'

'I'm afraid not
all,
Anthony. You know, you were a difficult man to follow. I lack so many fine qualities which you possess, and which, I think, my congregation misses.'

'Rubbish!' exclaimed Anthony. 'You must not belittle yourself, Charles. You have got a wonderful reputation in the parish—in all four parishes—and the Bishop has told me several times how highly he thinks of you.'

Charles looked at his friend in amazement.

'We see quite a bit of him. He stays with us if he has a meeting in London. He's pretty shrewd, and has his ear to the ground. He's told me about a score of happenings here which have warmed his heart. And mine too, for that matter. There's no doubt about it, Charles, you are a far more conscientious parish priest than ever I was.'

'I don't believe it,' protested Charles.

'It wasn't all plain sailing for me, you know. Every clergyman has to face criticism from some quarter. I may have given satisfaction to those who enjoy a good sermon and a well-decorated church. I hope I did. But I faced quite a bit if suspicion from others. I think they resented the fact that my wife is a wealthy woman. The less generous of them were inclined to sneer at "too much display", as I heard one call it. I often thought about the camel and the eye of the needle, Charles, and I came to the conclusion that you simply can't please all the people all the time. So one just gets on with the job, as best one can, and that's it.'

Charles felt much comforted by this sound reasoning.

'But I can't believe that you ever met such slights. I've only heard good of you, Anthony.'

'You only hear from those who are articulate. There are plenty in Lulling who say little to one's face, but who make their feelings known to their friends. Take heart, Charles! What does it matter in the end? We are both doing our humble best. Let the Almighty judge our endeavours.'

Charles smiled at his old friend.

'You've done me a power of good. And you're quite right. Ah! I hear the coffee arriving.'

And he bustled across to open the door.

20. Three Christmas Visitors

THE WEDDING of Kit and Connie was arranged for the first week in January, and the banns were read at St Andrew's church.

It was to be a quiet affair. Apart from her aunt Dotty, Connie had few relatives, and Kit was similarly placed. Some old friends from Thrush Green and Lulling were invited, and the service was to be at eleven o'clock. Joan and Edward Young insisted on the wedding breakfast being held in their house.

'It will be a buffet affair,'Joan said. 'Kit and Connie are off to Heathrow before two, but it will give us time for wishing them well.'

The honeymoon was to be spent in Madeira, and they were not returning until the end of January. The fact that they had this opportunity to spend over three weeks in the sunshine was due mainly to Winnie Bailey's insistence.

As soon as she had heard the wedding plans she called to see Connie whilst Dotty was aloft having her afternoon nap.

'Let her come to stay with me, Connie. Jenny and I would love it, and we have plenty of room. It would never do to leave her here, even if she had someone living in. You know full well she would be out in the garden, and coping with the animals, whatever the weather. And she really would revert to her catering ways—an apple in her hand as she wandered about, and nothing cooked.'

'I know exactly what you mean,' said Connie, i was going to ask Mrs Jenner if she could have Kit's old room while we're away. I know she would care for her, but it hardly seemed fair to expect her to take responsibility for dear old Dotty. She is rather a handful.'

Winnie thought that this was the understatement of the year, but not the moment to say so.

'I know Mrs Jenner goes out on some evenings,' said Winnie, 'and really Dotty shouldn't be alone in the house. If she were with us there would be two of us to care for her, and also she wouldn't be tempted to potter out to see to things as I know she would if she were here, or even at Mrs Jenner's. Do think it over, Connie, and say "Yes".'