(8/13) At Home in Thrush Green (28 page)

'He is one to them,' replied Agnes percipiently.

'In that case, he and John Todd would have a lot in common,' retorted Dorothy, resuming her darning.

At the old people's homes, Jane Cartwright had cause to be hopeful about the outcome of her visit to Carlotta Jermyn.

It had not been an easy encounter, for Carlotta had become rather haughty at the outset, pointing out that an actress was in quite a different class from a wardrobe mistress, and that the exceptional qualities needed to create a character were definitely more rarified than such practical matters as theatrical costume, which were the concern of lesser minds.

'I think really,' said Jane, 'that they need someone more in the way of a
consultant.
Someone who would know the best costumiers and wig-makers to approach, or perhaps someone who could simply give a hand in adapting costumes.'

Carlotta considered this.

'Well, of course, I have had some experience in these matters when I gave some advice to amateur companies now and again. But I really don't know what to say. I know that the Lulling Operatic people have quite a good name for their little efforts,' she added graciously, 'and I believe they give quite a useful sum to local charities.'

'They do indeed,'Jane assured her.

'And of course I should not want a fee,' went on Carlotta. 'And if they employed a professional it might cost them a tidy sum.'

Jane thought that Carlotta was beginning to weaken, and made a swift move.

'Why don't you ring Mrs Thurgood and see what is involved? You need not commit yourself today. But I know she would appreciate any ideas you have. You might think of someone else that they could approach.'

At this Carlotta's face took on a somewhat obstinate expression.

'I shall ring her as soon as I've had my gin and tonic,' she told Jane firmly. 'This is a Worthy Cause!'

Jane would have loved dearly to hear the conversation between the two autocratic ladies later that morning. No doubt each was a model of frigid politeness. Carlotta would make it quite clear that such an undertaking would not do justice to her true worth, but that if she could assist lesser mortals in the theatrical sphere then she felt it her duty to do so.

Mrs Thurgood would be equally high-handed, gracious in her appreciation of Carlotta's feelings, but not in any way servile in her attitude.

But the outcome was a happy one. Carlotta agreed to give the Lulling Operatic Society the benefit of her expertise, and also consented to help with such lowly but practical matters as altering costumes, should the need arise.

'One must do what one can in this world,' she told Jane. '"We pass this way but once," as someone said.'

On repeating this to Bill his comment was typical.

'"Pass" is about right! Since she's got interested in this lark, she's too busy to bob into our other old dears and annoy them.'

'That's true. Let's hope the Lulling Operatic Society makes her a permanent member.'

***

It was about this time that Jenny was admitted to Lulling Cottage Hospital for her tonsils operation.

The great man, Mr Pedder-Bennett, came down from the county town once a week to perform straightforward operations at the local hospital.

Tuesday was his day, and the staff of the hospital was extra alert. Castors on the beds were all turned to the exact angle, throughout the wards. Sheets were tucked in so securely that patients were unable to bend their toes. Hair was brushed, dentures put in, noses wiped, pyjamas buttoned and nightgowns adjusted for modesty.

Jenny was obliged to go in on the Monday evening, so that she could be prepared for Mr Pedder-Bennett's ministrations the next morning.

It was one of the longest evenings of her life. She had never before been into a hospital. Her foster parents had slipped away in the comforting familiarity of their own home, some years earlier.

She was fascinated by the variety of women about her, and full of admiration for the bustling nurses. The speed with which they raced from bed to bed, yanking patients upright, pummelling pillows, whisking vases, glasses, pens, spectacles, fruit, talcum powder and scent from bedside tables and putting them briskly below into cupboards which half the patients were unable to reach, fairly took Jenny's breath away.

What energy these girls had! And how tired the patients looked amidst all this activity!

She was allowed a light supper consisting of a bowl of some milky white substance which might have been anything from hot blancmange to thin porridge. It reminded Jenny of her orphanage breakfasts, and like them could have done with a spoonful of sugar. This repast was served at six-thirty which Jenny found surprising as it was called supper.

'Last meal for you, love,' the nurse said cheerfully. 'No breakfast before ops.'

Jenny cleared her bowl obediently, and lay back on the pillows. It was still only seven o'clock, and she wondered how Mrs Bailey was managing.

A few minutes later, the nurse came to collect her tray.

'Mrs Bailey's just rung up. Sent her love, and says she'll be thinking of you. Probably pop in and see you tomorrow evening if you feel all right.'

'Oh, I shall!'Jenny assured her.

'Well, we'll have to see, won't we?' said the nurse cryptically. 'Shall we have a bit of shut-eye now?'

Jenny slid down the bed, and closed her eyes, although sleep, she felt sure, would be impossible.

Dear Mrs Bailey, she thought gratefully! How she longed to be back with her at Thrush Green!

The pillow was warm against her cheek, the porridge warm in her stomach.

Jenny was asleep in five minutes.

It was while Mr Pedder-Bennett was at his delicate work the next morning, that Jane Cartwright went the rounds of the old people's homes and found all was well.

Polly and Tom were sitting in their porch enjoying the sunshine. Johnny Enderby was digging in Ella's garden across the road. Mrs Bates was making herself an apple dumpling. Miss Fuller was preparing to walk across to the school for coffee in the staffroom, and then an hour's reading practice with the slow readers. The Crosses were changing their bedlinen with the radio on full blast. Jack and Sybil Angell were away for a few days with friends. Carlotta was at a sewing session with the other ladies connected with the Operatic Society, and her husband Eric was reading the newspaper, as best he could, with Monty on his lap impeding his view.

After a few words with each, Jane stood at the end of the building and looked across Thrush Green. The sky was of that soft tender blue which only early spring can bring. A hazel bush nearby shook its yellow catkins, the golden dust powdering some young dandelion leaves below.

Somewhere a lark was singing, and a blackbird winged by, its orange bill carrying a whiskery bundle of dried grass for its nest building.

A beautiful brown and grey snail climbed slowly up the dry stone wall, leaving a glistening trail, and in the shelter of one sunny crevice Jane could see half a dozen ladybirds emerging from hibernation to enjoy this early sunshine.

Nathaniel Patten's benign countenance caught the sun's rays, and pink tipped daisies were already clustered about the plinth.

Jane breathed a sigh of delight. How good it was to be here, to see their charges beginning to enjoy their new surroundings, and, best of all, to be able to move again, perhaps not quite so nimbly as she had when she first arrived, but certainly with more confidence and with less pain as the weeks went by.

A figure loomed up beside her. It was Percy Hodge.

'Oh, hello, uncle,' said Jane. 'And how are things with you?'

'Could be worse,' said Percy cautiously.

'I was going to make a cup of coffee,' said Jane. 'Will you join me?'

'Just off over the road,' responded Percy, nodding towards The Two Pheasants. 'Got to have a word with Albert.'

'Then I won't hold you up,' said his niece, watching him set off, and went back through the dewy morning to her elevenses.

But through the kitchen window she noticed the young Cooke girl pedalling down the road from Nidden.

She got off at The Two Pheasants, propped her bicycle against the wall, and vanished inside.

It certainly looked, thought Jane, stirring her cup, as if Uncle Percy was in the throes of love, yet again.

At Lulling Cottage Hospital, Jenny's recovery was steady, and she was promised a return home within a few days.

'Old P-B', as John Lovell called him, had done his usual neat surgery, and apart from an irritating little lump which Jenny imagined was a husk from the morning porridge, all was well. Mr Pedder-Bennett, on examining his handiwork, was quite hurt to discover that the irritation was caused by a minute knot in his exquisite needlework, and assured his patient that it was only a matter of hours and then all would be in perfect condition. And so, to give 'old P-B' his due, it certainly was.

When Winnie returned from a visit to Jenny one evening, she was slightly alarmed to see a light on in her sitting room. Could she have forgotten to switch it off? Should she go into the Hursts and ask Frank to accompany her into the house, in case burglars had broken in? As long as they were free from stocking masks over their faces – which Winnie found unendurable – she felt that she could probably cope alone.

But while she stood at the gate, with all these thoughts whirling in her head, the front door opened, and there was her nephew, Richard.

'Oh, what a relief!' cried Winnie, i thought you were a burglar!'

'Not quite. I did try to ring you this afternoon,' he said, helping his aunt to take off her coat.

'I must have been in the greenhouse.'

'I had the key you gave me years ago. So here I am.'

'And very nice too,' said Winnie. 'Get yourself a drink, and me too, dear boy, and tell me what brings you here.'

There was silence for a time as Richard filled two glasses and carried them carefully across the room. It gave Winnie time to wonder if Richard were the forerunner of the rest of his family, and if so, was the spare bed made up for him? It usually stood in readiness for just such an emergency, and she was sure that Jenny would have left everything in apple pie order. But more than one person she simply could not accommodate.

She need not have worried.

'I'm afraid I'm homeless, Aunt Win.'

'Homeless?'

'Ever since I came back from China.'

'What happened?'

'When I arrived back I found that Roger had left his wife and moved in with Fenella.'

'What do you mean? Are they living together as man and wife? I thought you said they were cousins, or somehow related.'

'So they are. But very distant cousins.' Richard sounded amused at Winnie's reaction, which made her cross, as well as shocked.

'But what's to be done, Richard? After all, you and Fenella are properly married –'

'So's Roger. The biggest snag of all is that the flat is Fenella's, and she can have who she likes there. At the moment she likes to have Roger, and not me.'

'But what about your baby?'

'That will have to be decided when we get a divorce.'

It all sounded drearily. wretched to Winnie, and she turned to more practical things.

'So where have you been staying all this time?'

'With an old school friend. He has a service flat near Marble Arch, but it's much too small for the two of us. I moved into some digs in Notting Hill Gate last week, but there's such a racket going on from a pub next door, I felt I couldn't stand it any longer, and fled down here.'

'But what are your plans, Richard? For the immediate future, I mean? Of course, I can put you up for a day or two, and should be pleased to have you here, but things are a trifle worrying for me too at the moment.'

She explained about Jenny. To her surprise, Richard looked genuinely concerned.

'Poor old Jenny! So she can't make those delicious cheese scones at the moment.'

What a pity, thought Winnie, that he had not told Jenny how delicious they were at the time. But in any case, she would repeat this belated compliment to the invalid.

'The thing is,' he went on, 'I'm having to get my notes together for another tour next month, and I simply can't work in those digs.'

'Well, I suggest that you settle in here for a few days, and we'll look around for quiet lodgings nearby until you set off on your travels again. That is, if you want to be in Thrush Green.'

'There's nothing I'd like more. I can work here, I know.'

Winnie roused herself.

'Well, that's settled. I'm just going to fill a hot water bottle for the spare bed, Richard, and you can take it up and unpack.'

Richard crossed the room and gave her a kiss.

'You are an angel. I can't thank you enough.'

'I'll be glad of your company,' she told him, much touched by this rare display of feeling. 'And while you're upstairs, I will get us some supper.'

'Lovely! I must admit I'm famished.'

'It won't be up to Jenny's standards,' she warned him. 'Scrambled eggs or sardines on toast, and some rather ancient cheese.'

'Delicious!' said Richard, making for the stairs. 'I'll come down for the bottle in two ticks. And, by the way, I brought a pork pie with me, in case I had to pitch camp under a hedge, so we'll add that to the supper table.'