(9/13)The School at Thrush Green (13 page)

Sure enough, the stranger appeared to be delightfully vague, weaving about the playground, and occasionally bending to study something in the hedge dividing the playground from the Shoosmiths' property next door. Luckily, Agnes recognised their visitor as Richard, opened the window, and called him over.

'Oh, hallo, Miss Fogerty,' said Richard, giving her the winning smile which disarmed so many people who had dealings with the young man, and who had determined to give him 'a piece of their minds' until the smile melted their fury. 'Are you busy?'

'I'm afraid so. You wanted to see the house I expect.'

'What house?' said the boy, who still stood by Agnes's feet.

'Go to your desk,' said Miss Fogerty sternly. 'This has nothing to do with you, Robert.'

'Well, I saw him first,' muttered the child resentfully, making his way towards his desk. Agnes was a little flustered.

'Do call at Miss Watson's classroom,' she said. 'Perhaps we could take you round the house at playtime.'

The class by this time was open-mouthed, and all work had ceased.

'Emily,' said Agnes, choosing a sensible-looking six-year-old, 'take this gentleman to Miss Watson's room, and don't forget to knock on the door first.'

The child bounced out importantly, and Agnes watched her take Richard by the hand to lead him across the playground to the headmistress.

What, she wondered with some apprehension, would Dorothy's reaction be?

Playtime had been somewhat protracted that morning as the ladies took Richard round the house.

Miss Robinson had nobly offered to do playground duty in place of Miss Watson, and watched the departure of her two colleagues and Richard with a sore heart. To think that only lack of money stood between her and a delightful home of her own! She supposed that this Richard, despite his scruffy appearance, had the wherewithal to contemplate buying the school house. Envy filled her youthful heart, but she did her duty resolutely despite an extra ten minutes added to the usual span of playtime.

She watched Richard crossing the green towards his aunt's house. Miss Watson and Miss Fogerty hurried back to their duties.

'Many apologies, my dear,' said her headmistress. 'I shall do your turn myself tomorrow to make up for your kindness. I'm afraid that young man arrived without warning. An expensive education seems to have had no effect on his manners, I'm sorry to say.'

Winnie Bailey was as surprised to see Richard as the two schoolteachers had been.

'Well, I was just passing,' said Richard when rebuked by his aunt, 'and it seemed a pity not to call in. They didn't mind a bit, you know. I don't know why you fuss so.'

'Because you are so selfish,' said Winnie. 'They are busy people, and you obviously didn't think of them at all, but simply pleased yourself.'

'In any case, I don't think it would suit us,' said Richard, ignoring his aunt's criticism of his behaviour. 'The rooms are rather poky, and there really isn't enough room to build on. On the other hand, I might bring Fenella down one day to have a look at it. She's awfully clever at seeing possibilities in a place.'

'Then you think she might contemplate leaving the gallery?'

'I don't know, Aunt Win. All I know is that we ought to get away together before things crack up again.'

He sounded despondent and Winnie's soft heart was touched.

'Well, you must sort things out between you,' she said more gently. 'Now Jenny and I are off to Lulling to do some shopping, so I shall say "Goodbye". Help yourself to coffee if you are staying for a while.'

'No, no. I'm off too. I have to look up something at the Bodleian, and then I thought I'd get a haircut. There's a good chap in the Turl.'

He waved his farewells, and the ladies collected their shopping baskets.

On the way down the hill, Winnie told Jenny about Richard's reactions to the school house.

'Good thing,' said Jenny. 'He'd never do at Thrush Green, and you'd be everlasting minding those children. Or I would!'

'Well, there are only two of them,' pointed out Winnie reasonably.

'So far,' replied Jenny. 'But I bet there'll be more. I always thought Richard looked the sort to have a big family. Profuse, like.'

'Prolific, I think you mean,' said Winnie. 'And I must say, that I hope you are wrong.'

The following Wednesday Thrush Green school broke up for the Easter holidays, much to the relief of the children and staff, and the dismay of some of the parents.

'Can't do nothing with 'im in holiday time,' announced Miss Cooke when she came to collect Nigel on the last afternoon.

'Give him plenty to do,' advised Miss Watson. 'He's an active child.'

'You're telling me,' retorted his mother, 'but he's active the wrong way. Last Christmas the little devil painted my Mum's fireplace with pink enamel paint. Said he was making it nice for Father Christmas. It ponged something awful when we lit the fire.'

Dorothy smiled vaguely and watched her lead the budding decorator away. They were the last to leave the premises, and she and Agnes returned to the school house wearily.

'Only one more term,' sighed Dorothy, 'and frankly it's a great relief to contemplate retirement.'

'I do agree,' said Agnes, easing off her shoes. 'Thank goodness we haven't too many things arranged for this holiday. It will do us good to have a real rest.'

'I must concentrate on my driving lessons though,' said Dorothy. 'Ideally, I'd like to have a day in Barton, just to chivvy the estate agent, and generally have a look round. We could stay the night at our usual place.'

'That would be lovely,' said Agnes. But she sounded half-hearted. Weariness was not all that depressed her. Somehow she had not yet found complete confidence in dear Dorothy's driving.

Besides, who would feed the little cat?

As Agnes was the first to admit, Dorothy had behaved with outstanding magnanimity over the affair of the cat. Apologies accepted on both sides, the business of feeding the animal went ahead, Agnes delighting in the cat's growing confidence and affection, and Dorothy gallantly refraining from expressing her disfavour of the whole affair.

She had even turned a blind eye to the wooden box filled with straw which appeared in the garden shed, and was obviously used by the cat at night. Agnes had timidly expressed the hope that Dorothy did not object to the shed door being left ajar.

'I can't see anyone stealing our ancient lawn mower and all our gardening tools are in a deplorable condition. No, it won't worry me to leave the shed open,' Dorothy had replied, much to Agnes's relief.

By now, the cat allowed Agnes to stroke its tabby fur, but leapt away when she tried to lift it in her arms. To Agnes's pleasure, it purred when she put down its food, and occasionally rubbed round her legs.

But it always beat a hasty retreat if Dorothy appeared. It seemed to know that its presence was not welcomed by that lady.

When she thought about it, Dorothy was still perturbed at the idea of the animal being left high and dry when they departed in the summer. However, she told herself, Agnes had been warned, and there was still time for a good home to be found for it or, with any luck, it would depart of its own accord to a cat-lover as fond and foolish as Agnes herself.

The Easter weekend was as bright and beautiful as it should be, and St Andrew's church was a bower of daffodils, narcissi and young leaves.

Round the steps of the font the children had put vases of primroses from Lulling Woods, and two magnificent pots of arum lilies from the Youngs' greenhouse flanked the chancel steps.

Mrs Bates from Rectory Cottages had surpassed herself with the cleaning of the church silver and brass, and even Albert Piggott had stirred himself enough to tidy up the porch and the gravel drive.

Everyone agreed, as they gossiped after church, that Easter was one of the loveliest of church festivals, and that St Andrew's had never looked so magnificent.

Young Cooke had mown the grass of the churchyard, and Thrush Green's inhabitants admired its striped neatness. All opposition to the moving of ancient tombstones had now vanished. It was difficult to remember the battle which had raged, some years earlier, about the levelling of the site and the shifting of the gravestones to the outer wall. Poor Charles Henstock had endured many sleepless nights worrying about the hostility of some of his parishioners to the scheme, but time seemed to have healed the wounds very successfully.

As Dorothy and Agnes crossed the green to the school house Ben Curdle appeared trundling a wheelbarrow.

'Ah, Ben!' called Dorothy, hastening towards him. 'Would it be convenient to have a lesson tomorrow evening? I really want to have an intensive course in the next week or so. Would you be free?'

'Any time you like,' said Ben. 'I'll come round about six, shall I?'

'Perfect!' replied Dorothy. 'I always enjoy my driving lessons.'

But she was not to know, when she spoke so enthusiastically, just what was in store for her.

***

Meanwhile, Charles Henstock did his best to assist his friend Anthony to find a suitable post for the young woman, daughter of Mrs Lilly, about whom they had spoken on the telephone.

The manager of the new supermarket about to be opened in Lulling High Street was of no help.

'Sorry, padre,' he said, 'but I've got all the girls I need. Tell you what, I'll write down the young lady's name, and if I get a vacancy she can come for an interview.'

The typist's post at Venables and Venables was satisfactorily filled, and very few people needed, or could afford, domestic help in the house.

'Of course,' said Dimity doubtfully, 'the Lovelocks want help, but they are such hard taskmasters one hesitates to send anyone there.'

'I suppose we could make it clear,' said Charles, 'that she is quite a young woman, and has this small child to care for. You wouldn't care to put the matter to Ada? Suggest that she goes for a trial period, and that not too much is demanded of her?'

'I should dislike the job intensely,' said Dimity with spirit.

Charles sighed. 'Well, we'll go on with our enquiries, dear, but if nothing turns up, I'd better tackle the Lovelock girls myself.'

His woebegone face turned Dimity's heart over, but she did not offer to face the task herself.

Who knows? Something suitable might turn up very soon.

Promptly, at six o'clock, Ben Curdle arrived with his Fiesta at the gate of the school house, and Dorothy hastened to climb in.

It was a warm April evening. The daffodils were nodding in the gardens, and the lilac was already in bud. There was a stillness in the air, and a gentle radiance, which moved Dorothy to quote poetry.

'"It is a beauteous evening, calm and free",' said Dorothy, fastening her seat belt.

'Yes, it is that,' agreed Ben, looking a little startled. 'Beautiful, I mean.'

'Which way?' asked Dorothy, abandoning poetry and getting down to business.

'I thought we'd take her up the main road, and then come back by way of Nidden. Then, perhaps, go up the High Street for a bit of traffic practice.'

'Right,' said his pupil, scanning both mirrors, and letting the clutch in gently.

She turned down the chestnut avenue in front of Edward Young's splendid house, and then left along the main road.

'I really love driving,' said Dorothy. 'Am I doing all right, Ben?'

'You're doing fine,' said he sturdily. 'But keep the pace down a bit. Lots of kids on bikes now the evenings are light.'

They drove in companionable silence for two or three miles, then turned left into Nidden, and the lane which would return them to Thrush Green and Lulling.

This was a much quieter road, and involuntarily Dorothy's pace increased. They were bowling along between the hedges which bounded Percy Hodge's fields, when the worst happened.

Out from the farmyard gate burst Percy's young collie dog, barking furiously. There was a sickening thump as the near front wheel hit it, and the barking changed to a bloodcurdling squealing.

With commendable speed and control, Dorothy pulled into the side of the lane, and was out of the car in a flash.

Just as she approached the pathetic black and white bundle, Percy appeared, rake in hand.

'What you bin and done to my dog?' he yelled menacingly. 'Women drivers!'

He spat in an unlovely fashion, as Ben came up to his pupil's support.

10. The Accident

WITH considerable authority Ben Curdle went into the attack.

'Pity you can't keep your animals under control,' he said. 'There's a couple of cows of yours pushing at the hedge half a mile up the road. And now this!'

He squatted down beside the dog and felt its legs and ribs with expert fingers. Dorothy, much shaken, watched him with admiration, and with thoughts of Ben's indomitable old grandmother, Mrs Curdle, who had met every disaster with the same supreme courage and calm that Ben was now showing.

'We should get the vet,' she said to Percy. 'Can I use your phone?'

She was much alarmed at the condition of the animal. Its eyes were closed, its breathing heavy, but there did not appear to be much blood, except for a cut on its side.