(9/13)The School at Thrush Green (26 page)

She continued, mentioning the happy years both had spent at the school, the kindness and generosity of the parents and governors, and the wrench that it would be for both of them to leave Thrush Green.

The rector looked a little bewildered, as well he might, for it had been planned that he should hand over the governors' present of a clock as soon as the fruit bowl had been unwrapped.

However, Dorothy's prompt, and somewhat lengthy, reply had taken him by surprise, and short of halting her peroration which would have been uncivil, and anyway pretty well impossible, the rector was obliged to await the lady's conclusion with as much grace as he could muster in the face of his fellow-governors' agitation in the front row.

At last, Dorothy came to the end of her speech of thanks amidst polite applause. The rector arose and lifted the governors' package from beside his feet.

'And I have the great privilege,' he said, bowing politely to the two ladies, 'to present you with a small token of esteem and thanks from the governors of Thrush Green school.'

He held out the parcel, not sure which lady should take it. But Dorothy, now realising that she had leapt in rather too prematurely with her thanks, motioned to Agnes to accept the second present.

Agnes went forward diffidently, and a storm of clapping and some cheers broke out, completely dumbfounding that modest lady.

There was no doubting the affection which prompted this spontaneous tribute, and Agnes's eyes filled with tears. Dorothy too, joined in the clapping, obviously delighted on her friend's behalf.

'Speech!' yelled someone at the back, and little Miss Fogerty raised a trembling hand for silence.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' she quavered. 'Dorothy has said all I want to say, but I am just going to add a heartfelt "thank you" for many happy years, and to let you see me unwrap this exciting parcel.'

The applause grew again, accompanied by some energetic stamping at the back by old pupils, as Agnes undid the paper and held up a charming brass carriage clock for all to see.

Taking heart from the obvious show of affection, Agnes added, 'This lovely present from the governors will be a memento of our friends at Thrush Green for many years.'

At which, she sat down, smiled across at Dorothy, and thanked heaven that her tears had not actually run down her cheeks throughout her ordeal.

'You were absolutely splendid,' Dorothy told her later that evening, when they had regained the peace of the school house.

'And so were you,' Agnes said loyally. 'I could never have made such a wonderful speech.'

'I didn't find it easy,' admitted Dorothy. 'Thank goodness it's over. But you know what I shall always remember?'

'Mrs Cooke among the governors?'

'No, dear. The well-deserved tribute to you that came from every heart.'

Before midnight, as Dorothy and Agnes were seeking sleep, the storm broke.

The thunder had become louder as the evening had worn on, but it was past eleven o'clock before the rain began.

It fell in a heavy deluge. Great drops spun like silver coins as they hit the parched earth. Within minutes, it seemed, little rivulets gushed along the gutters and down the steep hill to Lulling.

Agnes stood by her bedroom window to watch the transformation. The roofs of Thrush Green glistened. Rain dripped from Nathaniel Patten's shoulders, and from the heavy foliage of the chestnut avenue.

The playground was already awash, and the tombstones ranged round St Andrew's churchyard stood wet and shiny like so many old men in mackintoshes.

There was little wind, just this ferocious cascade from the heavens, and Agnes felt the overpowering relief which the plants and trees, and the thirsty earth itself, must be experiencing.

The scent of water on stone, grass and soil, filled her with joy. The hot weeks, so warmly welcomed at first, had held Thrush Green, men, animals, trees and all living things, in a relentless grip of drought for too long.

Now release had come. Agnes held out her hands to catch the raindrops, patted them on to her hot forehead, and went contentedly to bed.

The Misses Lovelock were still without their silver, and still without help in the house.

They took these reverses remarkably well, and looked out a canteen of cutlery of somewhat inferior calibre, which had been in use by the domestic staff in the old days, and trusted that their usual tableware would reappear before long.

The police gave them little hope as the days passed. There was a rapid and well-organised turnover of such objects, the Lovelock ladies were told. The young man probably passed on his haul within an hour or two of collecting it, and there was no sign of his whereabouts.

The only development was a grubby postcard from Doreen to her mother. The postmark was so faint and smudged that it was quite illegible, but the message was clear:

Me and the boy are all right. Don't worry. I will write again.

Love,

Doreen

'You see,' said Gladys to Nelly, 'there's not a word about this Gordon, or about coming back. But she's with him all right. I don't doubt that, and I suppose I'd better take this card to the police.'

Nelly agreed that it would be the proper thing to do. She felt very sorry for Gladys, and for the Lovelock sisters, blaming herself partly for furthering the introduction of the truant to the three old ladies.

Charles Henstock was equally concerned, and had rung his friend Anthony Bull several times to ask if he had heard anything at his end. But nothing occurred to give him comfort. Wherever Gordon, Doreen and the child were, was a mystery, and all that could be done was to wait and hope.

The thunderstorm which had ended the drought, also seemed to have ended the summer as well, for it was followed by a period of cool rainy weather during which Agnes had recourse to her cardigan again.

Most of the residents of Thrush Green greeted this return to semi-winter philosophically, grateful for the refreshment of their gardens, and freed from the bondage of those exhorting them to save water.

Albert Piggott and Dotty Harmer took pleasure in the new pool, admiring their handiwork. Dotty wondered if another six or so ducks would give added glory, but Albert was less enthusiastic.

'They makes a mort of mess,' he observed dourly, watching a dozen webbed feet transferring water, pondweed and general slime from the pool to the freshly-laid stones.

'No, no, Albert!' protested Dotty. 'They are simply behaving naturally. You can see the dear things are really happy. I should like to give a few more ducks the chance to enjoy it. There must be a lot of
deprived
ducks about.'

Albert thought of the few weedy specimens kept in a pen at Perce Hodge's farm, but forbore to tell Dotty of their plight. She'd have them down before you could turn round, he thought, surveying the muddy stones around the pool. His labours were already being spoilt. No point in hastening the process.

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.