Regret to Inform You... (17 page)

Jack
Mansfield's handsome face broke into a warm smile, ‘I happen to think you can make a great future in farming. I hope you stay with me at Spinney Farm, but you must, of course, always feel free to move on if better opportunities come about. So it's up to me to provide real opportunity, and here's the confidential part. You may have realised that Major de Maine is finding Manor Farm something of a handful and he and his wife would like more time to themselves. You will understand, Abraham, that I can't go in to all the details but to cut a long story short, Major de Maine and I have come to an agreement whereby the lands from the two farms are to merge under one management; essentially we are combining the two farms and turning more land into arable. I still like to think I've got a number of years for active work, but Mrs Mansfield is also keen we share more time together. She would like to explore parts of Europe, especially France and Italy. I must say I would, too. Abraham, if everything goes well for you, there will be the opportunity for you to take over more of the management of the single farm and, in time, major decisions. As I say, please keep this to yourself. So, what do you think?'

To say that Abraham was dumbstruck was less than the truth. He sat silently for a moment, and then took Mr Mansfield's lead by finishing his drink. ‘Sir, what you have just told me is the most exciting thing I have ever heard. You can be certain that I won't let you or the major down in any way.' His excitement almost overcame him.

Mr Mansfield held up his hand, ‘Come on, Abraham, it's time we moved on.' The rest of the drive in the glorious early evening sun was soon undertaken and Abraham, who had almost slipped into a light doze, was surprised when he realised they were back in Rusfield. A few minutes later, Jack Mansfield pulled up in West Lane outside the Richards' house. Abraham was profuse in his thanks, but his kind boss just said that it had been his pleasure and how wonderfully well the young runner had done.

As
Abraham opened the front door he called out, but no answer came. He looked into the kitchen and the rear garden, but no. Going into the street in front of the house he immediately heard shouts, better described as cries of delight and excitement; it must be something on the green. Leaving his backpack in the kitchen, he crossed the narrow lane and passed the school; the noise becoming louder.

He was surprised to see what looked like half the village population on the green, most taking part in a great game of rounders. Dozens of children were taking part in the big game; many more in other attractions: skipping, throwing and catching balls, climbing favourite trees or swinging on the ropes which hung from an old elm tree. Others were rolling around in less well-defined, but exciting activities. He then spotted his mother, sitting on a log under one of the great elm trees, chatting to Rita Small, the schoolteacher.

She smiled as her son approached. ‘Oh Abraham, lovely to see you. How did you get on?'

‘But where's father? I'd rather tell you both together.' Abraham and his mother had lovingly teased one another for as long as either could remember and he had deliberately put on a solemn look which she took as a harbinger of disappointing news. She turned to one of her many nephews, eight-year-old David Johnson, Willy's brother: ‘David, please run over and ask Uncle Fred to come over here as Abraham's just arrived.' In a flash the young lad had delivered the message and Abraham's father and younger brother trotted over, eager to hear the news.

‘Well, son, how did you get on? I'm sure you did your best and that's the important thing.' All eyes were now on Abraham as he maintained his solemn look. But he couldn't keep it up for a moment longer and broke in to a broad smile, ‘Well, actually I won and I did my fastest time ever, 50.6 seconds.'

Abraham was lost in the midst of all three throwing their arms round him and congratulating him. ‘I'm so proud of
you,
son. You deserve to do well and the whole village will be proud of you,' said his mother; a tear appearing on her cheek.

‘What's happening here?' Abraham asked

It was Fred Richards who explained. ‘Well, all the Sunday school children had a marvellous time at Mr Jackson's farm, but when they came back they were so excited that the older ones, encouraged by Doris and Grace, organised a game of rounders. You can see Eleanor Windle batting at the moment. Everyone seems to have joined in.'

‘I'm so glad they had a good time,' said Abraham. ‘Father, you mentioned Doris and Grace, but where are they?'

‘I don't know about Doris, but Grace has just taken your young cousin, George Jones, to Mary Johnson's house as he cut his knee when he was swinging from a tree once too often.'

‘I think I'll just go over and see if he is all right then,' Abraham replied with exceptional casualness.

His mother smiled: ‘Yes, Grace might need your help.'

He hurried across the stretch of the green to the end cottage in Meadow Way and sure enough young George was sitting on the doorstep with Grace putting a light bandage round his knee.

‘Now that will be all right,' smiled Grace at the stubbornly brave young lad who had fought hard not to cry when he saw blood running down to his shoe. Grace suddenly caught a glimpse of the slight shadow cast over her and turned.

‘Why, Abraham! I didn't know you were back. We've had a wonderful time today, haven't we George?' she smiled gently, patting her patient on the shoulder. ‘But how did you get on?'

‘Well, Grace. I managed to win.' He was just about to add a little more of the afternoon's events when he found she had thrown her arms round him and with her feet almost off the ground, kissed him. ‘Oh Abraham, that's marvellous. I'm so, so pleased. Everyone will be so proud of you.'

Abraham glanced round, overjoyed at Grace's kiss, but a little anxious that other people might be around; only young
George,
and he was already scampering back to the green after thanking his emergency nurse.

The sun was now quite low, but seemingly reluctant to set on the village. The air remained warm and calm. Parents and children were leaving the green even as Grace and Abraham returned from Meadow Way. They were holding hands, Grace remembering the kiss with joy, Abraham with wonder. Hand in hand they walked to the field. The sun dipped lower; the young couple were joyously happy. That night, children slept deep from their tiring and exciting day, most adults with contentment. Word about Racer's win had spread quickly and all were proud of this fine young man's feat. It had been a good day for Rusfield.

T
WENTY-THREE

Wednesday, 31 July

July also dealt a hand of almost incessant rain. On this last day of the month, Arthur and Eleanor were looking out of their kitchen window from which they could see the water from Church Stream almost lapping into their garden. ‘There must be a problem further along the stream,' Eleanor said, tucking herself comfortably and lovingly into her husband's cradled arms. ‘It must be around five-feet deep in the gully and, surely, that can only be the result of blockage somewhere along the flow. It was good of Fred Richards and Joe Bacon to put up some fencing round the deepest part and I hear that Mr Watts has been telling the children to keep well away.'

Major de Maine had read that the eruption of a volcano in Alaska was a likely cause of the exceptionally bad summer, but he found little support in any of the Rusfield pubs. ‘Tosh,' retorted Bernie Thomas over his favourite pint, ‘‘tis just bad luck.' Churchwarden George Cooper wondered if it was God's answer to so many changes at St Mary's, but had the good sense to keep this thought to himself.

The main calls on Nurse Betty Hazlett, who had settled in to the village very happily, were little to do with the weather; but with the elderly, and the spate of births extending several large families even further. Yet as the rain beat down, one
village
topic surpassed the weather: Abraham Richards' next race.

As the couple turned away from the dismal scene through the kitchen window, Eleanor suggested a second cup of breakfast coffee. Family, church, village and all manner of other thoughts and ideas were often talked through over their extended breakfast time. ‘After all,' Eleanor had once said, ‘that leaves the nights for other activities.'

Arthur passed a cup to Eleanor and said, ‘Good idea, my love. One or two things I'd be glad of your thoughts about.'

‘You mean, not just about the big race next Monday!' smiled Eleanor.

‘Well, let's start with that. The whole village has got so excited about Abraham's big race and the Bank Holiday makes it a really big athletics meeting with all the best British runners taking part. Abraham, of course, was invited because of his victories at the Crystal Palace and then Twickenham. He's such a fine young man and remains so self-effacing; I'm sure his modesty is inherited from Fred and Pauline Richards. You know that Jack Mansfield and Fred Jackson have kindly organised two charabancs from Steepleton to the Stamford Bridge stadium, which means that there's room for at least sixty people. Well, I happened to see Fred yesterday and he told me there are just a few spaces left and did we want to reserve two. What do you think, my love?'

Eleanor put her coffee down and with a mock serious look replied, ‘Well, I think that for the sake of the church it's something the vicar and his wife should be seen to support, don't you?' She broke into a glowing smile before adding, ‘Of course I want to go. It's going to be a splendid day out, whatever the weather, although I was glad to hear that both the charabancs have emergency covers that can be pulled over. I heard from Mabel Mansfield that everyone would have to get to Steepleton by nine o'clock to catch the charabancs as the transport company regards the road out to Rusfield being
too
bad to use in view of all the rain. But we can do what most others are doing, walk into Steepleton.'

‘That's wonderful. I'm seeing Fred in St Mary's later on today. Did you know that Abraham was actually mentioned in
The Daily Telegraph
after last Saturday's win?'

‘Indeed, Major de Maine showed me the piece. It even said that Abraham should have been running for Britain in the Olympic Games which have just finished. And did I tell you,' added Eleanor, ‘that I'd met a very, very excited Grace. Apparently she, Doris Groves and Albert Jones all went with Abraham to Twickenham. I think that Grace and Abraham are not the only young lovebirds we have in the village; it seems that Doris and Albert are often with one another.'

‘Your mention of Albert reminds me that he told me he was particularly proud to see Abraham running in a green top, the same colour as the shirts their great school team had worn; I thought that was a lovely touch.' Their conversation was interrupted by a heavy knock on the vicarage door. They both stood, crossed the kitchen, went through the dining room and into the hall. Arthur opened the door.

‘Good morning, sir.' There was the smartly dressed Peter Woods holding out two letters. ‘Forgive me for not just putting the letters through your door, but I wondered if I could ask a favour?' He looked at Eleanor, one of his favourite villagers.

‘Of course, Peter. How can we help?' she responded with her dazzling smile.

‘Well, Mrs. Windle, I told you once I collect stamps and I couldn't help noticing the one on this letter.'

‘But', replied Eleanor holding the two letters passed to her and looking more at the one that appeared to interest Peter, ‘it's the same stamp as on all letters.'

‘Not really, ma'am,' Peter hurriedly said. ‘If you look very carefully you can see that the design round the king's head has changed.' He excitedly placed the second letter alongside before explaining: ‘This is the penny stamp since
the
coronation, but if you look at your letter, can you see the difference?'

Eleanor and Arthur looked more closely. ‘Well done. I see what you mean.' Peter smiled.

‘Just wait a minute, Peter.' Eleanor took her letter and disappeared inside for a moment. She returned carrying the empty envelope. ‘Here you are, Peter; you are most welcome to it. I must say you have very keen eyes.'

Peter blushed, ‘Thank you very much. You are most kind.'

‘Take care Peter,' added Arthur as the young postman turned to leave, ‘and do let us know the next time any of the stamps change. It's really interesting. Thank you.'

Arthur closed the door and returned to the kitchen. He could see that Eleanor was worried after reading her letter. ‘What is it, Eleanor?'

She passed the letter to Arthur and he realised why it had caused his beloved Eleanor concern. ‘I see it's about another suffrage meeting in Steepleton.'

‘I'm surprised that they have even sent me another invitation,' she said, giving a faint smile. ‘I won't be going; I cannot support actions that endanger people or cause them real harm. And I mean it.' Firmness had come into her voice with this last comment, a tone that Arthur had heard many times and respected.

‘And,' continued Eleanor, ‘they have been carrying out more and more dangerous stunts. Three pillar boxes in Steepleton were recently set on fire and I read in the
Steepleton Mercury
that Amelia Payne-Croft, she's the one who sends these invitations, had said they needed a martyr to publicise their demands. Then last week Mabel Mansfield told me that a lady just released from prison had the idea of becoming that martyr and had thrown herself down a thirty-foot-high iron staircase near Parliament. Fortunately she landed on some wire netting, but she did have severe spinal injuries. No, I can't support that kind of thing.'

Arthur
wrapped his arms round Eleanor. ‘I know what you do will be right and I love you for that. Now this other letter is from my parents.' A look as worried as had been Eleanor's when reading her letter, appeared. He passed the letter to her who, as perceptive as ever, waited a few moments after reading it before saying: ‘I understand why you are worried, my love. Your mother just doesn't mention how your father is and has signed it as if he doesn't exist.'