(8/13) At Home in Thrush Green

by Miss Read

  This sounded to Harold, busy trying to fill in a form for an insurance company which was incapable, it seemed, of expressing its needs in plain English, as a slur on marriage. Did it mean that early friendships usually foundered after a spouse had been acquired?

  'So, of course, I always called her Auntie Gert,' went on Betty, knocking an antique paperweight to the ground, 'and Alf was a sort of cousin. When he was born, I mean.'

  Harold said he understood that, and watched Betty retrieve the paperweight, luckily unharmed.

  'Well, Alf had been ploughing just behind Trotters after they'd harvested the barley, and the police wanted to know if he'd seen anything funny.'

  'Funny?'

  'Funny unusual, I mean. Suspicious like. Men with stockings over their faces, holding machine guns. That sort of thing, Alf thought.'

  'But surely,' expostulated Harold, setting aside the form for quieter times, 'they wouldn't be got up like that if they were living in the place?'

  'Who's to say?' said Betty airily, flicking her duster dangerously across a row of miniature ornaments of Indian silver much prized by her employer.

  'Anyway, Alf hadn't seen nothin' much, just an odd car or two being put in the barn. That PC Darwin kep' all on about what colour and what make and when was it and that, until Alf said he was fair mazed, and as his dinner was just on the table he told young Darwin one car was red and another was blue just to get rid of him. Alf reckons he'd have been there still if he hadn't told him something.'

  'But that is definitely hindering the course of justice!' Harold exclaimed, much alarmed at such behaviour, it was very wrong of your cousin to mislead the police like that. For two pins I'd ring the station now and tell them what you have just told me.'

  'Oh, I shouldn't bother,' replied Betty. 'Ten to one that Darwin never wrote it down. He's not much of a scholar, they tell me.'

  She whisked from the room, leaving Harold confronting his form with severely heightened blood pressure.

  At The Two Pheasants the subject was aired with more drama than accuracy.

  Percy Hodge said that the way the police handled things was a crying scandal, and it was a wonder more decent people weren't murdered in their beds when you heard how long these Trotters' chaps had been up to a bit of no good. What did we pay our rates for, he wanted to know?

  Albert Piggott opined that you could earn more by being dishonest these days, than by sweating day in and day out, as he did, at his own back-breaking job.

  And an old man in the corner, toothless and shaky with age, said that no good ever came out of Trotters. It had always had a bad name, and that fellow Archie Something who farmed there before the war – the first war, he meant – had three daughters who all went to the bad, and the local lads was warned about them by the vicar at that time. Not that it stopped 'em, of course.

  He would have continued with his reminiscences to the great pleasure of his hearers, but Mr Jones, the landlord, spoiled everything by rapping on the counter and ordering his clients to drink up sharpish.

  Even little Miss Fogerty heard something of the affair, for John Todd, capering about in the playground with his hand extended pistol-fashion, yelled that he was a car robber from Trotters and that he was spraying his unconcerned playmates with real bullets, and they ought to be lying dead.

  On relating this to Miss Watson later, her headmistress replied:

  'Yes, dear, I did hear something about it. Trust John Todd to pick up such news! That boy is not as green as he's cabbage-looking.'

  With which statement her colleague agreed.

  Nelly Piggott was one of the few inhabitants who managed to ignore the excitement at Leys – or Trotters – Farm.

  The truth was that she had a great many other excitements to think about. The first, and most pressing one, was the christening party at Mrs Thurgood's, due to take place in just over a week's time.

  She told her friend Mrs Jenner about it as they walked down the hill to a bingo session in Lulling. The two women had struck up a firm friendship. Mrs Jenner, a lifelong resident at Thrush Green, and sister to Percy Hodge, recognised the good qualities in Albert's wife which far too many local people ignored.

  It was true that Nelly was somewhat flighty. She was occasionally vulgar in speech. She dressed rather too flashily for Thrush Green's taste. Nevertheless, she was hard-working, good-tempered, and coped splendidly with Albert's moodiness and bouts of drinking. Altogether, Mrs Jenner approved of Nelly Piggott, and enjoyed their weekly trip to the bingo hall.

  'Mrs Peters gets a bit worked up,' said Nelly confidentially. 'Well, I suppose she's a lot to lose if anything goes wrong, and say what you like, that Mrs Thurgood is proper bossy. All teeth and breeches, my father used to say. Tough as they come. She did her best to beat down the price per head when she came to work things out, but give Mrs Peters her due she stuck to her guns, and we've got a fair price, I reckon.'

  'She seems to rely on you quite a bit,' responded Mrs Jenner.

  'I don't know about that,' replied Nelly, sounding surprised, 'but I don't get in a flap about things, so maybe she talks to me to calm herself. After all, I haven't got the same responsibilities that she has. Stands to reason she worries more.'

  'You've got your livelihood to get, and to lose,' pointed out her friend.

  'I suppose so,' reflected Nelly, 'but I could turn my hand to pretty well anything, if need be. After all, I did a good spell of cleaning at The Drovers' Arms, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I don't mind a nice bit of scrubbing.'

  And that, thought Mrs Jenner, as they approached the hall, was one of Nelly's virtues. She was game to take on anything, even Albert Piggott.

  It said much for her courage.

  On the way home, Nelly was invited for the first time to have a cup of coffee at her friend's house along the road to Nidden.

  'There's nobody in obviously,' said Mrs Jenner, as the two women surveyed the Piggott establishment which had no glimmer of light in the windows.

  Next door The Two Pheasants was glowing with lights, and it did not need much thinking to surmise where Albert was spending the evening.

  'Just for a few minutes then,' agreed Nelly, pleasantly surprised by the invitation, and a quarter of an hour later she was ensconced in Mrs Jenner's farmhouse kitchen with a steaming cup in front of her.

  She looked about the great square room with approval. The solid-fuel stove gave out a comfortable warmth. From the beams overhead hung nets of onions and shallots, bunches of drying herbs, and some ancient pieces of copper. A blue and white checked cloth was spread cornerwise on the scrubbed kitchen table, and a thriving Busy Lizzie was set squarely in the middle.

  'My! I could do with a kitchen like this,' said Nelly enviously. She thought of the small room at Albert's where she cooked, cleaned and lived.

  'Come any time you like,' invited Mrs Jenner. 'I like a bit of company, and although Jane and Bill are only down the road now, I don't suppose they'll have much spare time for a bit.'

  'How do they like being wardens?'

  'Very much. Mind you, they've only got one couple in at the moment, so things are easy. But they're a good pair, though I says it as shouldn't, and to my mind those old people are lucky to have them.'

  'So I've heard,' said Nelly, 'and from several people too.'

  Mrs Jenner looked gratified.

  'Of course, how things will work out when all the houses are taken remains to be seen.'

  'They'll shake down all right, I'm sure,' said Nelly.

  'That I don't know,' answered her friend. 'I've had a lot to do with old people in my life, and it's my opinion that they can be downright awkward. Worse than children sometimes.'

  Later, Nelly was to remember those prophetic words.

  During the next two weeks, the new residents began to filter into the homes allotted to them.

  Captain Eric Jermyn and his wife Carlotta had been the first to move in. Theirs was one of the larger homes at the farther end of the block. Jane and Bill C
artwright, the wardens, were now comfortably settled at the other end, and were glad to be welcoming the first of their neighbours.

  Mrs Jermyn had been an actress before marrying her husband at the beginning of the Second World War. Remnants of youthful prettiness remained, but arthritis had distorted her hands and feet, and the pain made her querulous at times.

  Her husband was considerably older than she was, thin, rather shaky, but still very straight-backed and dapper. They had lived in Lulling for some years since the war, and both given a great deal of service to the town.

  Their means were small for their savings had vanished when a bank overseas had collapsed. They had lived in army quarters, and later in rented accommodation, and were grateful when they were allotted this present home in their old age.

  Their black and white cat Monty was named after the late Field Marshal Montgomery, who was greatly revered by Monty's owner. He was a portly animal of much dignity, and protested loudly at being shut in a basket for several hours while the move was in progress.

  The next day little Mrs Bates from the Lulling almshouses moved in, and two days after that Miss Fuller, who had been headmistress of the tiny school at Nidden, took up her abode next door to Mrs Bates. The latter had no pets to add to the usual confusion of moving day, but Miss Fuller's two lovebirds were carried in first thing, their cage heavily draped in an old bedspread.

  A week later George and Mary Cross moved into the second double apartment, and Jack and Sybil Angell soon followed them.

  Two single homes remained. Johnny Enderby, a retired gardener, was due to move in, and Tom Hardy and Polly the day after.

  The rector still worried about uprooting his old friend from the riverside cottage, but when the day came, all was well.

  It was one of those translucent October days when the distant hills seemed to have moved ten miles nearer. The sun shone from a cloudless sky, and the vivid gold of the horse chestnut trees vied with the pale lemon of the acacias in the Youngs' garden. It was heart-lifting weather, and the rector was sincerely thankful.

  There had been no need to call on the Youth Club members for help.

  With surprising efficiency, Tom had organised the move, parcelling up a few treasures, putting out the detritus of years of hoarding for dustmen, the local scrap merchant and the Cubs' jumble sale. It almost seemed, Charles thought, as if he welcomed this new start, despite his age and infirmities.

  Polly looked upon the upheaval with a mild eye, seeking out a sunny place in the garden while the turmoil spread around her. As long as she was with her master, it was plain to see, she had no fears.

  The last of the residents was safely ensconced by midafternoon. Polly explored her new home, found the familiar rag rug, and settled down on it with a sigh of pleasure.

  Tom filled the kettle in his tiny bright kitchen, and switched on, marvelling at the speed with which it began to murmur. This was better than the old kitchen hob!

  He sat down, his feet beside Poll on the rug, and gazed approvingly at his new abode.

  In the end house, Jane and Bill Cartwright were also enjoying a cup of tea. Now all their charges were in residence, and the real job began.

  Both were tired, but relieved that the moving in was over, and that, so far, no real problems had arisen.

  Jane was perhaps more apprehensive than her sturdy husband.

  'I can't help wondering if the hot water system is going to stand up to the demands made on it. Do you think we ought to give a gentle warning to the residents about running their hot taps? After all, Tom Hardy and Johnny Enderby have never coped with hot water straight from the tap. And we must make sure that the emergency bells work in each house. It would be terrible if anything happened, and we knew nothing about it.'

  Bill Cartwright smiled at his wife's agitation.

  'The bells have been tested time and time again, and everyone here can cope with the hot water taps. None of them's a fool. You just calm down, and see how easily things will run. Before it gets dark we'll go together to make sure they have all they want.'

  Jane smiled back.

  'You're right, as usual. Well, it's good to have our family around us. Let's hope they all get on well together.'

  'I expect they'll turn out like any other family,' replied Bill, pouring a second cup. 'A good deal of affection spiced with bouts of in-fighting. We'll see soon enough.'

  Edward Young, as architect, took a keen interest in the residents' reactions to his work, and on the whole was gratified. All agreed that the houses were light, warm, well-planned and easy to run.

  The main objection came from John Lovell one day when he met his brother-in-law, by chance, as he returned from a visit to the Cartwrights.

  'All going well there, Edward?'

  'No great problems so far,' said the architect.

  'There will be,' replied John.

  Edward looked taken aback.

  'How d'you mean?'

  'Well, those outside steps, for instance. You've been extra careful to have no steps inside, but that flight outside could be a menace, particularly in slippery weather.'

  'I don't see,' said Edward frostily, 'how you can overcome a natural incline except by steps – and these are particularly shallow ones – or a ramp. As it happens, I've provided both. And an adequate handrail.'

  'No need to get stuffy!'

  'I'm not getting stuffy,' retorted Edward, 'but I do dislike outsiders criticising something they don't understand. You don't seem to realise the difficulties that confronted us when facing the problems that this site gave us.'

  'I'm not such an outsider that I can't see what a mistake you made with those steps –'

  'Mistake? What rubbish! You stick to your job, John, and leave me to mine.'

  'Unfortunately, I shall have to patch up the results of your mistakes! Mark my words, a few slippery leaves, or later on some snow and ice, and I shall have some old people in my surgery with sprains and breaks. It could all have been avoided with proper planning.'

  'Are you suggesting that I'm a bad architect?'

  'Not always. But to design an old people's home with a hazard like that, is not only stupid, it's downright criminal.'

  By this time, both men were flushed with anger. They took their work seriously, and were sensitive to criticism. The fact that normally the two brothers-in-law got along very peaceably made this present exchange particularly acrimonious.

  'The steps are perfectly safe,' said Edward, with considerable emphasis. 'You're getting a proper old woman, John, seeing danger where there is none. I shan't come criticising your healing methods, though I gather that some of them leave much to be desired, so I'd be obliged if you left well alone in my field.'

  He strode off across the green to his home, leaving John fuming.

  'Pompous ass!' said John to the retreating back. 'You wait till I get my first casualty from the homes! I shan't let you forget it!'

  As was to be expected, the new residents soon had visitors. Sons and daughters, grandchildren, and old friends called to see how they had settled into their new quarters.

  Miss Watson and Miss Fogerty were greatly intrigued by the comings and goings, and agreed that it would be right and proper to invite Miss Fuller, whom they knew slightly through their teaching activities, to have tea with them.

  'I always liked her,' said Agnes warmly, as they carried the tea things into the sitting room. 'She was always so good with the mothers.'

  'Sometimes a little too good,' responded Dorothy, arranging tomato sandwiches neatly. 'I think a headmistress should keep her distance with the parents.'

  She began to set out the best cups on the tea tray.

  'Such a pretty tea set,' commented Agnes, anxious to turn to a safer subject.

  Her friend sighed.

  'Mother left a very fine Wedgwood tea service to Kathleen in her will, although she must have known that I'd always hoped for it. But there you are, Kathleen did her wheedling to good effect, and I have to make do with
this.'

  'And very nice too,' Agnes assured her, as she added teaspoons to the saucers. But privately she pondered on the unhappy results following the distribution of the worldly goods of the recently dead.

  These melancholy thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the front door bell, and she hurriedly joined Dorothy in welcoming their guest.

  10 Settling Down

  OCTOBER, drawing to its close, saw Lulling and Thrush Green in their most vivid colours.

  The horse chestnut avenue outside the Youngs' house glowed a bright gold, and the glossy conkers were fast being snatched up from beneath them by the village school's pupils.

  Scarlet berries beaded the pyracantha growing over The Two Pheasants, and the Virginia creeper clothing Winnie Bailey's house was the rich colour of red wine.

  The hedges along the Nidden road were spangled with scarlet hips and crimson haws, while a few late blackberries, glossy as jet, waited for the birds' attentions.

  In Miss Fogerty's room, sprays of cape gooseberries brightened the corner by the weather chart, and such seasonal joys as collecting hazelnuts and mushrooms enlivened the children's days.

  Miss Fogerty gave her usual autumn handwork lesson on the making of chairs for a dolls' house from horse chestnuts, pins and wool. This involved four pins for the legs, five for the back, and simple weaving of the wool, in and out of the latter, to form a comfortable back rest for the diminutive occupants.

  This operation was always accompanied by heavy breathing, enormous concentration and ultimate rapture. Agnes Fogerty enjoyed this annual instruction in the art of miniature furniture making, and felt great satisfaction in watching the children bearing home the results of their labours.

  'I suppose,' she commented to Dorothy, over tea that afternoon, 'that they get so much more satisfaction from making a three-dimensional object. I mean, one would far rather have a cat than a picture of a cat.'