(8/13) At Home in Thrush Green

by Miss Read

  In Lulling High Street the shops were already beginning to show signs of Christmas looming ever nearer. A large poster in the Post Office window exhorted customers to post early for overseas' mail, and agitated passers-by realised that yet again they had missed surface mail to New Zealand and Australia and would have to send to distant aunts and brothers by air mail. They went on their way toying distractedly with such gifts as silk scarves, handkerchieves and tights – anything, in fact, which could be weighed in grammes rather than pounds, and even then, they thought mournfully, the cost of postage would be devastating.

  At The Fuchsia Bush a discreet notice stood in the corner of the window reminding customers that the last orders for Christmas cakes, mince pies and puddings must be put in immediately. The florists nearby requested early orders for holly wreaths and crosses, and the coal merchant's window had a large card saying sternly, 'Order now for Christmas'.

  The three Misses Lovelock, Ada, Bertha and Violet, had resolutely set their faces against preparations for Christmas until the beginning of December. They had taken up this stance some years earlier, their reasons being that early December was quite time enough to start thinking about preparations, and there were plenty of jobs to be attended to in November anyway.

  'But what about your pudding?' said Dimity, 'and sending off presents to people abroad?'

  'We don't eat Christmas pudding,' came the austere reply. 'And we don't send any presents to people who live overseas.'

  There seemed to be little to say after this, and Dimity, who had called about contributions to a Christmas bazaar, retired without daring to mention the subject. One Lovelock was intimidating enough. In triplicate they were formidable.

  On this particularly dismal November morning, Charles was in some anxiety.

  'It seems, my dear,' he said to Dimity, as he ruffled the leaves of his pocket diary, 'that I have promised to go to the old people's Christmas party at Thrush Green, at the same time as the preview of pictures at Janet Thurgood's gallery. Janet Fairbrother, I should say now.'

  'Just ring one of them and explain,' advised Dimity, who frequently had to cope with such errors.

  'But this morning,' went on Charles, becoming even more agitated, 'I had an invitation – well, more of a summons – from the bishop, and that too is for the same afternoon.'

  'Then the bishop's must take precedence,' said Dimity, 'and you must telephone to the others. Now, stand away from the table, Charles, while I roll out this pastry, or you will be looking like a miller.'

  Charles sat down obediently in a corner of the kitchen, still looking worried.

  'I think I shall take a walk up to Thrush Green to see Bill Cartwright and explain. Poor Jane is still in hospital, I hear, but no doubt he and Mrs Jenner are going ahead with Christmas arrangements.'

  'A good idea,' responded Dimity, sprinkling flour energetically. She sometimes wondered what her dear husband would feel if she sat down in his study while he was writing his sermons. He probably would not notice, she thought, and would certainly not feel as irritable as she did when he invaded her work room.

  'I want to see Mrs Bates in any case. She's offered to clean the church silver at St Andrew's, and it seems a kind gesture. She did all of it here, you remember, and I suppose she misses it.'

  'I thought the Bassetts always did it.'

  'Mrs Bassett hasn't been able to for some time, and I believe Ruth and Joan have carried on as it was largely given to the church by their great-grandfather. I must call on them and see what they think.'

  'Well, dear,' said Dimity, attacking the pastry again with her rolling pin, 'you go and sort out things up there, and I'll see you at lunch time.'

  Charles rose with a sigh.

  'I do seem to get myself in a pickle with my dates. What should I do without you?'

  He kissed her forehead and made for the door. There was flour on his black lapel, but Dimity forbore to comment. The dear man had quite enough to worry him already.

  While Charles Henstock was making his way to Thrush Green, Doctor Lovell was just finishing surgery and checking his bag before setting out on his rounds.

  The telephone rang. It was the police superintendent.

  'I think we may have your man here,' he said. 'Could you get down to an identity parade?'

  'What now? No hope!'

  'No, probably late tomorrow afternoon. The chief inspector, who is independent of this enquiry, of course, will organise everything. He has to collect several chaps who are fairly similar in looks. It shouldn't be too difficult. Our fellow has no beard, or bright red hair, or anything too outlandish.'

  'What happens?'

  'We put these chaps in a row, and then invite the suspect to take his place, wherever he likes, among them. Then you – who have been kept away from all this obviously – are brought in and hopefully can touch the right man on the shoulder.'

  'It sounds straightforward enough, but I can't tell you how I dread it. Suppose I pick the wrong chap?'

  The superintendent laughed.

  'It doesn't often happen, so take heart. You are still quite willing to help us?'

  'Yes, indeed. When shall I come?'

  'Say, five o'clock? If there's any difficulty I will ring you.'

  John put the telephone down. His hands were trembling. He picked up his bag and went through the little office towards his car, pausing to tell Miss Pick, the secretary, about the appointment at the police station.

  'What have you been up to?' she wanted to know banteringly.

  'Nothing yet,' replied John, 'but I might make the most awful hash of things, I can see.'

  He left Miss Pick, who looked at the closing door with some perturbation. It wasn't like the doctor to get so anxious about things. Come to think of it, he hadn't looked really fit for some time now. Overwork, she supposed. A dose or two of his own tonic might do him good.

  Charles Henstock found Bill Cartwright just about to go shopping in his car. After enquiring about Jane, Charles told him, with genuine distress, about his dilemma.

  'Never fear,' replied Bill with a forgiving smile. 'It happens to all of us now and again. You go and see Mother. She's getting a pie ready.'

  Charles obeyed, and said he was glad to hear that Jane was making good progress.

  'She should be home next week,' said her mother, 'but of course she'll be on sticks for a bit. I'm going to stay on to lend a hand.'

  'A sad business,' said Charles.

  'And the old people have taken it hard,' added Mrs Jenner. 'They were just settling in nicely, and this accident seems to have upset them.'

  'In what way?'

  'Well, for one thing they seem to use the steps with quite unnecessary caution, and some will only go down now by the ramp which was really made for cars and vans to use. Then some of them seem very touchy, although I think that's because of Mrs Jermyn, who will interfere with everyone. Bill's had a word with her husband, but it doesn't seem to make much difference. The Crosses were very friendly with them, but since Monty has taken to using their front flower bed as his personal lavatory, things have been a bit strained.'

  'Oh dear! Can I help at all?'

  'Well, a visit from you is always appreciated,' said Mrs Jenner.

  'Actually, I'm going to see Mrs Bates first,' he said, and explained about the silver cleaning.

  'That's a good idea. I think she feels a bit useless, and Mrs Young's got enough to do without adding the weekly silver cleaning to her chores. I know the church silver has always been kept at their house as they have a safe, but I expect it could be brought to Mrs Bates on Sunday evenings and she could take it to the Youngs when she had done it. Or maybe she could call there?'

  'We'll sort out something,' promised Charles. 'There isn't a great deal of it – not like the splendid old collection we have at St John's – but there is a fine ebony cross with silver decorations, as you know, and the pair of Victorian silver vases, which flank it, are very heavy, if perhaps a little florid for today's taste,
and a nice old chalice which I always enjoy handling.'

  'Well, I'm sure Mrs Bates will like that little job,' Mrs Jenner assured him. 'Now, can I give you some refreshment before you call on her?'

  'No indeed, many thanks. I'll go immediately. I expect you are busy preparing lunch. I left Dimity rolling pastry.'

  'And that's just what I was doing,' Mrs Jenner told him, nodding towards the kitchen door, 'when you called.'

  'Apple tart?' asked the rector, now on his way.

  'What else, after this season's crop?' said Mrs Jenner, waving him off.

  After his visit to Mrs Bates, the good rector called on her neighbours. He spent most of his time with Tom and Polly, but was lucky to find Johnny Enderby there too. The two old men seemed fit enough, but were very serious when the question of Jane's accident cropped up.

  Only the Angells were out, so that Charles saw practically all the new residents that morning, and was struck by the anxiety and downright nervousness, in some cases, which he had not noticed before. It grieved him too, to hear the bitterness with which the Crosses spoke of the Jermyns next door. Monty had a lot to answer for, thought the rector. It began to look as though the 'no pets' rule was certainly going to be needed in the future.

  He was relieved to enter the peaceful sitting room of the Youngs' house. Joan was grateful for Mrs Bates' offer, and promised to go over that afternoon to make arrangements which would suit her.

  'Do you think she'd like to come over here to clean the things? We'd love to have her, and it might make a change for her.'

  'I'll leave it to you,' said Charles, and set off, more cheerfully now, to his vicarage.

  But for the rest of the day, Charles was uneasy. What was amiss at the old people's homes? The residents had settled in so well, had seemed so thankful to be there, so grateful for all the Cartwrights were doing for them. He recalled the happiness at that first party when the new neighbours were warm in their praise of everything, and glad to make friends with each other.

  He supposed that a number of things contributed to the present malaise. Certainly, Jane's accident had left them in a state of shock. After all, she was their mother-figure, someone to turn to with their problems, 'a very present help in trouble'. The fact that she had fallen on the ground that they daily traversed was also cause for fear. If she, so comparatively young and nimble, had come a cropper, what might happen to those older and shakier?

  And, of course, the first excitement of their new abodes had worn thin. The relatives and friends who had visited them in the first few weeks now came less often. They had seen the old people happily ensconced, and felt that all would be well with them. The coming of short dark days and the onset of winter ills, also meant fewer visitors, and it was easy for some of these old people to give way to self-pity, the most insidious foe of all.

  He thought of Mrs Bates. Perhaps she provided the clue to the future happiness of her neighbours. It seemed to Charles that the old people needed to feel part of the life of Thrush Green. Mrs Bates was doing something to be of service, and by doing so was making herself useful in the community. Could the others find help in this way?

  The old residents of Thrush Green had been outstandingly welcoming, and he knew that there were real friendships between individuals such as Ella and Tom Hardy and Johnny Enderby who had their love of gardening in common, and Miss Fuller and the teachers at the school who shared many interests, but perhaps more could be done.

  But what?

  Charles knew how keenly the old people valued their independence, and he himself would have disliked any sort of hearty community activities imposed from outside. No, it would have to be most delicately done, and the residents themselves must show the way. Mrs Bates' initiative might well be the inspiration.

  Well, it would be best to wait until Jane was back and strong enough to help him with the problem, decided Charles. For there was a problem here, and one which could grow and cause much unhappiness unless it could be solved with tact and sympathy.

  One thing, both Jane and Bill had plenty of those two qualities.

  After her talk with Mrs Jenner on Bonfire Night, Nelly had gone to see her employer with an easier mind.

  To her relief, all final fears were swept away by Mrs Peters' reassurances. There had been no thought of Nelly putting money into the firm. What she needed, she reiterated, was Nelly's support, expertise, ideas and loyalty.

  Nelly threw herself energetically into her new role as one of the partners at The Fuchsia Bush. She revelled in her new-found position, and welcomed the Friday night sessions when she stayed at the office to go through the books with her partner.

  Nelly had a natural flair for financial matters, as Mrs Peters soon learnt. There had been periods in Nelly's life when she had been hard-pressed for money, but she had always managed to evade debt or complete penury. She was a saver too, by nature, and she soon saw how certain methods would bring profit to the shop. To her mind, there were some of the wholesalers whose business ploys were suspect. She suggested to Mrs Peters that they should try others, and in this Nelly's hunches had proved correct.

  The home-catering side was steadily growing. The van was already on order, and both partners could see that there was a bright future in that side of the business. But it was Nelly who suggested that fresh rolls with attractive fillings such as ham and tomato, egg and lettuce, cheese and watercress, would find a ready market with many of the office girls and shop assistants who worked so close at hand in Lulling High Street.

  'They can't afford the time or the money for a proper sit-down lunch in here,' pointed out Nelly, in any case, the single ones are probably going home to something cooked by mum about six o'clock, and the married ones will have something cooking in a casserole to go home to, or a few chops or sausages ready in their baskets. Let's try it for a week anyway. The girls in the kitchen are quick workers and I'll give a hand before putting on the lunches.'

  It was a great innovation, and after a week's trial, Mrs Peters agreed it should become a regular service.

  'And if need be,' she added when she and Nelly had totted up the books one dreary November Friday, 'we could think of employing a girl part-time, simply to get the rolls ready.'

  Hope had already replaced her former apprehension, and affairs at The Fuchsia Bush brightened daily.

  A week later, John Lovell bumped into the superintendent in Lulling High Street.

  'I hear you didn't have much bother in identifying our friend,' said the latter.

  'I was lucky. When I was first called to see that fellow, I noticed an old scar over his right eyebrow, and I remember thinking that he should have had it stitched at the time. It had healed well, but would have been less noticeable. I'd forgotten about it until I saw it at the identity parade.'

  'Well, there's no doubt he's our man. He swore he was innocent for quite a time, and said he knew nothing about the other two chaps, but he changed his mind after a bit, and now we're looking up north for his buddies. We should get them pretty soon.'

  'And what will happen?'

  'Oh, they'll go up to Crown Court without a doubt, with the sort of offences they're charged with. It's been going on a long time, and a great deal of money is involved.'

  'I'll be needed as a witness, I suppose?'

  'Afraid so. You must hold yourself in readiness.'

  'Well, it'll make a change from looking at chickenpox spots,' smiled John.

  'Much about then?'

  'Quite an epidemic. Nidden School is half empty.'

  'I think I've had it,' said the superintendent thoughtfully. if you had any sense,' responded the doctor, 'you'd have put it behind you before your tenth birthday.'

  They parted to their particular duties.

  Jane Cartwright arrived home from hospital in good spirits, but woefully wobbly. The old people were touching in their welcome, and Bill had to be particularly tactful in restraining their visits in the early days.

  'She's being killed with kindness,' h
e confided to his mother-in-law, when he had ushered out Miss Fuller who had brought a hyacinth bulb in a glass vase to distract the patient's attention from her ills.

  'You'll have to be firm,' Mrs Jenner told him. 'I've said that she has a rest every afternoon, and that's that. I know they all mean well, and Jane's grateful to them, but it's going to be some weeks before she's really fit again.'

  'You're quite right, mother,' said Bill, 'but it's difficult when they arrive with bunches of flowers, and little cakes and books, and then beg to see her. I think I'll pass them over to you.'

  'You do just that,' said Mrs Jenner firmly. 'I can be quite a dragon if need be.'

  One of Jane's early visitors was Joan Young. She gave her news of Mrs Bates and the church silver.

  'She comes over to us either on Friday or Saturday afternoon, and stays for tea. She seems to enjoy coming, and we look forward to her visits. Incidentally, the silver has never looked so splendid, and we heat all the news from here as she gets to work.'

  'Good news, I hope?' said Jane. 'I think all our people have settled in pretty well. It's a big upheaval for some of them.'

  'Oh, I'm sure they all seem very glad to be here,'Joan assured her. 'Molly Curdle usually comes over when Mrs Bates comes, and she gets on with some ironing while the silver's being done. She hears more than I do, I think. They certainly have a hilarious time together and baby Anne gets thoroughly spoilt.'

  When Joan had gone, and Jane was alone resting, she turned over Joan's comments in her mind.

  Were the old people really as happily settled as she said? Jane was very much aware of all that was going on, and had sensed, since her return from hospital, that some of their charges were a little discontented. The occasional remark had been dropped by her visitors, about the shortcomings of neighbours. Monty's reprehensible sanitary arrangements had been mentioned once or twice. The perennial problem of too-loud radios had cropped up. Someone's refrigerator made a bang every now and again in the night. The lavatory flushings were unduly noisy.