by Miss Read
This, he told Violet, was to ensure that she herself did not succumb, but his advice was taken, and once a day a tray of succulent, but easily digested, dishes appeared, and was borne aloft by Gloria or Rosa to the two old ladies.
'Perishing cold it is in there too,' they remarked to Nelly. 'All they've got in the bedroom is a one-bar electric fire, and a stone hot water bottle apiece.'
Nevertheless, the good food, and their own indomitable constitutions, helped them to recover in record time.
***
At the old people's homes, the only real casualty was Tom Hardy who also went down with bronchitis, but Jane insisted that he stayed in bed, supplied him with an extra-thick cardigan of Bill's to wear as a bed-jacket, and generally cossetted the old man.
His chief worry was Polly. Was she getting her walk regularly? Was she having the tablets the vet recommended? Had anyone brushed her coat? The ruff round her neck was inclined to tangle.
John Enderby undertook these duties cheerfully, and kept his neighbour company, teaching him to play chess and keeping him informed about all the news of Thrush Green.
He himself had offered to give Ella Bembridge a hand in her garden, and gladly had she accepted.
'Not that there's much to do at the moment,' he told Tom one bitterly cold afternoon, 'but I did the rose pruning for her, and I'm going to spread the muck from the compost on her vegetable patch. She does well enough, for a woman, but don't dig as deep as she should. I'll soon get the place to rights.'
Jane Cartwright had seen this development with the greatest satisfaction. This was what was needed to settle her charges. Mrs Bates was as happy as a sandboy with her little weekly silver cleaning, Miss Fuller had found herself a couple of hours' teaching at the school, and now Johnny was doing something which used his skills and, even more important, made him feel needed. It looked as if things were looking up at Rectory Cottages after earlier teething troubles, and Jane felt mightily relieved.
The day of Kit and Connie's departure was as cold as ever, but mercifully clear and bright, and the flight was due to go at the time announced, much to their relief.
Harold had offered to take them to the airport, but was still suffering from influenza. As it was a Saturday, Ben Curdle offered to take his place, and Harold knew that he would take even more care of his car than he would himself, and agreed gratefully.
'Well, you're lucky to be going to the sunshine,' said Ben, whose idea of anywhere abroad was of coral beaches, palm trees and continuous sunlight. it should be warmer than this,' agreed Kit, 'but we'll be lucky to see much sun in Venice at this time of year. Still, it's such a beautiful city, and with dozens of lovely buildings and pictures to look at, we shall have plenty to do.'
It did not sound much of a holiday to Ben, but people had their own ideas of fun. Look at all those people who went ski-ing in deep snow and ended up, more often than not, with their legs in plaster. Give him a deckchair on the beach with an ice cream cornet, thought Ben, taking the turning to Heathrow.
The place was a seething mass of agitated people, piles of luggage and a formidable block of traffic.
Kit took charge with his usual calm authority.
'I'll get a trolley, Ben, if you could get the cases out of the boot. Connie dear, just mind the hand luggage and stay here by this door. I want Ben to get away as quickly as possible with Harold's car. I can't imagine anything worse than getting it damaged before we set off.'
He hurried away and Ben went to the rear of the car.
Connie gazed despairingly at the throng of people. What an unnerving sight! If only she could go back with Ben to the peace of Thrush Green!
'Oh, Ben,' she cried, 'you will let us know if anything goes wrong at home, won't you? I'm really horribly worried about my aunt. She's not quite – not quite –' she faltered.
'Miss Harmer will be as right as rain,' said Ben, with his slow sweet smile. 'We'll all be looking after her, don't you fret.'
Calmed and relieved, Connie returned his smile. One could quite see why Molly had married him, Ben would be a tower of strength in any crisis.
'Here we are!' called Kit triumphantly, piling cases on a trolley. 'Practically there!'
'Yes, they went off all right,' he said to Molly on his return. 'She was a bit panicky at the last minute about Dotty, but I told her she'd be fine.'
'I think she will,' said Molly slowly, 'but I wouldn't want to be in that Mrs Ellis's shoes, not for all the tea in China.'
17 Nelly Piggott Meets the Past
CONNIE need not have had any fears, for the two ladies settled down very well together.
It was true that Dotty, with her usual forthrightness, had taken it upon herself to put certain matters straight, but after a day or two's adjustment, harmony reigned.
The first clash had come when Vi, slipping back into hospital language, had said, as she tucked a shawl round her charge's shoulders: 'There, dear, we don't want to get a chill, do we?'
Dotty looked at her with some hauteur.
'When you use the word "we", are you using it in the editorial, or royal, sense? Or are you simply referring to the two of us—you and me?'
After that, Vi was more careful.
She was touched too to get a telephone call from Connie on the night of their arrival in Venice. Although she privately considered it overwhelmingly extravagant, she was proud and pleased to get Connie's appreciation of her services.
Dotty had her own conversation with Connie once the preliminaries were over.
'Oh, we're doing splendidly, dear. So glad the flight was satisfactory and the plane wasn't hi-jacked. It must be so tiresome when that happens, and. if people are firing off guns in such a confined space, the noise must be indescribable. Yes, dear, Mrs Ellis is unpicking my Florentine stitch cushion cover, and I'm doing the crossword. Do you know the anagram of DAIRYCATS? Of course, CARYATIDS! That will help a lot. We're having poached eggs for supper. Goodbye, dear, and my fondest love to you both.'
She smiled across at her companion.
'Now, wasn't that thoughtful of her?'
'It was indeed. It's good to know that they arrived safely.'
Dotty suddenly looked agitated.
'Oh dear! I believe I said we were to have poached eggs for supper, but now I come to think of it, I think you suggested scrambled.'
'I can cook whichever you prefer,' said Vi.
'Then let's make it poached eggs. You see, I shouldn't like Connie to be imagining us eating poached if we were actually eating scrambled eggs. I should feel rather dishonourable. '
'Then we'll certainly poach the eggs,' said Vi kindly, 'if you would feel happier about it.'
'I would indeed, Mrs Ellis. Incidentally, would you be offended if I called you Vi?'
'I should like it.'
'Then you may call me "Dotty". Most of my friends seem to think it a very suitable name for me, though I can't think why.'
Vi did not enlighten her.
The bitter winds brought a roaring blizzard during the next few days, and considerably added to the usual winter miseries.
The only people to enjoy this weather were the children. Screaming with joy, they rushed about, mouths open to catch the snowflakes, faces scarlet and eyes shining.
Those with sledges found themselves unusually popular with their schoolmates, and after school little bands of children hurried to the slopes behind Harold Shoosmith's garden, and set off on their toboggans on the run down to Lulling Woods.
Only when darkness fell and hunger became acute, did they go reluctantly home, praying that this miraculous weather would hold.
Miss Fogerty and Miss Watson, in company with the other adults in the neighbourhood, were less ecstatic about the weather conditions.
'What a blessing we invested in a freezer,' said Dorothy one evening. 'At least we don't have to go shopping every day. I feel really sorry for people struggling up and down the hill. Willie Marchant said it was like glass when he brought the post this morning.'<
br />
'You must be extra careful,' said Agnes solicitously, 'with that hip of yours. They do say that a pair of socks over one's shoes is a great help in slippery weather.'
'You did warn the children, I take it, about the dangers of making slides in the playground?'
'I certainly did.'
'I only ask, dear, because that wretched Todd boy was starting to make one near the lavatories. Just where it wouldn't be seen from the school windows.'
'He really is a dreadful child! I fear he will become a delinquent.'
'He's that already,' said her headmistress firmly. 'Mark my words, that boy will either end up in prison, or go on to win the VC if we have another war, which heaven forbid! He's that sort of character, I'm afraid.'
'I shall speak to him tomorrow morning,' said Agnes, looking almost ferocious. 'I can't say that I shall be sorry to see him leave the infants' class, except that he will be one step nearer your own class.'
'You need not worry about that,' replied Dorothy robustly. 'I've sorted out many a John Todd in my time, and I don't think I've lost my touch.'
***
Winnie Bailey was sorely troubled about Jenny, who seemed to take a long time to recovery from her tonsilitis.
Jenny fretted at the delay, and was impatient of the restrictions put upon her by Doctor Lovell and her employer.
'I don't like the idea of you going out in this weather,' she croaked to Winnie.
'I'm not going out anywhere,' said Winnie calmly. 'The baker, the milkman and the butcher are calling, bless them, and we are managing very well. We've enough provisions in the house to withstand a month's siege, thanks to you, Jenny, so just sit back and relax. You won't get better if you worry so.'
'As soon as she's over this,'John told Winnie privately, 'and the weather cheers up, I think we must get those tonsils out. She seems to get a severe bout of throat trouble every winter, and septic tonsils can lead to a number of complications.'
'Good heavens, John! What do you mean?'
'Oh, trouble with the retina at the back of the eye. Nodes on ligaments here and there. Sometimes infection spreads to the respiratory system. Best to have 'em out.'
'Of course, if that's the case. But surely it's rather a horrid affair, isn't it? Having one's tonsils out at Jenny's age?'
'Oh, she'll be all right,'John assured her. 'Not half as much blood these days. I'll get Pedder-Bennett to do it. He's getting a bit senile, but still manages a very neat little tonsilectomy.'
Winnie, despite having married a doctor, could not help feeling that the profession as a whole seemed remarkably off-hand about their patients' fears.
'Well, I shall say nothing of this to Jenny obviously,' she said, it's entirely your business. But I don't want her to have anything done until she is really fit. And if you think that there is anyone better – younger, I mean – perhaps more skilful she faltered to a halt.
'Than old PB? Oh, he'll be quite competent. As long as he remembers his spectacles, of course.'
It was that evening, when he had returned from surgery, that John read in the local paper about the court case.
It involved the two older men who had pleaded guilty to stealing cars and selling them. All three had appeared again before the Lulling magistrates who, in view of the number of charges and the large amount of money involved, had sent them to the Crown Court for sentence.
'I see they have given these chaps bail,' commented John to Ruth. 'I'd have put 'em inside.'
'Well, they might be there for months,' said his wife. 'Legal processes seem to take their time, and the gaols are full up, so one reads.'
'That's true. Evidently they've had to surrender their passports, so they can't nip over to their overseas customers, and their sureties will have to find a thousand apiece if they decamp. I wonder when the case will come up?'
'Will you have to appear?'
'I'm not sure. I can't be of any help with these two fellows. I shouldn't know them from Adam, and I've no idea what the cars were that they had in the barn. I could look up my records to establish the two dates when I called, but that's about all.'
'Well, that's one thing you need not bother about,' said Ruth comfortably.
John hoped that she was right. His earlier appearance at court, even in the witness box, had been an ordeal. How he would feel if he were ever to stand in the dock one day, he trembled to think.
***
During this snowy period, Nelly Piggott was one of the unfortunate people who had to slither down hill to Lulling and struggle up again at the end of the day. It was true that the council men had salted the paths, but nevertheless Nelly wished that there were still a stout handrail at the edge of the pavement, as old photographs of the steep hill showed in times gone by.
On this particular morning, she was setting off early. Mrs Peters had telephoned the day before to say that she was smitten with the prevailing influenza, and was obliged to keep to her bed. Nelly was off to take charge.
'Don't you fret now,' she had said to her partner. 'Business is slack in this weather, and we can cope easily.'
'Fortunately there are no outside commitments this week,' said Mrs Peters, 'and with any luck I should be back by the weekend.'
Nelly's confidence had grown amazingly since starting work at The Fuchsia Bush, and the necessity of having to make decisions in her friend's absence daunted her not at all.
During the morning the snow took on a new intensity. There was a bitter east wind blowing, and the trunks of the trees lining the High Street were soon plastered with snow on the windward side. The few people who had braved the weather hurried by, bent against the onslaught. Windscreen wipers worked madly to try to cope with the flurries, and the window ledges of The Fuchsia Bush soon bore two or three inches of snow.
Just after twelve, Nelly hurried through from the kitchen. Only two tables were being used, she noticed, as she set a tray of freshly-filled rolls on the counter for the office workers and shop assistants who might be expected very soon.
The windows were steamy, but she noticed a figure studying the name above the shop. Soon the door bell gave its familiar tinkle, and a snow-plastered man appeared.
An icy blast accompanied him. He took off his snowy cap and shook it energetically.
'You get some cruel weather up here, Nelly,' he said.
To that lady's horror, she saw that it was her old paramour Charlie, once visiting oil man at Thrush Green, who had turned her away from his bed and board when he had discovered a more attractive partner.
'And what,' said Nelly, in a tone as frigid as the world outside, 'do you think you're doing here?'
'You don't sound very welcoming,' replied Charlie, looking hurt.
'I don't feel it after the way you treated me,' responded Nelly. She became conscious of the interest of the two customers, and lowered her voice. A quick glance had shown her that this was not the spruce, confident Charlie that she remembered. Snow apart, there was a seedy look about his clothes, his shoes were cracked, he had no gloves, and the canvas hold-all was soaked. Despite herself, Nelly's heart was touched.
'Well, we can't talk here. Come through to the kitchen, and I'll put your things to dry.'
What a blessing, she thought agitatedly, that Mrs Peters was away! How to have explained this unwanted visitor would have been a real headache.
Charlie stood about looking awkward while Nelly hung up his outdoor clothes near the massive stoves. Gloria, Rosa and the two kitchen maids gazed at him open-mouthed.
'Just carry on,' said Nelly. 'I'll be with you in two shakes. Come through to the store room, Charlie.'
Here there was silence. Nelly pushed a pair of steps forward for Charlie's use, and sat herself in the only available chair.
'Well, Charlie, let's hear all about it. Where's Gladys?'
Gladys was her erstwhile friend who had usurped her place in Charlie's fickle attentions. It was Gladys who had caused Nelly's return to Albert a year or two ago. As can be imagined, there was
not much love lost between the two ladies.
'She upped and left me. Went back to Norman, same as you went back to Albert. And how's that old misery?'
'You can keep a civil tongue in your head about my husband. He's no Romeo, but he's treated me right since I got back, and we've settled down pretty solidly. Don't think you've any chance of getting me back, Charlie, because I'm not coming. Times have changed, and I'm doing very well for myself here.'
'So I heard. That's partly why I came. Thought you might have a job for me.'
'A job?'
'The fact is things went from bad to worse for me. Gladys was always at me for more money. In the end I sold the business.'
'But what are you living on?'
'Social security mainly. I flogged the furniture, so that brought in a bit. Now I'm looking for a job.'
Nelly took another glance at the cracked shoes and the wet ends of his trouser legs. For a moment she weakened, for she was a kind-hearted woman. But reason held sway, and she spoke firmly.
'Look here, Charlie. There's nothing here for you in the way of work. Lulling's as badly hit as all the other towns, and no one's going to employ a chap your age with no real qualifications.'
Charlie looked down at his hands, twisting them this way and that in his embarrassment.
'Well, if that's the case, I'd better be off. I thought I'd make my way to Birmingham to see old Nobby.'
'Nobby?'
'Don't you remember Nobby Clark? Mary was his missus. They kept the ironmonger's on the corner. Nice pair.' is he offering you a job?'
'Yes, in a way. When his dad died in Birmingham, he left Nobby his shop. A sweetshop, it is, with newspapers and postcards, and all that lark. He said he could do with some help if I needed work.'
'Sounds the best thing you could do,' said Nelly decidedly. 'Does he know you're coming?'
