by Miss Read
'At Gerard's age,' commented Amy, 'it might well be both. He is practically the same age as James.'
We seemed to be treading close to dangerous ground.
'What did Vanessa say?' I asked hastily.
'Well, it seems that Gerard had confided to Vanessa his hopes of wooing Hattie some time ago. You remember she bought that house near the hotel? Evidently he was a constant visitor. Of course, all this is Vanessa's story, you understand. She may well be putting a good front on a somewhat humiliating episode.'
'I don't think so for a minute,' I said stoutly.
'He knew Hattie years ago. In fact, it was his friend who cut him out, so Vanessa says, which is why he's never married. It's rather romantic, isn't it, to think of him being faithful for all those years?'
'Maybe he didn't meet anyone he liked.'
'Trust you to throw cold water on any small fire of passion,' observed Amy, but she was smiling.
'I'm very glad it's ended this way,' I told her. 'Hattie May was always a darling, and the more I see of Gerard the better I like him. I look forward to meeting them both.'
'And so you shall,' declared Amy, 'for I'm inviting them down for a weekend as soon as James has properly recovered.'
She looked at me speculatively, as if weighing up something in her mind. I wondered what was worrying her.
'Have some coffee?' I suggested.
Amy shook her head.
'Not at the moment, thanks. I just wanted to let you know how things have worked out for James and me. You were such a help, when I was in the depths. It's only right that you should know the end of the story.'
'Amy,' I protested, 'there's absolutely no need!'
'Don't get alarmed! I shan't tell you any details that might bring a blush to your maiden cheek, I assure you.'
'Thank God for that! You know I hear far too many confidences for my peace of mind as a spinster.'
Amy looked suddenly contrite.
'I hope I didn't burden you too desperately,' she said, in a low voice. 'Perhaps I imposed on you as thoughtlessly as so many others do. I'm sorry.'
'Your troubles are quite different,' I said. 'And if two old friends like us can't help each other in a fix, it's a pity. You rallied to my support when I needed it. I hope I helped a little when things were tough with you. So, rattle away, and tell me what happened. Of course I want to know. It's just that I don't want you to feel obliged to Tell All.'
Amy laughed.
'Well, poor James has had long enough to think about things. I was careful not to press him too much. It was plain that he was desperately unhappy, and one evening after we were back at home he volunteered the information that Jane's affections had been cooling for some time. In fact, it was for this reason that he had insisted on taking her away for the week-end to see if they couldn't make things up. I think he was feeling pretty silly too, as he had asked me for a divorce, and now the girl was about to ditch him.'
'But surely, it would have been more sensible to have broken with Jane then, rather than pursue her further?'
Being sensible is not the usual state of mind when a man's in love. Especially a middle-aged man. And you know James! Love him as I do, I face the fact that he is a terrible show-off, and always has been. The handmade shoes, the vastly expensive suits, the fast cars – they're all the dreary old status symbols that James loves to play with. They've never impressed me particularly, as he well knows, and perhaps that's where I have been wrong – in letting him see that I have simply indulged his weakness for his toys instead of letting him think I'm dazzled by them. Well, we live and learn, and we've both learnt the hard way these last few months.'
'It's over now,' I said consolingly.
'Yes, I think it is, as far as our natures will allow it to be. If only we'd had children, I think we should have escaped some of this damage.'
'There would have been other risks. They might have turned out unsatisfactorily in one way or another, and I think that's harder to bear than any result of one's own actions.'
Amy nodded and sighed.
'I suppose the old saying that man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward, is pretty true. However, our particular trouble had a funny side.'
'Tell me.'
'Well, on the day of the accident, evidently, Jane was being remarkably offhand and James was doing his best to impress her as they drove – much too fast, I gather – down to Devon. According to him, she picked a quarrel about the best route to take, and was actually tugging at his arm when he was turning right, shouting that it was the wrong road.'
'I think there may be some truth in this. James isn't a liar about matters of this sort, and it's unlike him to have missed seeing the van coming up behind him. He drives much too fast, I always think, but he prides himself on being a good driver, and really he is.'
'So she may have caused the accident?'
'Who's to say? Anyway, she was furious with him. I heard a bit about her behaviour from the hospital staff. And she wouldn't answer the telephone when James tried to ring her. After some time, he began to accept the position, and it was then that he told me all about it.'
'Was he very miserable?'
'I think he'd begun to get over that. Let's say he was beginning to be more clear-headed, and to face the fact that he'd behaved badly. Also, that he was well out of a situation which would have been distinctly uncomfortable. Jane's mother, I gather, is a holy terror.
'Anyway, recovery was complete last week when a letter came from Jane. I've brought it for you to read.'
'Oh no!' I demurred. 'I'm sure James would be horrified if he knew you'd shown it to me!'
'Not he! Here, take it.'
She handed over the sheet of bright blue paper. In a large schoolgirl scrawl was Jane's final communication, presumably, to James.
It said:
"Dear James,
This is to give in my notice. I don't want to set foot in that office again, or to see you.
My mother says I should sue you for damages, but I've told her I don't want anything more to do with you. I must have been mad to waste my time with someone so old and dotty he can't even drive.
Jane
P.S. Yesterday I got engaged to Teddy Thimblemere in Accounts and we are getting married at Christmas."
'And how did James take that?' I asked, handing it back.
'He lay back on the pillow with his eyes closed, and then he began to shake. I was quite worried, until I realised it was with laughter. He laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks, and of course that set me laughing too! You should have heard the hullabaloo, and poor James gasping for breath, and saying: "Oh God, my poor ribs hurt so!" And me, wiping my eyes, and saying: "Try not to laugh, darling, you'll burst something!" And, after a bit, he would quieten down, and then remember some particular phrase like "so old and dotty he can't even drive", and double up all over again. It did us both a world of good!'
'Not enough laughter about these days,' I agreed.
'It's as good a healer as time,' said Amy, putting the letter into her bag. 'That little bout certainly restored us to happier days.'
'And so, all's well again?'
'As well as one can expect in an imperfect world,' said Amy. 'I daresay James will recover enough to turn to look at a pretty girl again, when he's had his nose patched up and a false tooth put in the gap. And no doubt I shall be as bossy and bitchy as I am at times. But somehow, I feel sure, nothing quite so serious will ever happen again.'
'I'm glad you told me,' I said. 'I like a happy ending.'
'Then let's have that coffee,' said Amy.
A week or so later, I was talking to Mr Willet in the playground after school, when a long low sports car of inordinate length drew up outside the school house.
It was a dashing vehicle, bright yellow in colour, with enormous headlamps and one of those back windows on top of the car like a skylight. The bonnet seemed about six feet in length, and the whole thing was dazzlingly polished.
'M
y word,' said Mr Willet, with awe, 'that must've cost a pretty penny! One of your millionaire friends droppin' in?'
'Strangers to me,' I was saying, when the door by the passenger's seat opened, and Vanessa emerged.
'Hello!' I welcomed her. 'How lovely to see you!'
'We're on our way to see Aunt Amy,' said Vanessa, kissing me, and enveloping me in fair hair and expensive scent. 'And this is Torquil.'
An enormous young man disengaged himself from the interior of the car, and shook my hand so warmly that I wondered if I should ever be able to part my fingers again. He was so good-looking, however, that I readily forgave him, and they came with me into the sitting room.
I thought I had never seen Vanessa quite so lively. It was quite apparent that Gerard's affairs were not worrying her.
On the contrary, she spoke of his marriage with the greatest joy
'Wasn't it fun? That's really why he was off to town last time we called. He really deserves someone as nice as Hattie. He's so kind! I can't tell you how good he's been to me. I've always asked his advice about everything, and he's never failed me. And see what else he did?'
She gazed fondly upon Torquil, who gazed back in an equally besotted fashion.
'He introduced me to Torquil. And here, you see, we are! Just engaged!'
I hastened to congratulate them.
'We're not sure if we're on our heads or our heels,' said the young man. 'We rang Vanessa's father and mother last night, and we're going to stay there over the week-end.'
'And I said,' broke in Vanessa, 'we simply must call on you on the way, and Aunt Amy, because we wanted you to know before it was in the paper.'
'Well, I call it uncommonly nice of you,' I said, 'and I very much appreciate it. When will the wedding be?'
'Tomorrow,' said Torquil, 'if I had my way.'
'Dear thing!' said Vanessa indulgently. 'Probably early in the New Year.'
'As long as that?' exclaimed the young man.
I asked them to have a drink in celebration, but they looked at the clock, and each other, and said that they must go.
They fitted themselves skilfully into the gorgeous car. I kissed Vanessa, and kept my hands out of the way as I wished Torquil goodbye.
The car roared away. Mr Willet, who was carrying a bucket of coke to make up the stoves for the night, set it down, and pushed his cap to the back of his head with a black hand.
'You was cut out, I see,' he observed. 'That young lady saw him first.'
Sadly, I had to agree.
Three days later, Amy rang me.
'Have you seen the paper? And I don't mean The Caxley Chronicle!'
'Why? Is Vanessa's engagement in it?'
'Yes. Have you read it?'
'I had an accident with the paper today.'
'How do you mean?'
'I muddled it up with yesterday's, and gave it to the children to tear up for papier mâché bowls.'
'Really! The things you do! Sometimes I despair of you!'
'I despair of myself.'
'Well, listen! I'll read it to you.
"The engagement is announced between Torquil Ian Angus, only son of Wing Commander and Mrs Bruce Cameron of Blairlochinnie Castle, Ayrshire, and Vanessa Clare, only daughter of Mr and Mrs Charles Hunt of Hampstead, London."
'And will she live at Blair Tiddlywinks Castle?'
'Not for a long time. Torquil's father is in splendid health, I gather, and I don't think the banks and braes are altogether to Torquil's taste just yet. You know what he does?'
'No.'
'He's a band leader. And fairly rolling in money. No, I think London will be the place for those two for the next few years anyway.'
'Have they fixed the wedding date?'
'Yes. It's to be the first week in January. You're going to be invited, so you'd better start looking for that winter coat.'
'I will,' I said meekly.
'We shall be back for the wedding, of course,' said Amy.
'Back?' I echoed.
'From our holiday. James wants to go as soon as he's fit again, and that won't be long now.'
'And where are you going?'
Amy's voice bubbled with laughter.
'Can't you guess? To Crete.'
'Perfect!' I cried.
In a flash, I saw again that golden island, and breathed the heady scent of flowers and sun-baked earth. One day, I knew suddenly, I should go there once more.
'Give it all my love,' I said.
MISS READ is the pen name of Mrs. Dora Saint, who was born on April 17, 1913. A teacher by profession, she began writing for several journals after World War II and worked as a scriptwriter for the BBC. She is the author of many immensely popular books, but she is especially beloved for her novels of English rural life set in the fictional villages of Fairacre and Thrush Green. The first of these, Village School, was published in 1955 by Michael Joseph Ltd. in England and by Houghton Mifflin in the United States. Miss Read continued to write until her retirement in 1996. In 1998 she was made a Member of the Order of the British Empire for her services to literature. She lives in Berkshire.
The Fairacre Series
"Miss Read, a gentle soul with kindly interest in all around her, is the master of the kind of detail that shows place and character in delicate focus ... there's no underestimating the power of rural English charm."—Publishers Weekly
Village School ISBN 978-0-618-12702-3
Village Diary ISBN 978-0-618-88415-5
Storm in the Village ISBN 978-0-618-88416-2
Over the Gate ISBN 978-0-618-88417-9
The Caxley Chronicles ISBN 978-0-618-88429-2
The Fairacre Festival ISBN 978-0-618-88418-6
Miss Clare Remembers and Emily Davis ISBN 978-0-618-88434-6
Tyler's Row ISBN 978-0-618-88435-3
Farther Afield ISBN 978-0-618-88436-0
Village Affairs ISBN 978-0-618-96242-6
Christmas at Fairacre ISBN 978-0-618-91810-2 (hardcover)
Village Centenary ISBN 978-0-618-12703-0
Summer at Fairacre ISBN 978-0-618-12704-7
Mrs. Pringle of Fairacre ISBN 978-0-618-15588-0
Changes at Fairacre ISBN 978-0-618-15457-9
Farewell to Fairacre ISBN 978-0-618-15456-2
A Peaceful Retirement ISBN 978-0-618-88438-4
WWW.HOUGHTONMIFFLINBOOKS.COM
Available from Houghton Mifflin Books
Table of Contents
Title Page
Table of Contents
...
...
Dedication
Copyright
Contents
Part One
1 End of Term
2 Struck Down
3 Medical Matters
4 Amy Takes Command
5 Recovery at Bent
6 Amy Needs Help
7 Flying Away
Part Two
8 In Crete
9 At Knossos
10 Amy Works Things Out
11 Toplou
12 The Last Day
13 Going Home
Part Three
14 Mrs Pringle Falls Ill
15 Term Begins
16 Gerard and Vanessa
17 A Visit From Miss Clare
18 Autumn Pleasures
19 James Comes Home
20 The Final Scene
About the Author
The Fairacre Series
