(6/13) Gossip from Thrush Green

by Miss Read

  'Oh dear, oh dear,' wailed Charles. 'How perfectly dreadful! Of course, they were due to arrive today, and I've no idea how we can get in touch. They were breaking their journey down to have a day or two in the midlands. Wait now, they were going to visit a cousin in hospital. In Coventry, I think Edgar said. Beyond that, I know nothing, but we shall start for home—'

  The rector's voice broke, and Harold distinctly heard a sniff before he resumed.

  'We'll be back during the day, Harold, and our deepest thanks for offering us shelter tonight. What a terrible affair. I must go and break it to dear Dimity, and then we must clear up things here, and set off for Thrush Green without delay.'

  'We shall look forward to seeing you,' said Harold.

  'And Harold,' said Charles in a firmer tone, 'I very much appreciate your telling me the news so kindly. It couldn't have been easy. You have prepared us to face whatever awaits us there, quite wonderfully.'

  He rang off, and Harold went to tell Isobel how well he had taken it, and to make another assault upon his finger nails.

  Joan Young came over to the Shoosmiths' house as soon as Edward had departed from London.

  I thought I'd offer to track down Hilda and Edgar,' she said. In any case, they can stop with us until things get sorted out. If only we knew how to get hold of them!'

  'I thought of ringing hospitals in Coventry and asking if Mr and Mrs Maddox were expected,' said Harold.

  'Well, yes,' agreed Joan doubtfully, 'but do hospitals usually ask the names of visitors? It's such a shot in the dark.'

  'Perhaps they could relay a message to the wards asking if anyone was expecting a visit from them. Is that possible, do you think?'

  'It sounds highly unlikely,' said Joan, 'but I'll go back and put out a few feelers.'

  The voice from the first hospital was brisk and rather impatient. Joan envisaged its owner as rushing, bedpan in hand, upon an urgent errand.

  She embarked upon her message.

  'Yes, yes!' said the voice. 'But if you could tell me the patient's name, I can get a message back to you.'

  Joan said weakly that she did not know who the Maddoxes were visiting.

  'In that case, I don't think I can help you. Visitors come at two o'clock until four here. I could get them to give their names at the reception desk, but as we have two hundred beds in this building alone, it would be rather a task.'

  Joan said that she quite understood, thanked her and rang off. Obviously, this was going to be the pattern of any further investigations she might make. She decided that the project was impossible, and went to find Molly Curdle to help her with the beds for the unsuspecting Maddoxes, now, presumably, making their way to Thrush Green in expectation of a few carefree days in the rectory, poor dears.

  Most of the inhabitants of Thrush Green went about their daily affairs in a state of shock that morning. Very few had slept throughout the night, and most had been helping to rescue the Henstocks' property until dawn arose and the firemen had departed.

  Only the children, it seemed, viewed the wreckage with excitement. Little Miss Fogerty and Miss Watson had been far too upset to face their usual boiled egg at breakfast, and had nibbled Ryvita and marmalade simply to fuel their energies to get through their school duties.

  Dorothy had given a short talk to the school at morning prayers, and told them how necessary it was to be of exceptionally good behaviour as so many people had been upset by the truly dreadful events of the night.

  She then composed a suitable prayer asking for comfort to be given to the rector and his wife, and offering thanks for the bravery of the firemen and helpers, and for the merciful lack of injury to any person involved.

  Agnes was full of admiration for Dorothy's powers of extempore prayer, and led her infants across the playground still pondering upon this facet of her headmistress's varied ability.

  It was young George Curdle who spoke first.

  'But why did God let the fire happen?' he asked.

  For once in her life, Agnes felt unable to answer.

  As it happened, Dimity and Charles arrived first on the scene, having driven non-stop from Yorkshire. Hastily prepared sandwiches had sustained them as they drove, and they chugged up the hill from Lulling as St Andrew's clock struck three.

  No one saw them arrive, and for that they were grateful. They halted the car on the edge of the battered and rutted grass which was still sprinkled with the ash and trodden cinders of last night's activities.

  Dimity covered her face with her hands and her thin shoulders shook. Charles's face was stony as he gazed unwinking at the scene. He put his arm round his grieving wife, but was quite unable to speak. They sat there, silent in their distress, for five terrible minutes.

  Then, sighing, Charles opened the car door and stepped into the desolation of what had once been Thrush Green rectory.

  He stirred the damp black ashes of the study floor with his foot. He could scarcely see for the blur of tears behind his spectacles, but he bent to investigate a glint of metal among the dust.

  Turning it over in his hand, he recognised it. It was the silver figure of Christ which had been mounted on the ivory cross behind his desk. It was distorted and blackened by the heat, but Charles knew immediately what it was. He slipped it into his pocket, and turned to help Dimity over a low sooty wall which was all that was left of her kitchen.

  And it was at that moment that Ella came from her cottage, and Harold and Isobel from their house, to give them what comfort they could.

  That evening, when Edward Young arrived home, he found Hilda and Edgar, as well as Dimity and Charles, in his sitting room, still trying to get over the shock of the disaster.

  It was as well that Joan had not continued with her efforts to trace them through Coventry hospitals and nursing homes, for their cousin, as it happened, had been sent home at the weekend and they had visited him in his own bedroom, finding him well on the way to recovery.

  There was so much to discuss between all the old friends that it was beginning to get dark before the Maddoxes retired to an early bed. They proposed to leave after lunch the next day.

  Joan and Edward walked back with the Henstocks to Harold's house, and hoped that they would be able to sleep, and so be released from their unhappiness for a few hours' oblivion.

  They walked on together, past the silent school and the public house, until they rounded the bulk of St Andrew's church and stood facing the ruins.

  The acrid stench which had hung over Thrush Green all day, was almost unbearable here.

  Joan looked with pity and distaste at the mess which had once been the rectory.

  She caught a glimpse of Edward's face in the dying light.

  'Edward!' she said accusingly. 'You're pleased How can you be so heartless!'

  Edward hastened to explain himself.

  'My darling, three-quarters of me grieves for dear old Charles and Dim, just as much as you do. But the other quarter—the professional bit - is so relieved to see the end of that ghastly place that it can't help rejoicing in a perverse sort of way.'

  Joan gazed at him with disgust, and then began to smile.

  She rook his arm, and they turned their backs upon the wreckage, and set off towards their home.

  'I suppose you are already planning a new house, monster that you are,' she observed.

  'How did you guess?' asked Edward.

  8. At Young Mr Venables'

  IT was hardly surprising that, with all this excitement at Thrush Green, the advent of Tullivers' temporary residents passed with very little comment.

  They had arrived in a battered van. Young Jack Thomas and his wife Mary appeared to have only two suitcases, but a vast array of cardboard boxes which seemed to be full of electrical equipment of some sort. Winnie Bailey, watching shamelessly from her bedroom window, surveyed the writhing tangles of flex and plugs and supposed that they might have brought their own television set, or portable electric fires with them.

  As she watche
d, a noisy motorcycle roared up and parked alongside the van. Two figures, clad in black leather, dismounted and took off their helmets. Both shook out long blonde hair, but Winnie thought that one might possibly be a male.

  All four vanished into the house, and Winnie decided to let them remain undisturbed for an hour or so before calling to see if she could be of any help. Jeremy was due soon from school, and after tea he could accompany her.

  The boy was excited at the idea of seeing the new occupants of his home.

  'Do you think they'll mind some of the cupboards being locked? I mean, mummy said my toys would be safer if I left them in the landing cupboard locked away, but they might need it for clothes and things, mightn't they?'

  I'm sure there's plenty of cupboard space for their needs,' Winnie assured him, thinking of the paucity of their travelling cases.

  She lifted the heavy knocker which old Admiral Trigg had fixed to the front door of Tullivers years ago. It was in the form of a dolphin, a suitably nautical object for the old sea-farer to approve, and weighed several pounds. The door itself shuddered as the knocker thudded back into place.

  Jack Thomas opened the door and gave Winnie such a dazzling smile that she was won over at once. She had handed the key earlier to his wife Mary, so that this was her first encounter with the new householder.

  Hello, you must be Jeremy,' said Jack, and of course you are Mrs Bailey. Do come in.'

  They stepped into the sitting room where Winnie was surprised to see that several chairs had vanished and the remaining furniture was pushed back against the walls. The centre of the room was bare except for a number of the large cupboard boxes which Winnie had observed.

  'Where are the chairs?' asked Jeremy.

  'Oh, we've put 'em in the dining room. We'll probably live in there while we're here. You see, we need this space for the gear.'

  He waved vaguely towards the tangle of wires in the boxes.

  'Now, is there anything you need?' asked Winnie, returning to firmer ground. 'Bread, milk, eggs? Have you found out how to work the cooker and the lights? Do let me know if I can help.'

  Very sweet of you,' he said, with another heart-melting smile. I think we've all we need. We're going down to Lulling for a meal tonight.'

  'I hear The Fuchsia Bush and The Fleece put on quite a good dinner,' replied Winnie.

  'Oh, we'll fetch fish and chips,' said Jack. 'Much cheaper and less fag anyway than a meal out. And no washing up when you eat them straight from the paper.'

  'Very true,' agreed Winnie.

  'Shall I call the others?'

  'No, no, don't trouble them. I'm sure you've all got enough to do moving in. But do come over if you want anything. I'm in most of the time. I hope you'll enjoy your stay with us,' she added politely, making for the door.

  'I wish we could have fish and chips for supper,' said Jeremy wistfully as they walked home. 'But they'll have to wash up their plates, won't they? They won't really eat it all out of the paper with their fingers, will they? Won't they make dirty marks on the furniture?'

  'Oh, I shouldn't think so,' said Winnie untruthfully. The same thought had gone through her mind, she had to admit.

  But greasy fingers or not, thought Winnie, entering her own immaculate home, that smile of Jack Thomas's would forgive him anything.

  The next few days were sad and busy ones for Charles and Dimity. The salvaged articles from the fire were pitifully small, and every hour brought a new loss to sight. Luckily, they had the clothes which they had packed for their Yorkshire holiday, and Harold and Isobel were able to lend them some immediate necessities, but there was the bewildering business of insurance and other matters to see to, and these things worried poor Charles very much.

  Harold was a tower of strength, but so many necessary papers and documents had been consumed in the fire, and the fact that the property belonged to the Church with all sorts of legal and technical complications, made him advise Charles to see his old friend Justin Venables, the Lulling solicitor.

  Charles decided to walk down the hill to Twitter and Venables' office at the end of the town. His appointment was for four o'clock, and the May sunshine was at its warmest as he set off past the school and across the green.

  He averted his eyes from the empty spot where once his beloved rectory had stood. As it happened, two large lorries were on the site loading the remains of the rubble. Once they departed there would only be the scorched grass and the blackened soil to mark the place of the rector's home. The Church officials had been kind and sympathetic. He would be taken care of, supplied with a resting place very shortly, and would be kept informed, at every step, of the decisions of his ecclesiastical masters.

  He had been severely upset to find that the investigation into the cause of the fire proved conclusively that faulty wiring in the airing cupboard was to blame.

  The immersion heater was housed in the lower part of this cupboard, and Charles could not forgive himself for not switching it off before they left the house. He said so to Harold.

  'But, you see, Dimity said we must leave on the hot water because Betty Bell's cousin from Lulling Woods was coming in to do some spring-cleaning before Edgar and Hilda arrived. I fear I was greatly to blame. Of course, I confessed at once to the man who came about it.'

  'Forget it,' advised Harold. 'That wiring should have been renewed years ago, and the Church is jolly lucky you two weren't burnt to cinders in your beds. Why, some of it is two-plug stuff, and some three, and you've got lead-covered wiring in your study and rubber stuff in the kitchen, and what looked like naked copper to me in that back kitchen of yours.'

  'It is rather a hotch-potch,' agreed the rector. 'Was, I mean. But then, you see, bits were added over the years, and I suppose they used whatever was in fashion. I know we had some trouble when we put in the refrigerator. All the lights blew out once when we opened the door. And the kettle used to snap on a red light sometimes, which frightened me very much, though Dimity assured me that it was a safety device. I'm afraid,' concluded the rector sadly, 'that I don't really understand electricity.'

  'You'd have needed Faraday himself to sort out the system in your house,' said Harold. 'Just be thankful you weren't there when it finally blew up.'

  'It wasn't so much blowing up as smouldering, they tell me,' replied Charles. 'You see the heat caught the lining paper on the shelves and that set light to the linen, and then the wooden slats, and then the roof timbers. And once the air got in everything became so much fiercer. I really can't bear to think of it. But, as you say, Harold, we must thank God that no one was hurt.'

  He tried to put his anxieties out of his mind as he went down the hill to Lulling. The town was looking beautiful in its spring finery. The Cotswold stone garden walls were hung with bright mats of mauve aubretia and yellow alyssum. Daisies starred the lawns, and everywhere the heady scent of hyacinths and narcissi hung in the warm air.

  The lime trees lining Lulling High Street fluttered their young green leaves, and the ancient japonica which fanned across the Misses Lovelock's Georgian house was already bright with scarlet flowers. Outside The Fuchsia Bush two tubs of splendid pink tulips flanked the door, and every window in the street, it seemed, held a vase of fresh spring flowers.

  The rector's spirits rose as he strode along relishing the beauty around him. As expected, he was stopped several times by friends who commiserated with him and cheered him with their concern and sympathy.

  He felt almost jaunty by the time he reached the solicitors' office, but the gloom of the entrance hall, a study in ginger-coloured grained paintwork, had a sobering effect upon the good man.

  A plump middle-aged lady showed him into Justin's office on the left-hand side of the hall, and he was greeted affectionately.

  'Just let me set you a chair, padre,' said Justin. 'Not that one. Take this, it has a padded seat.'

  He levered up a heavy chair with a high Jacobean-type back and a seat upholstered in leather which was so old and rubbed that it
resembled suede. It was, as Charles found, surprisingly comfortable.

  'Tea now, I think, Muriel,' said Justin to the plump lady.

  'Yes, sir,' she said, so humbly that Charles would not have been surprised to see her genuflect, or at least pull her forelock had she had such a thing. Obviously, Justin was the master in this establishment.

  Well now, just tell me the trouble,' began Justin, when the door had closed.

  Charles gave a remarkably concise account of his actions before and after the fire, and explained his position as a tenant of Church property.

  Justin listened carefully, his fingertips pressed together. He watched his client over his half-glasses and thought how rare and pleasant it was to be face to face with an absolutely honest man.

  A discreet knock at the door heralded the arrival of Muriel with the tea tray. It was lowered reverently upon a vacant space on Justin's desk.

  The good rector, had he given any thought to the matter, would have been grateful for a mug of ready poured out tea with perhaps a bowl of granulated sugar with a well-worn teaspoon stuck in it. He was much impressed with the elegant apparatus now before Justin.

  Two delicate china cups stood upon a snowy linen tray cloth. An embroidered satin tea cosy covered a silver teapot, and small cubes of sugar, accompanied by silver clawed sugar-tongs, rested in a matching bowl. Some excellent shortbread fingers were ranged alongside.

  'Well!' exclaimed Charles happily, 'I really didn't expect such a beautiful tea! And what a handsome tea cosy!'

  'It is rather nice, isn't it?' agreed Justin, surveying it as though he had just noticed it. 'One of the girls in the office ran it up one Christmas. And the tray cloth too, I believe. Very good with her fingers obviously. A slice of lemon, Charles, or milk?'

  'Milk, please. Do you usually have time for tea? I hope you haven't gone to all this trouble on my behalf.'