(10/13) Friends at Thrush Green (5 page)

'The longer you can stay the better I shall like it,' Isobel assured her. 'Now lie down, and try to have a nap.'

Downstairs Dorothy was reading the paper, and looked up anxiously when Isobel reappeared.

'What do you think? Should we get Doctor Lovell to have a look at her?'

'Let's see how she is in the morning before we do that. Is it absolutely necessary for you to return tomorrow? We'd love to have you another day or so.'

'Absolutely
necessary,' said Dorothy, with a return of her headmistressy manner. 'I have an old college friend coming to stay on Saturday, and must get things ready. She has been looking after her aged mother for years, and this is a rare break for her. I can't possibly put her off.'

'I can see that.'

'And then there's Teddy,' added Dorothy. 'I usually call in to see him after tea on Fridays.'

Teddy had been mentioned once or twice during the ladies' stay, but apart from the fact that he was a neighbour at Barton, Isobel knew little about him.

'Surely he would understand?' she said.

'Oh, he would
understand,'
replied Dorothy with vigour. 'There never was a more
understanding
man, but I should hate to disappoint him.'

'Well,' said Isobel briskly, 'I don't think we need to make any plans until we see how Agnes is in the morning. Would you like to come down to the greenhouse with me? I'm just going to do some watering.'

As it happened, the greenhouse was a very pleasant place to be, for although the sun still shone, as it had on most days of the ladies' visit to Thrush Green, the wind had veered to the north, and was already stripping some of the young leaves and blossom from the trees.

Agnes slept fitfully that night. Her throat was on fire, the glands behind her ears swollen, and she was feverishly hot. It was quite apparent, when morning came, that she was in no fit state to travel, even downstairs.

John Lovell called before he opened his surgery. Dorothy and Isobel awaited his verdict as they stood at the foot of the patient's bed.

The doctor was reassuring as he replaced his thermometer in its case. 'Keep her here,' he said, 'with plenty of liquids to drink. I don't think it is anything more than a heavy cold, but there's mumps about, and the wind can slice you in two this morning.'

He knew Agnes Fogerty well, and realized how physically frail she was with no spare flesh anywhere. But her spirit, of course, was indomitable, and had often kept her at school when she should have been in bed. This time, the doctor was going to see that she was properly looked after, and he was relieved that she was in the Shoosmiths' care.

'I'll pop in at the same time tomorrow,' he said, as he scribbled a prescription. 'This should take her temperature down, and the more she can sleep the better.'

He patted the invalid's bony shoulder, accompanied the two ladies downstairs, and departed across the green to his surgery.

'What is to be done?' cried Dorothy. She appeared to be extremely upset, quite unlike her usual competent self, and Isobel took charge.

'If you can get in touch with your friend and your neighbour, I suggest that you both stay on here. You are more than welcome, as I'm sure you know.'

'Dear Isobel, you are so kind,' said Dorothy, pacing the room distractedly, 'but I really must get back.'

'Then in that case,' said Isobel, 'you know we shall look after Agnes, and I will bring her back to Barton when she is fit to travel.'

'What nuisances we are!' cried Dorothy. 'I wouldn't have had this happen for the world!'

'Now stop worrying,' said Isobel. 'You drive back as arranged, and we'll enjoy Agnes's company. We can keep in touch by telephone.'

'I will go and tell Agnes about our plans,' agreed Dorothy.

'And I will obey doctor's orders,' answered Isobel, 'and go and make a jug of lemonade.'

Dorothy departed the next afternoon after an affectionate farewell to Agnes and her hosts, and many promises to keep in touch by telephone.

Luckily, Agnes made steady progress and the dreaded mumps did not appear, but John Lovell noted that the cold had left a painful cough, so forbade his patient to venture out whilst the north wind held sway.

It was during this time that Harold heard someone in the school house garden which ran alongside his own. It was almost six o'clock and he knew that the children and staff of the school should have gone long ago. Who could be trespassing?

He moved along on his side of the hedge until he came to a gap. Peering over he could see a figure, and was surprised to find that it was the headmaster, Alan Lester.

Hello!' he called. 'Are you doing overtime?'

Alan laughed, and came to the gap.

'To tell the truth, I'm just having a recce. I'm wondering if I shall buy this place after all.'

'We'd be delighted to have you as neighbours,' said Harold. 'Are you getting fed up with the car journey every day?'

'Well, no,' said Alan. He seemed slightly embarrassed. 'That's one point, of course, but the fact is I've been offered a very good price by a friend of ours for my present house, and I'm wondering if we should be better off here.'

'Awful lot of hassle selling a place though,' observed Harold.

'That's one of the attractions with this transaction if it comes off. It could be done with the minimum of fuss and delay. Our friends are handing over to his son who has just got married, and they would be free to take over from us whenever we wanted to move.'

'Would your wife like to move here?' asked Harold, and thought he saw an expression of pain pass over Alan's face.

'I'm sure she would,' he replied.

'By the way, we have Agnes Fogerty with us at the moment. Would you like to come in and see her?'

Alan excused himself, saying that he was overdue at home, but that he hoped she would call at the school if she felt up to it.

'Actually, Betty Bell told us that she had been taken ill,' he went on. 'I do hope she will soon be better.'

'And I hope you will decide to take the school house,' replied Harold.

He returned to his own, ruminating on the rapidity with which all news circulated in Thrush Green, and with a valuable nugget of his own to share with his wife and Agnes.

***

As it happened, the two ladies were in Agnes's bedroom and so engrossed in conversation that Harold did not have a chance to impart his news; he returned to the sitting-room and settled down with a drink and the racing pages of the
Daily Telegraph.

Dorothy had rung to enquire after Agnes's progress, and to give an account of her own. It was this which the patient and Isobel were discussing so earnestly. Phyllis, Dorothy's college friend, had arrived safely and Teddy was delighted to have his neighbour home again.

'Tell me,' said Isobel. 'Who is this Teddy?'

Agnes turned rather pink, and plucked agitatedly at the counterpane.

'Oh, a very nice person,' she replied hastily. 'Very nice indeed.' There was a pause. 'A man,' she added.

'So I gathered,' said Isobel patiently. 'Does he live nearby?'

'Just along the road from us,' said Agnes. 'His wife died a year or so ago.'

'Has he got some help in the house?'

'Oh yes! He has to have help as he is practically blind. It's quite amazing how much he can do, but he misses his reading. That's why Dorothy goes regularly to read to him. He appreciates it so much.'

'I'm sure Dorothy enjoys it too,' said Isobel, with some cunning.

'She does indeed,' Agnes agreed enthusiastically. 'They have become great friends.'

Isobel detected a wistful note in this last comment. Could Agnes resent Dorothy's new interest? It seemed unlike her.

'I just hope,' went on Agnes, 'that Dorothy doesn't take on too much with Teddy. She used to go once a week, but lately it has been twice, and she is already on the WI committee, and helping with church affairs. She is so good-hearted,' cried her loyal friend, 'that I don't think she gets the rest she needs.'

'Hasn't Teddy got other friends to help him?'

'Yes, indeed. He has a wonderful woman who comes every morning to clear up and get his lunch, and then there is Eileen.'

'And who is Eileen?'

'A friend of his who lives across the road. She and her husband used to go on holiday regularly with Teddy and his wife. She visits Teddy quite a bit—pops in with a jam sandwich, and that sort of thing.'

'It sounds as though he gets lots of kind attention,' commented Isobel.

'Dorothy thinks he finds Eileen a little
too
attentive,' said Agnes. 'She is very effusive, talks a lot, and is always laughing. "
Guffawing",
Dorothy says. I must confess she is rather noisy. But then, Dorothy and I enjoy being quiet, just sitting with our books and knitting, and looking at nature programmes on the telly.'

'Perhaps Teddy finds her cheering,' suggested Isobel.

'Oh, I'm sure he does,' agreed Agnes earnestly, 'and she really is most generous with her time there. I think she may be lonely. She nursed her husband for months before he succumbed.'

'Succumbed?'

'To cancer, poor man. They were a devoted couple, Teddy told Dorothy. He says he has a great regard for Eileen.'

'It's good to know he has such good neighbours,' said Isobel, rising to go. 'I'm sure Dorothy will not have to do too much. It's not as though she were the only one to lend a hand.'

'No indeed,' agreed Agnes.

She sounded rather husky, and began to blow her nose energetically.

'But you see, she so
enjoys
lending a hand with Teddy,' she continued, still busy with her handkerchief. 'And, Isobel dear, I know you will understand, I can't help looking ahead and wondering if she is getting
too
fond of him. I mean, people do get married again, and he is a very attractive man, and dear Dorothy might feel...'

She faltered to a halt and the handkerchief went to work again.

'Now, now,' said Isobel soothingly, 'you mustn't upset yourself with needless worries. Dorothy has plenty of sense, and I'm sure she knows exactly what she is doing. Try and have a little doze.'

Agnes nodded. She looked wretched, Isobel thought. Surely these fears were groundless?

But then, she thought, as she went downstairs, love can be the very devil, and can strike one at any age. What a muddle!

Later that night in the privacy of their bedroom, she told Harold about Agnes's worries.

'It sounds to me,' said Harold, with rare male perspicacity, 'that Agnes may be a little in love with this Teddy herself.'

'Good heavens!' cried his wife, deeply shocked. 'Of course she isn't! She has the
cat
, after all!'

Harold pondered on this as he lay awaiting sleep.

Should men really have to compete with cats?

4. Bertha Lovelock Causes Concern

IT was some days later that Harold remembered his news about the headmaster's interest in the school house. Agnes had returned to Barton and seemed to have recovered her composure, much to Isobel's relief. She said as much to Harold, on her return from delivering her friend.

'I think she was just a little feverish, you know,' she told Harold. 'Naturally, it upset her to think of Dorothy perhaps making a fool of herself at her age. And in any case, they have planned their retirement together, and where on earth would Agnes go if Dorothy and this Teddy-man made a match of it?'

'Don't
you
start,' begged Harold. 'Nothing will happen, you'll see. Agnes and Dorothy will be happily together for years. I can't see any man coming between them.'

He was too chivalrous to add that he thought neither lady could really inspire passion, worthy though they both were, but privately that was what he felt.

'By the way,' he said, glad to change the subject, 'I forgot to tell you that Alan Lester is considering taking on the school house.'

'Yes, I did hear that,' replied Isobel. 'Betty said something about it, and Ella seemed to think he's worried about his wife's health. Charles said he thought it might be the journey over here in the winter that was making him think again.'

Not for the first time, Harold realized that he was well behind with the local news.

'I'll never get used to the
speed
with which gossip flies around here,' he commented. 'In Africa the natives' drums were reckoned pretty efficient, but Thrush Green's tongues can beat them hollow.'

Down at The Fuchsia Bush in Lulling High Street, Nelly Piggott had other things to worry about.

Bertha Lovelock had appeared less than an hour before to purchase a currant loaf. Rosa had served her.

On the counter stood a tray of rolls filled with ham and lettuce. Each was wrapped in hygienic clingfilm. Nelly herself had prepared these snacks which had become increasingly popular with drivers and delivery men in the early part of the morning. A second batch was prepared later for the local office workers and shop assistants who hurried in to fetch a quick lunch to take back to their place of work.

It so happened that Nelly pushed open the door from the kitchen at the precise moment when Bertha was surreptitiously sliding one of the shiny packets into her shopping bag. Rosa had her back to Miss Lovelock as she was dealing with the till.

Nelly's first impulse was to rush towards the old lady and demand back the goods, but prudence won. In the first place, there were several customers taking morning coffee, and she did not want a scene in public. Secondly, she-wished to check with Rosa that none of the rolls had been sold: there should be ten in the tray, as she knew, having brought them through herself only ten minutes or so earlier. Thirdly, she wanted to consult Mrs Peters, the owner, about the best way of dealing with this awkward situation. Lurid headlines in the local paper would not do The Fuchsia Bush any good, and the Lovelocks were an old respected family.

As soon as Bertha had gone, Nelly counted the packets; there were nine left.

'Haven't sold any yet?' she asked the girl.

'Give us a chance,' replied Rosa grumpily. 'You only brought them through ten minutes ago.'