(16/20)Summer at Fairacre (28 page)

I said that I had heard something about it, and thought it was marvellous news. Henry Mawne came up at that moment, and said that he had been keeping a sharp look-out in the
Daily Telegraph
for a notice, but nothing had been seen.

'They are keeping it quiet,' said Mr Partridge, 'but the wedding will take place around Christmas, I gather. Miriam wants to arrange things easily for her employer, I know, although she intends to keep on her job after the honeymoon.'

'I like a winter wedding,' announced Mrs Mawne. 'Plenty of fur and velvet. So pretty always. I suppose they will marry at St Patrick's? I always feel a registry office ceremony is rather like a visit to the bank.'

'Yes, yes. The wedding will be here, I'm happy to say,' said the vicar. 'Her brother Lovell will take part of the service, of course. I look forward to meeting him.'

At that moment, the two chief guests arrived, David hastened to greet them, and then made a short but charming speech, asking us to drink to their happiness.

It was good to see Horace looking so smug and cheerful, and his wife-to-be seemed equally content with her lot.

'This is our last fling before term starts next week,' Horace said, in answer to David's speech. 'And nothing could be nicer than an evening with good friends.'

Speeches over, we began to circulate, and I was pleased to see Simon again. He looked much stronger and happier than when he had been my pupil for a short time, and he gave me a cheerful grin as he proffered a tray of tempting tit-bits.

'When does term start for you?' he asked.

'Tomorrow,' I told him.

'Then Uncle Horace has the edge on you. He doesn't go back until Thursday.'

'Lucky chap,' I said. 'And when do you start?'

'Not till the following Tuesday.'

'Hardly worth going back,' I teased him.

'It will soon be Christmas.'

'Stop chattering, Simon,' called David. 'There isn't a nut to be had over here.'

'Back to my duties!' said my old pupil, and departed.

Elizabeth Mawne hove in sight and I enquired politely about the aged aunt in Ireland who had been the unknowing source of my troubles, and Miriam's, with Henry early in the year.

'Perhaps you know I managed to get her into a nursing home?'

I said I did.

'Well, as you might guess, she's taken a great dislike to it, and is raising merry hell according to the matron, and threatening to go home.'

'But can she? I thought—'

'Of course she can't. We sold up everything, and really I'm at my wits' end to know what to do. Henry refuses point-blank to have her with us, and I think he's right. I can see I shall have to have another trip to Ireland to sort things out.'

My heart sank at the thought of Henry left yet again to his own devices. Should I have to be alert for unwelcome visits? Lucky Miriam, I thought! At least, she would now have the protection of a fiancé. It almost made one take to matrimony for sanctuary from lonely grass widowers. However, as Amy had pointed out, with some callousness, Gerard and even Horace were now out of my reach, and I saw no other possibility looming up. On the whole, of course, I was not sorry.

'Old age is a problem,' I said. 'I frequently think about my own, and wonder which will crack first, mind or body.'

'Good heavens!' cried Elizabeth. 'You won't crack at all. Henry's always telling me you are the sanest person he's ever met. You'll go whole and uncorrupted to the grave, believe me.'

I was much taken aback.

'Well, I'm very touched by the compliment,' I quavered, 'and now I must go and see the happy pair.'

Still reeling from Henry's kind opinions, I threaded my way to speak to Horace and Eve. Perhaps, poor old Henry was not such a bad chap after all, I decided.

Nevertheless, I hoped Elizabeth's absence would be brief.

I walked home through the peaceful village, and encountered Mr Lamb, exercising his dog.

After a boisterous welcome from the latter which left me with laddered tights, and my best fifteen-denier ones at that, Mr Lamb gave me good news.

'I've heard of another likely candidate for the cleaning job,' he told me.

'You are kind. Everyone's been scouting round, and things do look more hopeful. Who's this one?'

'Wife of one of the postmen. They're at Beech Green, and she used to work at that electrical factory this end of Caxley. But it closed down at the end of last month, and she could do with some cash. Nice woman. Plenty of common sense and elbow grease.'

'She sounds marvellous.'

I told him about the possibility of the stockman's wife.

'So now there's real hope of someone soon. I shall miss Mrs Pringle though, awkward though she is. But I can't see her coming again.'

'Would you have her if you could?'

'Yes. She's served the school well for donkey's years, despite being such—'

I searched for a phrase which would be truthful but not libellous.

'Such a wicked old faggot?' suggested Mr Lamb, hauling his exuberant charge away from my ruined tights.

'That's it.'

'Well, now you can have some choice perhaps. I think I know the Springbourne girl, Martha Someone, and I know Reg's missus would work well too. Good luck, anyway.'

He set off at a brisk pace, with the dog panting at the delay, and I went home thinking how helpful my neighbours were in times of trouble.

Naturally, the first day of term dawned as sunnily seductive as one might guess, and it was sad to think of us all confined to the schoolroom when summer remained so beguiling outdoors.

The school looked fresh and gleaming from Bella's ministrations and the children equally radiant from their long days in the open air.

Miss Briggs, whom we now had to call Mrs Richards, was in good spirits, and told me all about the work she and Wayne were putting in on their cottage. It was on the outskirts of Beech Green, and they were lucky to have found it.

'That's one good thing about being in the building trade,' she told me. 'You often get to hear of houses going before they get on to the market. The old couple who had it before us were distant cousins of Wayne's dad, so we heard about it from him.'

I enquired about the house. It sounded as if it were not far from Miss Clare's home.

'That's right,' agreed the girl. 'When we're straight you must come and see it. At the moment it's a proper mess, and we haven't got much furniture.'

'That'll come,' I told her. 'Much more fun to get it bit by bit anyway.'

'My mum and dad married after the war,' she said, 'when things were really tight. Dad always says they set up home with two deckchairs and an orange box for a table. I think we've done a bit better than that, but not much!'

She laughed, and went off to cope with the infants. It was good to see her so content.

Joseph Coggs appeared at my desk, pencil in hand.

'Please, miss, the nib of my pencil's bust itself.'

'So's mine,' chorused three more children.

Term had begun.

Amy called that evening, wearing a most elegant turquoise blue suit and matching hat.

'Heavens, you do look smart!' I cried. 'Have you been to a wedding?'

'No. A rather dreary committee meeting, but all the others always appear dressed to the nines, so I thought I'd better do the same.'

'Well, mind where you sit. Tibby left a mouse on the sofa last week, and it was by sheer chance that I noticed it.'

'You certainly live a primitive life out here at Fairacre,' commented Amy, dusting busily at the seat of an armchair. 'How's term going?'

'Much as usual. Luckily our Miss Briggs, I mean Mrs Richards, is in good form, and I really think I may get a cleaner before long. Everyone's rallying round.'

'Splendid! I came to ask you if you would like to come to the opera with me next month. At Oxford.'

'Lovely! To hear what?'

'La Bohème. Suit you?'

'Perfectly. I can always do with a nice juicy bit of Puccini.'

'Right. I'll fix up the seats. James will be coming too, and we'll pick you up.

'I shall look forward to that.'

'And the week after, James and I are pushing off for a tour of Scotland, and staying with Vanessa for a few days. I must say, he's being very attentive. I think he fears I might go off on my own again.'

'Well, you gave us all a fright, I must say.'

'Rubbish! And don't expect me to feel guilty, because I don't regret it for a moment. It did me a lot of good, and James too, for that matter. By the way, what news of that crafty Gerard? I shall never forgive him for throwing you over.'

'Amy, you know there was absolutely nothing in it, and I'm delighted to tell you that, as far as I know, he and Miriam are engaged.'

'Well! I didn't see it in the
Daily Telegraph.
'

'Quite a lot of things don't get into the
Telegraph.
Their engagement was one of them.'

'Let me know when things are a little more public, and I'll write to them. She's a nice girl. I wonder when the nuptials take place?'

'Quite soon, I gather, from the vicar.'

'I shall have to get a new outfit if I'm invited,' said Amy thoughtfully.

'What's wrong with that present get-up?' I asked, waving at the beautiful suit. 'I hope we do get invited. My hat could do with another airing. But somehow I think that wedding will be a very quiet affair.'

'I should hope so,' said Amy sternly, 'after the way he's treated you.'

'Now Amy—' I began.

'What about a cup of something?' she said swiftly, avoiding a scolding, and we went amicably in search of one.

Next day the storm broke, in more ways than one.

The clouds rolled up during school time, and the air became sultry. Distant rumbling could be heard, but we saw no lightning, and luckily the rain held off.

As before, this sudden withdrawal of sunshine made us all feel chilly, although the thermometer registered a fairly high temperature.

The children went home in dry weather, and Mrs Richards and I returned to our respective homes before the heavens opened, as we fully expected.

At six o'clock, the rumbling came nearer, and there was some lightning. Tibby prudently and stealthily crept under the sofa, and I was about to go upstairs to shut the windows when the bell rang at the back door.

On opening it I was confronted by Mrs Pringle. She was wearing her grimmest expression, and her best navy blue hat complete with the white duck's wing.

'Do come in,' I said, my heart sinking. Now what had upset the old curmudgeon? I knew that look only too well. It boded trouble.

'I've been having a word with Bella George,' was her opening remark, when she had settled her bulk in an armchair.

'Oh yes?'

'And I was that taken aback I come straight up here to have it out.'

'Have what out?'

'You knows as well as I do. About my job.'

Mrs Pringle's face was now scarlet, and she leant forward belligerently. I mustered my defences.

'You told me plainly that you did not want the job, Mrs Pringle. Naturally, I've had to look elsewhere.'

Mrs Pringle's ample bosom was heaving up and down with emotion, and I began to wonder how I should cope if she should have a seizure.

'That Minnie Pringle made me see red with her talk of coming for the cleaning, but I soon sorted her out. The very idea! Why, she's got no more idea of cleaning than that cat!'

She glared at poor Tibby who was trying to make a dignified exit from this upheaval.

'Even if Minnie had applied, she would not have been given the post,' I assured her.

If I had hoped to placate the lady, I was wrong. Mrs Pringle's voice now thundered as loudly as the storm outside.

'But what about Martha Ellis, as is supposed to want it? And Reg Carter's wife? Though what good she'd do looking after a school when she's only fiddle-faddled about in Caxley keeping her hands clean, I don't know.'

'They haven't applied yet—' I began, but was howled down.

'And then Bella had the sauce to tell me that Bob Willet had offered to do the stoves, when we light 'em. I tell you straight, I'm not having him crunching coke all over my floors with them great boots of his.'

'But they are not your floors,' I managed to slip in.

Mrs Pringle took an enormous breath. The duck's wing quivered in time with her four chins, and the flash of her eyes reminded me of the Valkyrie.

'They've been mine for more years than I can remember,' she boomed.

'Are you trying to tell me,' I said, as calmly as I could, 'that you are willing to come back?'

'Of course I am! You don't think I'd let that lot of muddlers mess the place up? Bob Willet doing the stoves! A fine old fist he'd make of it. Wait till I see him next!'

'He was only doing what he could to help,' I pointed out. 'You know quite well you let us all down badly. If it hadn't been for Bella, we should have been really in the cart.'

There was no gleam of remorse in Mrs Pringle's fiery eye. Secretly, I was overjoyed to think of my old adversary returning to the field of battle, but she had led us such a dance I did not feel noble enough to forgive her completely.