(6/13) Gossip from Thrush Green (13 page)

She found him sitting in the kitchen with Mary. As the motorcycle was not propped up near the front door, its usual resting-place, she imagined that the other couple were out.

The Thomases looked very tired and young, and Winnie wondered if she were being unkind in complaining. But the thought of further troubled nights, the disturbance of her charge Jeremy, and all the other neighbours nearby, hardened her heart.

They listened somewhat listlessly to her complaint. Even Jack's usual dazzling smile seemed dimmed, and he passed a hand over his hair as if bemused. As well he might be, thought Winnie tartly, after such a late night!

'The fact is,' he said, when Winnie had finished speaking, Bill and Lottie are going through a bad patch, and we offered them shelter while we're here. I used to run this band, and Lottie was our vocalist. Bill's the drummer—well, tympanist altogether really. Cymbals, triangle, the lot. Quite handy.'

'But can't he take it over? I mean, you seem to have a job of your own which must be quite demanding. I should have thought you needed your sleep as much as the rest of us.'

'Well, the job doesn't bring in much bread, you know.'

'Bread?'

'Dough. Money,' translated Mary. 'If we can get an engagement now and again, it would help all four of us.'

'I can quite see that,' said Winnie, 'and I am all in favour of earning extra money if you can. But not at the expense of your neighbours' well-being.'

'Well, we have to practise,' said Mary. 'No one's going to take us on, unless we're competent.'

'We honestly had no idea we were making so much noise,' protested Jack. 'I promise you we'll take more care in future. I can't say we'll stop entirely. We need the money, and Bill and Lottie are even more hard up than we are. At least, I've got a steady wage coming in. They're skint.'

'They seem to have money for what they want,' commented Mary to her husband. She sounded very bitter, and Winnie suspected that she at least would be glad to see the back of her two fellow residents.

'Well, I'll say no more,' said Winnie, rising. 'But for pity's sake spare Thrush Green any more nights like the last one. We're used to peace and quiet here after ten o'clock at night.'

The four young people at Tullivers were definitely in their neighbours' bad books. Apart from those who had accosted them openly with their complaints, there were plenty who stopped to tell each other how severely they had been disturbed, and how reprehensible such thoughtless conduct was.

'But there you are,' said Ella to Dotty as they shared a pot of coffee. 'Young things these days do exactly as they like. No respect for the older generation. No discipline, as we had.'

'Well, I certainly got enough,' admitted Dotty. 'As you know, Father was a trifle strict with his family.'

Ella privately considered this gentle censure as the understatement of the year. Tales of old Mr Harmer's punishments towards refractory pupils and his own children were enough to make even Ella blanch. The boys of his family had left home as soon as they could. Only Dotty had remained to look after her widower father in his old age, and a pretty thin time she had had, according to local gossip.

'One thing, they won't be here much longer,' said Dotty comfortably.

It was echoed, with some relief by Miss Watson to her assistant.

'A
temporary
nuisance,' was her comment. I hear Mr Shoosmith and Mrs Bailey both complained the next morning, so I shall not bother to tell them how we feel about such behaviour. But if it happens again ' Here Dorothy stopped, with such a fierce headmistressy look, that even little Miss Fogerty trembled for anyone at Tullivers transgressing again.

Mr Jones at The Two Pheasants gave his opinion that that lot at Tullivers must have been dragged up in the back streets of some modern Sodom or Gomorrha to behave so badly, and he didn't know what the Hursts would find - or wouldn't find - when they returned. Which, he added, couldn't be too soon for him, and his audience at the bar agreed heartily.

Albert Piggott, nursing his half-pint of beer in the corner gave a highly-coloured account of how he was awakened by the din, and a further discourse, with repellent details, of what it had done to his stomach in the middle of the night.

One listener, more squeamish than the rest, hastily changed the subject to the report of young Mr Venables' retirement, and this new topic engaged the attention of Mr Jones's clients until closing time.

'Never be the same without him,' asserted Percy Hodge. 'Had a lovely way with him in court. Look how he got old Dotty off the hook when she run down that Cooke boy!'

'
Miss Harmer,
' said the landlord reprovingly, never done it. That's why.'

'That's as maybe,' replied Percy, undeterred by Mr Jones's rebuke. 'The point is a young chap like Mr Venables is going to be missed in Lulling. He spoke up for me something wonderful when the cows got out and some fool fellow came off his motorbike among 'em. Luckily they wasn't hurt.'

'What about the fellow?' enquired a stranger from Nidden.

'Oh, he broke a thigh and something in his back, I believe,' said Percy vaguely. 'Nothing much. They took him off to hospital, so he was all right. But my poor cows was upset for days.'

The rector of Thrush Green had no hard feelings towards the young newcomers. Harold Shoosmith would have said, if asked, that Charles Henstock had no hard feelings against any one, which made him the unique and saintly creature that he was.

As it happened, the affairs of the noisy night had not disturbed him, or Dimity, at all. They had both been deep in the sleep of the thoroughly exhausted, having had few good nights since their own tragedy.

So the rector's first pastoral visit to Tullivers was undertaken in happy mood. He felt rather ashamed, as he walked across the springy turf, that he had not called before, but so many pressing things in connection with the fire had engaged him, that he had found little time for his duties.

As he crossed the grass, he admired the rooks, swirling and dipping around the tall trees towards Nod. Perhaps they were 'winding up the water' as the old country folk said, and there would be rain in the night after this calm and sunny evening.

He purposely kept his eyes averted from the empty space where once his house had stood. He could not bear to look upon the gap. Would the church build him another house there? The ground belonged to it, of course. Or would that plot be sold, perhaps, and another home found for him?

It was worrying not to know what might happen. Harold and Isobel were kindness itself, but he and Dimity could not stay indefinitely. As it happened, they were going tomorrow to see dear old Mrs Jenner along the Nidden road. He had heard that she had a flat to let. It would be conveniently placed for church and parish, and he felt sure that it would be approved as temporary accommodation.

By now he was at Tullivers' front door, and even the unobservant rector could not help noticing that the late Admiral Trigg's massive brass knocker, in the shape of a dolphin, was tarnished as though it had been weeks since its last polishing.

Jack Thomas opened the door and looked a little startled when he saw the parson's collar.

'Oh, do come in,' he said, hastily remembering his manners. 'Mr Hendrick, isn't it?'

'Henstock. Charles Henstock,' answered the rector. 'And I must apologise for being so tardy in making your acquaintance, but you know we've had a little trouble lately.'

'We heard. Jolly tough luck. Did you lose much?'

He opened the door of the sitting room and ushered in his visitor. Charles could not help wondering what had happened to the chintz-covered armchairs and sofa which normally furnished the room. Now only three or four upright dining chairs stood against the wall, whilst a collection of wires, a microphone, and various instruments littered the centre of the carpet.

Charles perched on one of the chairs to which he was waved. Jack Thomas reversed another and sat facing him, with his arms folded along the back. Charles felt a flurry of panic, as though he were about to be cross-examined. He took a grip on himself.

'My wife and I wondered if we could be of any help while you are with us,' he began.

'As a matter of fact, Mrs Bailey has been very - er—
motherly
, and helped us quite a bit.'

'Oh, I'm sure of that! We are with the Shoosmiths at the moment. So handy for the church.'

There was a pause.

'Perhaps you are church goers?' he went on gently. There was a curious smell in the house. Some herbs perhaps, used in cooking? He found it rather disquieting.

'Would you like to meet the others?' asked Jack abruptly. 'They're a bit tied up at the moment, but I could fetch them.'

'Dear me, no!' replied the rector. Tied up? What an odd expression! 'But perhaps you would tell them that I called and hope they would like to attend any of our church services. I took the liberty of bringing a list of the times.'

He put a slip of paper on a small table beside him. There were marks of wet glasses upon its once glossy surface, and Charles was perturbed to see that one corner of his list turned darkly damp.

'Thank you,' said Jack, turning upon the rector the smile which had so dazzled Winnie Bailey. 'I don't know about Bill and Lottie, "but Mary and I used to go to church once. We were both christened, I know, and I was confirmed at school, the same week that I was vaccinated during a smallpox scare.'

Really, thought the rector, getting to his feet, he speaks as though he were doubly insured in the space of a few days!

However, he found himself smiling kindly upon the young man. There certainly was something very fresh and attractive about hun, and he was remarkably frank about being a lapsed church goer.

'Well, give my regards to your wife and friends,' he said, opening the front door, 'and we'll hope to see you all again before long.'

Jack walked with him to the gate, gazing about him and breathing deeply.

'One thing, we're enjoying Thrush Green,' he told the rector. 'It really is a marvellous place to live.'

'We think that too,' replied Charles simply, and allowed his eyes to stray to the ravaged plot which he had once called home.

For the first time since the dreadful event, he found he could look at it with less pain. Was it a case of Time-the-great-healer? Or simply that he was getting accustomed to that sad gap in the sky line? Or was it that he felt that one day a house would rise again where his own had fallen?

Whatever the reason, the good rector was grateful for this small blessing of relief, and hurried back to the Shoosmiths' with a lightened heart.

Much to the relief of Thrush Green's inhabitants, the cacophany from Tullivers was not repeated. True, rehearsals went on, but Jack Thomas had kept his word. Windows were closed, and the lights went out around midnight—quite late enough for the early-to-bed neighbours, but certainly an improvement on the first night's prolonged din until the small hours.

Occasionally, the musical equipment was packed into the van when Jack returned from his work at the estate office, and all four would drive off for the evening. Presumably, some engagements had been secured, and rumour was rife at The Two Pheasants about how much they would be paid.

I'd pay to get
out
of the room if that Lottie girl got screeching,' commented one.

Some likes that sort of racket,' said his neighbour. 'My two kids has it on all the time on the telly.'

More fool you to let 'em.'

'They wouldn't get no more than twenty quid between em,' surmised another. 'Wouldn't go far between four, would it?'

'The landlord at The Star over Lulling Woods way, gave 'em ten quid apiece, I heard, for an evening there.'

Then he wants his head seen to,' said Mr Jones firmly, and changed the subject.

But there was a change of feeling towards the young people now that some improvement had been made in their behaviour. Bill and Lottie were seen but rarely, but Mary and Jack were about the green and in the shops at Lulling, and were much more sociable.

Winnie Bailey, who knew that the girl was pregnant, invited her to coffee one morning and renewed her offers of help. She had the feeling that Mary did most of the housework, and the shopping and cooking. She suspected too that the girl resented the other couple's presence. They certainly did not seem to pull their weight in the running of the household, and the girl appeared tired, as well she might be, as her pregnancy advanced.

Winnie asked how Jack's house-hunting plans were progressing, and Mary showed signs of enthusiasm for the first time.

'There's a small house near the office—the end one of a terrace, which I think we'll be able to have in a month's time. It will mean staying at a hotel for a few days after the Hursts come back here, but we shan't mind that.'

'And Bill and Lottie?'

'With any luck, they will have found somewhere in the next week or two. Not that they're searching very hard,' she added.

'Can they go back to their parents?'

'They
can,
but they don't want to. The first thing is to get a job. They're always hard up. Well, who isn't? I know I'm always staggered at the amount of money we seem to get through each week. I hope we'll be able to budget more satisfactorily when we get our own place. At least we shan't have Bill and Lottie scrounging for a loan.'