Farewell to Fairacre (21 page)

After some heavy thought I decided that a sauce boat and new table mats could go down.

'Sitting-room?' said Amy briskly. 'I should think you might ask for a silver rose bowl.'

'I'd never use it. Besides I'd have to polish it. Perhaps another table lamp might be useful, or a clock.'

'You'd better be careful about a clock,' advised Amy, 'or you'll get landed with a black marble job in the form of a Greek temple like those that dominated our grandparents' mantelpieces.'

'I could stipulate a small brass carriage clock,' I suggested.

'Excellent,' approved Amy. 'Now for upstairs. What's wanted there?'

'I really need a new face flannel,' I said thoughtfully.

Amy threw down her pen in exasperation. 'You can't ask for a
face flannel
,' she protested.

'I know I can't. But you did ask me.'

She retrieved her pen.

'What about a hand-held shower?'

'Too messy. I'd sooner get in the tub.'

'Anything in the bedroom?'

'Oh, Amy, I can't be bothered any more! Let's have a turn in the garden.'

It was bliss out there, fresh and scented under a pale blue sky. We felt better at once.

'Tell you what,' said Amy, 'you could do with a nice plain teak garden seat, to replace that poor decrepit thing over there. Or a bird bath. Or even a nesting box or two.'

'The seat sounds rather expensive, but the others could go down.'

'Put the seat down too. This "vast sum" might well run to it.'

'Perhaps a small one,' I said weakening. 'A two-seater, say.'

Amy was looking round in a contemplative manner.

'Of course, if it really is "a vast sum" you could rethatch the cottage, or buy a new car. Haven't you any idea of how much this "vast sum" might be?'

I told her that the vicar's idea of a 'vast sum' could be anything around a hundred pounds.

'It's so difficult,' agreed Amy. 'You see, if James used that expression he would be talking about several millions.'

'Well, it won't be that, I'm thankful to say,' I told her. 'Let's go in and add those garden ideas to the list.'

We did that, refreshed ourselves with a glass of sherry, and I saw her on her way.

At least I had a list of sorts to offer the vicar, thanks to Amy's firm direction.

What should we do without our friends?

The Outing gathered at eight thirty sharp, as directed by the vicar, outside the Post Office at Fairacre.

The bus was already there and we scrambled aboard. Joseph Coggs elected to sit by me, and was kind enough to offer me an unwrapped mint humbug, rather fluffy from his pocket, but I explained that it was a little too early in the day for me to eat sweets, and he nodded cheerfully and ate it himself.

To my surprise, I saw that Henry and Deirdre were approaching and were soon settled across the gangway. Henry was looking very relaxed in a striped blazer, and Deirdre, true to form, had arrived with a gauzy blue scarf round her head, but this was removed when they had settled in their seats.

Henry, of course, as the vicar's right-hand man, had sometimes accompanied us on the annual outing, but I had not expected to see him this time as I knew that Deirdre would be at his house.

We exchanged chit-chat as we bowled along, and I thought that Deirdre seemed rather more animated than usual. Perhaps Henry's presence was stimulating.

I remembered the last time Henry, Deirdre and I had taken a bus trip together to the falconry, and how embarrassing I had found Henry's attentions to me, and his marked coolness towards his guest. It was a relief to have him less tiresome, but I was glad too to have Joseph Coggs ensconced at my side.

How well I remembered an earlier trip to the seaside resort of Barrisford, for which we were bound again this morning. As usual, after an outing, I had suggested to the children, during the following week, that they might draw a picture of something that they had enjoyed during that day.

Joseph had come up with the picture of a small man who, he insisted, was the Old Man of the Sea and had a palace on the sea bed beyond the end of Barrisford pier. He had stuck to his story adamantly, although we found out later that he had encountered one of the midget acrobats who were appearing that week in an end-of-pier show.

As far as I knew, Joseph still believed the story which had been told him, and even now, I surmised, he might be hoping to encounter him again.

Barrisford remained the most popular choice for our annual outing. Sometimes we had changed our destination and had visited Longleat and its animals, Bournemouth with its variety of entertainment and other renowned re-sorts on the south coast. But somehow we always returned to Barrisford, to its shining sands, its quiet respectability, and above all, to tea at Bunce's, the famous restaurant on the esplanade where Mr Edward Bunce himself waited upon us with never-failing courtesy.

Barrisford, we all agreed, was the
real
place to go for an outing.

Most of the party dispersed to the sands, but Deirdre made a point of joining me and suggested that we took ourselves to Bunce's for a refreshing cup of coffee. Henry waxed enthusiastic.

When we were settled at a table overlooking the bay, I enquired how the house-hunting was getting on.

'We looked at two yesterday,' said Henry.'Quite possible, I thought.'

'I didn't,' said Deirdre. 'They were poky.'

'Most cottages are,' I agreed, 'but that has its advantages. Less to heat, less to clean, and usually pretty snug.'

'One was near Springbourne,' went on Henry, ignoring his companion's dislike of the topic, 'on the hill there. Lovely views.'

'Not a house in sight,' said Deirdre with disgust. 'One would go melancholy mad.'

The coffee arrived at this moment and the subject of houses was dropped until a little later when Deirdre had departed to the ladies' room and Henry and I were alone.

'I fear that Deirdre wants somewhere with bigger rooms. She's got used to living in my house, you know, and I think it has influenced her choice overduly.'

I thought of Henry's magnificent rooms in part of the Queen Anne house which had been old Miss Parr's when I first went to Fairacre. It would be hard to find such elegance in the small houses Deirdre was inspecting.

Henry sighed, and put his hand on mine by the coffee pot.

'If only things had been different,' he said.

I looked at him squarely. 'But they aren't, Henry, and never have been. At least on my side.'

'I had hoped,' he began, 'when I first came—'

'Henry, I don't care to think about that time. You meant nothing to me, except in a friendly way, and you know what a bundle of trouble village gossip put us to.'

He removed his hand, and stood up to welcome back Deirdre who had removed the gauzy scarf and looked, to my eyes at least, very attractive.

'Now I shall see you two settled,' said Henry, 'and then I'm off for a swim. Nothing like salt water!'

I was about to say, 'Probably laced with sewage', but felt it was kinder to remain silent. Henry had had quite enough chastening for one day, I decided.

Deirdre and I sat in the shelter of a rock and watched our fellow villagers disporting themselves on land and sea.

Henry was being splashed vigorously by three or four of my schoolchildren, but was giving as much as he was getting, amidst shrieks of delight.

'I'm very fond of Henry,' remarked Deirdre languidly. 'What do you think of him?'

'He's always been a good friend. Not only to me. Everyone in the village likes him.'

Deirdre gazed out to sea. Henry's head was now bobbing in the foreground.

'He's very fond of you. My cousin, you know, never really appreciated Henry. In fact, she stayed with me in Ireland for nearly two years, she was so fed up with him.'

I remained silent. I well remembered Henry's time alone when Fairacre supposed that he was a bachelor or widower, and well qualified to marry a single school teacher.

'She was horribly bossy,' said Deirdre. 'Henry never had a say in anything. He needed
kindness,
and I think that's why he was attracted to you.'

I was startled into speech. I had not thought of
kindness
as one of my more obvious virtues.

'I can assure you that I had no idea that Henry was attracted to me at that time. I must admit there was some village gossip, but one ignores that.'

'Well, it was largely that which brought his wife back to him. She may not have wanted him herself, but she did not intend to part with him. I was quite relieved to see her go.'

She looked out to sea again. Henry seemed to have vanished.

'Poor Henry,' she sighed. 'He has had a sad life. I think it is time he was shown some affection and consideration, don't you?'

'We can all do with that,' I assured her.

She turned her eyes from the sea, and looked steadily at me. 'When you retire, will you be lonely?'

'Not for a moment,' I said, knowing full well what prompted this solicitude on my behalf.

'I'm so glad we had this little talk,' she said, rising and dusting sand from her skirt. 'It makes things much easier for me.'

'Good luck with your house-hunting, and all your other projects,' I said, as we set off for a companionable saunter along the famous sands.

Tea at Bunce's was the highlight of the afternoon, and at six thirty we were all aboard again, wind-blown and sunburnt, bound for Fairacre.

I was dropped off in Beech Green, only a few yards from my home, and waved farewell to my fellow passengers, as the bus moved off.

Deirdre gave me a broad smile and, I could have sworn, a wink at the same time.

Mightily content, I turned for home.

On Monday morning, Mrs Pringle limped heavily towards me and I feared the worst.

'I've got that dratted Basil all next week,' she greeted me, 'and I wondered if he could come up here. Next term he starts at Beech Green, and welcome they are to him, and no mistake.'

'Is Minnie ill?'

'She's got a little job up at Springbourne Manor. Just for next week.'

I was surprised to hear it. Minnie is well known for her complete lack of common sense, and has no idea how to tackle housework. I asked what she was being called upon to do at such a well-run establishment.

'They're cleaning out the stables. Some talk of them being turned into houses, and they've got two great skips up there to throw all the rubbish in. She's helping to fill 'em up.'

It seemed the sort of thing she might manage, but I wondered how many objects, later needed, would be the victims of Minnie's activity.

'But isn't the work rather heavy for Minnie?'

Mrs Pringle's countenance became even more gloomy than usual.

'The fact is they need the money. Them kids eats like oxen.'

I began to fear that all this was a preliminary to asking me to supply work for Minnie.

I was right.

'I don't suppose you could give her a couple of hours, now and again?'

'Mrs Pringle,' I began bravely, 'you know as well as I do that Minnie is absolutely hopeless in the house.'

The old curmudgeon had the grace to look abashed at this straight speaking.

'I was thinking about your brights. If she was to come, say, once a month, when I was there of a Wednesday, I could keep an eye on her and see she got out the Brasso and not the stuff to clean the oven. She couldn't do much harm cleaning brass and copper. Particularly your things.'

I did not care for this slur on my property, but overlooked it in the face of this larger menace.

'We could try it, I suppose,' I said weakly, 'but not just yet.'

'Mrs Partridge is having her to scrub out the back kitchen, and the old dairy and wash house, on a Wednesday morning. She's to have her dinner there too.'

Not for the first time, I saw Mrs Partridge as a true Christian, and a worthy wife for our vicar. In the face of such nobility of character, I began to review my own skimpy offering of help.

'She can start after the end of term,' I told Mrs Pringle.

And knew that I should regret it.

A week or two later, the school Sports' Day took place, and everyone prayed for the same sort of halcyon weather which had blessed our trip to Barrisford.

Mr Roberts, the local farmer, always lets us use the field next to our school for our Sports' Day. He removes his house cow, who normally grazes there, and supplies stakes and rope to fence off the course itself.

Mr Willet, a few of the bigger boys and I usually spend an hour or so, on the evening before, getting the field ready for competitors, parents and other visitors.

The main task is roping off the sports area, and stamping down the largest of the molehills. The grass is tussocky in places, and any professional runner would blench at the hazards of racing on such terrain, but we are made of sterner stuff in Fairacre and cope with these little difficulties without complaint.

Sadly, the weather was far from perfect. A boisterous wind blew hair and skirts, and even threatened to overturn the blackboard on which Mrs Richards recorded the results. Chairs and benches had been brought from the school and village hall by Mr Roberts' tractor and trailer, and hardy parents and friends of the school bravely sat by the dividing rope, with the collars of their coats turned up against the breeze.