(12/13) The Year at Thrush Green (29 page)

Bill took his wife's hand and looked at her delightedly.

Jane was starry-eyed.

'It's the best news in the world,' she said.

'She's right,' agreed Bill. 'Tell Carl when you write, that we send all our thanks and love.'

'And now,' said Jane, jumping to her feet, 'if you've nearly finished, I'll get the coffee.'

When the company emerged from Rectory Cottages, the stars were bright above, and frost was beginning to form. The grass was already crisp, and their breath billowed before them as they made their way to their cars, or on foot to nearby homes.

'Come in for a drink?' invited Harold to Edward, but the latter shook his head.

'I promised to ring Carl as soon as the meeting was over. He'll be waiting for a call.'

'He'll be delighted with the outcome, I've no doubt. What a success the meeting was! Even Mrs Thurgood was pleasant.'

'Naturally! She's got her own way again,' said Edward laughing.

'And we shan't have to have an exhibition of her daughter's ghastly daubs,' agreed Harold. 'When's Carl back, by the way?'

'Ben's fetching him the day after tomorrow.'

'Good! I've no doubt Ben will be told all about it then.'

Edward stopped suddenly beside one of the great chestnut trees near his house.

'D'you know, it was under this tree that Mrs Curdle always put her caravan. It's nice to think that her memorial will be standing so near.'

'Halfway,' mused Harold looking across the green, 'between her caravan site and her grave. I like the idea.'

'So will everyone,' said Edward heartily.

Walking alone to his own house, Harold thought that he had never seen Edward quite so happy before.

He, and all at Thrush Green, had Carl Andersen to thank for that.

December

Let joy be unconfined;

Lord Byron

A welcome change in the weather heralded the arrival of December. The weather-vanes of Lulling and Thrush Green veered to the north-east, the skies cleared and a wintry sun emerged for part of each day.

Spirits rose. Christmas shopping began in earnest, and all those loved ones in far-flung quarters of the globe were remembered with lightweight parcels sent by air mail, if they had been forgotten earlier in October, when presents should have been despatched by surface mail by prudent donors.

In Lulling High Street the Christmas decorations were being draped across the road by men balanced on long ladders.

Nelly Piggott allowed Rosa and Gloria to stick morsels of cotton-wool on the windows of the Fuchsia Bush, much to their satisfaction, and a small Christmas tree stood in a prominent position just behind the snowfall.

At Thrush Green there were more modest decorations. The Two Pheasants had a string of varied coloured lights round the door, and Mr Jones's two bay trees, one each side of the entrance, were also decked with fairy lights.

In St Andrew's church the crib stood in the chancel. Winnie had washed the figures of the nativity, as she did yearly, and she and Ella had put it all in order and set it up in its appointed place.

At the school the making of paper-chains went on apace. Jars of almond-smelling Gloy gave forth their fragrance, and paste brushes were plied with feverish zeal. Already the infants' room was criss-crossed with many-splendoured pieces of handiwork, and the fact that every now and again one link would give way and a shower of paper rings would descend upon the makers only added to the general enjoyment.

Rehearsals for the Mad Hatter's tea party and the thunderous country dances went on apace, and although Alan Lester and Miss Robinson adhered valiantly to the timetable, there was no doubt that rather less knowledge was imbibed than usual.

'Never mind,' said Alan philosophically, 'Christmas comes but once a year.'

It was at this time that more news came of Bruce's owners. They were indeed in South America and in one of those countries which did not recognize the usual international necessity for returning malefactors to the country of their origin in order to expedite justice.

Stern letters had crossed the Atlantic. Diplomats had argued. Letters from outraged readers had enlivened the columns of the local newspapers, but all was in vain.

The couple were allowed to remain in the country of their choice, living, no doubt, on their ill-gotten gains and spreading happiness among the local traders.

'It is deplorable, of course,' Dotty said to Betty Bell, 'but at least we know they won't come back.'

'Good riddance to bad rubbish!' agreed Betty.

'And in any case,' added Dotty ferociously, 'I should
never
have given Bruce back to such dreadful people. My father would have put them to rights, I can tell you!'

Carl Andersen returned, much to the pleasure of his friends, and one of his first visits was to see Ben and Molly.

Now that his plan had been accepted by the trustees, he had the freedom to discuss it openly.

Ben was much touched by this honour to his grandmother, and said so with unusual eloquence.

'It's exactly the sort of thing she would like,' he said. 'You see, she always had a soft spot for children and old people, and I think children get much more attention these days than the old folk.'

'That's right,' agreed Molly.

'What's more,' went on Ben, 'she would have known some of those folk at Rectory Cottages, and certainly some of their forebears. It's a lovely idea. We shall be very proud to have a Curdle room.'

Edward Young had told him about the general delight expressed at the trustees' meeting.

'It is a magnificent idea of yours,' he said. 'You have no second thoughts about it? No doubts? We feel it is going to be such an expensive undertaking.'

Carl laughed. 'I've been into it all most carefully, both here and back home. It's what I dearly want to do, and to be given the go-ahead was all I wanted.'

'I'm sure you will be asked to a trustees' meeting very soon, so that they can tell you how they feel and to discuss the best way of putting the work in hand.'

'Good,' said Carl. 'And I want to involve as many Thrush Green people as possible in this affair. Ben and Molly, for instance, will be the chief guests at the opening, and I hope you will take on the job of architect.'

'Please,'
begged Edward. 'I know it's an honour, but it must come from the trustees. I should be embarrassed to have this automatically given to me.'

'I understand,' Carl assured him. 'I'll be discreet.'

'Are you able to stay for Christmas?' asked Edward. 'Joan and I hope you'll stay here.'

'Nothing I'd like more,' said Carl, clapping him on the shoulder, 'and now I'm off to see Charles.'

The news of Carl's offer had been relayed to Barton-on-Sea by telephone from Isobel Shoosmith to her old friends.

Dorothy and Agnes discussed it with much enthusiasm.

'She was a great influence, was old Mrs Curdle,' said Dorothy. 'Everyone respected her, and this project of Carl Andersen's will get everyone's support.'

'George was a dear little boy,' responded Agnes wistfully. She often looked back to her teaching days at Thrush Green with considerable nostalgia. Dorothy, made of sterner stuff, seldom looked back. The future was what interested her, and she broached it now.

'Do you know that Eileen is contemplating moving? I don't know what Teddy feels about it, but I told her straight that I thought it
quite wrong!'

'But surely,' quavered Agnes, 'it is their affair? And why should you think it is wrong?'

'Poor Teddy is used to his surroundings. He knows where the steps are in the house, and which way the doors open, and all those important things for a person without sight. I told Eileen so, and I didn't mince my words either.'

She thumped down a saucepan on the draining board to emphasize her resolve. The two ladies were washing up their lunch pots and pans.

Agnes was deeply disturbed. Dorothy could be so thoughtless. She might have offended Eileen. It was true that Teddy would have quite a problem in adapting to a new environment, but was it Dorothy's place to point this out?

Agnes's heart had leapt when Dorothy spoke of this proposed move. It would come as a relief to know that Teddy was safely removed from Dorothy's attentions.

She had certainly been much more restrained in her dealings with Eileen and Teddy since Agnes had pointed out the desirability of discretion on their visit to Thrush Green earlier in the year. But this news might well inflame those feelings which Dorothy had made some effort to calm, and who knows what might happen?

'It's surely their business,' said Agnes diffidently. 'I'm sure they would have talked it over thoroughly before making such an important decision.'

'Teddy is so
unselfish,
' declared Dorothy, dropping a handful of kitchen cutlery on to the draining board with a resounding clatter. 'If Eileen wants something, then Teddy will give way to her.'

'Well, of course, they consider each other,' pointed out Agnes reasonably. 'Married couples have to make their plans jointly.'

Dorothy wrung out the dish cloth with excessive vigour. Agnes saw, with dismay, that her neck and face were getting flushed, always a bad sign.

'There's really nothing we can do,' she continued soothingly. 'In any case, I'm sure they will tell us if they do decide to move.'

Dorothy gave a gusty sigh, and folded the dish cloth with care.

'I suppose we must just be patient,' she said. 'Very irksome, I find it, but you are quite right, Agnes dear. It's just that I am so fond of Teddy — in just a
friendly
way, you understand — that I don't care to see him
exploited.'

'I quite understand,' replied Agnes.

One frosty December morning Carl called at St John's vicarage to see his friends the Henstocks.

Dimity was busy rolling out pastry, but paused to put floury hands round his neck and give him a hearty kiss.

Charles, less demonstrative but equally delighted to see him, led him into his study.

'I'm juggling with the Christmas services for all four parishes,' he explained, pushing a sheaf of papers to one end of his desk. 'Such a joyous festival of the church, but
very
difficult to arrange.'

'I can imagine,' said Carl. 'I won't hold up the good work, but I just wanted a word about the trustees' meeting.'

'Of course, of course! I can't tell you how excited and grateful everyone is. We are having an emergency meeting here next week. I hope you'll be here too.'

He began to shuffle his papers.

'Somewhere I've got a letter here from the trustees thanking you,' he said with some agitation. 'Now where—?'

Carl broke in. 'I'll be there without fail. Which day is it?'

'Half past seven next Tuesday,' replied Charles. 'And we're having it here this time. You can tell us all your plans, and we can tell you how we feel about this marvellous offer.'

Carl began to tell him how anxious he was for as many Thrush Green people to be involved as possible.

'Perhaps the trustees will bear that in mind,' he said. 'There must be good builders, electricians, plumbers and the like who could tackle the job.'

'Indeed there are,' agreed Charles.

'And I should very much like Edward to be the architect,' added Carl, 'but he's very diffident about taking it on. He says it must be the trustees' decision.'

'I quite understand his natural feelings over this,' said Charles. 'I'm sure it would be the general wish that he took on the enlargement. He made an excellent job of the first stage.'

'Well, make sure you tell him that,' said Carl. 'I think he feels that he let you down by not making it bigger in the first place.'

'Oh poor Edward!' cried Charles, his face puckering with dismay. 'I'd no idea he felt like that. He has no need to reproach himself.'

'So I tell him,' replied Carl, getting up. 'Just see the message gets across. I'll see you next Tuesday then.'

The next Tuesday was as bright and clear as the days which preceded it, and, very cheerful, the good people of Lulling and Thrush Green were to be able to do their Christmas shopping without the hazards of deep puddles, dripping awnings and umbrellas.

Carl drove from Woodstock, where he had taken up his old room, and crunched across the gravel of the vicarage drive to attend this important confrontation.

As he waited for the door to be opened he gazed at the great spire of St John's church silhouetted against a luminous sky scattered with stars.

Near by a small animal, vole, mouse or shrew, rustled among the dead leaves under the shrubs. It was very quiet, and the serenity of his surroundings calmed the slight agitation which had been with him on the short journey to this destination.

This would all be here when he had gone. When the projected new annexe had gone, for that matter. Other men, a hundred years hence, would look up at that noble spire and those eternal stars.

The door opened, and Charles welcomed him in.

The meeting began on time. Charles took the chair, and invited Carl to sit beside him. Edward sat alone at the foot of the table and the rest of the trustees were ranged along the sides.