(9/20) Tyler's Row (25 page)

Mrs Johnson set off in silence, away from her adversary, and I found my voice in time to shout after her.

'Goodbye, Mrs Johnson. Good luck!'

She acknowledged my farewells with a stiff nod, and vanished round the corner of the lane.

Mrs Pringle, still bearing the snowy parcel, accompanied me across the playground to the school house.

'Cheek!' she muttered under her breath, still smouldering. 'The sauce! The upstart! Good riddance to bad rubbish! London, indeed! It's welcome to her!'

I fetched my purse and put money into her hand. Her face was still rosy with wrath.

'Thank you, Mrs Pringle,' I said. 'Thank you for everything.'

Mrs Fowler moved out of Tyler's Row three days before Peter returned to school. The shabby van made several trips back and forth to Caxley. Sergeant Burnaby's treasures had been returned, and were now with their rightful owner at Beech Green.

Mrs Fowler left the cottage spotlessly clean. Nothing which she had bought was left in place. Even the electric light bulbs had been taken.

Diana was the last person to see her. Mrs Fowler brought the key, and was about to slip it through the letter box and depart, but Diana, who felt that she could not let the old lady go in such a mood, opened the door and spoke to her.

'Goodbye, Mrs Fowler. I hope you'll be happy in Caxley.'

'A fat lot happier than I've been here,' replied Mrs Fowler viciously. 'I'm glad to see the back of Tyler's Row.'

She thrust the key at Diana, and stalked away to the waiting van, her back as straight as a ramrod, registering malice to the last.

'She enjoys it, my dear,' Peter said when Diana told him later. 'What you won't understand is that some people thoroughly enjoy a fight. They're hawks by nature. You're a dove, and a particularly soft-hearted one. Rather a rare bird, in fact.'

He smiled affectionately at his wife.

'Shall we go out and celebrate our freedom?'

'No, I'd sooner stay here and enjoy the wonderful feeling of peace,' said Diana. 'I can't really believe that at last Tyler's Row is our own.'

'Not for long,' Peter warned her. 'Soon it will all begin again—the bricklayers, the plumbers, the electricians, the painters, the plasterers. Cups of coffee for old Fairbrother and those transistor-mad maniacs of his. Chaos all over again!'

'I can face it,' said Diana. 'I can face anything at the moment.'

Later that evening she went into the garden to pick some mint. Darkness was falling, and a light mist veiled the downs. Early Michaelmas daisies starred the border, and the last few yellow roses on Sergeant Burnaby's wall were dropping their petals. Autumn was in the air. Soon it would be time to light bonfires, to stack logs and to prepare for their first winter at Tyler's Row.

Holding the cool stalks of the mint, she looked at their home. There it stood, as it had done for generations, silvery thatched, ancient and snug, melting into the shadowy background of trees and downland. How many men and women who had lived there, thought Diana, had stood as she did now, looking upon their home, and finding it good?

The windows glowed from the dark bulk of the building. Diana, shivering with the first chill touch of autumn, went thankfully towards the warm haven of Tyler's Row.

Peter was telephoning when she opened the door. There was a look of utter contentment on his face.

'Any time you like, Bellamy,' he was saying. 'Any time you like.'

He held out his free hand to Diana, and they stood there, hand in hand like two children. His voice became triumphant.

'Stage Two can begin!'

M
ISS
R
EAD
is the pen name of Mrs. Dora Saint, who was born on April 17, 1913. A teacher by profession, she began writing for several journals after World War II and worked as a scriptwriter for the BBC. She is the author of many immensely popular books, but she is especially beloved for her novels of English rural life set in the fictional villages of Fairacre and Thrush Green. The first of these,
Village School,
was published in 1955 by Michael Joseph Ltd. in England and by Houghton Mifflin in the United States. Miss Read continued to write until her retirement in 1996. In 1998 she was made a Member of the Order of the British Empire for her services to literature. She lives in Berkshire.