(7/13) Affairs at Thrush Green (11 page)

Flossie was reluctant to leave Ella's abode. It was rarely that she had to return without having consumed one of Ella's wholesome digestive biscuits, but she was a philosophical animal, and at last consented to accompany Connie homeward.

They crossed the green, and now the children were playing 'Twos and Threes', still in their circle, and still being watched indulgently by little Agnes Fogerty.

Connie and Flossie soon entered the narrow footpath beside Albert Piggott's cottage. His windows too were shut, and Connie wondered how he was faring on his travels.

As they emerged into the field leading to Dotty's, Connie became aware of footsteps behind her. She glanced back and saw a tall stranger, with silvery hair, striding along purposefully.

Connie quickened her step. The path was narrow, and unless she stopped to let him pass, there was really nothing else to do. She did not want to be obliged to carry on a conversation with a complete stranger simply because the path forced them to walk closely together.

To her surprise, the footsteps behind her quickened too, and a voice hailed her.

'I say, don't run away! Aren't you Miss Harmer? Miss Connie Harmer?'

She turned to face the oncomer. He really had a fine turn of speed for a man of his age, and a remarkably well-cut tweed jacket and shining brogue shoes.

'My word, you go at a good pace!' he said, smiling at her. 'I'm Kit Armitage, and I was about to call and pay my respects to my old friend Dotty. That is, if she would be willing to see me. How is she?'

'She's getting on well, and will be all the better for a visit from you,' said Connie, holding out her hand.

8. Albert Makes A Journey

ALBERT PIGGOTT arrived at Victoria Coach Station later in the morning, and his first port of call was a café.

Breakfast time seemed a long way behind him. He sat at a table and waited for someone to serve him.

He was not a lover of London. True, he had only visited the capital about five or six times in his life, and had always thought it noisy and dirty. If anything, it seemed noisier and dirtier than ever.

'Self-service here, love,' said a large woman setting down a tray on his table.

Albert looked bewildered.

'You fetch your own, see? Get a tray and pick out what you want off of the bits and pieces. You get your drink at the end.'

'Thanks,' said Albert, picking up his case.

'You can leave that with me, love. I shan't pinch it.'

Albert shuffled off, collected the tray and, copying the rest of the queue, selected a currant bun and a plastic cup of coffee.

'I takes sugar,' he said to the girl behind the hissing machine.

'On the table,' she told him impatiently. Albert drifted off.

The woman at his table was busy with a large piece of chocolate cake and a cup of tea.

She nodded to him, but he was relieved to find that she seemed quite content to continue her meal in silence. His case was exactly as he left it.

He had over an hour to wait, and killed time over the coffee and a newspaper someone had left on the next table. The woman had departed, without speaking again, long before Albert had finished the sports' pages. It seemed odd to him that one could share a table and yet not pass a common word. Not like Thrush Green, he thought with a pang!

He looked at the crowd about him. He might have been a fly on the ceiling for all the notice they took of him—or anyone else, for that matter. What a way to live!

At length, he picked up his case and set out to track down the bus which would take him to his destination. He was tired already, and looked forward to having a nap as soon as his case was safely stowed on the rack, and he had found a seat.

It was nearly four o'clock when Albert finally arrived at the hospital. The coach had been late in starting, and various road works had delayed them. The hospital was some distance from the town centre and involved a tedious bus journey. Albert, who had grown increasingly anxious about this whole project, now began to wonder just how Nelly would greet him.

He was directed up many flights of stone stairs and along miles of corridors before arriving at Nelly's ward. Other visitors surged along with him, bearing bunches of flowers, boxes of eggs and bundles of clean nighties. Albert began to wonder if he should have splashed out on one of the small bunches of violets being sold at the gate, but it was too late to bother about it now.

He saw Nelly as soon as he entered the long ward. She was easily the largest and most gaudily dressed of the ladies present, and her hair was even brighter than he remembered it.

But there was no smile to match the hair. An expression of intense hostility greeted him, and the ominous words:

'And who told you to come, may I ask?'

Albert put his case by the bedside locker and sat down upon a hard chair.

'Your chap,' he said, still breathless from the stairs and corridors.

'What, my Charlie?'

'That's right. Said you was at death's door, and I was to come.'

'Well, you can go back again for all I care,' said Nelly, pulling her bright pink bed jacket across her splendid bust. 'I told you I never wanted to see you again.'

Albert was silent. For one thing there seemed to be no answer to such remarks, and in any case he was dog-tired.

After some minutes of uneasy silence, Nelly relented a little.

'Well, now you're here you might tell me about that dead and alive hole Thrush Green.'

'It's just the same,' said Albert.

'And them old Lovelocks? Wizened old trout. Never known love, and not many locks between 'em.'

'Don't see much of Lulling folk.'

There was another pause. By the next bed a crowd of exuberant Pakistanis were passing round photographs of a family wedding. They seemed to have plenty to say.

'Well, what are you in for?' said Albert, stirring himself at last. 'Going to be in here long?'

'Another few days. Something to do with my gall bladder, they say, but it's my belief they haven't got a clue. One thing I do know. The food's something chronic. I wouldn't offer it to a dog.'

'Ah!' said Albert, relapsing into silence again.

'You aren't going all the way back tonight, are you?'

'Hadn't thought about it.'

'Well, you'd better think now. You'll never get a coach or train from London as'll get you to Thrush Green today. I'd stay overnight if I was you.'

'Where, may I ask? I ain't sharing a bed with Charlie!' Albert was stung into sarcasm, and the thought of having to spend good money on a night's lodging. It was something he had not thought about seriously, despite the pyjamas and face flannel carefully packed by Molly, 'just in case'.

Nelly bridled.

'Charlie don't want your company, believe me. He comes along after work, by the way, so if you don't want to see him, you'll have to look slippy.'

Albert bent down for his case.

'Brought me a box of chocolates?' asked Nelly, eyes bright with anticipation.

Albert had a sudden brain wave.

'Didn't think they'd allow it, but I've got today's paper.'

He took out the copy which he had picked up at Victoria.

'Better than nothing, I suppose,' said Nelly. 'Have a word with Sister as you go out. She knows somewhere to stay around here. Won't break the bank either, I gather.'

Albert stood up.

'Well, I hope you'll go on all right.'

'I suppose I ought to say "thank you for coming", but to tell the truth, Albert, I'm blowed if I know why you did. Still, who knows, I might pop back to Thrush Green for a bit of convalescence. How'd you like that? We had some good times now and again after all, didn't we?'

She giggled as she reached for the paper.

Albert wondered if he should kiss her goodbye, but decided that the circumstances did not warrant it. He raised his hand in farewell, and set off down the ward.

At the end he looked back. Nelly was already immersed in the paper.

'Mrs Desmond sometimes obliges,' the nurse had said, and had directed him some quarter of a mile from the hospital gates.

It was already beginning to get overcast, and the tall Victorian house looked particularly gloomy.

He mounted the steps and rang the bell. A buxom woman with grey curly hair opened the door.

'The hospital people—' began Albert.

'Ah! You're looking for a bed for the night. Come in!'

Albert followed her into a bleak hall with black and white tiles on the floor. A massive fern in a brass pot dominated the scene.

Mrs Desmond mounted the stairs and Albert followed in her wake. The carpet was thick and the banisters shining. A strong smell of furniture polish pervaded the place. It was apparent that the owner was house-proud.

'I keep two bedrooms ready for people like yourself,' said Mrs Desmond. 'The hospital works in with me. I don't do meals, except breakfast, and that's Continental.'

Albert wondered if that meant frogs' legs or any other French nonsense.

'But there's a fish and chip shop down the road, or if you want anything rather classier for supper there's a "Little Chef" nearer the sea front. Here's the room.'

She opened a door and stood back for Albert to enter. The room was sparsely furnished, but the linoleum on the floor, and the brass handles on the dressing table, gleamed with daily care.

A gas fire stood in the hearth, its rows of little skulls awaiting ignition. Mrs Desmond waved towards it.

'It takes tenpenny pieces if you want some heat.'

I bet it does, thought Albert grimly. But the bed looked comfortable, and he was dropping with fatigue.

'How much?' he said shortly.

'Seven pounds, for bed and breakfast. Continental, as I said.'

'What's that mean?'

'Tea-or-coffee-rolls-and-butter-and-marmalade,' recited Mrs Desmond. 'And now if you'll excuse me I must go down to the kitchen. I've a piece of bacon on the boil. Are you staying?'

'Yes, please,' replied Albert.

'It's easier if you pay now,' said his new landlady. 'Then you're free to go any time in the morning.'

Albert took out a greasy wallet and extracted seven one pound notes. It seemed a monstrous sum to him. Mrs Desmond took it and stuffed it into her cardigan pocket.

'We lock the front door at eleven-thirty sharp,' she said. 'Give me a call if you need anything. The water's hot if you want a wash.'

She vanished along the landing, and Albert sank down in the wicker chair and contemplated the miniature Golgotha of the gas fire.

Seven pounds! What a day! It seemed to have gone on for ever. And what good had been done? Dam' all, as far as he could see. Sheer waste of time and money, and as like as not Nelly might turn up again at Thrush Green. One tiff with Charlie could easily send her back to her lawful wedded husband. The thought was too horrific to face.

Albert shivered. A few drops of rain spattered at the window, and the room was cold and dark.

A box of matches stood on the mantel shelf and Albert turned the gas tap. There was a welcome hissing noise. The fire popped into life as he applied the light, and the rows of skulls glowed with welcome heat.

Obviously, someone else's tenpenny piece had not run out.

It was the brightest spot of Albert's day.

Later he went out in search of a meal. The fish and chip shop was crowded with young people in studded leather coats, with here and there a head-band or earrings. The deafening noise from a juke-box was a further deterrent for Albert.

The 'Little Chef' was infinitely superior. There were even some flowers on the tables, and the girls were young and pretty.

Albert demolished a plate of bacon and eggs, with baked beans and tomatoes, and a crusty roll to mop up the liquid. He sat back to enjoy a large cup of strong tea with four spoonfuls of sugar in it. Life certainly appeared brighter. His purse was lighter, but he remembered that Molly and Ben had given him two fivers as well as paying his fare. One way and another, he'd be all right.

He wandered back to Mrs Desmond's by way of the sea front, and paused to lean on the sea wall. He had never been over-fond of the sea. Too wet and cold and restless. And too much of it anyway. Give him some nice fields and woods, any day, all round him, not half the view taken up with this heaving monster.

He stayed there for some time until he found his eyes were closing of their own accord.

He roused himself, threaded his way through the streets to Mrs Desmond's, had a perfunctory wash in the corner basin, and undressed.

He clambered into the spotless bed. It creaked alarmingly, but Albert did not care.

Within five minutes he was deep in the sleep of the utterly exhausted.

Nelly's gibe about the Misses Lovelocks' complete ignorance of love was far from the mark.

They had been attractive young women in their time, and the straight-cut boyish fashions of the twenties had suited their sparse figures very well.

Ada and Bertha were some years older than Violet, but all played tennis together at their own home in Lulling High Street, or at friends' and neighbours'.

Justin Venables and his brothers, Dotty Harmer and her brother, had been some of their contemporaries and tennis partners. Ada had been engaged for some months to Justin's elder brother, but he had gone to India and met someone else. The engagement was broken off, but there was soon another admirer to take his place, although marriage, yet again, evaded Ada.