Free Mrs. Pringle of Fairacre by Miss Read Page A

a welcome.
    'Dolly Clare rang me,' she said, 'and as James is in Budapest, or it may be Bucharest, I was delighted to come. What's more, I've collected your prescription, and pretty dire it looks and smells.'
    She deposited a bottle of dark brown liquid on the bedside table.
    'I may not need it,' I said, 'after a good cup of tea.'
    'You'll do as you're told,' replied Amy firmly, 'and take your nice medicine as Doctor Martin said.'
    We sipped our tea in amicable silence, and then Amy told me that she intended to stay until the doctor called again.
    'But what about the school? I can't leave Miss Clare to cope alone.'
    'Someone's coming out tomorrow, I gather, and in any case, I could do a hand's turn.
I am a
trained teacher, if you remember, and did rather better than you did in our final grades.'
    She vanished to make up the spare bed, and left me to my muddled thoughts for some time. I thought I heard her talking outside in the playground, but decided it must be Miss Clare or even Mrs Pringle going about their affairs.
    When Amy reappeared, the clock said half past seven.
    'I can't think what's happened to today,' I complained, 'I must keep falling asleep.'
    'You do,' she assured me, 'and a good thing too.'
    'But there's such a lot to do. The kitchen's in a fine mess. I left yesterday's washing up, and the grate hasn't been cleared.'
    'Oh yes, it has! Mrs Pringle came over after she'd finished at the school. She had it all spick and span in half an hour.'
    'Amy,' I squeaked, 'you haven't asked
Mrs Pringle
to help! You know how I've resisted all this time.'
    'And what's more,' went on Amy imperturbably, 'she is quite willing to come every Wednesday afternoon, if you need her.'
    'Traitor!' I said, but I was secretly amused and relieved.
    'Time for medicine,' replied Amy, advancing on the bottle.

CHAPTER 7
Christmas
    As so often happens in the wake of nervous apprehension, reality proved less severe than my fears.
    The advent of Mrs Pringle into my personal affairs had its advantages. For one thing, the house benefitted immediately from her ministrations. Furniture gleamed like satin, windows were crystal clear, copper and brass objects were dazzling, and even door knobs on cupboards, which had never hitherto seen a spot of Brasso, were transformed.
    The beauty of it was, from my point of view, that I hardly came across the lady when she was at her labours. She chose to come on a Wednesday afternoon. (Mrs Hope, that paragon of domestic virtue who had been an earlier occupant in the school house, had always preferred Wednesdays, according to Mrs Pringle.) So Wednesday it was.
    She went straight from her washing up in the school lobby to my house, and worked from half past one until four o'clock. As I was teaching then it meant that I seldom saw her in the house, but simply marvelled at the shining surfaces when I returned.
    Occasionally, of course, I ran into her and we would share a pot of tea before she set off for home.
    It was on one of these tea-drinking sessions that she first told me about her niece, Minnie Pringle, daughter of the black sheep of the family, Josh Pringle of Springbourne.
    'She come up this morning to see if I'd got any jumble for their W.I. sale next week. At least, that's what
she said
she'd come for, but it was money she was after for herself.'
    I knew that the girl had two small children, so enquired innocently if her husband was out of work.
    'Work?
A
husband
?' cried Mrs Pringle. 'Minnie never had a husband. These two brats of hers is nothing more than you-know-what beginning with a B but I wouldn't soil my lips with saying it.'
    'Oh dear,' I said feebly. 'I didn't realise...'
    'And another on the way, as far as I could see this morning. One is one thing, most people give a girl the benefit of the doubt. But two is taking things too far, especially when the silly girl can't say for sure who the father is.'
    'She must have
some
idea.'
    'Not Minnie, she's that feckless she just wouldn't remember. Not