Free (7/13) Affairs at Thrush Green by Miss Read

herself together hastily, and set herself to cycle another two minutes before tackling her standing routine.
    There, that was done! She scrambled to her feet with the help of the bedstead, and stood quite still until her head had stopped spinning. Then she went close to the wall and kept one steadying hand on it while she rose and fell on her toes. Doctor Lovell had said earnestly that he wanted to restore suppleness, as far as was possible, so that she could run again quite easily.
    Agnes had not liked to tell the dear man that she had not run anywhere for the last ten years, and had no intention of starting again now, but she was fond of her adviser and respected his faith in her possible prowess.
    She did her exercises zealously, studying a still life in water colours executed by one of Dorothy's college friends. It depicted a bowl of fruit with a few vegetables lying beside it, and Agnes was not wholly enamoured of it. Certainly, the grapes were superbly done, and the bananas were recognisable, of course, so yellow and curved, as they were, it would be hard to disguise them, but the carrots looked anaemic and those green things which must be artichoke heads were not the right green.
    Dipping briskly from left foot to right, Agnes recalled her own efforts at vegetable painting. Cabbages, she remembered, had responded wonderfully to a mixture of veridian green, a spot of crimson lake and a little Chinese white. The result had been a most successful soft colour, and her art teacher had congratulated her on the effect. Very gratifying it had been.
    Agnes felt that her legs had suffered quite enough, and began to rotate her arms gently. She wandered to the window, and surveyed the little world of Thrush Green as she worked away.
    A stranger was walking purposefully across the grass towards the Youngs' house. He was tall and soldierly. He had no hat and his hair was thick and silvery.
    That must be young Mr Venables' friend,' thought Agnes, now shrugging her shoulders up and down as Exercise Six required. 'What a nice-looking fellow! No arthritis there, I'm sure!'
    She finished her twentieth shrug conscientiously, folded the exercise list away in a drawer, tidied her hair and went downstairs to tell Dorothy about the Youngs' visitor.

    Kit Armitage was warmly welcomed by Joan and Edward Young and the sherry glasses were soon filled.
    After some exchange of news, Kit said how very sorry he had been to hear of the death of Robert Bassett.
    'Of course, he was a good deal older than I am, but I was quite often invited to play tennis here and he was always so excessively kind. No bad hand at lobs and volleys either, if I remember rightly.'
    'He loved all games, and was very quick on his feet,' agreed Edward. 'I used to dread being asked to partner him. He could beat me hollow at tennis, and although he was the most considerate of partners, I always felt mightily inferior. I was courting Joan at the time and very conscious of the poor figure I was cutting.'
    Joan laughed.
    'I was so sorry for you, and pity being akin to love I'm sure it helped your cause.'
    'And your mother?' asked Kit.
    'Pretty shaken, and can't make up her mind if it would be better to stay on in the little house, or move in with Ruth up the road. I tell her not to make any decisions yet. It's too soon after Father's death to make plans.'
    'Very wise. Now tell me about the other Thrush Green friends. I gather Dotty is still fighting fit.'
    'I don't know about that, but she's jolly well looked after by her niece Connie. Do call and see them. Dotty remembers you well.'
    'I'm looking forward to seeing her again.'
    He asked after Albert Piggott, the Misses Lovelock, and was told about the disastrous fire which had robbed Charles and Dimity of their home.
    'And what's going to be there instead?' he asked.
    'Eight homes for old people,' Edward told him. 'I've just put in my plan. We want something easy on the eye this time.'
    'I could do with an old people's home myself,'