Free Mrs Fytton's Country Life by Mavis Cheek

Common like a demented Womble. It crossed her mind, when he first told her about it, that she might drive there early one morning, catch him on the homeward run and lean out of the car window with a cool drink and an adoring look of surprise. But good sense prevailed. It would not do to illuminate his foolishness. If she wanted him back, then she wanted him back with his self-esteem intact. And, under the circumstances, she was not altogether sure she could keep from laughing. Send him jogging, would she?
    Good, she thought, smiling like a serpent. Good.
    She removed her mind from the erotic consideration of her ex-husband's sticky, sweaty body embracing her across an empowering Vimto and focused on a large red and black object. She knew she should restrain herself but it was too late.
    'Oh, an Aga - she gushed.
    Mrs Perry looked at her as if she had just admired a dead cat. 'I'll show you round while the tea brews, Mrs Fytton ’
    Country people, Angela reminded herself, do not admire Agas - they cook with them. 'Thank you, Mrs Perry ’ she said. And, changing the subject - rather cleverly, she fancied - she added, 'Brews is a funny way to describe something non - alcoholic, isn't it?'
    Mrs Perry said, 'Everything brews in the country. It's all the same - wines, ales, medicines, teas -'
    'Oh, the ancient arts ’ said Angela. 'Wise women
    'Well, I don't know about that ’ said Mrs Perry, then she nodded. 'But women were the brewers once, so I'm told ’
    Angela was just about to ask her the origins of the name Church Ale House when Mrs Perry said, 'Talking of age ...' and crossed to the window ledge. She picked up a handful of little white objects which, just for a very bad moment, Angela thought might be teeth.
    Teeth? Fine. She gritted her own as Mrs Perry took her hand and tipped the objects into the palm. They were roughly square, very smooth, a pearled yellowy white, about a quarter of an inch thick. Angela ran her fingertips over them and rattled them together.
    'Know what they are?' said Mrs Perry.
    Angela was about to suggest upper front molars, but after her orgasmic spasm over the Aga she kept quiet. She shook her head, stared into her palm and hoped that whatever she held there had been very well washed.
    Mrs Perry took one and held it up. 'Roman mosaic chips.'
    Angela blinked. 'No ...' she said.
    Mrs Perry nodded. 'Daphne Blunt told me. I dug them up in the garden. Or the rabbits did.' She put them back on the window ledge and shrugged once more. 'So who knows how old this place might be?'
    'Tesserae ’ Angela said in amazement.
    'That's the name. They turn up occasionally. So there must have been something once. This house has seen a lot of changes - bits built on, bits pulled off, money made and money lost. I don't suppose the plot has ever been idle.' 'Bit like life,' said Angela.
    The woman nodded. She patted the teapot. 'And now,' she said, 'you'd best be looking around, I suppose, since you're here.'
     
    5
     
    April
     

    Well! some people talk of morality, and some of religion, but give me a little snug property.
     
    maria edgeworth
     
     
    The tour began with what Mrs Perry called the parlour, to Angela's delight. 'The parlour,' she repeated to herself softly as they travelled towards the front of the house, their footsteps clumping and creaking on the fine, bare boards. Not the lounge, not the sitting room, but the parlour. ..
     
    On the way Mrs Perry paused and opened a door with half-lights. 'The utility,' she said. 'Washing machine, freezer, sink -you know.'
    Angela said that she did.
    'And where the dogs sleep.'
    'Ah yes ’ said Angela, thinking with pleasure of three baskets labelled Victor, Leaky and Otto.
    'The estate agent called it the utility. I call it the old wash-house. And before the war it was the still room. The first war,' ‘ she added.
    Angela nodded knowingly, wondering what the hell a. still room actually was, as opposed to a moving one, but she did not ask. She was never