Free Mrs Fytton's Country Life by Mavis Cheek Page B

garden, had the same proportions.
     
    'My mother used to say the house was like an old duchess, with everything carried at the front. We don't use this as a dining room. Shame really .. ‘ She went over to the window and pulled a crumpled, faded chintz curtain further aside. 'It's got the best view of the house - this and the bedroom above it,' said Mrs Perry. 'Front and side view. The Mump and the church.'
    Angela stroked the old chintz as gently as if it were a cat. She perched on the window seat and gazed out and thought of Goldsmith. All these yea rs she thought she was a pragma tist and now here she was, a romantic.
     
    Near yonder copse, where once the garden smil'd, And still where many a garden flower grows wild. There where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose.
     
    'Royal land,' said Mrs Perry. 'Never to be built on.' She came and stood by Angela. 'And we own that field at the side. That's not part of the sale. We want to keep that. Lord knows why we want to keep that. .. the peasant in us, very likely. You don't get rid of all your land.'
    'Can it be built on?' Angela's mouth went dry.
    'Not while we own it, it can't ’ said Mrs Perry firmly. 'Too much building in my opinion.' She looked about the room, as if for the first time. 'Panels need a coat of paint, fireplace needs unplugging . . .' She crossed to one of the cupboards beside the mantelpiece and opened it. 'There's a bit of damp in this one. Are you a do-it-yourselfer, Mrs Fytton? Archie and I are not ... as you will have noticed.'
    Angela thought of all her years of paint pots and wood finishes. And shook her head. Not this time, she thought, not this time.
    'What are the neighbours like?' she asked.
    'You've got the new vicar. Not married. Plays the guitar...' Mrs Perry pulled a face. 'And a couple I don't know very well beyond him, weekenders - boys away at Frome Hall, they board ’ She sniffed. 'Both solicitors in Bristol. Rudge, their name is. Never see them really. Then on this side -' she pointed westwards - 'you've got Dave the bread, who delivers.' She shrugged, as if arguing with herself. 'Well, saves making it.' Angela nodded.
    'His wife, Wanda, does weaving and craft things. Beyond him the Elliotts. Some sort of writer he is, and his wife and children - three under six, I ask you.'
    Angela tried to look as if she had never had two under two.
    'And further up the lane you've got the history woman, Daphne Blunt. Swears by olive oil and doesn't like fat bacon.' Mrs Perry turned to Angela and said, as if in deepest sympathy, 'A thin woman. Very thin. Interesting, but likes to poke her nose...'
    'Ah ’ said Angela. 'Aren't there any true locals, like you?'
    'Not many ’ she said, apparently without sentiment. 'Most of them have moved into sensible accommodation. We've still got Sammy with the pigs up that hill.' She pointed beyond the window and her eyes softened. 'His place is right at the other end. The eelers still come in. You can see the eel beds from the church. And then there's old Dr Tichborne and his wife down there.' She pointed again. 'They were born and bred round here, but grandish. I remember my father taking off his hat to his father when the car went by, just after the war. And she came from the Hall. . . which got pulled down to make room for the road. They've a niece who's set on marrying an estate agent.' For some reason she looked a little flustered at this last. 'Well, anyway ... Now, the bedrooms.'
    They mounted the stairs. Creak, creak, creak.
    'It doesn't mean anything. Just age. I creak myself some days.' She opened a door and smiled at Angela as she did so. 'You will too one day ...'
    They walked into what Angela supposed was the main bedroom. Master bedroom, as the estate agent's details described it. Mistress bedroom from now on. And eventually - why? - master and mistress bedroom, she supposed. A branch or two of an outside tree came right up against the window, but the