Free (9/20) Tyler's Row by Miss Read Page A

path.
    'Trust Tom,' said Peter, smiling. 'I thought this would be our final exit, but what's the betting we are back and forth like yoyos fetching that dam' cat?'
    'How's the house?' said Diana.
    'A shambles,' replied her husband happily, 'but I've found the drink and the glasses to celebrate getting in at last. We've made it, my dear!'

    Later, when the celebratory drinks were over, Diana became unusually business-like.
    'Now, the first thing to do is to hang the curtains. Then we must make up the beds and put in hot bottles.'
    'What, in this weather?'
    'The sheets have been packed in a suitcase for the last two days. They may be damp.'
    'Which suitcase?'
    'The red one,' said Diana briskly. 'I put everything we should need for the beds in it. Including the bottles.'
    'Well, where is it?'
    Diana's confidence wavered.
    'Here, somewhere. Upstairs, I should think.'
    There was no sign of it upstairs. Downstairs, a pile of boxes, holdalls, cases and bundles yielded no red suitcase. Diana, by now, was reduced to her more normal state of vagueness.
    'Did you see it go into the van?'
    'No. We brought it over ourselves one day this week.'
    'Are you sure?'
    'I'm not sure of anything now,' cried Diana hopelessly. 'I swear I'll never move again. It's all too exhausting.'
    'Have another drink,' said Peter, watching his wife sink on to the settee between a pile of curtains and a mound of The National Geographical Magazine.
    'No, I'm tiddly enough as it is.'
    She pushed her fingers through her hair distractedly.
    'I know it's here,' she said firmly. 'Think, Peter. You must have seen it during the day.'
    She fixed him with a glittering stare.
    'You frighten the life out of me,' said her husband, 'looking like the Ancient Mariner.'
    He stared back, then put down his glass and left the room. In a moment, he returned carrying the case.
    'Under the stairs,' he said triumphantly. 'Come to think of it, I put it there myself. I thought it had dusters and brushes and things in it.'
    He looked at it more closely.
    'But you said "a red case". This is brown.'
    'It's maroon or burgundy,' said Diana, snapping it open with relief. 'That means red.'
    'The only red I recognise is the colour of a pillar box,' said Peter, following his wife with an armful of bed-linen.
    By the time the beds were made and the curtains hung in their bedroom and the sitting room they were too tired to do much more.
    'I should like a mixed grill,' said Peter. 'A large one—with plenty of kidney.'
    'Well, you won't get it, my love,' replied Diana cheerfully. 'I propose to give you a tin of soup prepared by Messrs Crosse and Blackwell's fair hands. That is, if we can find the tin opener. And we might rise to bread and cheese after that. And if you really want high life, you can top up with a banana, rather squashed.'
    'It sounds delightful,' said Peter resignedly. 'Do we get breakfast?'
    'With luck,' said Diana. 'We'll have to be up early, by the way, to let in the workmen.'
    'Well, let's have this rave-up of a meal now,' suggested Peter. 'I'll go out and lock up the shed, and see everything's to rights.'
    Outside, a full moon was rising, glowing orange through the light mist that veiled the downs. The air was as fresh as spring water, and the scent of narcissi came from Mrs Fowler's trim garden next door.
    Peter breathed in deeply, savouring the beauty of the night, and relishing the thought of happy years to be spent in Fairacre. He turned to look at Tyler's Row.
    Through the curtainless kitchen window he could see Diana at the stove. He hoped she would be as happy as he was about the house. She had been so content in Caxley. It would be terrible if she found Fairacre lonely or uncongenial. He must make sure that she settled here easily. It was a good thing, he told himself, that term did not begin for another week or so. They could get the place straight together, and ease the change-over.
    Dimmer lights than their own kitchen one shone from the two cottages at each end. A