Free (5/13) Return to Thrush Green by Miss Read Page B

dear old Bates, who had come twice a week for more years than she cared to remember, had just told her that he must give up.
    She would like to return to the Cotswolds, and proposed to look out for a small house, preferably in the Thrush Green area. Not that she was going to rush things. If possible, could kind Mrs White put her up for, say, a week while she got in touch with local estate agents? She would much prefer to stay there, in Agnes's company, than put up at the Fleece in Lulling. Hotel life was rather noisy at night, and the Fleece had no really quiet lounge during the day. Also it was a good distance from Agnes's house, and it was she that Isobel wanted to see, of course. But perhaps Agnes could find out if Mrs White would be agreeable?
    Little Miss Fogerty shook her head sadly when she read that paragraph. Mrs White, she knew, would not be able to accommodate her old friend, for an ailing aunt now occupied the spare bedroom and looked like remaining there for some time to come.
    The main news, of course, was wonderfully exciting. To think that Isobel might one day be her neighbour! It would be lovely to have her so close. She knew several people in Thrush Green and Lulling, and it was not very far from the Stow area where some of her relations still lived. How she hoped that Isobel would soon find somewhere suitable! She would help her with the move, of course. Perhaps next summer holidays?
    Agnes's mind ran ahead happily, anticipating the joys to come. The only snag was this visit in the near future.
    Where could she lodge? Mentally, Agnes reviewed the accommodation available near at hand. The Two Pheasants would never do. If Isobel thought the Fleece noisy, she would find the Two Pheasants insupportable, and there had been occasions when men had emerged drunk at closing time. Miss Watson, who lived so close to it, had told her so, and said how disagreeable it was.
    She toyed with the idea of asking Miss Watson if she could put up her friend for a week. The two ladies had met, and enjoyed each other's company. But Agnes was not at all sure that Miss Watson deserved to have the honour of having Isobel as a paying guest, after her heartless handling of this morning's mishap.
    Besides, Miss Watson had a brother who occasionally called unexpectedly, and the room might be needed for him.
    And then little Miss Fogerty had a brainwave. She would call on the dear rector and see if he knew of likely lodgings. He and Dimity knew Isobel quite well, and had invited her to tea and bridge on several occasions. They would know the sort of place which would suit her. Somewhere in the parish there must be someone who would like to let a room to a charming, considerate lady like dear Isobel.
    Out in the playground a whistle shrilled, and the children's roaring, whilst not actually stilled, was certainly diminished in volume.
    Miss Fogerty put away her letter and her private problems, and went out to meet her class.

    By mid-week, Albert Piggott was considerably worse, and was confined to his bed.
    Doctor Lovell said that it would be wise for him to stay indoors for the rest of the week. His breathing was giving him pain, and he was seriously under weight, the legacy of a year or so's catering, or rather non-catering, for himself.
    The wind had veered to the north-east, and Albert himself had forecast that it would stay in that quarter until Whitsun.
    'You mark my words, gal,' he wheezed. 'We shan't have no more rain for a bit, but just this pesky dryin' wind to keep the buds from openin'. Won't get no bees venturing out in this cold weather.'
    'Nor you, Dad,' said Molly, tucking in the bed clothes. 'You stay there, and I'll do my best to feed you up, like Doctor Lovell said.'
    'It's no good,' she told Ben later. 'I'll have to stop here at least until the end of the week. You'll have to go on to Banbury alone. He's not fit to be left yet.'
    Ben was philosophical about it. This had happened before, and was likely to happen again. It