ended in a clear, serene evening.
Its blissful tranquillity matched my own feelings. The empty school basked in the golden rays of the setting sun. The rooks' cawing was the only sound above the tidy playground, and Tibby and I sauntered in the garden relishing our solitude. The narcissi wafted heady draughts of fragrance towards us. The grape hyacinths were a sea of blue in the shrubbery, and some fine scarlet tulips, straight as guardsmen, towered above them. What if the groundsel and dandelions and chickweed were making steady progress? With the holidays ahead I could soon root them out.
The hooting of a car horn brought me back to earth, and I found Amy at the door.
'I've been shopping in Oxford,' she said, 'and thought I'd call on my way home. Is it convenient, or are you having a cocktail party or anything?'
'Don't be funny,' I begged her. 'Whenever have you caught me preparing for a cocktail party?'
'You never know,' replied Amy vaguely. 'How pretty your garden looks.'
We strolled happily around my small plot, enjoying the unusual calm and warmth.
'Do you want to see my new purchases?' enquired Amy, as we made our way back to the house.
She dived into the car and emerged with two exotic-looking dress boxes which she carried into the house. There seemed to be half a hundredweight of tissue paper in each one, but at last the garments were revealed. One was a set of glossy underwear, petticoat, knickers and brassiere in what was called, in my youth, oyster satin. The other was a stunning three-piece in silk jersey, cream in colour with delicate gold decorations at hem and neck.
'Well!' I exclaimed. 'They are all truly gorgeous!'
'So they should be at the ghastly price I had to pay for them. Now I'm beginning to wonder if they are a trifle young for me.'
'Rubbish!' I told her. 'You're a very good-looking woman, as well you know, and can wear anything. You always could.'
'So could you, my dear,' said Amy kindly. 'You were really quite pretty at eighteen when we first met.'
'Everyone is quite pretty at eighteen,' I retorted. 'A few decades later it is really quite enough to be clean and respectable, and I only hope I'm that. Anyway, I have no doubt that you would soon tell me if I weren't.'
Amy laughed, and began putting the clothes back among the tissue paper.
'Are you going away?' she asked.
'Not this holiday. At least, I haven't booked anything. I might slope off to Devon for a few days and hope to find bed and breakfast somewhere.'
'You'll be lucky! You really should organise yourself better. I'm always scolding you about it.'
'You are indeed,' I agreed, pouring her a glass of sherry.
'You know, even the
simplest
holiday needs to be arranged well in advance. James and 1 are having a few days in the Scillies at the end of next month, and we booked the hotel and the helicopter flight across from Penzance, way back in January.'
'Well, you're well-organised people, and I'm not.'
'With James so terribly busy we simply have to plan things, or we'd never get a break together. We propose to sleep, sunbathe, bird watch and eat.'
'Sounds heavenly,' I said. 'I'll do it myself one day, when I can get round to arranging a holiday six months ahead.'
'I hope to live to see the day,' said Amy, putting down her empty glass. 'Well, I must be off. I'm glad you approve of my purchases.'
She looked rather sadly at my cardigan. 'How long have you had that shapeless garment?'
'About six years. And don't suggest that I give it to a jumble sale. It's pure wool, and hand-knitted by dear Mrs Willet. What's more, it's got
pockets,
which mighty few garments have these days, and I shall wear it till it drops into rags.'
'That won't be long!' Amy assured me, and drove off.
5 May
This is easily my favourite month and 1 greeted its arrival by remembering to say 'White Rabbits' aloud before uttering another syllable.
This childish superstition, told me first by a fellow six-year-old, is supposed to bring you luck for the rest