Free A Few Green Leaves by Barbara Pym Page A

wearing an exceptionally high clerical collar, was” Canon Grundy, Miss Grundy’s father, sometime Anglican chaplain on the Riviera. This much Emma gathered when she entered the sitting-room, but from then on there was such a confusion of impressions that afterwards she found herself making notes under headings, almost as if she were indeed preparing a paper for a learned society.
    In aid of what? was her first note. This was not specified on the invitation and nobody mentioned any particular cause, it being assumed that everybody already knew. It might have been something in aid of Old People (Elderly or Aged, however you liked to put it), or children, or the Cats’ Protection League (unlikely), or a political party (Conservative or Liberal, not Labour), Shelter or Oxfam, or just the vague all-embracing ‘Church Funds’. (Or just not in aid of anything?)
    Entrance . The 15p. entrance fee (placed in a handmade pottery bowl on a small table in the doorway) included a cup of coffee and a biscuit, and a piece of homemade cake could be bought for 10p. Miss Lee and Miss Grundy served the coffee, assisted by a number of willing ladies (rather too many), mostly grey-haired and elderly. (Far more than might have been thought necessary for the serving of a cup of rather weak coffee.)
    Participants , e.g. others present not engaged in coffee-making. (a) Men. None, (b) Women. Daphne Dagnall; Avice Shrubsole and her mother Magdalen Raven; old Miss Lickerish (didn’t seem quite to fit into the social hierarchy – so was the coffee morning perhaps in aid of some animal charity?); Tamsin Barraclough (didn’t quite fit either, so perhaps she was also making a social survey?!); Christabel G. (made brief visit, more in nature of royal personage bestowing a favour). Various other women, unidentified, possibly from neighbouring villages.
    Bring and Buy . Everybody brought something, mostly jam, pickle, cake, biscuits or scones, all homemade. Impossible to discover who exactly had contributed what (expect that Miss Lickerish was seen to deposit a tin of baked beans on the table). The bringing and buying, consisting as it did of people bringing what they had made and buying what somebody else had made, achieved a kind of village exchange system, some coming off better than others. No doubt there was plenty of criticism of others’ efforts, even if not openly expressed – who, for example, was the bringer of the not-quite-right marmalade which had been boiled past the setting point and gone syrupy? Whoever it was could have saved face by buying it back herself and in the general bustle this ruse might not be spotted. Christabel G.’s contribution was a cut above the ordinary plum and rhubarb jams – a pot of quince jam (labelled ‘Quince Preserve’). Emma quickly bought this, having contributed only half a dozen scones herself – a bargain.
    The raffle . Apparently this was an essential feature of a bring-and-buy sale (‘We always have one’). Various objects were displayed on top of the piano round the photograph of Canon Grundy. These objects (or ‘prizes’) were: a large iced cake; a flowered toilet hold-all in shades of mauve and pink; a small tray decorated with an engraving of Lake Como (or Maggiore); a set of pottery mugs; a tea-towel patterned with Scottie dogs. Tickets (3 for 10p.) had been sold in advance.

    All was ready for the draw, there was even an expectant hush in the room, for this was a kind of climax to the morning, when Adam Prince made a sudden and dramatic appearance bearing a bottle of wine.
    Emma had been thinking that no man would dare to attend the sale but then she realised that, of course, there could be exceptions. A former Anglican priest might well have the sort of courage required for the occasion and Adam, so very much at ease with ladies, obviously came into this category.
    ‘Just something for the raffle,’ he murmured. ‘I do hope I’m not too late and that you’ll find this not too