(3/13) News from Thrush Green by Read Miss

Author:Read, Miss [Read, Miss]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Historical
ISBN: 9780848814557
Publisher: Academy Chicago Publishers
Published: 1970-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

11 Albert has Suspicions

HAROLD Shoosmith's bathroom was at the back of the house overlooking the little valley that lay to the west of Thrush Green. In the distance were Lulling Woods, a deep blue smudge against the winter sky.

As he shaved the next morning he gazed beyond the shaving mirror on the window sill observing the bare trees and brindled hedges of winter. The elm trees, near Dotty Harmer's distant cottage, spread their fans of black lace, and a wisp of blue smoke, curling up towards them, showed that Dotty was already astir.

After his restless night, Harold felt out of sorts. He had gone over the irritating affair of Phil's story, time and time again, in the maddening way one does at night. He had almost decided, at one stage, to ignore Phil's request to cease meddling and to ring Frank and explain matters, swearing his old friend to secrecy.

But with morning light, things could be seen more coolly, and Harold made up his mind to let this business work itself out, without worrying himself unduly. He had made his point. It was Phil's decision, and she had plenty of sense.

He determined to put it at the back of his mind, and went downstairs to brew his coffee and make toast. Nevertheless, he intended to keep within earshot of the telephone. Luckily, Betty Bell came that day to go through the house, like a mighty rushing wind, and she would answer the telephone if Harold were called away unexpectedly.

For the first part of the morning he worked at his desk, the telephone within arm's reach. It rang once and he snatched it up, only to be told that the exchange was testing his line.

Betty Bell burst in, without knocking, at eleven o'clock, bearing half a cup and half a saucerful of far too milky coffee, and two soggy gingernuts.

'Heard the news?' she asked.

'What about?'

'Them Curdles.'

'I heard Percy Hodge had asked them to leave,' said Harold guardedly.

'Fair old rumpus they had, Bella and Sam,' said Betty sitting down on The Times which Harold had left in the armchair. 'Willie Bond said they looked as black as thunder going off in that old van. Got a tin bath and the pushchair lashed on top. He said it sounded like Alexander's rag-time band.'

Betty burst into merry laughter, rocking back and forth to the detriment of The Times.

'Proper cough-drop old Willie is! You ever heard him sing "I Gotter Motter"?'

'No,' said Harold, pouring the coffee from the saucer into the cup. The biscuits he had wrapped in blotting paper and deposited in the waste-paper basket.

'You ought! You really ought! Brings the house down. Never fails. Always gets an encore, does Willie.'

She got up bouncily.

'Well, this won't buy the baby a new frock, will it? I'm doing you liver and bacon for your dinner. All right?'

Harold nodded. Betty Bell, in full spate, after a poor night, was more than usually exhausting.

She whirled out, crashing the door behind her. Harold sipped his tepid coffee and looked across the green to Tullivers.

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