(11/20) Farther Afield Read Online Free PDF

the fact that our lives are an open book. Those dreadful stories of town-dwellers found dead in their beds, having been there for months, and even years sometimes, are not likely to be echoed in smaller communities.
    Here, in Fairacre, villagers tardy in bringing in their milk bottles run the risk of well-meaning neighbours popping round 'to see if they are all right.'
    There are times when this concern for each other seems downright irritating. On the other hand, how comforting it is to know that people care about one's welfare!
    Mrs Pringle, of course, had not been able to resist telling several of her friends about the drama in which she had taken part that morning.
    Thanks to one of Dr Martin's pills I knew nothing from three o'clock that afternoon until I woke at ten that night, but Amy evidently had a succession of visitors during that time, and was very touched by their sympathy and their practical offers of help.
    'The vicar's wife brought those roses,' she told me, waving towards a mixed bouquet which smelt heavenly on the bedside table.
    'And she says you are not to worry about the organ on Sunday, as she is quite able to cope if she transposes everything into the key of C, and they cut out the anthem.'
    I clutched my aching head with my sound hand.
    'I'd forgotten all about that!'
    'Well, keep on forgetting,' Amy advised me. 'You'll have to get used to the brutal fact that no one is indispensable.'
    I nodded meekly, and wished I hadn't. Those pills were dynamite.
    'And Mrs Willet's sent six gorgeous eggs and some tomatoes, and will do any washing while your arm's useless.'
    'That woman's an angel. Luckily, her husband recognises it.'
    'Someone from the farm – I didn't catch the name -'
    'Mrs Roberts.'
    'That's it. She'll help in any way you like. Shopping, bringing you a midday meal. Anything!'
    'People are kind.'
    'They most certainly are,' agreed Amy, 'and I am absolutely flabbergasted at the way they're all rallying round you.'
    I felt slightly nettled. Anyone would think that I am normally such a monster that I do not deserve any consideration. I was deeply grateful for all this concern, but Amy's astonishment was hard to bear.
    'It isn't as though they have children at the school,' went on Amy, musing to herself.
    'Even Mrs Pringle,' she continued thoughtfully, 'called this evening to see how you were.'
    She sighed, then jumped up to straighten the counterpane.
    'Ah well! People are odd,' she said, dismissing the subject.
    But by tins time, my irritation was waning, for Dr Martin's blue pill was wafting me once more into oblivion.
    ***
    The sun was warm upon the bed when I awoke. It shone through the petals of the roses, and sent their fragrance through the room.
    Amy was gazing at me anxiously.
    'Thank God, you've woken up! I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever come to.'
    'Why, what's the time?'
    'Ten o'clock.'
    'No! I must have had about sixteen hours' sleep.'
    'How do you feel?'
    'Marvellous, if I don't move.'
    'Could you manage an egg?'
    I sat up cautiously.
    'I could manage an egg and toast and marmalade and butter and lashings of coffee and perhaps an apple.'
    Amy laughed.
    'You've recovered. Do you ever lose your appetite?'
    'It improves in a crisis,' I assured her. 'When war broke out, I ate with enormous gusto. The more sensitive types on the staff of that school I was at then, couldn't touch a morsel – or so they said – but I had the feeling each meal might be my last, so I made the most of it.'
    Amy laughed, and went to the kitchen.
    I could hear her moving china and saucepans, and lay back feeling one part guilty and nine parts relieved. How pleasant it was to be waited on! I tried to remember the last time I had lain in bed while someone else cooked my breakfast, and found it beyond my powers.
    Tibby came undulating into the room giving little chirrups of pleasure at having found me at last. She jumped elegantly on to the bed, missing my damaged ankle by a millimetre. I clasped my poor arm