(12/13) The Year at Thrush Green Read Online Free PDF
Author: Miss Read
leave that visit to the afternoon? He consulted his watch, and was dismayed to find that it was almost noon.
That decided it. He would call on the Shoosmiths first.
He set off across the green, passed his church where Albert appeared to be in a state of meditation as he leant on a broom by the porch, and made his way in high spirits.
It was good to be home again.
From her bedroom window Joan Young had seen Charles Henstock making his brisk way to the Shoosmiths.
She and Molly were sorting out garments for the next jumble sale. It had seemed, at the outset, to be a simple straightforward task, but it was proving to be uncommonly difficult.
Joan had been the more ruthless of the parr, holding up jumpers and cardigans and ready to put them on a mounting pile on the bed. But Molly, brought up to be more prudent, acted as a brake upon such hasty progress.
'That's too good to give away. You always looked nice in that pink. I'd keep it for a bit.'
Reluctantly, Joan removed it from what she thought of as 'the slush pile' and put it on a chair.
A heap of Paul's outgrown clothes had to be tackled, and here Joan was firmer in her approach. The better items of school uniform were destined for the school's secondhand shop, but such things as shabby pants, vests and holiday wear were being sorted quickly.
'My George could use those,' said Molly as some things were being held up.
'Then do take them,' said Joan. 'In fact, anything you can make use of, Molly, just put on one side. Most of these are going to end up as dusters.'
It was at this stage that she caught sight of the rector crossing the green, and left her labours to gaze upon the scene she loved.
Thrush Green had changed little since she came to live there as a married woman. She and her sister Ruth had known the place from childhood and she hoped that she would never have to leave it.
The old rectory had gone of course, but few had mourned that architectural monstrosity. Now Rectory Cottages, the homes designed by her husband, stood in its place, and Joan looked upon the buildings with affection. Edward had done a good job, and Jane and Bill Cartwright were equally successful in their care of the old people who lived there.
She had known Jane as a child and followed her career as a nurse with admiration. She was indeed 'a chip off the old block', for her mother Mrs Jennings had been the local nurse and midwife for many years. Old Dr Bailey had relied on her skills hundreds of times, and his successor John Lovell also knew her worth. It had been a great satisfaction to Dr Lovell, as a trustee of Rectory Cottages, when Jane Cartwright and her Yorkshire-born husband had been appointed as wardens.
'Mr Henstock's around,' said Joan.
'Going to see the old folk?'
'Not at the moment. I think he's calling on Harold Shoosmith.'
'Well, he'll be welcome wherever he goes,' said Molly, joining Joan at the window.
'Could my Ben have this cotton T-shirt for cleaning the car windows? Nothing like a bit of real cotton, Ben always says.'
'It's his,' said Joan, turning back to her task, refreshed as always by a glimpse of Thrush Green.
Charles Henstock found Isobel Shoosmith setting the table for lunch, and began his apologies.
'Join us,' said Isobel. 'It's not quite time yet, but do stay.'
'Well –' began Charles diffidently.
'Or is Dimity expecting you back?'
'Well—' said Charles again.
'What's wrong?'
'I don't like to intrude.'
'Charles! Really!'
'But the truth is,' said honest Charles Henstock, 'Dimity's gone shopping in Oxford, and she's having lunch there with an old schoolfriend.'
'Then you can stop,' said Isobel firmly. 'That's settled.'
'She left me something cold,' went on the rector, looking worried.
'Have it this evening,' said Isobel briskly. 'Now, if you want Harold, he's in the garden.'
He found his friend tending a bonfire which seemed reluctant to burn. His sleeves were rolled up, his grey hair on end, and his face decorated with a few black
That decided it. He would call on the Shoosmiths first.
He set off across the green, passed his church where Albert appeared to be in a state of meditation as he leant on a broom by the porch, and made his way in high spirits.
It was good to be home again.
From her bedroom window Joan Young had seen Charles Henstock making his brisk way to the Shoosmiths.
She and Molly were sorting out garments for the next jumble sale. It had seemed, at the outset, to be a simple straightforward task, but it was proving to be uncommonly difficult.
Joan had been the more ruthless of the parr, holding up jumpers and cardigans and ready to put them on a mounting pile on the bed. But Molly, brought up to be more prudent, acted as a brake upon such hasty progress.
'That's too good to give away. You always looked nice in that pink. I'd keep it for a bit.'
Reluctantly, Joan removed it from what she thought of as 'the slush pile' and put it on a chair.
A heap of Paul's outgrown clothes had to be tackled, and here Joan was firmer in her approach. The better items of school uniform were destined for the school's secondhand shop, but such things as shabby pants, vests and holiday wear were being sorted quickly.
'My George could use those,' said Molly as some things were being held up.
'Then do take them,' said Joan. 'In fact, anything you can make use of, Molly, just put on one side. Most of these are going to end up as dusters.'
It was at this stage that she caught sight of the rector crossing the green, and left her labours to gaze upon the scene she loved.
Thrush Green had changed little since she came to live there as a married woman. She and her sister Ruth had known the place from childhood and she hoped that she would never have to leave it.
The old rectory had gone of course, but few had mourned that architectural monstrosity. Now Rectory Cottages, the homes designed by her husband, stood in its place, and Joan looked upon the buildings with affection. Edward had done a good job, and Jane and Bill Cartwright were equally successful in their care of the old people who lived there.
She had known Jane as a child and followed her career as a nurse with admiration. She was indeed 'a chip off the old block', for her mother Mrs Jennings had been the local nurse and midwife for many years. Old Dr Bailey had relied on her skills hundreds of times, and his successor John Lovell also knew her worth. It had been a great satisfaction to Dr Lovell, as a trustee of Rectory Cottages, when Jane Cartwright and her Yorkshire-born husband had been appointed as wardens.
'Mr Henstock's around,' said Joan.
'Going to see the old folk?'
'Not at the moment. I think he's calling on Harold Shoosmith.'
'Well, he'll be welcome wherever he goes,' said Molly, joining Joan at the window.
'Could my Ben have this cotton T-shirt for cleaning the car windows? Nothing like a bit of real cotton, Ben always says.'
'It's his,' said Joan, turning back to her task, refreshed as always by a glimpse of Thrush Green.
Charles Henstock found Isobel Shoosmith setting the table for lunch, and began his apologies.
'Join us,' said Isobel. 'It's not quite time yet, but do stay.'
'Well –' began Charles diffidently.
'Or is Dimity expecting you back?'
'Well—' said Charles again.
'What's wrong?'
'I don't like to intrude.'
'Charles! Really!'
'But the truth is,' said honest Charles Henstock, 'Dimity's gone shopping in Oxford, and she's having lunch there with an old schoolfriend.'
'Then you can stop,' said Isobel firmly. 'That's settled.'
'She left me something cold,' went on the rector, looking worried.
'Have it this evening,' said Isobel briskly. 'Now, if you want Harold, he's in the garden.'
He found his friend tending a bonfire which seemed reluctant to burn. His sleeves were rolled up, his grey hair on end, and his face decorated with a few black
Similar Books
Life After: Episode 2
JJ Holden
Spelling Mistake (The Kitchen Witch Book 4)
Morgana Best
UGLY
Betty McBride
Fan the Flames
Katie Ruggle
Hook Me
Chelle Bliss
Totlandia: Spring
Josie Brown
To love and to honor
Emilie Baker Loring
Strangers
Dean Koontz