(9/13)The School at Thrush Green Read Online Free PDF Page B

spare bedroom. And as for those silver-plated fish servers the Scouts gave you, well, I don't think they've been used more than twice in twenty years. No, Charles, I should see that Agnes and Dorothy get something they really need. Like money, say.'
    'I'll bear it in mind,' the rector assured her.

    February, everyone agreed, was much more cheerful than January at Thrush Green. It was true that the first few days had been dark and foggy, but the relief from the battering winds of the first month of the year had made even the gloomy days quite welcome.
    But by St Valentine's day there were a few signs of spring. Clumps of brave snowdrops, first espied by Agnes across the Shoosmiths' hedge, were to be seen in many cottage gardens. Aconites, their golden faces circled with green ruffs, responded to the sunlight and good gardeners were already making plans to put in new potatoes, broad beans and peas as soon as the ground was warm enough.
    Winnie Bailey thought how hopeful everything seemed as she had one of her first walks of the year.
    She set off up the road to Nidden, noting the activity of the little birds, chaffinches, sparrows, starlings and an occasional robin, darting from hedge to hedge or pecking busily at the grit ¡on the edge of the road. Soon there would be nests and young birds, butterflies and bees to add to all the joys of early summer. Winnie felt a surge of happiness at the thought.

    It had been a long hard winter and the older she grew the more she dreaded the bitter cold of the Cotswolds in winter. She half-envied the two schoolteachers planning to move to the south coast, but she knew that she would never emulate them. Her whole married life had been spent at Thrush Green. The house held many memories and every mile around her home was crowded with remembered incidents. The cottages she passed were the homes of old friends. The shepherd, to whom she waved across the field on her right, had brought Donald from his bed one snowy night. It was a breech birth and Mrs Jenner, the midwife, had sent an urgent message for help. That waving figure, knee-deep in his flock, must now be forty years old.
    She turned along a bridle-path on her left. It was very quiet between the trees. The small leaves of the honeysuckle were a vivid green. The buds on the pewter-grey ash twigs were black as jet. A few celandines had opened on a sunny bank.
    Before long she was skirting Lulling Woods and beginning to feel tired. There was no doubt about it, she could not walk the distances she once had done. She resolved to call on her old and eccentric friend, Dotty Harmer, whose cottage was now in sight. She had much to talk about, and she might even mention this worrying business of Richard's move. Sometimes Dotty was uncommonly shrewd, despite her odd ways.
    The door was opened by Connie, Dotty's niece. Her husband, Kit Armitage, stood beside her.
    'What a lovely surprise!'
    'I'm having the first stroll of the year,' said Winnie. 'How's Dotty?'
    'Waiting for her coffee,' said Connie. 'Go into the sitting-room and I'll bring it in.'
    Dotty was sitting on the sofa looking remarkably like the scarecrow Winnie had just passed in a neighbouring field, but her eyes were bright and her voice welcoming.
    'Winnie! I've just been talking about you and dear Donald.'
    For one dreadful moment Winnie wondered if Dotty still thought that Donald was alive. She had these lapses of memory which could be most disconcerting for those trying to carry on a conversation. This time, luckily, all was well.
    'I remember how good he was to old Mrs Curdle. Is her grandson still with the Youngs?'
    This was splendid, thought Winnie relaxing. Dotty was definitely on the ball this morning. She accepted the cup of coffee which Connie offered and sat back to enjoy it.
    'We hear Agnes and Dorothy are off,' said Kit. 'They'll be missed.'
    'Betty Bell told us,' added Dotty. She moved some crochet work from her lap and stuck the hook behind her ear like a pencil. It gave