(11/13) Celebrations at Thrush Green Read Online Free Page A

her address.'
    She read it carefully, repeating each line with much emphasis, to Harold's amusement.
    The young lady lived in a flat in north London evidently.
    'But she works in a big office in London. Insurance, I think, but I don't know that address. Is it urgent?'
    'No, no indeed,' Harold assured her. 'A friend and I met her when she was a child, and it is simply a little family matter we thought she might like to know about.'
    'Money, is it? Left to her, I mean?'
    'No, nothing like that.'
    'Pity. She could do with it, I don't doubt, in spite of this fine job she's got. But there, we could all do with some more, couldn't we?'
    Harold agreed, thanked her warmly for her help, and went to tell Isobel.

    At the time when Harold was intent on tracking down Dulcie Mulloy, great-grand daughter of his hero, Winnie Bailey had decided to call on her old friend Dotty Harmer who lived some half-mile away to the west.
    She took with her some magazines and a pot of honey, food for mind and body. Not that Dotty's mind really needed stimulation, if anything it needed slowing down, thought Winnie, remembering the way Dotty flitted from subject to subject with the most extraordinary mental agility for one of her advanced years. Winnie had heard her hold forth on animal welfare (Dotty's chief concern), modern education, the deterioration in public speaking, the shortcomings of the Church of England, the proliferation of caterpillars in this year's cauliflowers, all within the space of five minutes.
    Dotty's father had taught at Lulling Grammar School for many years, and the remembrance of his punishments still caused strong men of Lulling to blench.
    His sons had left home as soon as they could, but Dotty, who had never married, kept house for him until he died. She admired his undoubted brilliance of mind, his high principles and his physical bravery. She had seen him tackle a runaway horse careering down the steep hill from Thrush Green to Lulling, when he was in his sixties, whilst younger men stood gaping and too shocked to stir themselves to action.
    On his death she had moved to a small cottage set among fields, where she had spent her time happily alone, surrounded by all kinds of animals from bantams to stray dogs and cats, not to mention goats for which she had a particular fondness, and two tortoises who were probably older than Dotty and to whom she bore a strong facial resemblance.
    She delighted in collecting the harvest of the hedgerows and meadows and made preserves which she pressed upon her many friends with dire effect. 'Dotty's Collywobbles' was a local internal complaint known to Lulling and Thrush Green residents, and newcomers were warned about accepting Dotty's largesse.
    Her contented solitude had to end when she became infirm, and her niece Connie and her husband Kit came to live with her at the cottage which had been sympathetically enlarged some years before.
    Winnie always enjoyed visiting Dotty. Her kitchen remained the same chaotic muddle she had always known. Connie, very wisely, had an adjoining kitchen, where the real business of cooking was done.
    As Winnie crossed the green to take the path to Lulling Woods, she met Albert Piggott emerging from his cottage opposite the church.
    'Nice day, Albert,' said Winnie, as he paused on his doorstep.
    'Bound to rain later,' said Albert morosely.
    Typical of Albert, thought Winnie, with some amusement. Nothing pleased the surly old scoundrel. He had been sexton of Thrush Green church and an occasional jobbing gardener to whomsoever would employ him, for as many years as Winnie could recall, but she had never seen him in a happy mood. He was lucky to have his buxom wife Nelly to look after him. She was the best cook in the district, and spent most of her time and energy in the kitchen of the Fuchsia Bush, a renowned restaurant in Lulling High Street, where her skills were much appreciated by her partner there, Mrs Peters.
    'Well,' said Winnie, 'I hope the rain holds off