trouble his advent had caused between the two old friends. Dorothy had set her face against Agnes's adoption of the stray at first, but Agnes had been so seriously upset that the animal had been accepted into the household, and now, as is the way with cats, quite obviously ruled the roost.
Observing the two friends, looking so relaxed and happy, Isobel recalled another crisis in their lives when Dorothy had become greatly attached to a Barton neighbour. Agnes had confided in Isobel that she was afraid that Dorothy was pursuing this attractive widower with the hope of matrimony. It had been an unhappy time for poor Agnes, envisaging her own search for a new abode should her friend's hopes materialize and the bungalow they shared become a love-nest for the mature pair.
Fortunately, Teddy had fallen for the charms of another local lady, and it was apparent, from the cheerful way Dorothy spoke about them, that her romantic notions had vanished. Dear me, thought Isobel, what a nuisance love can be!
The news from Thrush Green was eagerly welcomed, and the plans for the school's Victorian day much praised.
'As a matter of fact,' asserted Dorothy, 'I had much the same idea in mind when I offered any help I could give to Alan Lester. We had a charming letter from him,' she added.
'Well, I hope you will stay with us for the celebrations,' said Isobel. 'And we'll make sure that you see all your old friends. It's going to be a great event.'
They all took a turn by the sea in the afternoon, relishing the blue skies and blue sea, and the promise of summer ahead.
Isobel set off after tea so that she could make her journey back in the light.
The three friends waved her off, and Isobel felt sure that Winnie was in safe hands.
It was a beautiful drive back: first through the New Forest, hazy with the new green leaves of spring, then through the rolling Hampshire countryside as she went north.
The crops were beginning to spring, clothing the fields with tender green. Celandines starred the banks in the sunshine of late afternoon, and small birds darted across the road, trailing dried grass or the odd feather, as they busied themselves with their nests. The hawthorn hedges were showing their first red shoots, and soon the copses on either side of the road would be misty with bluebells.
April, thought Isobel, had its charms, and also its hazards. The clear sky above her might well presage a frost tonight. Her favourite month was May when blackthorn blossom made snowy drifts in the hedgerows, and wild cherry blossom lit the woods.
She looked forward to the garden blossom too: the white cherry hanging its snowy fringe along the branches, the plum trees scattering their pale confetti, and later the rosy knots of apple buds on the trees planted in their garden by some long-dead owner.
As she drove, the look of the countryside changed gradually. The flint and brick cottages with their thatched c. roofs began to give way to the stone-built buildings of the Cotswolds, their steep gables silhouetted against the now-darkening sky.
The lights were beginning to glow from windows at Thrush Green when Isobel ended her journey.
She shivered as she stepped from the car. The Cotswold air was sharper than that at Barton-on-Sea, and frost might well touch them here tonight. She noticed a plume of smoke rising from the chimney of her home, and felt a surge of pleasure at the thought of an evening by the fire.
Perhaps, after all, April was a perfect month. It combined the outdoor joys of spring and the equally enjoyable pleasure of the domestic fireside. Her favourite month was still May, she told herself, but meanwhile she would be very content to take all that April offered.
Later that evening, stretched out by the welcome fire, their feet on footstools, Harold and Isobel exchanged the news of the day.
'And to see the sea again was a bonus,' added Isobel when she had described the old friends' welcome, and Winnie's pleasure at seeing them again.
Observing the two friends, looking so relaxed and happy, Isobel recalled another crisis in their lives when Dorothy had become greatly attached to a Barton neighbour. Agnes had confided in Isobel that she was afraid that Dorothy was pursuing this attractive widower with the hope of matrimony. It had been an unhappy time for poor Agnes, envisaging her own search for a new abode should her friend's hopes materialize and the bungalow they shared become a love-nest for the mature pair.
Fortunately, Teddy had fallen for the charms of another local lady, and it was apparent, from the cheerful way Dorothy spoke about them, that her romantic notions had vanished. Dear me, thought Isobel, what a nuisance love can be!
The news from Thrush Green was eagerly welcomed, and the plans for the school's Victorian day much praised.
'As a matter of fact,' asserted Dorothy, 'I had much the same idea in mind when I offered any help I could give to Alan Lester. We had a charming letter from him,' she added.
'Well, I hope you will stay with us for the celebrations,' said Isobel. 'And we'll make sure that you see all your old friends. It's going to be a great event.'
They all took a turn by the sea in the afternoon, relishing the blue skies and blue sea, and the promise of summer ahead.
Isobel set off after tea so that she could make her journey back in the light.
The three friends waved her off, and Isobel felt sure that Winnie was in safe hands.
It was a beautiful drive back: first through the New Forest, hazy with the new green leaves of spring, then through the rolling Hampshire countryside as she went north.
The crops were beginning to spring, clothing the fields with tender green. Celandines starred the banks in the sunshine of late afternoon, and small birds darted across the road, trailing dried grass or the odd feather, as they busied themselves with their nests. The hawthorn hedges were showing their first red shoots, and soon the copses on either side of the road would be misty with bluebells.
April, thought Isobel, had its charms, and also its hazards. The clear sky above her might well presage a frost tonight. Her favourite month was May when blackthorn blossom made snowy drifts in the hedgerows, and wild cherry blossom lit the woods.
She looked forward to the garden blossom too: the white cherry hanging its snowy fringe along the branches, the plum trees scattering their pale confetti, and later the rosy knots of apple buds on the trees planted in their garden by some long-dead owner.
As she drove, the look of the countryside changed gradually. The flint and brick cottages with their thatched c. roofs began to give way to the stone-built buildings of the Cotswolds, their steep gables silhouetted against the now-darkening sky.
The lights were beginning to glow from windows at Thrush Green when Isobel ended her journey.
She shivered as she stepped from the car. The Cotswold air was sharper than that at Barton-on-Sea, and frost might well touch them here tonight. She noticed a plume of smoke rising from the chimney of her home, and felt a surge of pleasure at the thought of an evening by the fire.
Perhaps, after all, April was a perfect month. It combined the outdoor joys of spring and the equally enjoyable pleasure of the domestic fireside. Her favourite month was still May, she told herself, but meanwhile she would be very content to take all that April offered.
Later that evening, stretched out by the welcome fire, their feet on footstools, Harold and Isobel exchanged the news of the day.
'And to see the sea again was a bonus,' added Isobel when she had described the old friends' welcome, and Winnie's pleasure at seeing them again.
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