(9/13)The School at Thrush Green by Miss Read Page A

giving them your custom.'
    The ladies smiled.
    'But to answer your other question,' went on Ada. 'No, we haven't found regular help yet. Nelly Piggott approached one or two people, but they were unable to come.'
    'It isn't as though we are asking them to do too much, you know,' said Bertha. 'Just a hand with the silver cleaning.'
    Winnie surveyed the occasional tables, laden with silver bric-a-brac, recalled the drawers full of heavy silver cutlery, and the vast tureens and sauce boats in the dining-room, and was not surprised that any cleaner's heart would plummet at the magnitude of the task.
    'And scrubbing the kitchen floor, and the back places,' added Violet.
    'And taking the gas stove to pieces for a monthly spring clean.'
    'And, of course, the windows,' added Violet. 'We do seem to have rather a lot of windows. And Father always liked to see the steps whitened with hearth stone, and we like to keep that up.'
    'We did wonder ,' said Ada meditatively, 'if she would undertake some decorating as well, now and again. Just simple paper-hanging and gloss-painting for the woodwork. You don't know of anyone who would like a light job, I suppose?'
    'Well, no,' said Winnie rising. 'But if I hear of any able-bodied person who might suit you, I will let you know.'
    She made her farewells, and walked down the steps to the pavement.
    'And an able-bodied person,' thought Winnie to herself, as she traversed the High Street in the warm sunlight, 'is what would be needed in that household.'
    She approached the steep hill leading to Thrush Green.
    'And would they be able-bodied for long?' she wondered aloud, much to the astonishment of a passing collie dog.

    The warm spell jolted everyone into activity. The inhabitants of Lulling and Thrush Green, who had been hibernating as thoroughly as the hedgehogs, now stirred themselves to clean windows, wash curtains, throw rugs on to the clothes lines for thorough beating and generally welcome the spring with a spurt of domesticity.
    Local telephone lines hummed with invitations to coffee, lunch, tea, a drink, or even a full-blown formal evening dinner. People who could not be bothered to do more than fend for themselves during the bitter winter months, now remembered how much they wanted to see their friends again, particularly as the gardens were at their best, aglow with daffodils, aubrietia and golden alyssum, and mercifully free, so far, from the more noxious weeds which would be rampant in a month's time.
    Harold Shoosmith's garden was particularly colourful. Yellow, blue and mauve crocuses like gas flames had burst through the soil beneath the flowering cherry trees and the golden forsythia bushes. His Thrush Green neighbours paused to admire the garden when they passed, and even Albert Piggott had to admit that it was 'a fair picture'.
    Harold had kept his word and had taken Dorothy Watson for a trial spin in his own car. He confessed to Isobel, before he called for his pupil, that he was a bundle of nerves, but gained confidence after a mile or so, for Dorothy seemed to be making steady progress, and was careful when changing gear.
    Harold's new car was an Audi which Dorothy handled very well, but she gave a sigh of relief when at last they drew up at the Shoosmiths' house.
    'Lovely, Harold dear,' she said, 'but I think a small car would be more suitable for Agnes and me.'
    Harold agreed that there was no need for the two ladies to own a car as large - or as expensive - as the Audi, and that parking would be a lot easier with a vehicle the size of Ben's Fiesta, or even smaller.
    'When the time comes,' he offered, 'I should enjoy trying out any that you favour. That is, if you still propose to buy.'
    'Yes, indeed. Ben seems to think that I am getting on quite well. I only hope he's right.'
    'I'd trust Ben's judgement.'
    By this time they were in Harold's house where Agnes and Isobel were comfortably ensconced.
    'And what news of the house-hunting?' enquired Isobel.
    'Very little news, I