(11/20) Farther Afield by Miss Read Page B
Authors: Miss Read
Tags: Fiction, Literary, General, England, Country Life, Country Life - England, Pastoral Fiction, Crete (Greece), Villages - England
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alone, Amy turned directly to the subject which was uppermost in our minds.
'Well? What do you think? Would you like to see Crete?'
'I'd love to –,' I began.
'It won't be quite as lovely as it was when I first saw it one April. It's bound to be drier and hotter, but the air in the mountains is delicious, and there is plenty of shade at the hotel.'
'But, Amy,' I persisted. 'I really can't accept a holiday like this.'
'Why not, for heaven's sake? It's all paid for and arranged. You'd simply be taking over the plane seat and James's bed and board. Perfectly straightforward.'
'But I can't afford it, my dear.'
'No one wants you to afford it. I told you that, so put that out of your dear, upright, puritanical mind. I should be most grateful for your company. It would be a kindness from you to me. Not the other way round.'
'You've done so much already,' I said, weakening.
'Right,' said Amy briskly. 'Return the compliment, and help me out.'
She jumped up suddenly and went to the window. Her back towards me, she spoke quickly.
'Things are very rough between James and me at the moment. I'm quite used to seeing him make a minor ass of himself over a pretty face, now and again, but this time I'm frightened. He's deadly serious about some young thing about Vanessa's age. I've never seen him so determined, so ruthless -.'
Her voice broke, and I moved swiftly to comfort her. She shook her head violently.
'Don't be kind to me, or sympathise, or I shall sob my heart out, and have eyes like red gooseberries.'
She fought for control, and then continued.
'He wants me to give him a divorce. I've refused to consider such a step, until we've both had time to think things over. We shall stay apart for a few weeks, and he wants me to go to Crete as arranged and have a break. Apart from this terrifying singleness of purpose about the girl, he's as considerate as ever. It makes it all the more incredible.'
She turned to face me. Her poor face was crumpled and her eyes were wet.
'Now will you come with me?' she pleaded.
'Yes, please,' I said, with no more hesitation.
7 Flying Away
F AIRACRE'S reaction to my proposed foreign jaunt was swift and varied.
The first person to be told was Mrs Pringle, of course, when she arrived the next morning to repair any havoc I might have caused overnight. Her response was typical.
'If you ask for my opinion,' she began heavily, (I hadn't, but was obviously going to get it) 'then I should say you was very unwise indeed!'
She folded her arms across her cretonne-clad bosom, and settled down to a good gossip.
'I take it this place is in the Mediterranean?'
I said that it was.
'Then don't touch the fish,' said Mrs Pringle, warming to her subject. 'The pollution out there's something chronic, and the fish don't stand a dog's chance, if you follow me.'
I nodded.
'And keep the water off of that arm of yours – no bathing or any of that lark, or you'll be writhing in agony from germs '
'Oh really – !' I began to expostulate.
'Furthermore,' went on Mrs Pringle ruthlessly, 'lay off the fruit and veg. unless they've been cooked. An aunt of mine had a very nasty rash from eating raw fruit in Malta. Disfiguring, as well as irritating. Never looked the same after, and she had been a nice looking woman when made up.'
I said that I should take all reasonable precautions, and rose, hoping that Mrs Pringle would take the hint.
'And another thing,' said she, not budging, 'you'll be flying, I take it?'
'Yes. It only takes four hours or so.'
Mrs Pringle gave a short bark of a laugh.
'If you're lucky! This aunt I told you of, spent eight hours getting to Malta. First, the aeroplane needed mending, and when they started off two hours late, they found something else wrong, no petrol or one wing off – something of that – so they landed again for another two hours.'
'There's often some delay –,' I began, but was brushed aside.
'Mind you,' said Mrs Pringle fairly, 'they give 'em something to eat
'Well? What do you think? Would you like to see Crete?'
'I'd love to –,' I began.
'It won't be quite as lovely as it was when I first saw it one April. It's bound to be drier and hotter, but the air in the mountains is delicious, and there is plenty of shade at the hotel.'
'But, Amy,' I persisted. 'I really can't accept a holiday like this.'
'Why not, for heaven's sake? It's all paid for and arranged. You'd simply be taking over the plane seat and James's bed and board. Perfectly straightforward.'
'But I can't afford it, my dear.'
'No one wants you to afford it. I told you that, so put that out of your dear, upright, puritanical mind. I should be most grateful for your company. It would be a kindness from you to me. Not the other way round.'
'You've done so much already,' I said, weakening.
'Right,' said Amy briskly. 'Return the compliment, and help me out.'
She jumped up suddenly and went to the window. Her back towards me, she spoke quickly.
'Things are very rough between James and me at the moment. I'm quite used to seeing him make a minor ass of himself over a pretty face, now and again, but this time I'm frightened. He's deadly serious about some young thing about Vanessa's age. I've never seen him so determined, so ruthless -.'
Her voice broke, and I moved swiftly to comfort her. She shook her head violently.
'Don't be kind to me, or sympathise, or I shall sob my heart out, and have eyes like red gooseberries.'
She fought for control, and then continued.
'He wants me to give him a divorce. I've refused to consider such a step, until we've both had time to think things over. We shall stay apart for a few weeks, and he wants me to go to Crete as arranged and have a break. Apart from this terrifying singleness of purpose about the girl, he's as considerate as ever. It makes it all the more incredible.'
She turned to face me. Her poor face was crumpled and her eyes were wet.
'Now will you come with me?' she pleaded.
'Yes, please,' I said, with no more hesitation.
7 Flying Away
F AIRACRE'S reaction to my proposed foreign jaunt was swift and varied.
The first person to be told was Mrs Pringle, of course, when she arrived the next morning to repair any havoc I might have caused overnight. Her response was typical.
'If you ask for my opinion,' she began heavily, (I hadn't, but was obviously going to get it) 'then I should say you was very unwise indeed!'
She folded her arms across her cretonne-clad bosom, and settled down to a good gossip.
'I take it this place is in the Mediterranean?'
I said that it was.
'Then don't touch the fish,' said Mrs Pringle, warming to her subject. 'The pollution out there's something chronic, and the fish don't stand a dog's chance, if you follow me.'
I nodded.
'And keep the water off of that arm of yours – no bathing or any of that lark, or you'll be writhing in agony from germs '
'Oh really – !' I began to expostulate.
'Furthermore,' went on Mrs Pringle ruthlessly, 'lay off the fruit and veg. unless they've been cooked. An aunt of mine had a very nasty rash from eating raw fruit in Malta. Disfiguring, as well as irritating. Never looked the same after, and she had been a nice looking woman when made up.'
I said that I should take all reasonable precautions, and rose, hoping that Mrs Pringle would take the hint.
'And another thing,' said she, not budging, 'you'll be flying, I take it?'
'Yes. It only takes four hours or so.'
Mrs Pringle gave a short bark of a laugh.
'If you're lucky! This aunt I told you of, spent eight hours getting to Malta. First, the aeroplane needed mending, and when they started off two hours late, they found something else wrong, no petrol or one wing off – something of that – so they landed again for another two hours.'
'There's often some delay –,' I began, but was brushed aside.
'Mind you,' said Mrs Pringle fairly, 'they give 'em something to eat
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