(5/13) Return to Thrush Green by Miss Read

and let the future look after itself.'

    Within an hour of his arrival, Ben and his workmates were hard at it erecting the various attractions of Curdle's Fair. A knot of interested spectators had assembled, and at playtime the railings of the village school were thick with pupils eager to see what was afoot.
    Little Miss Fogerty, patrolling the wet playground, but thankful for a clearing sky at last, determined to make 'The Fair' a subject for the afternoon session, and only hoped that she had enough paper to supply the class with adequate artistic material.
    Joan Young, making up beds in the room intended for her parents, noted the preparations outside with approval. Still more encouraging were the patches of blue sky which were appearing over Lulling Woods, and the gentle movement of low clouds moving away to the east, and giving way to high ones from the west. It certainly looked as though the fair would have its usual fine weather.
    She smoothed the bedspreads and then went to the window. Leaning out she felt the soft breeze lift her hair. The avenue of chestnut trees still shed an occasional drop into the puddles below, and their stout trunks were striped with little rivulets of water, but there was a warmth in the air which spoke of better weather to come.
    The daffodils and narcissi, which had taken such a battering in the last few days, were beginning to lift their heads again, and the wallflowers, their velvety faces still wet, were giving out a heady fragrance.
    Tight buds beaded the cherry tree nearby, and soon would burst into dangling snow, and the lilac bushes, massed with pyramids of buds, would soon be adding their perfume.
    Tomorrow was May. Ever since she could remember, May the first had meant the coming of Curdle's Fair and the real beginning of summer. Her spirits always rose with the advent of May, 'loveliest of months', as the poet truly said.
    Even now, she thought, with a great many problems ahead, her heart leapt to greet the fair, the flowers, the coming of summer, and the knowledge that Thrush Green would soon be gilded with sunshine, and aflutter with birds and butterflies.
    It was good to know that her father would be with them at the most beautiful time of the year. Thrush Green could not fail to restore him to health. Of that she felt positive, as she ran downstairs full of hope.

    By the time the children ran home from school, a watery sun was shining, sparkling upon the drying roofs and the wet grass of Thrush Green.
    The air was filled with the clashing of hammers on metal, and the thump of mallets on wood, as the massive equipment of the fair was assembled.
    Ben walked purposefully from one site to the next, followed by the diminutive figure of young George clad in duffle coat and Wellingtons. He was a sensible child, and obedient to his father's directions. He knew that if he did not do as he was told, and keep out of harm's way, then he would be dispatched back to his mother without further ado.
    Back at the cottage, Molly was making a cup of tea for Albert. She had scrubbed the kitchen table, the draining-board and the cupboard tops, and thrown away several revolting remnants of food in various crocks and saucepans.
    After the teabreak she resolved that she would get her father to depart across the road to his church duties, while she had an energetic session with soap, hot water and the scrubbingbrush on the filthy kitchen floor.
    There was no doubt about it, Albert Piggott's standards of cleanliness grew lower and lower as the years passed.
    She looked across at him now, as he sat sipping his tea noisily. It was not just the house which he neglected. The man himself looked half-starved, sickly and dirty. Molly's kind heart was stirred. He had never been a good father, but after all, blood was thicker than water, and she wanted to see him in better shape than this.

    It was a pity that Nelly, her stepmother, had ever left him, although she could not blame her. Admittedly, Nelly was