make scones or hot buttered toast.
'No, Jenny. She's only dropping in the magazines. She won't stop.'
At that moment the telephone rang. It was her nephew Richard.
'Aunt Win, can I pop in?'
'Of course. When?'
'About twelve?'
'Fine. We'll put another two sausages in the oven.'
'Splendid! And another thing!'
'Yes?'
'I'll have Timothy with me. In fact, I wondered if you could have him for an hour or two, while I go along to Cirencester to pick up some books waiting there.'
'Of course. I haven't met Timothy yet. I shall look forward to it.'
'Good!' said Richard, sounding much relieved. 'See you soon then.'
Winnie conveyed the news to Jenny.
'How old is this Timothy?' she enquired.
'Four, I think.'
'Well, if he doesn't like sausages he can have an egg,' replied Jenny decisively. 'And don't let him wear you out. Didn't we hear he was a bit of a handful?'
'Good heavens! We surely can cope with a four-year-old for an hour or so!'
'Let's hope so,' said Jenny, 'but children today aren't what they were in our young days.'
'They never were,' responded Winnie.
The arrival of Richard's car was first noted by Albert Piggott who was standing at his kitchen window.
He had just returned from a visit to The Two Pheasants, and was watching the dead leaves eddying round and round in the church porch opposite his cottage.
The wind seemed more formidable than ever. The branches of the chestnut trees outside the Youngs' house were tossing vigorously. The grass on the green flattened in its path, and no one seemed to be stirring at Rectory Cottages.
The advent of a car outside Winnie Bailey's was a welcome diversion in the waste of Thrush Green. Albert recognised Richard and was intrigued to see a small boy being helped from the car. The child appeared to be reluctant to get out, but at last the two figures set off for the front door.
Albert watched avidly. Jenny opened the door, and Richard and the boy vanished inside.
'Now, whose can that be?' pondered Albert. 'One of Richard's by-blows maybe?'
But he did Winnie's nephew a disservice. Timothy, had he known it, was the child of an earlier marriage of Fenella, his wife, so that Richard was the boy's stepfather.
To all appearances, he seemed to be taking his responsibilities seriously.
'Must ask Nelly about this,' said Albert to his cat. 'Women always knows about such things.'
The cat, who was engrossed in washing his face, ignored his master's remarks.
'So this is Timothy,' smiled Winnie, surveying the newcomer.
The child was dark-haired and skinny. He looked sulky, and tugged at Richard's hand.
'Say "How do you do",' prompted his stepfather.
'No,' said the child. 'Let's go home.'
The two grown-ups sensibly ignored this, and Winnie poured two glasses of sherry. Timothy sidled to the chair where Richard sat and hoisted himself on the arm.
Winnie noticed that his knees were dirty, and his jersey stained with food droppings of some antiquity. Why, she wondered, was Richard taking charge of the child? The last she had heard about the marriage was that there was talk of a divorce. Obviously, Richard had a responsibility towards his own child of the marriage, but Timothy really had little claim on him.
As if reading her thoughts, Richard spoke. 'Fenella suddenly remembered, when she woke this morning, that she had to take Imogen to the clinic for an injection. Timmy always screams the place down, so I said I'd keep him out of the way.'
Winnie noticed that the child gave a satisfied smirk at hearing of his behaviour at the clinic, and wished that Richard would have more sense than to mention such things before the boy.
'And what time will Fenella be home again?'
'Well, you know what these places are,' Richard replied, shifting in his chair so that Timothy could squash down beside him. 'Every one there wants to be done first, and there seems to be a lot of muddle one way and another. I don't suppose she'll be back until the afternoon.'
'I want my mummy,' whined
'No, Jenny. She's only dropping in the magazines. She won't stop.'
At that moment the telephone rang. It was her nephew Richard.
'Aunt Win, can I pop in?'
'Of course. When?'
'About twelve?'
'Fine. We'll put another two sausages in the oven.'
'Splendid! And another thing!'
'Yes?'
'I'll have Timothy with me. In fact, I wondered if you could have him for an hour or two, while I go along to Cirencester to pick up some books waiting there.'
'Of course. I haven't met Timothy yet. I shall look forward to it.'
'Good!' said Richard, sounding much relieved. 'See you soon then.'
Winnie conveyed the news to Jenny.
'How old is this Timothy?' she enquired.
'Four, I think.'
'Well, if he doesn't like sausages he can have an egg,' replied Jenny decisively. 'And don't let him wear you out. Didn't we hear he was a bit of a handful?'
'Good heavens! We surely can cope with a four-year-old for an hour or so!'
'Let's hope so,' said Jenny, 'but children today aren't what they were in our young days.'
'They never were,' responded Winnie.
The arrival of Richard's car was first noted by Albert Piggott who was standing at his kitchen window.
He had just returned from a visit to The Two Pheasants, and was watching the dead leaves eddying round and round in the church porch opposite his cottage.
The wind seemed more formidable than ever. The branches of the chestnut trees outside the Youngs' house were tossing vigorously. The grass on the green flattened in its path, and no one seemed to be stirring at Rectory Cottages.
The advent of a car outside Winnie Bailey's was a welcome diversion in the waste of Thrush Green. Albert recognised Richard and was intrigued to see a small boy being helped from the car. The child appeared to be reluctant to get out, but at last the two figures set off for the front door.
Albert watched avidly. Jenny opened the door, and Richard and the boy vanished inside.
'Now, whose can that be?' pondered Albert. 'One of Richard's by-blows maybe?'
But he did Winnie's nephew a disservice. Timothy, had he known it, was the child of an earlier marriage of Fenella, his wife, so that Richard was the boy's stepfather.
To all appearances, he seemed to be taking his responsibilities seriously.
'Must ask Nelly about this,' said Albert to his cat. 'Women always knows about such things.'
The cat, who was engrossed in washing his face, ignored his master's remarks.
'So this is Timothy,' smiled Winnie, surveying the newcomer.
The child was dark-haired and skinny. He looked sulky, and tugged at Richard's hand.
'Say "How do you do",' prompted his stepfather.
'No,' said the child. 'Let's go home.'
The two grown-ups sensibly ignored this, and Winnie poured two glasses of sherry. Timothy sidled to the chair where Richard sat and hoisted himself on the arm.
Winnie noticed that his knees were dirty, and his jersey stained with food droppings of some antiquity. Why, she wondered, was Richard taking charge of the child? The last she had heard about the marriage was that there was talk of a divorce. Obviously, Richard had a responsibility towards his own child of the marriage, but Timothy really had little claim on him.
As if reading her thoughts, Richard spoke. 'Fenella suddenly remembered, when she woke this morning, that she had to take Imogen to the clinic for an injection. Timmy always screams the place down, so I said I'd keep him out of the way.'
Winnie noticed that the child gave a satisfied smirk at hearing of his behaviour at the clinic, and wished that Richard would have more sense than to mention such things before the boy.
'And what time will Fenella be home again?'
'Well, you know what these places are,' Richard replied, shifting in his chair so that Timothy could squash down beside him. 'Every one there wants to be done first, and there seems to be a lot of muddle one way and another. I don't suppose she'll be back until the afternoon.'
'I want my mummy,' whined
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