house was exactly what they, or their relations, had been waiting for, and he found himself accosted in Caxley High Street on several occasions by would-be buyers. He had two stock answers. The house was not on the market yet, and wouldn't be until Tyler's Row was ready. Masters and Jones would be the people to approach. He was not handling it himself.
It was all a trifle wearing, although it was some comfort to know that it looked as though the house would sell easily.
And then there was the architect. Peter had said that Bellamy Croft would not be hurried. He was beginning to wonder if he went to Tyler's Row at all. There were several things he wanted to talk to him about, but he never seemed to be in the office, and his secretary was a past-master in covering up for him. Always, it appeared, Bellamy was at work in some remote village, or had gone to consult someone at Oxford or London or Cheltenham.
'I'll ask him to ring you,' was the nearest Peter ever got to seeing the elusive fellow, but he waited in vain for the telephone to ring. And when, after several frustrating weeks, it did, Bellamy's apologies were so profuse and disarming that Peter's ire evaporated.
However, it was soon revived by discovering that Bellamy had returned to his fight for a mock-Gothic porch in the centre of Tyler's Row.
'I'm not having it!' he told Diana firmly. 'I'm not being saddled with a Chinese-Chippendale porch, with a pointed lead roof, costing about two hundred smackers, when I want a simple affair with a thatch on top!'
'You did ask him to do the job,' pointed out Diana.
'If I asked the butcher for two pork chops,' replied Peter heatedly, 'I'm damned if I'd accept a saddle of mutton just because he wanted me to have it. My God, what a battle it all is!'
As term progressed, the outlook grew steadily gloomier. Peter began to get headaches—a most unusual thing for so healthy a man.
'Nothing that exercise won't cure,' he insisted, setting out on a four-mile walk whenever he was so afflicted.
'Perhaps you need new reading glasses,' suggested Diana solicitously.
'No, no. These are perfectly adequate. A spell in the fresh air and plenty of muscle-work's the answer.'
And he would vanish for an hour or so, and return rather more exhausted than when he set out; certainly in no mood to tackle the piles of marking which always stand about a schoolmaster's sitting room.
It was at this stage that Diana found their roles reversed. She, who had been so full of doubts about the move, now did the comforting.
'It will sort itself out. There are bound to be set-backs. All progress goes in fits and starts—two steps forward, and one back—and if you think of Tyler's Row a couple of months ago, and then today, it's really quite heartening.'
Peter refused to be consoled.
'The time they take!' he stormed, raising fists to heaven. 'You'd think three men plus an architect would get the place done in a month! When I think that this is only stage one of Bellamy's plan, I wonder if I'll ever live to see stage two. Or even if I want stage two, or will be able to raise the money for it. As far as I can see, we'll be looking for a nice little Even-tide Home for the Aged by the time stage one's done.'
Autumn gales, of unprecedented ferocity, ripped away tarpaulins fixed over empty window frames and created more work at Tyler's Row. Copper piping and bathroom fittings, left overnight in the empty cottage, disappeared in the small hours and had to be replaced, with infuriating difficulty. Mr Roberts' cows, in a field adjoining the property, pushed their way into the garden and helped themselves to the freshly-planted perennials which Diana had spent three afternoons arranging carefully in a newly-dug border. The garden was pock-marked with large holes where they had browsed undisturbed for hours.
At one point, Bellamy Croft, in an expansive mood, had said that there was a possibility of moving in by Christmas. In January lie said, somewhat more
It was all a trifle wearing, although it was some comfort to know that it looked as though the house would sell easily.
And then there was the architect. Peter had said that Bellamy Croft would not be hurried. He was beginning to wonder if he went to Tyler's Row at all. There were several things he wanted to talk to him about, but he never seemed to be in the office, and his secretary was a past-master in covering up for him. Always, it appeared, Bellamy was at work in some remote village, or had gone to consult someone at Oxford or London or Cheltenham.
'I'll ask him to ring you,' was the nearest Peter ever got to seeing the elusive fellow, but he waited in vain for the telephone to ring. And when, after several frustrating weeks, it did, Bellamy's apologies were so profuse and disarming that Peter's ire evaporated.
However, it was soon revived by discovering that Bellamy had returned to his fight for a mock-Gothic porch in the centre of Tyler's Row.
'I'm not having it!' he told Diana firmly. 'I'm not being saddled with a Chinese-Chippendale porch, with a pointed lead roof, costing about two hundred smackers, when I want a simple affair with a thatch on top!'
'You did ask him to do the job,' pointed out Diana.
'If I asked the butcher for two pork chops,' replied Peter heatedly, 'I'm damned if I'd accept a saddle of mutton just because he wanted me to have it. My God, what a battle it all is!'
As term progressed, the outlook grew steadily gloomier. Peter began to get headaches—a most unusual thing for so healthy a man.
'Nothing that exercise won't cure,' he insisted, setting out on a four-mile walk whenever he was so afflicted.
'Perhaps you need new reading glasses,' suggested Diana solicitously.
'No, no. These are perfectly adequate. A spell in the fresh air and plenty of muscle-work's the answer.'
And he would vanish for an hour or so, and return rather more exhausted than when he set out; certainly in no mood to tackle the piles of marking which always stand about a schoolmaster's sitting room.
It was at this stage that Diana found their roles reversed. She, who had been so full of doubts about the move, now did the comforting.
'It will sort itself out. There are bound to be set-backs. All progress goes in fits and starts—two steps forward, and one back—and if you think of Tyler's Row a couple of months ago, and then today, it's really quite heartening.'
Peter refused to be consoled.
'The time they take!' he stormed, raising fists to heaven. 'You'd think three men plus an architect would get the place done in a month! When I think that this is only stage one of Bellamy's plan, I wonder if I'll ever live to see stage two. Or even if I want stage two, or will be able to raise the money for it. As far as I can see, we'll be looking for a nice little Even-tide Home for the Aged by the time stage one's done.'
Autumn gales, of unprecedented ferocity, ripped away tarpaulins fixed over empty window frames and created more work at Tyler's Row. Copper piping and bathroom fittings, left overnight in the empty cottage, disappeared in the small hours and had to be replaced, with infuriating difficulty. Mr Roberts' cows, in a field adjoining the property, pushed their way into the garden and helped themselves to the freshly-planted perennials which Diana had spent three afternoons arranging carefully in a newly-dug border. The garden was pock-marked with large holes where they had browsed undisturbed for hours.
At one point, Bellamy Croft, in an expansive mood, had said that there was a possibility of moving in by Christmas. In January lie said, somewhat more
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