due. Barley suggested that ‘Mother’ have a room in Mrs. Tucker’s cottage, fifty yards away.
“Don’t forget that Mrs. Tucker is an old gossip, so be careful what you tell her, Barley.” He meant her pregnancy.
“Her garden is one of the best in the village, so she’s all right.”
Barley began by praising Mrs. Tucker’s flowers, and this led up to her telling Mrs. Tucker how much ‘Phillip’s mother’ was looking forward to spending her fortnight with them.
“I wonder if you have a room to let? Mrs. Maddison loves flowers, she was brought up among the Surrey herb fields, now unfortunately a part of London.”
It was arranged; and the good woman, looking at her with a smile, said, “So you’m goin’ vor ’ave a babby, be ’ee? You don’t mind my saying thaccy, do ’ee now?”
“I don’t mind a bit, Mrs. Tucker. I’m interested how anyone found out. Do I look so much bigger?”
“Aw no, ’tes that you’m ’atin’ haphazard like! You’m ’atin’ blackberries before’m ripe! Then there’s that laver you brought back to ait!”
“That black stuff from the rocks? But I was told you all ate it here, fried with green bacon.”
“So us do, midear, but you’m ’atin’ blackberries too, don’t ’ee zee? ’Tes a sure sign!”
*
Phillip overheard his mother saying to Barley, “It is my dream coming true, dear. My son will have his little boy! Aunt Dora, one of my great friends, and I used to talk about Phillip before he was born, and we did so hope he would grow up to love all beautiful things, and to be a fine man.”
“Well, it came true. Phillip is a fine man, Mother.”
“I know he is, dear, and you have helped him more than you will ever know. He is so kind now, and considerate. Too much so at times, perhaps. You know about his trouble after the war, I suppose? Well, Phillip was shielding someone else. It wasn’tPhillip who set fire to that building, but a bad companion who was with him. It doesn’t do to be too kind always, you know.”
She thought of her own husband Dickie, and how he had suffered as a young man from his father, and again from her father; but while he had the same steadfastness as Phillip, he had given way too early to his own feelings.
Hetty went back to London with what she told herself were perfect memories. Phillip was well and happy, his wife so very calm and practical. If only it were the same with Doris … she sighed as she thought of what her daughter had told her: that she could never forget Percy, her cousin who had been killed in the war, whose best friend had been Bob.
“It’s no use, Mother. As I’ve told you before, every time Bob wants to come near me, I see Percy in my mind, and then I can’t bear Bob.” So there had never been complete cohabitation between them—her mind refused any thought nearer the actuality of marriage. It was such a pity; if only Doris could bring herself to have a child, it might perhaps draw the young people together.
The wheels were now insistently audible in the carriage, her spirits were sinking, as the train ran on towards London, at the thought of returning home. Still, trials were sent to test us; she must always trust in God’s goodness, and pray to Him to help her husband and her children.
*
Phillip Maddison, Bob Willoughby, and George Pole-Cripps were walking together ahead of the others on the way to the sands. They stopped before a new bungalow, recently built on a field overlooking the Channel. It was square, red London brick with a pink asbestos roof.
“My God, what a horror!” said Bob.
“I don’t know so much,” replied George. They walked on until stopped again by a new notice board.
“‘Ripe for Development, Apply Mutton & Co, Solicitors, Queensbridge’,” quoted Phillip. “Ripe like these thistle seeds blowing away! I suppose land can be bought very cheaply now that farming is depressed.”
“That’s what my rich uncle said the other day, when he was staying the night
“Don’t forget that Mrs. Tucker is an old gossip, so be careful what you tell her, Barley.” He meant her pregnancy.
“Her garden is one of the best in the village, so she’s all right.”
Barley began by praising Mrs. Tucker’s flowers, and this led up to her telling Mrs. Tucker how much ‘Phillip’s mother’ was looking forward to spending her fortnight with them.
“I wonder if you have a room to let? Mrs. Maddison loves flowers, she was brought up among the Surrey herb fields, now unfortunately a part of London.”
It was arranged; and the good woman, looking at her with a smile, said, “So you’m goin’ vor ’ave a babby, be ’ee? You don’t mind my saying thaccy, do ’ee now?”
“I don’t mind a bit, Mrs. Tucker. I’m interested how anyone found out. Do I look so much bigger?”
“Aw no, ’tes that you’m ’atin’ haphazard like! You’m ’atin’ blackberries before’m ripe! Then there’s that laver you brought back to ait!”
“That black stuff from the rocks? But I was told you all ate it here, fried with green bacon.”
“So us do, midear, but you’m ’atin’ blackberries too, don’t ’ee zee? ’Tes a sure sign!”
*
Phillip overheard his mother saying to Barley, “It is my dream coming true, dear. My son will have his little boy! Aunt Dora, one of my great friends, and I used to talk about Phillip before he was born, and we did so hope he would grow up to love all beautiful things, and to be a fine man.”
“Well, it came true. Phillip is a fine man, Mother.”
“I know he is, dear, and you have helped him more than you will ever know. He is so kind now, and considerate. Too much so at times, perhaps. You know about his trouble after the war, I suppose? Well, Phillip was shielding someone else. It wasn’tPhillip who set fire to that building, but a bad companion who was with him. It doesn’t do to be too kind always, you know.”
She thought of her own husband Dickie, and how he had suffered as a young man from his father, and again from her father; but while he had the same steadfastness as Phillip, he had given way too early to his own feelings.
Hetty went back to London with what she told herself were perfect memories. Phillip was well and happy, his wife so very calm and practical. If only it were the same with Doris … she sighed as she thought of what her daughter had told her: that she could never forget Percy, her cousin who had been killed in the war, whose best friend had been Bob.
“It’s no use, Mother. As I’ve told you before, every time Bob wants to come near me, I see Percy in my mind, and then I can’t bear Bob.” So there had never been complete cohabitation between them—her mind refused any thought nearer the actuality of marriage. It was such a pity; if only Doris could bring herself to have a child, it might perhaps draw the young people together.
The wheels were now insistently audible in the carriage, her spirits were sinking, as the train ran on towards London, at the thought of returning home. Still, trials were sent to test us; she must always trust in God’s goodness, and pray to Him to help her husband and her children.
*
Phillip Maddison, Bob Willoughby, and George Pole-Cripps were walking together ahead of the others on the way to the sands. They stopped before a new bungalow, recently built on a field overlooking the Channel. It was square, red London brick with a pink asbestos roof.
“My God, what a horror!” said Bob.
“I don’t know so much,” replied George. They walked on until stopped again by a new notice board.
“‘Ripe for Development, Apply Mutton & Co, Solicitors, Queensbridge’,” quoted Phillip. “Ripe like these thistle seeds blowing away! I suppose land can be bought very cheaply now that farming is depressed.”
“That’s what my rich uncle said the other day, when he was staying the night
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