Read Online (11/20) Farther Afield by Miss Read - Free Book Online
Authors: Miss Read
Tags: Fiction, Literary, General, England, Country Life, Country Life - England, Pastoral Fiction, Crete (Greece), Villages - England
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while they waited. Spam and sardine sandwich – '
'What? Mixed?' I exclaimed in horror.
'That I couldn't say,' responded Mrs Pringle heavily, after thought, 'but they didn't have to pay a penny for it.'
She now made a belated foray to the dresser drawer to find a duster. Her face brightened.
'It'll keep this place tidy for a bit longer, won't it, having you away?'
Happiness comes in many guises, I thought.
Mrs Partridge, the vicar's wife, was more enthusiastic, and told me not to miss Knossos on any account – she would look out a book they had about it – and would I please take plenty of pictures so that I could give a talk or, better still, a series of talks to the Women's Institute when I returned.
Mr Mawne said that there was a particularly rare hawk indigenous to Crete, though he doubted if I should see one, as the Cretans probably shot every bird in sight like the blasted
Italians. Strange, he mused, that such warm-hearted people, positively sloppy about their children and so on, should be so callous in their treatment of animals. Anyway, he hoped I should enjoy myself, and if I were lucky enough to catch sight of the hawk then of course a few close-up photographs would be invaluable.
Mr Willet said it would do me the world of good to have some sea air and sunshine, although Barrisford would have been a sight nearer and less expensive. His cousin had been in Crete during the last war, but hadn't cared for it much as the Germans overran it while he was there and his foot was shot off in the upset.
'Still,' he added cheerfully, 'it should be nicer now the fighting's over. I don't doubt you'll have a very good time out there.'
'Crete,' mused Mr Lamb at the Post Office. 'Now would that be the one up in the right-hand corner, shaped like a whelk?'
'Cyprus,' I said.
'Ah, then it's the one with the famous harbour, Valetta!'
'Malta,' I said.
'That so? Well, I must be getting nearer. It's not that triangular one off the toe of Italy, is it?'
'Sicily,' I said.
'Don't tell me,' begged Mr Lamb, 'I'll get it in the end. It's not one of that lot like a hatful of crabs hanging off the bottom of Greece?'
'You're getting nearer.'
'It's the long thin one,' he shouted triumphantly. 'Am I right? With some old city a chap called Sir Arthur Evans dug up with his bare hands? Our scout master told us all about it one wet evening when the cross-country run was washed out.'
'I don't know about the bare hands,' I told him, 'but the rest is right enough.'
Mrs Coggs, who had been waiting patiently to collect her family allowance, while this exchange was going on, hoped I'd have a lovely time and come back sunburnt.
Joseph, who was with her, looked alarmed.
'You are coming back?' he asked.
'Joseph,' I assured him, 'I'll be back.'
The next few days passed in a flurry of preparations. Amy fetched me one afternoon for a last-minute shopping spree in Caxley, as I was still unable to drive my car.
She had a wan, subdued look about her, so unlike her usual energetic manner that my heart was wrung for her. She mentioned James only once, and then simply to say that they had seen each other once or twice, and now proposed to think things over and have a discussion after the holiday.
'At least, I'm supposed to think things over,' said Amy bitterly. 'As far as I can see, his mind is made up. How this chit of a girl could have managed to get such a hold on someone as intelligent as James, I simply can't imagine!'
We were flying from Heathrow at a little after eleven in the morning, so that we did not have to make one of those dreadful journeys by car in the small hours which so often add to the traveller's discomfort.
It was one of those cold grey summer days when Amy came to collect me. A chilly wind whipped round corners, scattering a few dead leaves and wreaking havoc with our newly-arranged hair.
'I've got one of those net things with little bows all over it,' confessed Amy when we had finally stowed our baggage in the
'What? Mixed?' I exclaimed in horror.
'That I couldn't say,' responded Mrs Pringle heavily, after thought, 'but they didn't have to pay a penny for it.'
She now made a belated foray to the dresser drawer to find a duster. Her face brightened.
'It'll keep this place tidy for a bit longer, won't it, having you away?'
Happiness comes in many guises, I thought.
Mrs Partridge, the vicar's wife, was more enthusiastic, and told me not to miss Knossos on any account – she would look out a book they had about it – and would I please take plenty of pictures so that I could give a talk or, better still, a series of talks to the Women's Institute when I returned.
Mr Mawne said that there was a particularly rare hawk indigenous to Crete, though he doubted if I should see one, as the Cretans probably shot every bird in sight like the blasted
Italians. Strange, he mused, that such warm-hearted people, positively sloppy about their children and so on, should be so callous in their treatment of animals. Anyway, he hoped I should enjoy myself, and if I were lucky enough to catch sight of the hawk then of course a few close-up photographs would be invaluable.
Mr Willet said it would do me the world of good to have some sea air and sunshine, although Barrisford would have been a sight nearer and less expensive. His cousin had been in Crete during the last war, but hadn't cared for it much as the Germans overran it while he was there and his foot was shot off in the upset.
'Still,' he added cheerfully, 'it should be nicer now the fighting's over. I don't doubt you'll have a very good time out there.'
'Crete,' mused Mr Lamb at the Post Office. 'Now would that be the one up in the right-hand corner, shaped like a whelk?'
'Cyprus,' I said.
'Ah, then it's the one with the famous harbour, Valetta!'
'Malta,' I said.
'That so? Well, I must be getting nearer. It's not that triangular one off the toe of Italy, is it?'
'Sicily,' I said.
'Don't tell me,' begged Mr Lamb, 'I'll get it in the end. It's not one of that lot like a hatful of crabs hanging off the bottom of Greece?'
'You're getting nearer.'
'It's the long thin one,' he shouted triumphantly. 'Am I right? With some old city a chap called Sir Arthur Evans dug up with his bare hands? Our scout master told us all about it one wet evening when the cross-country run was washed out.'
'I don't know about the bare hands,' I told him, 'but the rest is right enough.'
Mrs Coggs, who had been waiting patiently to collect her family allowance, while this exchange was going on, hoped I'd have a lovely time and come back sunburnt.
Joseph, who was with her, looked alarmed.
'You are coming back?' he asked.
'Joseph,' I assured him, 'I'll be back.'
The next few days passed in a flurry of preparations. Amy fetched me one afternoon for a last-minute shopping spree in Caxley, as I was still unable to drive my car.
She had a wan, subdued look about her, so unlike her usual energetic manner that my heart was wrung for her. She mentioned James only once, and then simply to say that they had seen each other once or twice, and now proposed to think things over and have a discussion after the holiday.
'At least, I'm supposed to think things over,' said Amy bitterly. 'As far as I can see, his mind is made up. How this chit of a girl could have managed to get such a hold on someone as intelligent as James, I simply can't imagine!'
We were flying from Heathrow at a little after eleven in the morning, so that we did not have to make one of those dreadful journeys by car in the small hours which so often add to the traveller's discomfort.
It was one of those cold grey summer days when Amy came to collect me. A chilly wind whipped round corners, scattering a few dead leaves and wreaking havoc with our newly-arranged hair.
'I've got one of those net things with little bows all over it,' confessed Amy when we had finally stowed our baggage in the
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