that five or six hundred workers are to be taken on. Then there arc their families. They'll need a lot of houses, and I believe a row of shops is envisaged. Miller gave me to understand that the preliminary layout provided for a playing field as well.'
'Shall we have enough room at Fairacre School—and Beech Green—for all the children?' I asked.
The vicar turned Ins gentle gaze upon me. His face was troubled.
'It's possible,' he began slowly, 'that a school is planned for the estate as well.'
We looked at each other in silence. You could have heard a pin drop on the verandah.
'And my school,' I answered, equally slowly, 'is dwindling steadily in numbers——'
The vicar jumped to his feet, and smote me on the shoulder.
'It shall never close!' he declared militantly, his eyes flashing, 'Never! Never!'
PART TWO
The Storm Breaks
7. Miss Jacksons Errand
T HE early summer months were bathed in sunshine, and Fairacre shimmered in the heat. The shining days followed, one after the other, like blue and white beads on a string, as every morning dawned clear.
The hay crop was phenomenal, and was carried with little of the usual anxiety at this time. Wild roses spangled the hedges, buttercups gilded the fields, and even in such raggle-taggle gardens as the Coggs' beauty still flowered, for the neglected elder bushes were already showing their creamy, aromatic blossoms.
The shabby thatch, which served the four cottages comprising Tyler's Row, was bleached to ash-blonde with age and the continued heat. In the garden of the second cottage Jimmy Waites, now nearly eight years old, was having the time of his life.
His mother, worn down at last by repeated entreaties, had allowed him to have the family zinc bath on the minute grass patch, and had let him put two inches of water in the bottom.
'But no more, mind!' she had said firmly. 'The well's getting that low, and us all shares it as you know. And don't tell your father as I let you have it-or there'll be no supper for you tonight!'
She spoke more sternly than she felt, for she was smarting from a guilty conscience not only about the use of precious water, but also of the bath itself. She was a good-natured mother, and had sympathised with her young son's craving for cool water on such a day. She watched him indulgently, through the kitchen window, as he splashed and capered in the bath, clad respectably in an old bathing suit of his sister's, that clung hideously to his brown legs.
To a gap in the hedge came the three eldest Coggs children, Joseph and his younger twin sisters. They watched enviously, their eyes and mouths like so many O's, as the bright drops glittered in the sunshine around the capering form of their lucky neighbour.
'Can us come?' growled Joseph, in his husky gipsy voice. The capering stopped. Jimmy advanced towards the trio, with delicious cool runnels of water trickling down his legs.
'Dunno. I'll ask my mum,' responded Jimmy.
Mrs Waites heard this exchange, and was torn between pity and exasperation. She had become very fond of Joseph whilst his mother had been away in hospital some time before, but did not care to encourage the family too much, for there was no denying the dirtiness and slap-dash ways which might undermine her own child's more respectable upbringing. She had, since Mrs Coggs' return, become a little more intimate with that dejected lady, lending her the weekly magazine which she took regularly, and occasionally handing over outgrown garments for Joseph. Arthur Coggs was notorious in Fairacre. 'A useless article,' was Mr Willet's summing-up of the head of the Coggs family, and Fairacre agreed.
Mrs Waites heard the padding of bare feet at the kitchen door, and opened it hastily. No need to have the clean brick floor all messed-up, she told herself, looking down into the upturned face of her youngest child. His blue eyes, bluer than the cloudless sky behind his fair head, melted her heart as usual.
'All right,' she said
'Shall we have enough room at Fairacre School—and Beech Green—for all the children?' I asked.
The vicar turned Ins gentle gaze upon me. His face was troubled.
'It's possible,' he began slowly, 'that a school is planned for the estate as well.'
We looked at each other in silence. You could have heard a pin drop on the verandah.
'And my school,' I answered, equally slowly, 'is dwindling steadily in numbers——'
The vicar jumped to his feet, and smote me on the shoulder.
'It shall never close!' he declared militantly, his eyes flashing, 'Never! Never!'
PART TWO
The Storm Breaks
7. Miss Jacksons Errand
T HE early summer months were bathed in sunshine, and Fairacre shimmered in the heat. The shining days followed, one after the other, like blue and white beads on a string, as every morning dawned clear.
The hay crop was phenomenal, and was carried with little of the usual anxiety at this time. Wild roses spangled the hedges, buttercups gilded the fields, and even in such raggle-taggle gardens as the Coggs' beauty still flowered, for the neglected elder bushes were already showing their creamy, aromatic blossoms.
The shabby thatch, which served the four cottages comprising Tyler's Row, was bleached to ash-blonde with age and the continued heat. In the garden of the second cottage Jimmy Waites, now nearly eight years old, was having the time of his life.
His mother, worn down at last by repeated entreaties, had allowed him to have the family zinc bath on the minute grass patch, and had let him put two inches of water in the bottom.
'But no more, mind!' she had said firmly. 'The well's getting that low, and us all shares it as you know. And don't tell your father as I let you have it-or there'll be no supper for you tonight!'
She spoke more sternly than she felt, for she was smarting from a guilty conscience not only about the use of precious water, but also of the bath itself. She was a good-natured mother, and had sympathised with her young son's craving for cool water on such a day. She watched him indulgently, through the kitchen window, as he splashed and capered in the bath, clad respectably in an old bathing suit of his sister's, that clung hideously to his brown legs.
To a gap in the hedge came the three eldest Coggs children, Joseph and his younger twin sisters. They watched enviously, their eyes and mouths like so many O's, as the bright drops glittered in the sunshine around the capering form of their lucky neighbour.
'Can us come?' growled Joseph, in his husky gipsy voice. The capering stopped. Jimmy advanced towards the trio, with delicious cool runnels of water trickling down his legs.
'Dunno. I'll ask my mum,' responded Jimmy.
Mrs Waites heard this exchange, and was torn between pity and exasperation. She had become very fond of Joseph whilst his mother had been away in hospital some time before, but did not care to encourage the family too much, for there was no denying the dirtiness and slap-dash ways which might undermine her own child's more respectable upbringing. She had, since Mrs Coggs' return, become a little more intimate with that dejected lady, lending her the weekly magazine which she took regularly, and occasionally handing over outgrown garments for Joseph. Arthur Coggs was notorious in Fairacre. 'A useless article,' was Mr Willet's summing-up of the head of the Coggs family, and Fairacre agreed.
Mrs Waites heard the padding of bare feet at the kitchen door, and opened it hastily. No need to have the clean brick floor all messed-up, she told herself, looking down into the upturned face of her youngest child. His blue eyes, bluer than the cloudless sky behind his fair head, melted her heart as usual.
'All right,' she said
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