“Where were they from?” asked Roger.
“I think you said from Birmingham, Mrs. A.?” asked Sandy, her eyes stretched to wide innocence.
“But they were from the islands originally; the West Indies,” said Mrs. Augerspier. “Such rudeness—and from doctors, too. I told them I’d report them to the medical board.”
“So naturally Mrs. Augerspier is feeling a little intimidated around strangers,” said Sandy. “But only until she knows them.”
“A lady is comfortable around all persons once properly introduced,” opined Mrs. Augerspier. “I am proud to say that I have not a bone of bias in me.”
The Major looked at Roger whose mouth was open, making slight movements but no sound. Sandy looked unperturbed. She even seemed to be enjoying herself.
“Mrs. Augerspier, you are an unvarnished original,” said Sandy. “I can’t wait to hear your opinions on—oh, on everything.”
“I must say, for an American you are very civil,” said Mrs. Augerspier. “Are your family originally from Europe?”
“Roger, are you finished looking around?” asked the Major. He hoped his tone was abrupt enough to register his disapproval of the widow without creating a direct confrontation. Mrs. Augerspier gave him a vague smile which indicated that while he had avoided any rudeness, he had failed miserably to deliver a snub.
“We really shouldn’t take up too much of your time,” said Roger. He walked over to pat Sandy on the shoulder. “Are you done, darling?” The Major flinched at the casually delivered endearment, the verbal equivalent of tossing a stranger the keys to the family house.
“I could move in right now,” said Sandy. “What’s it going to be, Mrs. A.? Are we suitable, do you think?”
Mrs. Augerspier smiled, but her eyes narrowed in an unpleasant fashion. “It is important that I find just the right people…” she began.
Sandy turned to look at Roger and patted his hand like a mother to a small boy who has forgotten his manners.
“Oh, yes, I forgot,” said Roger. He dug in his coat pocket and flourished a brown envelope. “My fiancee and I took the liberty of bringing a cashier’s check for six months’ rent just in case you could let us have it right away.” He opened the envelope and handed a check to Mrs. Augerspier, who appeared fascinated.
“Roger, are you sure you’re not being too spontaneous?” asked the Major, his mind struggling to process the word “fiancee.” He focused instead on watching the widow examine both back and front of the check. Her eyes wobbled in delight. She pursed her lips and gave him a frown.
“Well, I believe I could agree to six months—on a strictly trial basis,” she said. “But I won’t have time to effect any repairs, you know. It will take all my strength just to pack up my dear aunt’s personal effects.”
“We’ll be happy with it just as it is,” said Sandy.
The widow put the check in her jacket pocket, being careful to push it all the way down. “It will take me a few days to sort out which of the personal effects I might be able to part with.”
“Take all the time you need,” said Roger, shaking her hand. “Now, what say we all go and have a cup of tea somewhere to seal the deal?”
“That sounds very lovely,” said Mrs. Augerspier. “I believe there’s a local hotel that offers a wonderful afternoon tea—now where did I put my rental form?” The Major personally thought chewing stinging nettles and washing them down with a pint of ditch water might be more pleasant than watching the widow bob her feathers over a mountain of whipped cream.
“Major, you look as if you have some pressing engagement,” said Sandy, winking at him. Roger looked up and gave the Major a pleading glance.
“I rather think I must get the ladies home,” said the Major. “Grace is quite unwell.”
The door opened and Mrs. Ali put her head around it.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt you,” she said. “I wanted to let you know that Grace is feeling much better.” The Major experienced a sense of panic. It was all he could do to keep from shaking his head at Mrs. Ali. He must have made some small involuntary spasm because she smoothly changed her emphasis.
“However, I do think it would be preferable to get her home as soon as possible, Major.” She held out the empty water glass, which the widow hurried over to take from her.
“We’re just finished, just finished,” said Mrs. Augerspier. She hovered by the doorway as Sandy and Roger signed the form and took the carbon copy. “Of course you must get your friend home. We would not dream of dragging you to tea with us.”
Out in the lane, waiting for the widow to lock up, Roger’s enthusiasm reduced him to babble. “Isn’t it great? I mean, isn’t it the greatest cottage? I can’t believe we got it—”
“Honey, it’s a dump,” said Sandy, “but it’s our dump and I can make something of it.”
“She preferred this other place,” said Roger. “But I told her I just knew this would be the one.”
“Will you come back to the house afterward?” asked the Major. “Perhaps we could discuss your engagement?” He hoped Roger caught the acid note in his voice, but Roger just grinned at him.
“Sorry, Dad, we’ve got to get back,” he said. “But we’ll come over one weekend really soon.”
“Splendid,” said the Major.
“Yeah, there are one or two things—like my old desk and the oak trunk in the attic—I thought would go great in the cottage.”
“I get veto power on all items of furniture,” said Sandy. “I’m not getting stuck with ugly furniture just because you carved your schoolboy fantasies into it.”
“Of course,” said Roger. “Over here, Mrs. A.” The widow came down the path wrapped in a voluminous tweed coat topped with what looked like a very antique dead fox.
“Nice to meet you ladies,” called Sandy, waving at Mrs. Ali and Grace, who were already in the Major’s car. With Mrs. Augerspier ceremoniously installed in the confines of the front seat and Sandy tucked in the back, Roger revved the engine until the birds flew from the hedge.
The Major was glad that the ladies were quiet on the drive home. He felt tired and his jaw ached. He realized it was clamped shut.
“Is something the matter, Major?” asked Mrs. Ali. “You seem upset.”
“Oh, no, I’m fine. Long day, though.”
“Your son rented the cottage, did he not?” she said. “He seemed so full of cheer.”
“Oh, yes, yes, all signed and sealed,” said the Major. “He’s very happy about it.”
“How lovely for you,” she said.
“It was all just a bit hasty,” said the Major, taking a fast right turn in front of a tractor to dive the car into the single-track shortcut back to Edgecombe St Mary. “Apparently they’re engaged.” He looked back at Grace, hoping she would not start groaning again. The sound made it so difficult to drive. “Feeling better?”
“Much better, thank you,” said Grace, whose face still looked gray and sunken. “I offer you my congratulations, Major.”
“I just hope they know what they’re getting into,” said the Major. “All this renting cottages together. It seems so premature.”
“It seems to be the way they all go on today, even in the best families,” said Grace. “You mustn’t let anyone make you feel bad about it.” He was immediately annoyed, both by the suggestion and by the way her handkerchief fluttered like a trapped dove in his rearview mirror as she fanned herself.
“They should be able to buy the place eventually,” said the Major. “Roger tells me it will be rather a smart investment.”
“When true love combines with clear financial motive,” said Mrs. Ali, “all objections must be swept away.”
“Is that a saying in your culture?” asked Grace. “It seems very apt.”
“No, I’m just teasing the Major,” said Mrs. Ali. “I think the circumstances may prove to be less important than the fact that life has made a turn and brought your son and a future daughter-in-law closer, Major. It is an opportunity to be seized, is it not, Miss DeVere?”
“Oh, certainly,” said Grace. “I wish I had children to come and live near me.” Her voice held a hint of a pain
