A Few Green Leaves by Barbara Pym Read Free Book Online Page A

dog – wouldn’t even notice – the country was obviously suitable for one. She would get a dog – why not? She would take it for walks – why had she never thought of it before? When Tom’s wife died, she had come running to his aid with no thought for herself. All these years without a dog! ‘Thy Servant a Dog,’ she murmured softly to herself, not like cats, with their cool, appraising, insolent stares. ‘Passionately fond of animals,’ was how Daphne might have described herself, if anyone had asked her, and how she now began to think of herself. Animals were better than people any day. But if she did get a dog and become devoted to it, as she undoubtedly would, what would happen to it when she went to live in Greece, would she be allowed to take it with her? What were the quarantine regulations? That might be a complication – better perhaps to wait and see how her plans developed….

    Should she just go up to the door and ring? Emma wondered. Or would it be all right to tap on the window, since the rector’s sister was standing there looking out with a faraway expression in her eyes? Had she seen her? Was she conscious that Emma was coming round to the front door with a carrier bag full of jumble?
    At that moment Daphne did see her. She put ‘Thy Servant a Dog’ back into the jumble box and came round to open the door.
    ‘Ah, you’re bringing jumble,’ she said formally, ‘won’t you come in?’
    Emma had not been into the rectory before, so although she had meant just to leave her bundle she could not resist the opportunity of a look inside the house.
    ‘I was just sorting these things….’ Daphne was glad to be interrupted and always enjoyed the company of another woman, aware that there was a comfortable feeling about it that the company of men did not provide, or at least the company of the kind of men she came into contact with, mostly her brother Tom and neighbouring clergy. Perhaps it was too narrow a sample to generalise about….
    The two women – fifties and thirties – regarded each other warily. They had met once or twice before and chatted on the field walk, though Daphne felt that Emma was too young and too different – wasn’t she some kind of scientist? – ever to become a close friend; but on this dreary morning she welcomed her.
    ‘This is just a few things,’ Emma said, revealing the contents of her carrier bag. It was embarrassing to have to display a worn skirt and a shrunken cardigan and one’s old underwear, even though clean. ‘I fear nobody will want to buy them,’ she said apologetically.
    ‘No,’ Daphne agreed. ‘The village women have such marvellous things now. They wouldn’t look at cast-offs – it’s we who buy them. Of course it’s all to the good,’ she added, feeling that she ought to say something on these lines. ‘There isn’t the poverty there used to be.’
    Emma hoped they might get on to another subject and cast about in her mind for something else to say. She could see that the room they were in, although disfigured by the bundles of jumble and the trestle table on which Daphne was sorting them, was a beautiful one with fine mouldings on the ceiling.
    This is your drawing-room?’ she asked. ‘It’s a lovely room.’
    ‘Well, we don’t have a drawing-room as such, but this would be it if we did. And if there’s a parish function that doesn’t take place in the hall we have it here. We might even have a jumble sale here.’ She laughed.
    There they were back at jumble again. ‘What a miserable day,’ Emma said, looking out at the dripping trees in the rectory drive.
    ‘Yes, isn’t it. It was so lovely when the daffodils were out and it really seemed as if…. I know what – how about a glass of sherry? I know Tom’s got a bottle somewhere.’
    This pathetic revelation of the state of the rector’s drink supplies caused Emma to hesitate. Tom’s ‘bottle somewhere’ might be sadly depleted when he next came to look for it.