In and Out the Houses by Elizabeth Taylor. Part 2.
Watch on KineScope.
‘The Vicar’s having cold, she told Mrs De Vries, who was preparing a tajine of chicken in a curious earthenware pot she had brought back from Morocco.
‘Poor old Vicar, Mrs De Vries said absent-mindedly, as she cut almonds into slivers. She had a glass of something on the draining-board and often took a sip from it. ‘Do run and find a drink for yourself, dear child, she said. She was one of the people who wondered about Daisy Ashford.
‘TIl have a bitter lemon, if I may, Kitty said.
‘Well, do, my dear. You know where to find it!
As Kitty knew everything about nearly every house in the village, she did not reply; but went with assurance to the bar in the hall. She stuck a plastic straw in her drink, and returned to the kitchen sucking peacefully.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ she enquired.
‘No, just tell me the news. What’s going on?’
‘Mr Mumford typed “Jam Fart and Custard” on the menu card.’
‘Oh, he didn’t! You’ve made me do the nose-trick with my gin. The pain of it!’ Mrs De Vries snatched a handkerchief from her apron pocket and held it to her face. When she had recovered, she said, ‘I simply can’t wait for Tom to come home, to tell him that.’
Kitty looked modestly gratified. ‘I called at the Vicarage, too, on my way.’
‘And what were they up to?’
“They are up to making marmalade.’
‘Poor darlings! They do have to scrimp and scratch. Church mice, indeed!’
‘But isn’t home-made marmalade nicer than shop?’
‘Not all that much?
After a pause, Kitty said, ‘Mrs Saddler’s on her way out.’
‘Who the hell’s Mrs Saddler?’
‘At the almshouse. She’s dying’
‘Poor old thing!
Kitty sat down on a stool and swung her fat legs.
‘Betty Benford is eight months gone, she said, shrugging her shoulders.
‘I wish you’d tell me something about people I know, Mrs De Vries complained, taking another sip of gin.
‘Her mother plans to look after the baby while Betty goes on going out to work.
Mrs Benford, you know.’
‘Not next door’s daily?’
‘She won’t be after this month’
‘Does Mrs Glazier know?’ Mrs De Vries asked, inclining her head towards next door.
‘Not yet, Kitty said, glancing at the clock.
‘My God, she’ll go up the wall, Mrs De Vries said with relish. ‘She’s had that old Benford for years and years.’
‘What do you call that you’re cooking?’
‘It’s a tajine of chicken’
***
‘Mrs De Vries is having tajine of chicken, Kitty said next door five minutes later.
‘And what might that be when it’s at home?’
Kitty described it as best she could, and Mrs Glazier looked huffy. ‘Derek wouldn’t touch it, she said. ‘He likes good, plain, English food, and no messing about
She was rolling out pastry for that evening’s steak-and-kidney pie.
‘They’re having that at The Horse and Groom, Kitty said.
‘And we’ll have sprouts. And braised celery,’ Mrs Glazier added, not letting Mrs De Vries get away with her airs and graces.
‘Shall I make a pastry rose to go on the top of the pie?’ Kitty offered. ‘Mrs Prout showed me how to!
‘No, I think we’ll leave well alone.’
‘Do you like cooking?’ Kitty asked in a conversational tone.
I don’t mind it. Why?
‘I was only thinking that then it wouldn’t be so hard on you when Mrs Benford leaves’
Mrs Benford was upstairs. There was a bumping, droning noise of a vacuum cleaner above, in what Kitty knew to be Mrs Glazier’s bedroom.
Mrs Glazier, with an awful fear in her heart, stared, frowning, at Kitty, who went on, ‘I was just telling Mrs De Vries that after Mrs Benford’s grandchild’s born she’s going to stay at home to mind it.’
The fact that next door had heard this stunning news first made the blow worse, and Mrs Glazier put a flour-covered hand to her forehead. She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘But why can’t the girl look after the little – baby herself?’ Kitty took the lid off a jar marked ‘Cloves’ and looked inside, sniffing. ‘Her daughter earns more money at The Horse and Groom than her mother earns here,’ she explained.
‘I suppose you told Mrs De Vries that too.’
Kitty went to the door with dignity. ‘Oh, no! I never talk from house to house.
My mother says I’ll have to stop my visiting, if I do. Oh, by the way, she called back, ‘You’d better keep your dog in. The De Vries’s bitch is on heat.’ She went home and sat down to lamb and bubble-and-squeak.
“The Vicar’s having cold, too, she said.
‘And that’s his business,’ her mother said warningly.