(9/20) Tyler's Row Read Free Page A

And pandering to the vanity of silly people! Who's going to be gulled into thinking Elderberry Lane's any catch, anyway, stuck down by the gas-works?'
    They knew the district well, after so many years, and Fairacre was one of the villages which attracted them. In open country leading to the downs, it remained relatively unspoilt, yet there were one or two useful shops, a Post Office, a fine church, and enough inhabitants to make life interesting.
    'This might be a possibility,' said Diana to herself, studying the glowing account of Tyler's Row attractions.
    'Suitable for conversion into one dignified residence', probably meant it was falling down and needed prompt support internally and externally.
    'Half an acre of mature garden' could be construed as two ancient plum trees, past bearing, standing among docks and stinging nettles, and 'leaded windows' would be the deuce to clean, thought Diana.
    But the price was unusually low. Why, she wondered? Was it even more dilapidated than she imagined?
    And then she saw the snag.
    'Two of the cottages at present occupied.'
    Hardly worth bothering to go and look then. They certainly wouldn't want neighbours at such close quarters.
    'Still,' thought Diana reasonably, 'it does mean that the cottages are capable of being lived in.'
    Perhaps they would run out to Fairacre after all.

    As it happened, the Hales did not visit Fairacre until the following week, for end of term was upon them, involving Sports Day, a tennis tournament arranged by the hard-working Parents' Association to raise funds for the school's swimming pool, a dinner for three of the staff who were retiring, as well as the usual end-of-term chores such as reports, last-minute advice to panicking school-leavers looking for jobs, and so on.
    'Well,' said Peter Hale, arriving home on the last day of term, with a broad smile, 'now we've broken up, and my peptic ulcers can recover gently.'
    He flopped into the settee, put up his feet and surveyed the ceiling blissfully.
    'Think of it—seven weeks of freedom. Time to do just as we like.'
    'If you still want to look at that place at Fairacre, perhaps we could drive out tomorrow,' suggested Diana.
    'Tomorrow, the day after, the day after that, any day you like, my dear. I'm a free man,' declared Peter rapturously.
    'If we leave it too long,' pointed out his wife, 'it will have been snapped up.'
    'So it might,' agreed her husband, coming abruptly to earth. 'Let's go tomorrow morning.'
    It was a perfect day to drive the six miles northward to Fairacre. They picked up the key as they drove through Caxley, and were soon out of the town, driving through leafy lanes, and rising steadily as they approached the downs.
    The sky was cloudless, and a blue haze shimmered over the wide fields. Honeysuckle and a few late wild roses embroidered the hedges, and when Peter stopped the car to fill his pipe, Diana heard a lark scattering its song from the sky. A blue butterfly, native of the chalk country, hovered over the purple knapweed on the bank. Nearby was a patch of yellow and cream toadflax, vivid in the sunshine, and everywhere was the scent of warm grass and leaves—the very essence of summertime.
    'Wonderful country,' said Peter dreamily, gazing into the blue distance, above the leaping match flame.
    'In this weather,' replied Diana. 'Could be pretty bleak in the winter. And lonely.'
    'You don't sound very enthusiastic,' said Peter, turning to look at her. 'Shall we go back?'
    'Not till we've seen Tyler's Row,' said Diana firmly. 'We'll know what to think then.'
    Peter started the engine and they made their way slowly through Beech Green and on to Fairacre, without speaking further, until they reached the Post Office in the centre of the village street.
    As it happened, Mr Lamb, the postmaster, was in his front garden cutting back rose suckers with a fierce-looking clasp knife.
    'Tyler's Row?' called Peter, winding down the car window.
    'Eh?' said Mr Lamb, startled.
    'Tyler's Row—Mr