Roger Brownlee regarded himself as a prosperous middle class businessman in that later Victorian period just before the end of the nineteenth century. He owned a mill and a flourishing corn and seed business in a large East Anglian village, almost a small market town. He had worked hard to build the business up from scratch and now enjoyed the prosperity brought by his effort. He had married Agnes MacCrae, a no- nonsense Scottish woman, who had originally come to the area to occupy the post of village school mistress.
Roger Brownlee had always wanted a son to carry on the business into a new generation and could envisage the sign on his business premises, R Brownlee and Son Millers and Corn Merchants. Unfortunately Agnes had produced four daughters in rather quick succession, Julia the eldest, Jennifer and Jemima the twins and then Johanna. However much to the delight of Roger and Agnes this year little Timothy had arrived. “Wee Tim” as Agnes called him, retaining her Scottish accent. Girls were all very nice but producing and nurturing the male heir was of great importance to Agnes.
The family lived in a large, well planned Georgian house on the edge of the village, not dissimilar to the Vicarage, designed to accommodate a family and domestic staff. The “in house” staff included cook, Emma the housemaid, and Margaret, the nursemaid who had a very busy time looking after four little girls and keeping an eye on baby Timothy.
Agnes was a somewhat parsimonious housekeeper and did not feel the need for more staff than necessary and always kept a close eye on the domestic budget.
At the rear of the house looking out over lawn and flowerbeds was a veranda. Slung between the supporting pillars of the veranda was a hammock which Roger Brownlee would stretch out on Sunday afternoons after lunch. He usually took a book, but after a substantial roast lunch seldom got beyond a second page before dozing until afternoon tea was served. Just beyond the hammock by a pillar stood a large water butt that collected rainfall from the veranda.
It was a warm humid summer afternoon with a darkening sky threatening a possible thunderstorm. Margaret was in the nursery trying to keep four little girls amused. Agnes Brownlee had taken Timothy out onto the veranda and laid him safely in the hammock while she walked round the garden with scissors and a basket cutting some flowers; she wished make an arrangement to go on the dining room table.
She had only got half her requirement of flowers cut when Emma the housemaid appeared. ”Ma’am cook’s got old Meg the gypsy at the kitchen door trying to sell us some clothes pegs.” Agnes put down her basket and scissors, “We don’t need any pegs, I’ll go and deal with Meg” she replied. As they made for the kitchen door Emma said “My mum always used to say that’ll bring ill fortune if you don’t buy from old Meg.”
“Stuff and nonsense” responded Agnes “You shouldn’t believe silly things like that Emma.” Cook agreed with Emma, but Agnes was having none of it and chided them as “silly superstitious country folk.” Agnes firmly sent Meg on her way empty handed. Whatever could an old gypsy woman do to an educated woman like her.
Whilst Agnes had been engaged at the kitchen door Margaret had looked out of the nursery window and seeing the clouds threatening a storm and Timothy abandoned in his hammock on the veranda, she got up quickly and fetched him in from the hammock and laid him in his cot in the nursery.
As Margaret was leaving the veranda with Timothy in her arms a frog surfaced in the water butt swum to the edge and seated himself there. Returning from the kitchen Agnes suddenly remembered Timothy and made for the veranda. Hearing footsteps approaching the startled frog took a mighty leap and landed in the middle of the hammock. Agnes appeared and was about to bend down to her “Wee Tim” when a fork of lightening flashed against the darkening sky followed by a violent crack of thunder and she gazed down at a large green frog in the hammock who looked back with glassy bemused eyes.
Pale and trembling a little, Agnes rushed to the nursery. “Margaret have you seen my Wee Tim” she cried. “Why yes Mrs Brownlee” she replied, “You had left the garden and it looked like rain so I brought him into the nursery. You look a little pale – are you alright Mrs Brownlee, would you like Emma to fetch you a glass of water?”
“Come and look at this” said Agnes, leading Margaret back to the veranda, but the frog had disappeared again. Agnes went and found her purse and called for Emma. Taking a silver shilling from her purse she said to Emma “Put your coat on it might rain, and go as quickly as you can and catch up with old Meg. Tell her Mrs Brownlee has just realised she is in need of a few more clothes pegs after all and buy a dozen from her.”
About the author
guy Pratt is a retired octogenarian second hand bookseller who enjoys gardening, long walks with his dog and travel. He gravitated into the book trade after earlier years in farming, the army Intelligence Corps and the civil service. Did you enjoy the story?
Would you like to shout us a coffee? Half of what you pay goes to the author the other half goes to expenses e.g. Maintaining the web site and setting up The Best of Café Lit book each year.
No comments:
Post a Comment