Winter of Discontent
“SAID JANE AFTER A LITTLE thought. “Two others, but neither likely to know much. One’s Mr. Tredgold, chaplain at Luftwich for a time. Lives at Canterbury House.”
Canterbury House was a home for retired clergymen. Having spent their working days in big, drafty old rectories owned by the church, the clergy were often hard put to find housing after their retirement, especially when their meager stipends had been eaten up by the demands of the old houses. So unless their wives had independent means, as few did nowadays, they often ended up in places like Canterbury House, which was better than letting them starve on the streets, but still a poor way to treat men who had served God all their lives. It was, I thought, still harder on their wives, who had to give up the accumulated treasures of a lifetime of housekeeping, the heirloom china, the favorite pictures and chairs and ornaments they had looked after so lovingly, and condense their belongings to what would fit into one or two small rooms.
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