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EASTER WEEK AND
Cornwall is brimming with visitors. The weather is still totally perfect – what the English always imagine the whole summer will be like after one idyllic sunny weekend. Everywhere people are planning camping trips, garden parties, fetes, barbecues, regattas, and a host of outdoor activities for the months between now and the end of August. How we forget, those first sunny warm days or weeks, the idiosyncrasies of weather in Britain.

Today it feels as if summer will go on for ever. A host of blue tits are pecking away at the bird feeder and hardly move as I go outside, they’re so used to me. Guy waves to me from the front of the Winterson’s house where he is finishing the pavement he’s laid, covering the entire front lawn just as Kate and Leon had asked him to. Guy seems distracted, frowning at his own work as he stands looking at it.

‘You’ve done a great job,’ I call out. It’s true, the paving stones are perfectly laid, and it all looks quite grand and elegant. Perfect for a town house, but, as we’d feared, totally out of place in the country. Who needs perfect paving stones when we have such stunning rock formations by the sea or on the moor? And who needs potted azaleas when we have an abundance of wild flowers and woodland?

Guy feels the same, for he only shrugs despondently at my compliment. He tried to talk Kate into leaving a border around her terrace to plant shrubs, or some flower bulbs, but she barely listened. She’s thrilled with it all, and has decided to lay more paths and paving slabs in the back. More grassy spaces lost.

Kate comes out as I’m admiring Guy’s workmanship. I’m taking Jake for a walk in nearby woodland and ask her if she’d like to come along but she declines. ‘Too many things to do,’ she tells me. ‘I’ve got a furniture maker coming from Bristol to measure the wall for my bookcases. I also want him to make some kitchen shelves; those old ones are so tatty.’

I can’t hide my surprise. ‘But I thought Guy was doing them. You asked me about him. Is there something wrong with his work?’

‘Oh no, it’s fine, just fine, and Leon and I have told him so. But we had second thoughts about something as intricate as the kind of woodwork we want done. He’s only an odd-job man after all.’

I’m nearly speechless. I stare at her, wondering if this is some kind of joke. Jake barks, impatient for his walk, but I need to find out more. ‘Kate, we’re all odd-job men and women around here. We’ve talked about this before. There’s so little full-time work in Cornwall that most of us make do with all sorts of employment, Guy included. He’s a brilliant carpenter, I’ve seen some of his work. And he’s local.’

She looks embarrassed but starts talking at once, eager to either reassure me or to justify herself. Probably both, I decide. ‘Don’t worry, Tessa, he’s fine about it. I’ve already told him and explained.’

I remember Guy’s glum look when I greeted him, and now I know the reason. She’s going on, ‘I told him this man in Bristol has been highly recommended, has quite a business in his area, but he’ll work down here.’ She brushes some of Jake’s hair from her pale linen trousers distractedly; he’s been rubbing against her, trying to get her to stop talking to me so he can have his walk.

Kate continues explaining. ‘He charges a fortune, this furniture specialist, as you can guess. But we’ve got it, so why not spend it? And the house will look stunning when it’s finished.’ She brightens up. ‘We’ll have a huge house-warming party, maybe at the end of summer. Live music, a marquee in the garden, dancing, loads of our friends from London. I can’t wait for you and Ben to meet them.’

‘Sounds fun. The villagers will love it.’

She looks a bit taken aback. Surely she’ll invite at least some of her neighbours? She says, reading my thoughts, ‘We haven’t really got to know anyone but you and Ben very well yet. We’re so lucky we happened to move in right next door to people like you, who share the same ideas about things.’

I’m having a niggling doubt about this all of a sudden, despite what I said to Ben about us having lots in common with the Wintersons. It’s all very well talking about theatre in London, and what’s going on in the city, but we’ve left all that behind, by choice. What’s important to us now is this village, this community, our life with the people here. It doesn’t seem to be getting that way for the Wintersons. But then I think, yet again, give them time. It’s not easy, they just need to settle as we have.

Kate walks with me to the little pond by the village green that is a colourful riot of primroses, flowering shrubs, and trees. We lean over the narrow wooden bridge watching the ducks playing in the water, quacking loudly to each other. Kate shudders. ‘More bird noises. That peacock up the road – it’s driving me crazy, Tessa.’

‘Still? I didn’t think he’d been quite so bad lately.’ It’s true, I can’t remember when I heard him last. But then Emmanuel’s daft cry doesn’t bother me, so perhaps I just haven’t noticed.

‘Leon and I were talking the other night about it. We feel we have to do something.’

‘Like cover his head with a sack?’ I say lightly, thinking she’s joking. Kate doesn’t answer for a few minutes and we walk along silently, looking at the willow tree at the edge of the pond. Its branches are perfect, draped like an elegant curtain down to the water’s edge, and it has that fuzzy pale green shade that occurs just before the leaves burst out of their buds. Willows are amazing trees, I’ve learned since coming here. Their bark produces a compound called salicin, which we use in aspirin. Willows are mentioned in several ancient texts, too, according to the tree book I’ve taken to carrying around with me when I remember.

Kate isn’t even looking at the pond, the ducks, the willow tree. She’s biting her lip in that kind of anxious way she has. She doesn’t seem any more relaxed than she did when they first moved here. And now she’s talking about the peacock again. ‘Tessa, I think we villagers should take a stand. Complain about that bird. I’m sure it’s illegal, keeping a thing that makes all that noise.’

I’m stunned. Surely she’s not serious? ‘It’s not that bad, Kate. Even if it was, Emmanuel is special, belonging to the Humphreys. Those two are the village elders, for goodness’ sake, they’re well respected by everyone. Loved, too.’

‘Oh God, I’m OK with that, and I’m sure they’re very nice people. That doesn’t mean they can thoughtlessly disturb the peace and quiet of the whole village.’

‘Who’s disturbed? I’ve not heard anyone else mention it.’

Kate says curtly, ‘Well, maybe they’re all too frightened of the Humphreys to say anything.’

‘That’s ridiculous. No one’s frightened of them.’

‘Well, let’s see, shall we? I’m starting a petition about that peacock, saying it’s a nuisance to the community and asking for them to remove it.’

Once again I’m shocked. ‘Kate, I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘Look, I don’t want to do it. I came here for peace and an unstressed life, not to do battle. But I’m really going crazy with that noise.’ She looks as if she’s about to cry. ‘I’m sure Leon and I aren’t the only ones here who feel like that. I’m sure everyone will thank me for it when that wretched bird is finally removed.’

I’m about to disagree with her when the wretched bird gives such a blood-curdling shriek that it silences us both for a few moments. Finally Kate says, ‘You see, Tessa? Sign my petition. You’ll be glad of it.’

I shake my head. ‘Sorry, Kate, I could never sign anything like that. Neither could Ben. Edna and Hector have been here for ever, and who are we to say what they can and cannot do on their own property.’

There is another moment of silence between us, not a comfortable one. She puts her hand on my arm in a placating gesture. ‘Look, let’s not fall out over a peacock. That’s fine if you don’t sign, I’m sure others will.’ She smiles. ‘Let’s agree to disagree, like friends do about politics and religion and other touchy subjects.’

I smile back. ‘I don’t fall out with people, Kate.’

She looks relieved. ‘So we’re still invited to dinner at your place tonight?’

‘What a question! Of course you are. We’re both looking forward to it.’

Kate is smiling now. ‘We’re looking forward to it, too. We’ll bring wine, but anything else? I’m going into Truro later, I can do some shopping for you.’

‘Thanks for the offer, but we’re fine. Ben’s cooking. He’s a brilliant cook.’

‘I’d better go, then. Oh, I suddenly remember, I’ve got to ring that furniture maker in Bristol, set a date for him to come down here. See you later.’ As she starts to rush off she adds, ‘And don’t worry about Guy. Leon gave him a very generous bonus when we told him that we’ve decided to get an out-of-town craftsman. We told him this man had been highly recommended by friends of ours, which is true. And we’re paying Guy quite well for the work he’s done outside. Well over the local rates.’

Oh dear, I think as I walk with Jake, Kate just doesn’t get it. Yes, Guy needs the money, but it’s so much more than that. It’s his professional pride at stake, that and the fact that the Wintersons won’t even give him a chance though he’s right on the spot and has had good reports about his work from us and others. The villagers aren’t going to like it either, a good local man turned down in favour of someone from Up Country.

Well, none of your business, Tessa, I tell myself firmly. I put Kate and Leon out of my mind and bring myself back to the fresh air, the warming earth under my feet, the profusion of trees and wild flowers, with pink campion and yellow buttercups everywhere I look. Jake finds a little stream and leaps into it, scaring any tiny fish or water creatures lurking there. The rocks at the edge are bright green with moss and the bark of the trees is encrusted with lichen. So many trees – beech and oak, a few conifers, and birch. There is a holm oak that reminds me of Edna and Hector, and I wonder what, if anything, to do about their dying tree. Not that I can do much, and not that I want to interfere, but if the tree is dangerous, I’d never forgive myself if it came crashing down on them or on their house.

And so the next day, when I see Woody at his caravan, I ask him about the holm oak again. He’s outside sitting on a rickety canvas chair, Holly is lying on a torn blanket spread over the grass. ‘Can’t get enough of this sun,’ she murmurs, patting the empty spot next to her. ‘Come grab some rays, Tessa,’ she says to me, then grins. ‘Hey, how cool are those shorts?’

I grin back. ‘You’re just jealous because you don’t own a pair of baggy Royal Mail official shorts.’

Holly is wearing shorts, too, tight denim ones, and about eight inches shorter than mine. She’s wearing a tiny halter top with ropes of coloured beads hanging around her neck. ‘This weather is awesome,’ she sighs. ‘So warm, and only April.’

Woody, in shorts, too, and with his shirt off, brings me an ice-cold lemonade and insists I take the canvas chair. ‘Sit down for a bit,’ he says.

I do. What’s the point of living in a place like this if I don’t take advantage of it, especially when the sun shines like it is today? I say this to the young couple. Holly nods. ‘Yeah, well that’s what I’m doing for sure. Taking advantage, before I start work this weekend.’

‘At the post office in Morranport? I heard Nell offered you the job.’

‘Yep. Part-time at first then full-time during July and August.’

‘Are you pleased?’

‘Dead right, I’m chuffed. I like the old girl, and working in a shop’ll be fun.’

I drink the refreshing lemonade gratefully and get up to go, first asking Woody about the Humphreys’ tree. ‘I know we’ve talked about this, but I still can’t help worrying about it. I know nothing can be done while the birds are nesting, but maybe you could go around again, convince them that sooner rather than later the tree has got to come down?’

‘Oh, I’ve already done that. I called in a week or so ago, had a morning’s job in the village and thought I’d stop by, have another look at the tree. Mrs Humphrey – or Edna as she said to call her – and Hector, they were great, brought me out some tea and cake,’ his face takes on a bemused look. ‘The tea was kinda odd, tasted strange, but the cake was delicious. Edna gave me some to take back to Holly.’

I chuckle to myself, thinking of some of Edna’s teas that I’ve drunk over the past couple of years. Sometimes I’m lucky and get ordinary English breakfast, or something incredibly tasty she’s concocted out of various herbs, but sometimes it’s disastrous, as she’s always experimenting with plants and seeds. I used to worry that they might poison themselves, but I’ve realised that despite the taste of some of the brews, they’re all harmless.

Guy is still talking. ‘They’d like to meet Holly. I told them all about her, how she’s moved into the caravan with me and we’re going to start this market garden.’ He turns to Holly, who is standing now at his side, listening to us. ‘That was before you got this job at Morranport,’ he continues. ‘Guess you won’t be able to help out much once you start there.’

Holly takes his hand. ‘I’m only part-time to start with, so I can help with the planting and stuff. Think of the money, Woody. We can buy fencing to keep out the rabbits, for a start.’

I bring the conversation gently back to the dying holm oak at Poet’s Tenement. Woody says, ‘Yeah, I looked at the tree again. Definitely staggy headed, not too good. I figured that mebbe I could call in every now and again, warn them about that tree, and slowly get them to come around to the idea that it’s got to come down.’

‘That’s nice of you, Woody.’

‘Well, I like’em, y’see. And I like that ole tree. I don’t like it coming down any more than they do. But if it gotta be done, I figure that if Edna and Hector get to know me a bit, they won’t mind so much when the tree goes. At least it’ll be a friend and not a stranger taking it down.’

I’m touched by this sensitivity but not surprised. Living in a close community, sharing both good fortune and hardships throughout the decades, the locals seem attuned to each other in ways you don’t often see in cities. There is something else I’ve noticed, too. Since living here, I’ve been struck by how the various tradespeople hate to see money being spent unnecessarily, even if they’re the ones who would profit by it. When the local electrician came to do up some of the dodgy wiring we need to repair if we’re going to rent out our house, he kept thinking of ways we could cut costs by doing one or two things differently. Our local garage man takes real pleasure in finding parts like a wing mirror for me on eBay instead of ordering a new one. This desire to be frugal is, I think, one of the great legacies of Methodism, which flourished in Cornwall over two centuries ago.