‘
We certainly did
not
agree to anything
on the phone.
You put the idea to me, but that
’
s as
far as things went.
’
Sara got up and began to clear
the table. She was
feeling both worried and irritated.
When she had called
Des on the telephone to tell him
how long she would be
away he had brought up the
idea of them opening a
second boutique, but she could
not possibly have agreed
to it. At the moment she
did not even know how much
money had been left to
her,
yet
here he was going ahead
with the business as
if everything had been settled
between them.
It just would not do and she would have
to tell him so, very
firmly.
She clattered
the dishes into the sink and began run
ning the hot water
on them. Then she turned her head
with the idea of
speaking her mind, but Des was not in
the room
and the next moment she heard the television
blare loudly.
Sara
’
s
lips compressed as she began using the dish
mop to the sound
of thudding racehorse hoofs and an
apparently
hysterical commentator.
Taking her
time over washing and drying the dishes
and putting
them away Sara tried to think objectively.
Des
had always been inclined to go full tilt at any project,
she
was apt to be cautious, perhaps over much so, but
between
them they had got on well in business. Sup
posing
the leasing of Fenchurch Mill brought her four
or
five hundred pounds a year? It was no use hoarding
the money. Much better to put it to some use, so why
not
open another boutique? But she had to know how much money she would have before going into details.
In a better frame of mind she went into the sitting room and raised her voice above the din.
‘
Des, can we talk business for a few minutes
?
’
He raised himself from his sprawl on the settee, then went quickly to the television and switched it off.
‘
Sure. Business is something I
’
m always willing to talk about. Got a proposition?
’
‘
In a way. When I
’
ve got things settled here I think it
would
be a good idea to open another shop. But in London, not here.
’
‘
I was sure you would when you got around to thinking about it. That
’
s why I got a property agent on the job right away.
’
‘
But I still don
’
t know how much money I
’
ll have.
’
‘
That
’
s all right. It
’
ll take weeks to find the right property. Then there
’
ll be the haggling over the price of it.
’
‘
Price! I thought of having a two or three years
’
lease. Suppose the venture isn
’
t a success?
’
‘
Nuts to leases. It
’
s like
giving
money away. If the place is a success, when you come to renew the lease they up the price on you. No, my chick. You
buy
on a
mortgage,
then if you want to get out you can always sell.
’
He gave her a sharp look.
‘
I don
’
t know why I
’
m telling you all this. If you put in more capital you
’
ll be the senior partner. I don
’
t know whether I
’
d like being bossed about by a chick.
’
‘
Don
’
t be silly, I wouldn
’
t dream of bossing you. We
’
ve been equal partners up to now. Why shouldn
’
t we continue so?
’
He shook his head doubtfully, then swept the long hair from the side of his face.
‘
It wouldn
’
t work out. If we had an argument about some business detail I wouldn
’
t be able to put my point of view as strongly as I might want to. I
’
d be thinking that most of it was your money and that I didn
’
t have as much right to protest.
’
‘
But opening a new shop was your idea! Why are you changing it all at once? You really are exasperating.
’
‘
It was just a notion that came into my head. I should have thought before I spoke. Mind if I have the television on again?
’
‘
No, put it on if you wish. It seems a pity not to use the money, though.
’
‘
I suppose it does.
’
He walked halfway to the television set, then turned about.
‘
I
’
ll tell you what you could do, if you like. You buy the property when we find one we want, then
it to the business.
That way we
would
be equal partners and you
’
d have a fair return on your capital.
’
He laughed.
‘
If the roof started leaking you could write to yourself asking for it to be repaired.
’
Sara laughed too.
‘
The idea sounds super.
’
He turned the television on again and sprawled back on the settee. Sara sat in one of the easy chairs and tried to take an interest in the horse-racing, but found the screamed-out commentary more than she could endure. She made an excuse which Desmond did not hear and went back to the kitchen. For a moment or two she gazed out of the window, then the bright sky invited her out of doors. She wandered along the path where she had made an attempt at clearance and suddenly felt a need to do something energetic. She brought a digging fork from the shed and as she tried to force the tines into the hard earth she saw a robin less than a yard away from her, its head cocked to one side as it regarded her with one very bright eye.
Sara straightened up very slowly. Never until this moment had she ever seen a robin at such close quarters, and she had never believed one could have so red a breast. Christmas card artists were not guilty of overcolouring, after all.
Almost holding her breath, Sara watched the bird intently, sure that at any moment it would fly away. Then it darted to where her fork was still stuck in the ground, made a lightning peck and hopped about a foot away, a small white grub in its beak.
Sara moved cautiously to press the fork further in and lever up half frozen earth. She suppressed a squeal of delight as the robin hopped into the small hole she had made and pecked rapidly. She moved the fork again and it soon became apparent to her that the bird had no fear whatever either of her or of the implement she was clumsily wielding.
A half hour passed and it seemed the robin had an insatiable appetite. Sara straightened a back which was beginning to ache and as she rested her hands on the fork the robin flew to perch on top of them. It regarded her for a few seconds, then hopped back into the hole she had made and resumed its pecking.
Sara experienced a feeling she had never known before. It was at one time both a transport of delight and an intense yearning for the natural things of life. She began to understand that in spite of the magnetism of big city existence, life could not be lived there to the full. She still watched the robin, but her thoughts now strayed to Hugh. What a wonderful career he had chosen, studying birds, photographing them and writing books about them. Someone like him should have inherited Fen
c
hurch Mill, not an ignoramus about nature—a townie like herself. Someone had to live and work in the big cities, of course, or there would be no one to print the nature-lovers
’
books and no great libraries to house them when they were printed. All the same
...
As she moved down
the path, a thrush winged past
her and settled on the edge
of the hole she had dug. It
poised for a moment, then made
a sudden stab at the
ground. The next second it was
braced in a tug-of-war
with a long brown worm,
a losing war for the worm.
She laughed and stabbed her fork
into the ground again,
and immediately the robin flew
to explore at her feet.
Then it seemed suddenly
alarmed and darted in swift
flight towards the jungle thicket
at the end of the garden.
Sara saw it disappear from her
view and went towards
the spot, hoping to see its nest.
There was a tangle of
leafless stems and branches and
about a yard back among
the seemingly dense wood
a holly bush about ten feet
tall. Low down in it was a perfectly
formed nest. Sara
was trying to push her way
closer to it when she heard
the distant roar of the bulldozer.
She turned quickly,
with one thought in her
mind—the holly bush and its
nest must be saved.
Running into the
house
and
up the stairs, Sara looked
through her bedroom
window. Beyond the end of the
garden,
and almost reaching it, was a very narrow lane
and about a
quarter of a mile from her the bulldozer
was lumbering steadily
towards her on the business of
widening it.
As she closed
the window again she became aware of the
awful din
of the television set downstairs. Desmond
seemed
sufficiently entertained, so there was no reason
why
she should not leave him alone a while longer. She
changed
rapidly into slacks and a sweater, pulled on her
stout
shoes and left the house by the back door again.
Some
exploration of the rank growth close to the Mill
tower
showed her a gate that had fallen off its hinges.
She
went through the gateway, thrusting aside dead
growth
which still had the power to sting and rasp, and came to the newly opened lane.
She walked at a
good
pace until she came closer to where the bulldozer was making its bucking progress. Then the operator saw her and the nerve-shattering roar was suddenly cut off. The man leaned out of his cab and regarded her intently for a few seconds before saying in a pleasant voice,
‘
You want to speak to me, Miss Seymour?
’
‘
Yes. Please—if it
’
s at all possible—there
’
s a holly bush near the end of the garden that I
’
d like saved.
’
‘
Little old holly? That should be all right, miss. I won
’
t be so far as that until Monday noon.
’
‘
And will you be able to skirt around it?
’
‘
It
’
s
mi
ll land, miss. You just say what you want done with her.
’
‘
You mean there
’
s more than this lane belongs to the mill?
’
‘
A biggish piece more. On this side of the road there
’
s a strip about a couple of hundred yards wide and a drainage dyke. On the other side it
’
s about a quarter of a mile to Sedge Farm.
’
‘
I had no idea there was so much land. It
’
s practically an estate.
’
‘
Getting towards it, and there
’
s some good timber on it too.
’
He laughed.
‘
Nearly enough to set you up as a timber merchant.
’
She laughed with him.
‘
I hadn
’
t thought of myself as a timber merchant. You
’
ll have to tell me more about it. Come up to the house on Monday morning and we can discuss it over a cup of coffee. Or perhaps you
’
d rather have a bottle of beer?
’
‘
Well, it is a thirsty job, miss. The dozer kicks up a fair old dust.
’
‘
Come and quench it about half-past ten on Monday, Mr
.
—
’