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AS I LEFT ARIEL’S HOUSE, admiring the colourful knitting display thankfully undamaged by the bomb, my attention was caught by the shutters still closed on one of the cottages on the green. Who was so lazy – or such a sound sleeper – as to still be in bed at nearly ten o’clock on a weekday? How could they have slept through the earlier kerfuffle around the tree?
I couldn’t remember who lived there, but I had the vague recollection of seeing an elderly man tending its front garden, possibly one of Billy’s darts cronies. Perhaps he was unwell. I glanced at my watch. I was already an hour late for work. Another few minutes wouldn’t make much difference. Hector would understand.
I knocked at the door. No answer, so I knocked again, then stepped back to look for signs of life at the front windows. Nothing.
The third time I knocked, harder than before, the door moved slightly under my clenched fist. A lot of people in Wendlebury Barrow never lock their doors while they are at home, even at night. I turned the knob and gently pushed the door open.
“Hello?” I called softly. Then, louder, “Are you OK? Do you need any help?”
A groan came from the far end of the hall, which led into a small kitchen. Fearing the occupant had fallen and broken a limb or had a stroke, I ran to his aid. To my surprise, there at the table sat Billy’s friend George in tartan flannelette pyjamas and a paisley-patterned polyester dressing gown. At my approach, he shrank back like a dog that expected to be thrashed.
“George, whatever’s the matter? Can I help?”
He let out another strangled moan.
“Never mind me, what about that poor girl? I never meant to hurt her. I never meant anyone no harm.”
That made two of them.
I pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down, so that I’d be on his level.
“You mean Ariel? Don’t worry, she’s fine. I’ve just left her with Carol. The doctor said she’s OK, just undernourished and anxious, but that’s not your doing. Carol’s feeding her bacon and eggs.”
He covered his face with his hands. “Oh, praise be for that! When I planted it there, I didn’t think anyone would stand on just that spot. I thought it would be clear for the photo Mrs Fortescue was on about last night. How was I to know some daft girl would go streaking across just as I set it off?”
“Planted what? The tree? No, of course not, that was your great grandfather’s doing.”
Suddenly it all fell into place.
“Oh, I see! You were making a protest too! Not against knitting, surely?”
He moaned again.
“No, sorry, of course not. You were protesting at the desecration of your great grandfather’s memorial tree.”
He began to rally. “Of course I was. That Fortescue woman had no right! And as to that tom-fool boy clambering all over it last night! I just hopes those weren’t copper nails he was hammering in or the whole tree will be done for. It’s a miracle it’s still in one piece.”
I’d heard copper nails could kill a tree and was anxious to reason with him.
“I think they were just steel tacks. They were definitely silver in colour. I remember seeing them in his mouth and hoping he wouldn’t swallow them. I don’t think they’ll do it any damage. But speaking of damage, what on earth was it you planted in front of the tree – a smoke bomb?”
George lowered his hands and nodded.
“It weren’t anything nasty, just one of those little devices I uses to fumigate my henhouse. I added a timed fuse to make it go off at the vital moment. I didn’t mean no harm. I just wanted to teach people not to mess about with my tree.”
I bit my lip.
“What we were doing wasn’t meant to be disrespectful. I’m sorry if it seemed that way. It was quite the opposite, actually. It was helping raise the profile of the hostel for the homeless in Slate Green.”
George picked up a discarded envelope from the table and started folding and unfolding it over and over.
“Well, it didn’t seem exactly respectful. It was like dancing on somebody’s grave. It’s not as if anyone asked my permission. If they’d asked my permission and explained, that would have been a different matter. But they just took over. First I knew of it was when I looked out my bedroom window last night. It was like none of them knew what my tree stood for – for my great grandfather, my grandfather, my dad and me.”
I was glad he hadn’t recognised me in the dark.
So that was the cause of the gunshot sound the previous night – George, beside himself with indignation, had slammed his bedroom shutters. Then he’d done it again this morning, this time horrified by the unintended consequences of his smoke-bomb protest. He thought he’d killed Ariel. No wonder he was so upset.
I reached my hand across the table towards him, not quite touching his, but close.
“You do know what you did was wrong, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Of course I do. What do you take me for? I’ve been to Sunday School. But that Fortescue woman wouldn’t take no notice of an old man like me.”
I could understand his reservations.
“But look at it this way. Your special tree is playing a really important part in what Mrs Fortescue has organised to help the homeless. Everyone who sees it will always remember it now. It’ll be famous for miles around once it’s been in the paper. Don’t you think that would make your great grandfather proud?”
“Yes, but only for her reasons, not for mine. I don’t want to seem unsympathetic to the homeless, but –”
I had a sudden brainwave.
“I know, why don’t I phone the local paper and ask Clive Wren to add to the picture caption a note that the tree is a memorial to your great grandfather?”
George looked me in the eye for the first time, clearly heartened by my suggestion.
“Would you, Sophie? That would be wonderful.”
“And we can see about getting a little plaque made with his name and dates on, and put it at the base of the tree. Then everyone will know.”
He cast his eyes down. “Everyone did know when it was first planted, and for a long time after that. But older folks died, and new people moved into the village who never even knew my dad, let alone his father, and his father before him.”
“No worries, George. Now, let me make you a nice cup of tea, then I must get back to work.”
I got up and filled his kettle at the sink.
“You won’t tell anyone what I did, will you? I feels ashamed now. I just acted in the heat of the moment. I didn’t mean to upset that little girl. I had no idea the blast would be strong enough to blow her clothes right off her.”
I suppressed a laugh as I fetched a cup and saucer from the dresser.
“I don’t think anyone would blame you for that, George. But we’d better put some explanation out, otherwise everyone will end up blaming Tommy, and that wouldn’t be fair.”
“Yes, I’d have blamed him meself if I didn’t know it was me. It’s a wonder no-one took him to task over it on the spot.”
I thought back to the scene.
“Actually, I think we have Ariel to thank for that. Her sudden appearance was quite a distraction. And speaking of Ariel, would you mind if I brought her round to see you? I’m sure you’d be able to help each other a lot. She’s recently lost both her parents, you see, so she’ll understand how you feel. She really needs someone to talk to who empathises with how hard it is to lose someone you love. And if you and she are clearly on good terms before we tell everyone else who planted the smoke bomb, I’m sure they’ll let you off.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” I said firmly.
He’d already been punished enough.
