Chapter 23
Sean pulled a bottle of wine from the wine rack, cradling it in the palms of both hands while he read the label.
‘I don’t know about the merlot, now I think about it.
It’s a good wine, but… Do you think white, rather, for lunch?
’ he asked. ‘And it’s spring, which would suggest something lighter.
A Chardonnay would pair better with the lemon gelato Jono is making. ’
It wasn’t like Sean to be so indecisive, almost anxious, about a decision like which wine to take to their hosts.
But the hosts in this case were Laine’s parents.
It was their first invitation to Laine’s family, the first time that the older generation would meet.
Sean’s nerves had been caught from Jono.
‘Definitely the white,’ said Julia, who had limited interest in wine, or in overthinking that particular problem.
‘Ah, good, thanks, Julia,’ he said, relieved to have a decision made. He put the red back in the rack and pulled out a couple of whites, reading the labels and replacing the bottles until deciding on one. ‘This one looks perfect. I’ll pop it in the fridge.’
‘You do that and I’ll get the dogs and the leads. We’ll head straight out, shall we?’
Their plan was to take Leo and Jake for a long, brisk walk to tire them out and leave them both at Sean’s while the humans went off to Laine’s parents for lunch.
They walked down the lane in the direction of the woods, the dogs on leads trotting happily beside them.
Julia noted and appreciated, as she always did, the gentle pleasure of walking side by side on a pretty day, chatting about matters as they came into their heads.
Sean and Julia had a lot of such matters to chat about.
It had been an eventful couple of days since they’d last been together.
‘It’s such a relief to hear that Walter and Amaryllis’s baby is doing well,’ said Julia.
‘Ah, yes. I spoke to the paediatrician on the ward and she said he’s perfectly healthy, quite robust, and not a bad weight considering he should have had three more weeks on the inside.
They’re keeping him in the neonatal ICU for a day or two, but from what I’m told, everyone is in good health.
’ As their family doctor, Sean had been kept in the loop as the situation unfolded, from high panic through to the point of relief and joy.
‘Poor Walter. He was in such a state of nerves as it was. I’m sure it was very scary for them both when she went into labour early,’ said Julia.
‘He sounded positively euphoric in the voice note he sent me after the baby was born. I think the adrenaline was still coursing through his body. And the baby was fine.’
‘He didn’t mention the baby’s name?’
‘No, I don’t know if they’ve decided.’
‘The paediatrician didn’t say?’ she asked teasingly.
‘No, but she told me the weight, length and head circumference, if you’d like to know those,’ he said, putting an arm through hers.
When they reached the woods, they unclipped the leads and let the dogs go free. They cantered through the bushes, chasing each other, barking, their tails a whirring blur. Their simple happiness made the adults happy, too.
‘Now, tell me about your adventures. I want to hear the outcome of the Husky Man story.’
Julia sighed. ‘There’s not much to tell.
Sven, the Malamute owner, has been cleared of any involvement in either murder.
He was upset about the meadow, and angry with the conservation authorities, but he didn’t kill anyone.
He was, in fact, in hospital recovering after a small heart attack on the day that Basil was killed, and back for more tests on the day that Esmeralda was killed.
Apparently, it was more the talk of his ill health that enraged him, rather than the actual accusation of murder.
It’s back to the drawing board for Hayley Gibson. ’
They walked on into a little clearing, where the sun broke through the trees to leave a patchwork of light and shade on the fresh green grass. A woman was standing quite still on the far edge of the clearing, a pair of binoculars raised to her eyes.
Sean saw her, too. They both understood instantly that she was a birdwatcher, and probably wouldn’t welcome two wild dogs blundering through the undergrowth.
They had the same thought and each reached down to grab their dog’s collar as they passed.
Fortunately, by now, the dogs had burnt off their initial spurt of energy and were now calm.
‘Thank you,’ said the woman quietly, taking the binoculars from her eyes and looking in their direction. They greeted her silently with a tiny wave. ‘It’s okay, I’m wrapping up for the day. Got to get home to the family.’
Julia recognised her; she could even picture her with a double pushchair, but for a moment she couldn’t place her.
‘Oh, hello,’ said the woman at normal volume, smiling nervously in Julia’s direction.
Julia knew that tight smile. It was a smile that said that the young woman was racking her brain, trying to remember where she knew Julia from and what her name was.
Julia’s brain was being likewise racked for the young woman’s name, and coming up empty.
To put them both out of their predicament she said, ‘It’s Julia Bird. ’
‘Of course!’ The woman looked relieved. ‘Slipped my mind for a second. And I’m Barbie Lincoln.’
‘Of course!’ said Julia. She remembered where she’d seen Barbie. She had been at the protests against dangerous driving that had been held outside Berrywick police station for some weeks. Julia had seen her most afternoons, usually with her twins in tow.
‘And I know Dr O’Connor, of course.’ The way she said it, Julia assumed she was a patient.
‘Hello, Barbie,’ said Sean cheerfully. ‘I didn’t know you were a birdwatcher.’
‘I know common wisdom is that people generally succumb to the birding bug after fifty, but I caught it early. I’ve liked birds since I was a child, and have got very keen on birdwatching in the last few years.
It all started with a birdfeeder in the garden and now I’m out whenever I can – which isn’t that often, what with young kids. I love it, though.’
‘It’s a lovely way to spend an hour or two on a Sunday morning,’ said Sean. ‘Very peaceful, I would imagine. Good for your health.’
‘It is. Although, I’m working today, actually.
I am a volunteer spotter for Birders for Britain.
We report sightings of rare birds, as an unofficial census.
Since my twins were born, I’ve only been working three mornings a week from home, so on Tuesdays and Thursdays I do a few hours of spotting and counting.
It’s exciting times in the British birding community.
There have been reported sightings of a very rare bird around these parts, a bird that hasn’t been seen in years, maybe decades, and was thought to be on the brink of extinction, if not extinct.
I’ll be here as much as I can for the next week or so, and there are other birders doing the same in other places nearby where there have been reports of possible sightings.
We feed the information back to the environmental agencies and the local authorities. ’
‘Well, well done you. It sounds like a worthwhile task,’ said Julia. ‘I was reading an article just the other day about the decline in our local birds. So sad to imagine that the birds I saw as a child might not be around if I have grandchildren.’
‘That’s part of why I do the volunteering.
So my kids will grow up with the birds and animals I grew up with.
The main problem is habitat loss, of course.
All the new shops and housing developments you see springing up…
before they were built, something was living there, in the meadows and the trees and the streams. That’s why we work with the environmental agencies. ’
‘Did you know Basil Crow at all?’ Julia asked.
‘I did. I met him from time to time at wildlife talks and meetings. Terrible what happened to that man… and there’s still no arrest. And Esmeralda Gray, the lady who drowned.
She came to do a talk at Birders for Britain, all about how they track birds and their whereabouts to make sure their breeding and nesting areas are protected from development. Lovely woman. Such a tragic accident.’
‘They will both be sorely missed,’ said Julia. It was true. When someone died, you never really knew the effects that death would have on other people. How their absence might ripple through a community, affecting even strangers, the environment, the birds and animals.
‘Well, nice to see you both. I’ll be going,’ said Barbie. ‘My husband is making a proper Sunday lunch. He won’t be happy if I’m late and the chicken dries out.’
‘This must be it,’ said Julia some time later, slowing the car. She indicated and turned left at a sign that read Evergreen Farm. Beneath the writing was a drawing of a large goat and a baby goat, confirming that this was indeed the farm they were looking for.
Sean and Julia drove down a driveway, lined on both sides with trees.
On their left was a field, with a shed and a fenced-off paddock area at one end.
In the paddock area was a scattering of goats.
Ahead of them stood a small farmhouse, low and thatched and a bit higgledy-piggledy, but pretty and well looked after, with a truly magnificent rose clambering across its front, bedecked with blooms the colour of clotted cream.