‘It is for me,’ Abby said, patting Raffle’s head. ‘Besides, I have to get going on a plan to save the reserve in the morning, and I don’t want a sore head when I’m doing it.’
‘Bloody Wild Wonders,’ Gavin said. ‘What a fucking curse, eh?’ His glass was empty, and the swearing – usually quite prevalent anyway – had ramped up a notch, which meant he was already on his way to being drunk, making the most of the pass he’d got from his wife.
‘It’s good for the area,’ Stephan said carefully. ‘It might mean more publicity for Meadowsweet as well as Reston Marsh. I don’t think Penelope would have appreciated me saying this earlier, but we shouldn’t knock it until it’s started.’
‘They’re here already.’ Rosa turned to Abby, filling her in on the gossip she had missed by turning up later than the others. ‘Stephan passed three trucks emblazoned with the logo on his cycle over this evening.’
Stephan nodded. ‘I went home to feed Tilly her Whiskas, and I passed them on my way back here. Great big bloody things, I wouldn’t be surprised if they get stuck in the mud at some point. I wonder, did they not do a recce when they decided to come to Reston Marsh and realize that the reserve is, unsurprisingly, in marshland? Even car parks and properly built trails won’t always cut it for fifty-ton trucks in this kind of environment.’
Marek chuckled. ‘You would have thought the name would give them a clue. Wouldn’t it be great if they started off with a huge disaster like that? All the expensive filming equipment lost, because one of the trucks tipped over into the mire.’
‘I’m not sure even that would be enough to raise a smile from Penelope,’ Rosa said. ‘She’s so austere – more so than usual.’
‘She has a lot on her plate.’ Stephan echoed Abby’s earlier words. ‘Wild Wonders is real. And I’m the only one who thinks it could be a bonus for us, instead of a problem.’
‘It’s like putting two mobiles on the table,’ Marek said. ‘One’s the latest iPhone, and the other’s the Nokia 3330 with the tiny buttons and the worm game. No matter how nostalgic you feel, you’ll go for the iPhone, 100 per cent.’
‘But why can’t people have both?’ Abby asked. ‘The iPhone for the cool features, the Nokia because it reminds you of simpler times. Why won’t people go to Reston Marsh for the thrill of being somewhere they see on the TV, and then come to us because it’s more peaceful?’
‘I’ll give you a reason,’ Gavin said. ‘Flick Hunter. That’s why.’ He sat back, a smug grin on his face and tried to drink the now non-existent dregs of his pint.
‘I’ll get another round in.’ Rosa stood and disappeared to the bar, but not before Abby had seen the eye-roll.
‘Who’s Flick Hunter?’ she asked. ‘It sounds like a made-up name.’
‘Wild Wonders TV presenter,’ Marek said. ‘She is a hottie. Blonde hair, long-limbed, twinkly eyes. A reason to watch all on her own, never mind the wildlife.’
‘But she’ll only be there when they’re broadcasting, surely?’ Abby tried not to be annoyed at their obvious objectification of this woman.
‘But people will still go to Reston Marsh on the off-chance,’ Gavin said. ‘Hell, I’m trying to come up with a detour home so I can spot a glimpse of her striding through the trees.’
‘Oh God.’ Abby put her head in her hands. ‘I can’t believe the success or failure of Meadowsweet is going to come down to a television presenter who probably doesn’t know that much about wildlife in the first place.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ Stephan said. ‘The lads are exaggerating. Thinking with their lower halves. We’ll be fine.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Gavin gave a humourless laugh, and the table settled into quiet, not remotely jubilant contemplation. Beside her, Raffle whined softly, and Abby scratched his ears, reminding him that he wasn’t forgotten.
‘I thought we were supposed to be celebrating Abby’s birthday, not bemoaning the fate of our workplace,’ Rosa said, returning to the table, Ryan behind her with the tray of drinks, his large hands making the glasses look like they belonged to a child’s tea set. ‘Can we stop talking shop for five minutes, please?’
‘Go on then.’ Marek folded his tanned arms. ‘If you can beat the Wild Wonders gossip then I’ll get the next round in, and a bag of crisps each. Push the boat out.’
‘Fine.’ Rosa gave them a wide, confident grin, her dark eyes sparkling, and then delivered her news. ‘Someone’s moving into Peacock Cottage.’
‘Oooooh.’ Gavin waved his hands in mock excitement.
‘Shut up, Gav,’ Rosa said. ‘It’s good gossip.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Penelope owns it, obviously, but like the big house up there—’ she pointed, and Abby cut in, her interested piqued by her friend’s news.
‘Swallowtail House.’
‘Thanks, Abby, like Swallowtail House, it’s been empty ever since I’ve worked on the reserve. So, why is Penelope moving someone in now? And is it someone she knows, or is she renting it out to boost her income, add another string to the Meadowsweet bow?’
‘I don’t understand why she doesn’t sell Swallowtail House if the reserve’s in trouble,’ Marek said. ‘That would surely go for a pretty packet and help fund the reserve for a while to come.’
‘She won’t,’ Abby said. ‘It’s a reminder of her life with Al, isn’t it? She can’t bear to part with it, that’s what everyone says.’
‘It’s a shame she and Al never had children, someone to inherit it or live in it, even if Penelope couldn’t bear to.’ Rosa sipped her wine.
‘All these romantic notions are very well and good,’ Gavin said, ‘but can you imagine Penelope with kids? Poor fucking kids!’
‘Gavin!’ Abby squealed. ‘You can’t say that. She might have been a wonderful mother; we don’t know her well enough to pass judgement.’
‘She could do with a little bit more humanity,’ Rosa said quietly.
‘How do you know about Peacock Cottage anyway?’ Abby asked. She wanted to have faith in Penelope. Nobody who cared about wildlife as much as she did, who had – along with her late husband – put all her money into turning her private estate into a nature reserve, could be heartless. But the news about Peacock Cottage was safer ground. No longer would little Red Riding Hood’s gran live there, but someone real. It was good gossip.
‘I overheard Penelope on the phone,’ Rosa said. ‘I was in the storeroom getting some more coaster sets out, and the office door blew open a bit. She was talking to some guy called Leo. Said something about them being able to move in whenever they liked, the sooner the better, and that it was a “quiet little cottage that was hardly ever disturbed”. Guys,’ Rosa added, ‘I heard Penelope laughing.’
There was a moment of stunned silence.
‘Laughing?’ Stephan said the word as if it were a foreign language.
‘Christ,’ Gavin shook his head. ‘Are you sure it was Penelope?’
‘Yup,’ Rosa said. ‘She said something like “He’ll be perfect, Leo. We can see if there’s hope left for either of us.” Maybe she thinks the rent money will go some way to restoring reserve fortunes?’
‘She’s not telling the truth about Peacock Cottage, though,’ Marek said. ‘It may look quiet, nestled there in the trees, but visitors go past it all the time. If Penelope’s using that as a selling point, it’s false advertising.’
‘And it’s right on the road to the car park,’ Abby added. ‘With cars slowing to go over the speed humps. You didn’t find out who was moving in, though? Or when?’
‘Nope,’ Rosa said. ‘We’ll have to wait and see, I guess.’
Gavin grunted. ‘I expect Octavia knows, has their shoe size, their health history and the exact minute they’re going to pitch up here. She’s probably already picked out a selection of library books for them based on their reading preferences. Bloody woman.’
There was genuine, hearty laughter round the table, Gavin’s scathing tone being mostly false.
Octavia, Abby’s next-door neighbour, kept gossip circulating like blood through Meadowgreen’s veins. She had a handle on everything that was happening in the village and, to a certain extent, on the reserve, but her heart was in the right place. The community library would have disappeared a long time ago had it not been for her selfless commitment.
‘You’re probably right,’ Rosa said. ‘I’m almost tempted to go and ask her.’
‘Imagine if she’s unwittingly rented it to one of the Wild Wonders crew members?’ Marek’s eyes widened.
‘Or Flick Hunter herself,’ Stephan added.
‘No way,’ Gavin said, breaking off to down his pint in three long gulps. ‘No fucking way would it be that fucking interesting. Come on, guys, this is Meadowsweet we’re talking about here. England’s most sedate fucking visitor attraction. If a squirrel farts it’s the highlight of the day.’
Abby laughed at Gavin’s crudeness. He, as much as anyone, was dedicated to his job and looking after the wildlife on the reserve, even though he sometimes did a good impression of not caring.
She felt a slight change in atmosphere round the table. Things were already so precarious with the confirmation of the Wild Wonders team turning up at Reston Marsh, and a new tenant in Peacock Cottage shouldn’t be a massive deal, but she was sure everyone else was having the same thoughts she was.
Any relative or friend of Penelope’s would stay with her on the Harrier estate – she had enough room in her house there – so it seemed unlikely that was the answer. Had she brought someone in to try and rescue the reserve, a professional project manager because none of them were up to the task? Or could it be someone who was interested in buying the Meadowsweet estate, Swallowtail House and the reserve included, and wanted to spend some time there first, getting the lie of the land? Penelope wasn’t the type to rent her property out to a complete stranger; she was far too private a person for that, unless the financial situation had become so desperate she had no choice.
That last option would, surely, be the worst of them all, and would suggest they were in even more trouble than Abby had first thought.
Chapter Three
The Dawn Chorus is when birds start singing very early in the morning, as the sun rises. It’s most notable in the spring and summer – because that’s when birds are most active – and can start as early as four o’clock, which is pretty annoying when you’ve had a late night, but helpful if you’ve forgotten to set the alarm on your phone.
— Note from Abby’s notebook.
For the next week, the gossip in the pub was at the back of Abby’s mind, hovering like some forgotten item that she meant to add to her shopping list. It would occasionally burst to the surface, sending a twinge of apprehension through her, though she had nothing to be concerned about except the imagined upsetting of the equilibrium of her life at the reserve. Wild Wonders and an increased workload she could cope with – in a way it was better that they knew about it now, the certainty much easier to deal with than worried speculation. And she enjoyed throwing herself into her job, poring over the short evaluation questionnaires she had drawn up for the school visits, reading the comments, bristling slightly when they said ‘dull,’ or ‘boring,’ or ‘who cares about blackbirds anyway?’ and looking for those that would help her to improve the activities and information she was trying to inspire the children with.
One of the comments stood out: ‘Instead of a fake treasure hunt with wood creatures, why can’t we look for real birds and animals?’ It was a good point, Abby conceded, and enough adults took their spotter books around with them, ticking off godwits, teals and chiffchaffs when they came across them. There was no reason school visits couldn’t include an element of this – she’d only held back because she didn’t want to create disappointment when a whole class failed to find anything she’d listed. If she kept it simple, included a few plants and trees they would be guaranteed to come across as well as the more common birds, then it could be a success.
She was leaning forward on the reception desk, adding to the written plan Penelope had requested while there was a lull in new customers, when Gavin walked out of the office, his hands in his pockets, Penelope following.
‘Thanks for that Penelope,’ he said. ‘I’ll get on it tomorrow, once I’ve finished at the heron hide.’ He winked at Rosa and Abby, then turned to face the older woman. ‘By the way, is it right that someone’s moving into Peacock Cottage? Only I wondered if you wanted me to do any work on the back garden, clear the bindweed?’
Abby gasped and started coughing. Rosa stopped reorganizing the pens on the counter, and Gavin waited for an answer to the prying that, Abby had to admit, was quite well disguised as an offer of help.
Penelope, her claret silk shirt done up to the neck, seemed unmoved, her face impassive. Abby wondered what was happening behind it, whether she was trying to work out who had spilled the beans.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ she said. ‘The garden has been dealt with. Thank you for the offer.’ She walked back into her office and closed the door.
Gavin let out a low whistle. ‘Bloody hell, she’s good. Neither confirm nor deny. Do you think she was a spy in the war?’
‘She’s sixty-seven this week,’ Rosa said, ‘not a hundred and seven. And she was never going to indulge us, was she? However good your attempt to break through.’
Gavin rested his elbows on the desk. ‘Do you think she’s like the Snow Queen? She used to be all soft inside but something’s frozen her solid? Surely it’s not natural to be that icy about everything?’
‘Oh no,’ Rosa said with false sympathy. ‘Did she give you a hard time?’
‘She didn’t actually. She wanted to know how I was getting on with the reed beds around the heron hide. I told her and she nodded, which is as close to a compliment as I’ve ever had, and it gave me the confidence to ask about Peacock Cottage. Thought she was going to answer me properly for a second.’
‘If someone is moving in we’ll know about it soon enough,’ Abby said. ‘We all go past there every day.’
‘Yeah, but when it comes to Meadowsweet, gossip’s the main currency. What’s the good in knowing after the fact? We need to have the info now, then we’ll hold all the power.’
‘Anyone would think the ranger job isn’t stimulating enough for you,’ Rosa said, grinning. ‘I promise the moment I find out anything else, you’ll be the first to know.’
‘Scout’s honour?’ Gavin asked.
‘Brownie promise,’ Rosa confirmed.
As Gavin sauntered back outside, his workmen’s gloves sticking out of the waistband of his waterproof trousers, Rosa gave Abby a wicked smile. ‘I do have news, actually,’ she said, glancing at the closed office door before slipping out from behind the shop counter and joining Abby. ‘When I was driving in this morning, the postman put something through the letterbox of Peacock Cottage, which means that whoever is coming has already told people or had their post redirected.’
‘It’s happening soon, then.’ Abby chewed her bottom lip.
She wondered how she’d feel if she was the object of so much interest simply because she’d moved house, then remembered that when she’d moved into Warbler Cottages, Octavia had been on her doorstep within half an hour of the removal van driving away with a bottle of wine and homemade lasagne, and realized it was simply natural curiosity. Still, the position of the cottage, Penelope’s ownership of it and the fact that it had remained unlived in for so long, not to mention the rumours around Wild Wonders being somehow connected to the new arrival, did make it a bit out of the ordinary. Or maybe Gavin was right, that so little generally happened in the quiet Suffolk village that any news was important currency. She hoped whoever it was didn’t mind a bit of attention.
‘Definitely soon,’ Rosa said, bringing her back to reality. ‘Imminent.’
‘Rosa,’ a voice called from behind the office door. ‘How is the Baywater crockery promotion getting along?’
‘Oh, fine,’ R
osa called back, her eyes wide with horror. ‘I’ve got some great figures to show you, actually.’
‘Excellent,’ Penelope replied. ‘Looking forward to it.’
‘How is she able to hear us?’ Rosa hissed at Abby, her cheeks blushing pink. ‘We know to keep our voices down.’
‘How do you know she did? She could have coincidentally timed it to perfection.’
‘Or she’s got a webcam trained on us,’ Rosa said, ‘and she sits in her office and listens to our conversations all day. Maybe she was a spy.’ She scurried back to her counter and pulled out the sales figures she’d promised Penelope.
If she had been a spy, Abby thought, she must be feeling underwhelmed. Adder and nightingale sightings probably didn’t compare to cracking international codes and chasing down terrorists. Abby’s mind drifted towards what the mail might have been, and who would be on the receiving end of it when they arrived in their new home.
She was distracted by a young couple, a tiny baby strapped onto the father’s chest in an expensive-looking carrier, and Abby’s imagination was quashed by practicalities, explaining where the facilities were and giving a rundown of the different habitats and the day’s sightings.
It wasn’t until she was walking home, eager to get back to Raffle and a long stroll in the balmy, early autumn evening, that she was reminded of the conversation with Rosa and Gavin. As Abby emerged through the trees, the picture she was usually faced with seemed wrong, distorted somehow, and it took her a few moments to realize it was because there was a car parked in the narrow driveway in front of Peacock Cottage. It was a Range Rover, square and squat, the roof fractionally lower at the back than the front, giving the impression it had been slightly squashed. It was ruby-red, impossibly shiny and definitely expensive. Her eyes trailed to the number plate, expecting to see something personalized like RANG3 1 or C0UNTRY K1NG, but it looked like a standard number plate, though it wasn’t local.
Resisting the urge to walk up to the windows of the cottage and peer inside or, even worse, knock on the front door, feigning a sprained ankle or pretending she was lost, she picked up her pace, texting as she went. It would seem that, this time at least, she held all the currency.
Lovebirds: The Dawn Chorus Page 3