Just the last of the winter wind, a grey sky, an endless road and a sign which pointed southwards. It read: TO THE RIVER.
Toad said not a word. He put one foot in front of the other, and set off home without a backward glance.
XII
Winter’s End
Winter returned to the river and all along the bank, and into the very heart of the Wild Wood, and with it harsh winds, long days of snow that quite swallowed up every snowdrop and aconite that had showed and other nascent signs of spring, and replaced them with that bitter cold which sends all animals back into their homes once more.
Even the stoats and the weasels accepted with good grace the further postponement of the party at Badger’s that had been so long promised, and for which, finally, the precious invitations had gone out.
Yet, for all the disappointment, it would be idle to think that the party, despite the postponement, or even the prospect of spring, was uppermost in animals’ minds — though greatly looked forward to those events undoubtedly were.
No, it was of Toad that most thought, and of him for a time that all talked.
Of the Badger’s letter, and the mission of the stoat who delivered it, but little was known. The Badger was never inclined to talk of such things, and braggart though the stoat was tempted to be, there was really little that he could say. It was enough that he had earned one of the few invitations that had gone out to his kind, and enough that he knew that the Badger would honour it.
But with his return, a great deal of news came back to the river: news of Toad’s heroic struggle with his flying machine to prevent it crashing upon the Town (as it was reported); of Toad’s subsequent escapades and crimes and achievements (as his follies were variously described); and of Toad’s incarceration and hearing before the Seven Judges (“It was a hearing, not a trial!” Toad’s defenders insisted).
So too did the news, more important still, that Toad, by his own brilliant representation of himself and with a mite of Badger’s influence and that of Lord Prendergast (the butler had been elevated ever higher with successive telling of the tale), by these and other devices as yet unknown, Toad had been given his liberty and set upon the road back home.
Such matters had served to preoccupy all those along the river before winter’s ill-timed return.
Then, when Toad had not come, and the days had grown dark with winter once more, and there was still no sign of him, the discussions grew more worried, and more grim. Some said his experiences had been so terrible that he had been driven mad and was even now wandering the countryside not knowing who he was or where to turn; others were certain that Toad was now bored with the river and Toad Hall, and had set off for pastures new never to return. Perhaps, too, he had heard of the ruin of Toad Hall and had not the heart to return.
A third group, and in this must be counted the Mole, the Water Rat and the Badger himself, was more silent, and more worried. For the winter had grown severe once more, and it seemed quite impossible that Toad could survive long in such weather. True, he would no doubt have found somewhere warm and comfortable to see the bad weather out — but he had surely had opportunity enough to send a message to them.
More than that, of his own accord, and without either the Mole or the Badger knowing, the Water Rat had taken advantage of the days before the weather worsened to journey the open roads searching for Toad. But he had failed. Wherever he went there was neither sight nor sound of him.
The Rat had come home disconsolate, almost caught up himself in the renewed wintry blizzards, and had reluctantly reported what he had found — or rather, not found. So there was little enough cheer about the river in those hard long weeks, and one by one the animals became silent on the subject of Toad, and fearful, including Mole, and Rat — and even Badger.
Winter’s attempt to thwart the spring finally began to peter out in April, and the party, long awaited, could no longer be delayed. The Badger’s honour was at stake, as the Rat had said before, and if there was any more procrastination then with the warmer weather now on the way, who would have time for a get-together in the Wild Wood?
Certainly not the river animals, for already the river was astir with the gentler and more positive life of spring, and there was much to do, and much to see.
“It’s this weekend or never!” the Rat told the Badger firmly, having brought the Mole and his Nephew, as well as the Otter and Portly, along for support. They all nodded grimly, though the two youngsters were nervous of this role which the Water Rat had thrust upon them, and would certainly have turned tail and run if the Badger had growled loudly and expressed his irritation.
But he did not.
He knew not only when he was beaten, but when the time had come to do the right thing, and he gave in with good grace.
“We’ll have it this weekend, just as you say, Water Rat — and the rest of you! We had better send out a new set of invitations after all this delay — Mole, you can help me check the list and you, Nephew, can organise the distribution. We have to be absolutely certain that the right animals get the right invitations or there’ll be all sorts of trouble.
“Now, Otter, I’ve had a word with you already about the food, and I believe —”
The Otter nodded enthusiastically. He was liked and respected all along the river — probably further afield than any of them — and had long since readied his troops for the preparation of a feast the like of which the Wild Wood was unlikely to see again.
“The helpers are all just waiting for you to give the word, Badger, and I tell you, those involved are looking forward to it, though it beats me why But some people positively like baking and cooking and basting and steaming and —”
The Badger raised a hand to stop him.
“My dear chap, no doubt they do, but I prefer not to know If you start telling me what’s involved I’ll take fright and postpone the whole thing again —”
“Say no more, Badger; all you need to do is to take the place of honour and declare the feast begun! We’ll do the rest!”
“Now,” said the Badger, turning to the Water Rat, “I want you to attend to details in my home — it goes without saying that with stoats and weasels about the place we had best lock all my valuables away. I regret to say this but I really think we had better search animals as they leave, so —The Rat laughed and said, “I have to thank Mole for a suggestion that may deal with that matter most effectively, Badger. Mole, perhaps you can —The Mole came forward to address a meeting that was rapidly beginning to sound like a war council, and said, “You’ll remember that I had to deal with those untrustworthy fellows during that time some years ago when we had to wrest Toad Hall back from their power?”
“None of us have forgotten, Mole,” said the Badger appreciatively; and while the Mole brushed this aside with a modest gesture, his Nephew’s snout went pink with pride and pleasure on his uncle’s behalf.
“That’s as maybe,” said the Mole, “but the fact is that I learnt that the weasels and stoats are driven by twin evils — greed on one hand, and vanity on the other —and we must use the second to control the first!”
There was a quality in the Mole — firmness combined with common sense, with a dash of ruthlessness as well — which only emerged in situations such as this. He was indeed a friend upon whom an animal could rely.
“Go on,” said the Badger.
“Well then, I suggest we issue attendance certificates to those who come, and let them know that we shall be doing so — certificates suitably inscribed in copperplate upon vellum, which they can frame and put upon their wall. We shall let them know these are to be issued —but that since we shall be using Toad’s crockery and silver we are honour bound to protect it to the last. Which being so, if so much as one sugar spoon goes missing, then no certificate will be issued to any animal. That should keep them in order!”
The Badger laughed heartily and said, “Mole, behind that quiet and self-effacing exterior, do you know what you are? A brute!”
For a further two hours the plans were laid, the orders given, and the guest list revised and checked.
“And now,” said the Rat finally, “there’s only one thing left for you to do, Badger!”
“And what’s that?” growled the Badger, who had been showing signs of impatience once again, for the planning had gone on rather longer than he had expected, and he had learnt that various females would be coming in to his quarters to spruce things up a bit — and he did not like it, not one little bit.
“I’m not going to ask you to do it,” said the Water Rat very firmly, “I’m going to order you to do it, for your good and everybody else’s.”
This was bold indeed, and a hush fell over the Badger’s parlour as they waited for his reply.
“Well?” he said in a low and dangerous voice.
But the Rat did not falter. He stood up, he faced the Badger square on, and said, “You are going to take a little holiday, Badger. If you stay here while the preparations are made you’ll grumble and grouse and nothing will get done and everybody will get irritable. Therefore — and I have already discussed this with Mole — you are going to live in his home for the days till the party itself.”
“I —” began the Badger in protest.
“And while you’re there you will help me inscribe the certificates!” said the Mole quickly.
“I —”
“Won’t you, Badger?”
The Badger’s mouth closed slowly and then opened again. “When?” he said.
“Now,” said the Water Rat. “Pack a bag and off you go!”
“Well —” said the Badger, out-thought and outmanoeuvred for once, “well —”
He frowned. He growled. He thumped about a bit. The only thing he did not do, before he gave up his home to the tender care of Rat, and allowed Mole to lead him triumphantly away, was to let them see that despite his frowns and grumpiness there was in his eye the light of good humour, and the pleasure and satisfaction of knowing that few animals had such friends as these.
Yet as he left with the Mole at his side he turned impulsively back and said in a voice full of emotion, “Water Rat! And you others! Let’s make this party one that no animal is likely to forget! Let’s do so in memory of one who cannot be with us, and may never now be. One who for all his faults will be sorely missed! Let us make such a celebration of friendship and the winter’s end that all who came to it will say, ‘Had Toad been there, that was a party he would have enjoyed.’”
It was a very touching moment, for it was the first time since Toad’s disappearance that the Badger had expressed so clearly the true loss he felt. Indeed, if by the end of his rousing words his voice was a little rough, a little choking even, and his eyes moister than they had been —so much so that when he turned once more to leave he took the opportunity of brushing aside a tear — then it was all no more than the others felt; and, yes, this would be a party that Toad might have enjoyed.
The next few days passed rapidly, and if the weather stayed inclement, and winter would not yet admit defeat and be gone, the spring-like mood among the animals of river, of bank and of Wild Wood made up for it.
Before long it was as if every animal alive was involved one way or another with the coming festivity. What with the preparations of food (in which the rabbits took a leading part) and the choosing of drink (wherein the weasels and certain of the stoats could not be excelled) and the decoration (and here certain of the Otter’s female friends emerged from an anonymity in which he might rather they had stayed), the highways and byways of those parts were busy with the comings and goings of those with tasks in hand.
The Water Rat, relying heavily on Mole’s Nephew as his second-in-command and general factotum, kept close watch from his headquarters. which is to say the Badger’s bedroom. Here he had placed all Badger’s valuables and most-treasured possessions, along with Toad’s silver till it was needed, and to the door he had affixed a padlock for which he had the only key.
At the same time, when it became known that numbers were strictly limited — and in this respect alone the party differed from any of Toad’s, to which any Tom, Dick or Harry was inclined to be invited to swell the numbers — there was a certain amount of rancour. There were even claims that one or two of the invitations had been traded on the black market, though these were so scarce that the going rate was very high indeed. But in fact, those unable to attend had long since decided to hold their own celebrations, and to invite their own particular friends and neighbours, and many said (though these, needless to say, were only those not going to the Badger’s party) that personally they felt that the party they were going to was definitely the only one worth attending.
Quite what the original purpose of the party had been was now forgotten, and the general feeling was, as the Badger himself had said, that the celebration was in memory of Mr Toad, and all that Toad Hall had once represented; and in addition to that, it had been a long winter, and why not raise a glass or two in celebration of its end?
But what of Toad Hall? Was it as ruinous as people said? Sadly it was. The harsh days of winter’s renewal had caused more pipes to freeze and more flooding, and now the wind had forced its way behind some of the shutters, windowpanes were broken and the place was growing more derelict by the week.
It was only in deference to Toad’s memory — now a wholly revered and heroic one in the popular imagination, if not yet in that of his closest friends — that none had yet despoiled the place further, or sought to loot it, or occupy some corner of it. But then, everybody knew what had happened in years gone by when the weasels and stoats had taken advantage of another of Toad’s enforced absences, and none could doubt that if such advantage was taken again, then the wrath of the Badger, and of the Water Rat, and of the Mole would know no bounds.
Added to which, and here the cunning Water Rat was the culprit, there was a rumour abroad that Toad Hall was haunted, and not a place to go near at all.
“That’ll keep ‘em away like nothing else!” declared the Rat with satisfaction, when he told the Otter of his clever ruse to keep Toad Hall safe till the proper authorities could come in and seal it, or whatever they must do, when spring finally came.
“You’re a clever animal to think of that,” said the Otter. “But — are you sure it isn’t really haunted?”
“Of course it’s not. Never was and never will be. But don’t let on, Otter, just spread the story about a bit.”
By the party’s eve all the preparations were done, and the Rat went to bed, with Nephew tucked up beneath one of the tables already laid in the parlour and ready for the morrow afternoon, both feeling that theirs was a job well done.
The Rat could do with some sleep, for in addition to his other duties he had felt it best to find time to cross the river in his boat to visit Mole End, just to see that all was well with the Badger, which indeed it was. The Certificates of Attendance were all done, and the Badger had enjoyed some days of unwonted peace, made all the easier and more enjoyable by the hospitable Mole’s attentions.
So when, with the Rat already asleep and Mole’s Nephew nearly so, and the night advanced, there was a rat—tat-tat at the door, the Rat was not well pleased to be woken up.
It was one of the senior stoats.
“Sorry to disturb you, Water Rat, but there’s trouble at Toad Hall. One of my own youngsters saw a ghost —”
“But it’s not —” began the Rat impatiently.
“I know it’s not haunted, you know it’s not haunted’ said the stoat with a knowing wink, “but fact is e saw a light, and if ‘e says ‘e did, ‘e did. Intruders, likely as not.”
“Well I’m not fool enough to investigate anything in the dead of night,” said the Water Rat decisively “If there’s time, I’ll go and have a look in the morning. Now I suggest you get back to bed just like I’m going to.”
Later, when the stoat was gone and Badger’s front door securely bolted once more, Rat said to Mole’s Nephew, “Might be tru
e, might not be. Hard to say Could be one of their little schemes to get us both out of here. Well, it hasn’t worked.”
“Will you go over in the morning?”
“I will,” said the Rat, “and Otter can accompany me, for you’ll be needed here.”
The next day, the day of the party, was fine, and guessing that once it began he would get little rest till the following day, the Water Rat decided to investigate the stoat’s claim with the help of the Otter, and to get some fresh air while he did so.
It was a pleasant walk, for the day was warmer than any previously and spring really was in the air. The mallards were back on the river, and in the water meadows on the far side many of the wintering geese had already departed, and the others were testing their wings. While all along the bank was a sight that never failed to stir the Rat’s spirit, and warm his heart: the willows, in bud so long, were showing signs of leaf at last. Not much, it is true, but there were enough touches of green to hint at the gentle, swaying glory that would soon be theirs.
They approached Toad Hall with some misgiving, for it was a forlorn place now, with broken windows and here and there curtains blown out of them, lying bedraggled and untidy on the sills. Yet for all that it was an impressive sight, vast and grand, and all it might need was resolution to put it right once more.
“And money, plenty of it’ said the Rat. “Come on then, let’s have a quick look about and then be gone.
They took up what sticks and wood they could find as weapons, lest they disturb intruders, and quartered the ground floor.
“Shall we bother with the floors above?” asked the Otter.
“Just the next, perhaps,” said the Rat, “though there seems to be no sign of life that I can detect.”
“None at all,” said the Otter.
They searched the first floor, but no more than that, for time was passing by and the Rat was anxious to get back to the Badger’s home to oversee the final preparations.
The Willows in Winter Page 19