The Pine Declines to Comment

The Two Pinecones

The two pinecones were still on the path when Gary returned to the Oak. Mr Jack Daw had refused to touch them. His family had refused to leave them alone.

“One of them says it was the wind,” he told Gary. “Two say it was a warning. My cousin has written a statement on behalf of the Pine.”

“Did the Pine sign it?”

“That is the first question I asked.”

Gary looked down. Batman Smith had taken possession of the nearer cone and was explaining to several Robins why touching evidence did not count as interfering with it when he was the one doing the touching. A passing long-tailed tit took one look at the proceedings and carried on through the hedge.

“Put it back,” Gary called.

Batman did, with the grave reluctance of a bird returning an important clue to the weather.

Stirling Makes a Circuit

The afternoon was clear and brisk. Gary stayed long enough for the Jacks to argue about who had been watching the Pine, then left before anybody could ask what he thought. Soon afterward Stirling’s squad crossed the garden. They made a circuit of the Vegetable Garden without pausing at either cone. Jay appeared among the trees on one of his autumn errands and watched the squirrels for precisely as long as it took him to decide they were not carrying food.

“You see?” Batman said. “They know something.”

“Jay knows where he put his lunch,” said Mr Jack Daw. “Let us not promote that to a conspiracy.”

Nearly a Conversation

Gary came back later, when the Oak was full of Jacks conducting a noisy argument about whether two pinecones constituted a pattern. He had scarcely settled before the squad returned in greater numbers. Gary said nothing. Stirling gave the Oak one measured glance and led his squirrels away through the grass.

“That was nearly a conversation,” Batman whispered.

“Only for you,” said Gary.

The Jacks occupied most of the remaining afternoon. They changed branches, changed their minds and changed the subject whenever Mr Jack Daw tried to get them off the pinecones. The Smiths were no more helpful. One insisted the cones had been moved. Another insisted Batman had moved them. Batman insisted he had merely improved their arrangement.

Brenda came out of the hedge, surveyed the inquiry, and went back in.

Near evening Gary crossed the garden again. Stirling’s squad had been through only moments earlier, and another patrol followed after Gary had gone. Mr Jack Daw watched each visit carefully. None of the squirrels touched the Pine. None of them needed to. By then everybody else had spent hours looking at it.

Marjorie Faces the Silence

The last light thinned beneath a clear sky. The Robins finished their objections one by one. Brenda had a final remark from the hedge. Then Marjorie took the dark.

She faced the garden next door as if the argument she had refused to have the previous night had been waiting there for her.

“I am glad you found a place,” she said. “That does not mean I shall pretend this one is still yours.”

There was no answer from Marlboro. Marjorie pressed on anyway, her certainty returning just as the Square had begun to doubt it.

“And you may be angry with me. You have always been remarkably good at it.”

She withdrew before the silence could make her say anything kinder than she intended.

Much later Marjorie appeared again. The garden had gone cold, and she did not address the neighbouring trees this time. She paused, seemed to reconsider the speech she had made earlier, and carried on without recalling it. By the small hours she had gone. Before dawn, beneath gathering cloud, she returned once more. Whatever she wished to say belonged to her alone; no daughter or husband came to collect it. Marjorie left as the first pale edge of morning showed beyond the Pine.

Rain Arrives

Rain arrived with the daylight. Batman emerged from the hedge wet and indignant. Steve and Mrs Steve were already searching beneath the Fruit Tree, while Brenda objected to the new weather from a position that was scarcely any drier than the old one.

“Nobody warned us,” Batman said.

“The clouds made a reasonable attempt,” said Mrs Steve.

Stirling’s squad appeared in a rush of small grey shapes, crossed the soaked lawn and vanished. The Jacks came down to discuss the operation. Another burst of squirrel activity followed while the rain strengthened. Batman counted arrivals, lost count, and announced a number so grand that Mr Jack Daw asked whether he had included the Jacks.

“Only the suspicious ones.”

“Then all of us,” said Mr Jack Daw.

Mildred worked quietly below the hedge while the Robins filled every dry argument they could find. By midmorning the rain had eased, though the wind was picking up. The squirrels had gone. Gary arrived to find no squad, only an Oak full of relatives pretending they had not been discussing him.

“How many theories?” he asked Mr Jack Daw.

“About the pinecones or about you?”

“That many, then.”

Derek the Nuthatch worked his way along the trunk while Batman instructed him, once again, on the proper direction for climbing a tree. Derek continued upside down. Gary almost smiled.

Look Up

Later, under a cloudy sky, Gary returned to the Oak. Derek was still busy with the bark. The Jacks made room without being asked, which was how Gary knew they wanted something.

Mr Jack Daw looked towards the Pine. The two cones lay in the wet grass beside the path, ordinary enough now that Batman had stopped arranging them.

“Do you think Stirling meant for us to find them?” he asked.

Gary watched the empty lawn. “I think someone meant for us to look up.”

“At whom?”

Gary did not answer. Somewhere above the garden, a Jack called out, and every head in the Oak turned towards the Pine.

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