Season 1 · Episode 41
When We Are Alone
Published 7th October 2026
Gary waits for Stirling to come alone, while Marjorie and Marlboro confront what still divides them at the boundary.
Waiting in the Rain
Mr Jack Daw had promised his cousin that they would wait for Gary. By lunchtime, the cousin had decided waiting was an activity best performed while asking everyone else where Gary was.
“He will come when he comes,” said Mr Jack Daw.
“What if Stirling comes first?”
“Then you will say nothing.”
Rain began against the Oak. The Jacks shifted closer to its trunk and promptly filled the sheltered branches with opinions. Brenda darted through the hedge below, too busy to accept any.
Stirling Brings Them All
Stirling’s squad arrived in the afternoon. The squirrels crossed the wet grass in a purposeful line, then spread out around the Vegetable Garden. Mr Jack Daw saw Stirling look towards the Summerhouse.
“He has brought them all,” the cousin whispered. “How does he expect Gary to speak to him alone?”
“Perhaps he does not expect Gary today.”
The cousin found this answer unsatisfying. Stirling made another circuit while rain came and went, then led the squad out. Jay appeared when the sky brightened, took one look at the Oak’s assembled commentators and continued on his own errand.
Gary Arrives Too Late
Gary arrived after the squirrels had gone.
“They were here,” Mr Jack Daw told him.
“How many?”
“Enough to make ‘alone’ an ambitious description.”
Gary watched the wet path. “Then he has not come for our conversation.”
The cousin opened his beak. Mr Jack Daw closed it with a look.
As evening settled, the Smiths occupied the hedge and made sure no visitor crossed it without an opinion being available. Percy moved quietly through the Fruit Tree. Gary returned once, found no sign of Stirling, and left without offering the Jacks another sentence to improve.
At the Boundary
Marjorie took the first part of the night for herself. From the family’s trees she addressed the boundary, then moved away from it. She had said Marlboro need not forgive her. She had meant that too. The trouble was that saying it had not stopped her wondering whether her daughter might.
Cloud and damp gathered after midnight. Marjorie kept to the farther trees. Marlboro answered her from next door, not with gratitude, but with the brisk displeasure of someone who had been left to hear a conversation she was trying not to have. A movement behind the Pine made Batman, half awake in the hedge, wonder whether Harold was listening as well. He wisely kept the thought to himself.
Later Marlboro came to her side of the boundary and refused to be ignored. Marjorie returned to meet her. Harold joined them only after both had committed themselves to an argument.
“I heard you again,” Marlboro said.
“I know.”
“You keep arriving as though I am supposed to finish the apology for you.”
“I am not asking you to do that.”
“Then stop waiting for me to make it feel better.”
Harold drew himself up, a father about to intervene.
“Not yet,” said Marjorie.
“I had not said anything,” he replied.
“Exactly.”
For once, he took the advice. Marlboro came a little closer, bold in the place she had made her own.
“I am not your unfinished apology,” she told her mother.
Marjorie held her ground. “No. You are my daughter. Those are not the same thing.”
Harold looked from one to the other. “And she has a home here,” he said, carefully indicating Marlboro’s side. “We have ours.”
“Then why,” Marlboro demanded, “are we all standing at the boundary?”
No parent answered quickly enough. The question followed Marlboro as she withdrew, leaving Marjorie and Harold together in a silence neither could claim to have won.
Quiet Before Morning
Before morning, Harold was gone. Marjorie returned once on her own, stayed well back from the boundary, and let the next garden have its quiet.
At first light the Smiths resumed a vigorous interest in other people’s arrangements. Steve and Mrs Steve worked beneath the Fruit Tree. Derek investigated the Oak from an angle Batman immediately disliked; Percy and Mildred managed their own business without seeking permission. A passing goldfinch briefly improved the morning’s manners.
Gary came through later. Mr Jack Daw met him before his cousin could offer an account of the night.
“If Stirling comes,” Gary said, “tell him I meant what I said. I will answer him when he comes alone.”
“Shall I tell him where?”
“He knows where to find me.”
Gary left. The Jacks returned to their questions, now with the added difficulty of possessing a message they were not allowed to edit. A Carrion Crow passed the Square without stopping for their version of events.
The Words Gary Left
Stirling’s squad appeared in the late morning. Mr Jack Daw delivered Gary’s words exactly. Stirling looked at the squirrels working beyond the Oak, then back at the bird who had brought him the message.
“Do you believe him?” he asked.
“I believe those were his words,” said Mr Jack Daw.
“That is not what I asked.”
“It is the answer I can give.”
Stirling considered the Summerhouse. The cousin leaned forward, desperate to know whether a reply was coming. None did. The squad gathered and moved on, leaving Mr Jack Daw with no answer to carry back.
“Will he come alone?” the cousin asked.
Mr Jack Daw watched the squirrels vanish beyond the Vegetable Garden. “That,” he said, “will tell us whether he wanted an answer.”