The Things Not Said

Waiting for Nothing

The Jacks spent lunchtime in the Oak pretending not to wait for Gary. Their cousin had taken the highest branch, from which he could watch the Summerhouse and announce developments to everybody already watching it.

“Nothing,” he reported.

“Thank you,” said Mr Jack Daw. “We had missed nothing from down here.”

Batman Smith stationed himself in the hedge. Several Robins came and went around him, giving no sign that they had accepted his authority to station anybody anywhere. A Rook passed the far edge of the garden and kept his opinions to himself.

Gary Refuses an Audience

By afternoon the Oak was full of Jacks, each with a different version of what Gary and Stirling had said behind the Summerhouse. This was impressive, since none of them had heard a word of it.

Gary arrived to find the cousin conducting an imitation of a private conversation between a Magpie and a squirrel. His squirrel had an implausible accent. His Magpie was worse.

“Stop doing me,” Gary said.

“Which part is wrong?”

“The part where you know what happened.”

Reginald passed above the Square. The cousin ducked, then claimed to have dropped something. Gary gave Mr Jack Daw a look that asked whether the entire family was this exhausting.

“I have cousins who are quieter,” Mr Jack Daw said. “They live elsewhere.”

Gary moved between the Fruit Tree and the Oak as the Jacks pressed him. Had Stirling believed him? Had the shiny thing changed hands? Had the conversation ended amicably, or merely ended? Gary answered none of these questions. He did, however, tell the cousin that his imitation had got Stirling’s posture wrong.

“So you did speak,” the cousin said.

“You knew that before you began performing it.”

Another Rook passed while Gary was leaving and received an expectant look from half the Oak. He went on his way without offering a single useful remark. Mr Jack Daw thought this showed admirable judgement.

Late in the afternoon Derek worked his way along the Oak’s trunk. Behind him came a little procession of long-tailed tits, intent on the branches above, with Barry following at his own pace. Batman hurried over to tell Derek he was climbing the tree wrong.

“I’m getting up it,” Derek said.

“That isn’t the point.”

“It is from down here.”

By the time Batman had found the proper point, Derek had reached a branch beyond him. The travelling tits had gone too. Batman was left explaining his objection to Barry, who had no intention of taking up nuthatch work.

Stirling Returns Alone

Stirling’s squad crossed the lawn later, keeping low beneath the wind. The Lieutenant Colonel stopped near the Summerhouse. He studied the place where he and Gary had stood that morning, then looked towards the empty Fruit Tree. His squirrels waited for an order. He gave them one quietly, and they vanished into the Vegetable Garden.

“He’s investigating Gary’s answer,” the cousin announced from the Oak.

“You don’t know that,” said Mr Jack Daw.

“Then why won’t he tell us what he’s doing?”

“You may have answered your own question.”

Rain arrived before the cousin could improve his argument. A Rook passed through it without stopping, and the Jacks left their exposed branches. Even Batman abandoned the hedge after declaring that the weather had ignored a perfectly clear boundary.

That Sounds Like an Answer

Mrs Steve came out beneath the Fruit Tree as evening closed in. Mr Jack Daw was still trying to persuade his relatives that they could not learn the contents of a private conversation by voting on them.

“You could ask Gary,” she said.

“We did,” said the cousin.

“And?”

“He wouldn’t tell us.”

“That sounds like an answer.”

The wind made the Summerhouse windows shudder. The last of the Jacks settled out of the rain, and Mrs Steve went home. Nobody came to challenge her conclusion.

A Voice in the Rain

Deep into the night, while the garden lay hidden by rain, a female owl spoke briefly from the darkness. She might have been addressing someone beyond the Square, or someone who had already left it. No one answered her, and the wind closed over the space where an answer might have been.

The Weather Has the Last Word

Batman was the first Robin to venture out in the morning. The rain struck him sideways. He made a determined attempt to inspect the hedge and returned to shelter without telling anybody what he had found. Brenda slipped out later, crossed the wet ground and disappeared again. A few Jacks took their places in the Oak, though the wind soon persuaded them to choose lower branches.

“Did you hear her?” the cousin asked Mr Jack Daw.

“I heard someone.”

“Marjorie?”

“You would have to ask her.”

“Marlboro?”

“You would have to ask her too.”

The cousin considered a third name. Mr Jack Daw raised a wing before he could say it.

“And no, a vote will not help.”

Gary did not come back that morning. Neither did Stirling. Rain rattled through the Oak while the cousin watched the empty path, obliged to admit that the two creatures who knew the most about yesterday had chosen not to explain themselves. He opened his beak, thought better of it, and for once let the weather have the last word.

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