The Things Gary Did Not Say

What Gary Was Ready to Say

By lunchtime the Oak had acquired a fresh committee and Gary had acquired no escape from it. Mr Jack Daw’s cousin was still holding Stirling’s question as carefully as a stolen jewel.

“Did you tell him everything you lost?” the cousin asked.

Gary looked at the bright gaps in the cloud. “I told him what I was ready to tell him.”

“So there is more.”

“There is usually more,” said Mr Jack Daw. “Even to a question you have asked three times.”

A travelling party of long-tailed tits slipped through the branches, briefly making the Jacks’ committee look enormous and slow. Gary watched them go. The cousin watched Gary.

“Does Stirling believe you took the shiny thing?” he tried.

“Stirling believes in checking where everybody has been.” Gary shifted to another branch. “I did not lie to him.”

That was all he would offer. Through the afternoon he remained in the Square, sometimes near the Oak, sometimes keeping to the Fruit Tree. Mr Jack Daw gave him room. His cousin interpreted the room as an opening for further questions until a silent Rook crossed above them and distracted him with the possibility of an entirely new witness.

Batman Smith arrived to ask whether the Rook had seen anything.

“He did not stop,” said Mr Jack Daw.

“That is not an answer.”

“It was the Rook’s.”

The Squirrel’s Visit

Later, after Gary had gone, a squirrel appeared along the garden path. It paused beneath the Oak, looked towards the Summerhouse, and left without offering the Jacks a single useful word. By the time Gary returned near dusk, the cousin had promoted the visit to an operation.

“One squirrel,” Mr Jack Daw reminded him.

“One that waited until Gary had left,” said the cousin.

Gary heard the end of this. “Did it?”

The cousin suddenly discovered that his account was based mostly on the order in which things had happened. Gary did not ask him to improve it. He looked once towards the Summerhouse, then went away again.

Last Business Before Dark

The evening belonged to the smaller birds. Long-tailed tits hurried through the hedge while Steve, Mrs Steve and several Robins settled their last business before dark. Batman wanted to know whether anyone had noticed where Gary went.

“Yes,” said Mrs Steve. “Away from this conversation.”

“That could mean something.”

“It often does when you are part of it.”

Across the Boundary

Beyond the boundary, Marlboro took up her own evening. She had scarcely begun to enjoy the privacy when Harold appeared at a respectful distance.

“You came to inspect?” she asked.

“I came to see you.”

“Mother has already checked that the place works.”

“She told me.”

Marlboro turned towards him. “Did she sound pleased?”

“Your mother said ‘good’ and spent the rest of the day pretending it was an ordinary word.”

Marlboro could not quite hide her smile. “It is a good place.”

“I know.”

He did not try to come in. She did not offer. They stayed where they were for a little while, sharing the rare comfort of having nothing to settle.

Marjorie Is Allowed to Be Pleased

Much later, Marjorie returned to the family side of the Square. Harold was there. Marlboro was not.

“You went to see her,” Marjorie said.

“I did.”

“I suppose she told you I asked about her trees.”

“She told me you were pleased.”

Marjorie fixed him with a look. “You have been married to me long enough to recognise a dangerous simplification.”

“Then perhaps you should have told her yourself.”

“I did. She wanted me to sound more pleased.”

Harold considered his next words with the care of a bird stepping onto a branch that might not hold him. “You might try sounding less like you are checking the boundary.”

Marjorie opened her beak. Harold braced himself. She closed it again.

After he had gone, she remained awake. The cloud thickened, the branches shifted, and she moved nearer the Oak as though there might be an argument there worth winning. There was no one to oblige her.

“It is hers,” she told the empty Square. “She is making it hers. I am allowed to be pleased.”

The Square, wisely, did not ask why she felt the need to say so.

The Question Under the Oak

Morning brought the Smiths, Steve and Mrs Steve back into a sky that looked increasingly dissatisfied. Then the rain arrived in earnest. Gary took cover near the Jacks while unfamiliar Redwings passed through the wet garden. Derek ran up the Oak by a route Batman could not see well enough to criticise, and a Goldfinch made a brief, indignant visit before moving on.

By late morning the rain had eased, though the branches were still heavy with it. Gary had gone. Stirling’s squad appeared below the Oak and worked rapidly across the garden. Jay arrived soon after, busy with his own autumn errands and unwilling to explain any of them.

Stirling stopped beneath Mr Jack Daw. “My question reached Gary?”

“It did.”

“What did he say?”

Mr Jack Daw looked towards the empty perch Gary had used in the rain. “Nothing.”

Stirling considered that for a moment. “Then he understood it.”

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