Page 26 of Hope and Happiness in Bluebell Wood
‘Well, there’s myself, Gavin here,’ Jonah gestures to behind the counter and Gavin nods, ‘then there’s Jenny from the village shop – who I’m sure you’ve met – and a few other folk from the village who you might not have, including the landlady from The Daft Duck, and the head teacher atthe village school. Oh and Callum, of course – that’s Father Crawford.’
I nod in what I hope is an indifferent fashion.
‘We all try to have a good broad general knowledge, and then we have our own specialist subjects. Mine is music,’ he adds proudly. ‘I don’t suppose you know anything about natural history?’ he asks hopefully. ‘That was Evelyn’s speciality.’
‘Not really,’ I reply. ‘As Gavin here will tell you, I didn’t even know what to feed wild birds until I came to Bluebell Wood. City girl me.’
Phew, that was close. Even though I would have liked to see Callum again, the last thing I wanted was to join a quiz team in a pub full of people – that was asking for trouble.
‘Ah, that’s a shame,’ Jonah says. ‘We really need some new team members right now.’
‘Sorry.’ I shrug. Then for some silly reason I keep talking. ‘If you’d needed someone who knew about twentieth-century history then I’d have been just the person for you. That’s my specialist subject; I’ve always been interested in it.’
Gavin and Jonah stare at me.
‘What?’ I ask, looking back at them with concern.
‘Each quiz night has a theme,’ Jonah says, smiling at me, ‘and you’ll never guess what the first theme of the new season is . . . ’
‘History?’ I ask weakly, already knowing the answer.
‘Exactly! Oh, you’d be perfect, Ava,’ Jonah says, beaming. ‘Please say you’ll do it. You’d be doing me a huge favour. I’m the team captain and I’ve been having an awful time trying to get someone worthy to take Eileen and Evelyn’s places.’
Don’t do it, Ava, my mind is very clearly advising me.Don’t do it. You know you’ll hate it . . .
But for some reason my heart is pressing the override button today. I feel sorry for Jonah; he’s obviously one of those people that’s always trying to do his best by everyone. So I hear myself say: ‘Sure, I’ll do it. Just let me know when you need me.’
Eight
What was I thinking of?I ask myself for what feels like the hundredth time since I agreed to be a part of the Bluebell Wood quiz team.
It had been almost a week since I’d been pressganged in the farm shop, and I’d worried about it two, three, maybe four times or more every day since.
It wasn’t the questions I was worried about, I was actually quite confident in my range of general knowledge, and knowing the quiz had a history theme did make it all the more appealing. No, it was the fact I was going to have to be around so many people at once that was giving me the most concern.
The social side of my life had always been a huge part of who I was before. My ex-husband and I had had lots of friends in the early part of our marriage, and if we’d ever joined clubs, the social life that came with them had usually been what attracted us the most. When the children were young, I joined the school’s PTFA, and I was always volunteering to help at fetes and the like; then when they grew too old for school and my divorce came through, I socialised with my own closefriends and a few work colleagues; people were always a huge part of my life.
Breathe, Ava. Breathe, I tell myself as I feel my heartbeat begin to quicken. I get up and stand at the part open French windows, drawing in the fresh morning air.Deep calming breaths. In for a count of three, out for a count of four. In for a count of four, out for a count of five . . .
It helps a bit. My breathing becomes less shallow, and I feel a little calmer – for now.
I look out at the bird table – that always calmed me down and brought me joy. My regulars were growing in number day by day, and I felt if I didn’t go out every morning to top up their food, the birds would be disappointed in me, and might go elsewhere.
So I do as I do every morning and head to the little garden shed to scoop up today’s mix of seeds, nuts and dried worms. Then I carry them outside to the table and top up the feeders and the pie dish I keep on the flat part of the table under the little roof.
I’m about to pour my scoop of seed out when I spy something unusually bright among the discarded and unwanted seed.
What’s that?I wonder as I reach inside the table to pull something yellow and plastic from the corner.It looks a bit like one of those plastic wedges from a game of Trivial Pursuit.‘Wait, itisone of those wedges!’ I exclaim as I brush some bird seed off it. ‘What on earth are you doing on my bird table?’ I ask, looking down at the triangle of yellow plastic in the palm of my hand. ‘Did one of the birds drop you?’
I look around as if the culprit might still be hiding in the bushes watching me.
Maybe I’d had a magpie visit the table, and he’d droppedit. Didn’t they like brightly coloured things? Or was that shiny things? That must be it, how else would it have got here?
I put the yellow wedge in the pocket of the long baggy cardigan that I’d taken to wearing all the time since I came to the cottage, and continue to refill the table.
Then, as we do every morning, Merlin and I take a walk in the woods.
While we walk I try hard not to think about tonight, and simply enjoy being out in nature once more. I’d grown to love my little cottage and its pretty little garden, but I never felt happier than when I was here in the wood.
