Page 60 of Hope and Happiness in Bluebell Wood
‘Really? I was that bad?’
‘You know you were that bad. You were always texting to check we were okay.’
‘That’s what parents do.’
‘Dad barely ever texts.’
‘Yes, well, that’s your father for you,’ I say, thinking of my ex-husband, never the most overtly caring of men.
‘Mum, you’d be texting every day, sometimes two or three times when I was down in London.’
I stop walking and look at her.
‘Can you blame me?’ I ask. ‘After what happened?’
‘No, of course we don’t blame you. I’m just pointing out how much you’ve changed. I don’t know what’s gone on here, Mum, but Bluebell Wood is working some very special magic on you.’
Eighteen
It had been quite good fun, actually – creeping around the village dressed as bunnies in the first hours of daylight on Sunday morning.
I thought I’d gone to a fair bit of trouble buying a pair of bunny ears and a fluffy tail online after Callum had asked me to help. I’d even used some old eyeliner to draw whiskers on my face and a rabbit nose – I assumed most of the other villagers helping this morning would be wearing something similar to me. And indeed, some are; but a few have gone the extra mile and are bedecked in full fluffy rabbit costumes.
We’re all given baskets of shiny colourful chocolate eggs and told where our allocated houses are – then we set off, creeping stealthily around the village to hide eggs in the front gardens of those families who have agreed to take part – of which there are a fair few! Apparently, the Easter egg hunt has been taking place in Bluebell Wood since the days when the house on the hill was occupied, and the owner decided he wanted to do something special for the villagers and their children. But now, for a small donation to the church, families can have theirown Easter Bunny leave eggs for their children to discover on Easter Sunday morning.
As I tiptoe about the village on my own, I realise this is the first time I’ve done so without Merlin. I’d left him sleeping peacefully back at the cottage along with Hannah, who had murmured something last night about coming to help me, but when my alarm had gone off this morning, I realised hers hadn’t even been set! I didn’t have the heart to wake her, so I decided it was best to leave her and Merlin snoozing together.
Being out and about this early feels very liberating. The early-morning dew that glistens on the grass and hedges and the slight mist that hangs in the air make it seem even more magical as I creep quietly up paths to leave eggs under bushes and upturned flower pots. Apart from the other ‘bunnies’ there is no one else about, and I find myself noticing more things about Bluebell Wood than I’ve ever done before, like the age and style of all the houses and cottages I pass: there’s not one new-build amongst them, and I realise just how much this new estate is going to change the look and possibly the feel of the village when it’s complete.
How have I not noticed this before? Is it because when I’ve been out with Merlin, I’ve often had my head bowed so no one tried to engage me in conversation?
I’d actually got much better at this recently. I found I was no longer quite so afraid of being caught out by a cheery ‘Hello!’ or a ‘How are you today?’ and the expectation that I should stop and have a chat for a couple of minutes.
I was almost scared to admit it, but I was becoming much more relaxed around people. It didn’t feel like every stranger I met posed a threat.
Some of my egg deliveries have been to the outskirts of thevillage, and so as I walk back to the meeting point where all the ‘bunnies’ are supposed to assemble when they’ve delivered their eggs, I happen to pass by the field that Merlin and I often walk by when we choose not to go to the wood, and walk around the local footpaths instead.
It’s still very early, so I’m surprised to see a man using a mallet to bang a large sign into the ground next to the field. He doesn’t look like a farmer; he’s dressed in jeans and a casual shirt, and his shoes are heavy boots, but not the practical sort someone working the land would choose to wear, these look more like designer boots, and as I get closer I notice that both his shirt and his jeans follow the same pattern – posy rather than practical.
‘Good morning!’ I call cheerily in my newfound confident state, completely forgetting I’m dressed as the Easter Bunny. ‘Happy Easter.’
The man jumps and drops his mallet, just missing his toes in the process. His sign slides to one side, and he turns towards me with an annoyed expression. Now I can see his face properly I think he looks familiar, but I’m not sure why?
‘Yeah . . . ’ he says, looking suspiciously at the top of my head. ‘Happy Easter.’
‘Oh,’ I say, touching my rabbit ears. ‘I forgot I was wearing these. I’m delivering eggs to the local children.’
The man’s expression turns from annoyance to amusement now. ‘I had many ideas of what the Easter Bunny might look like, but I never thought it would look like you.’
Feeling embarrassed and also a little uncomfortable under the man’s steady gaze, I’m about to hurry away when a large black bird suddenly flies out of a nearby tree; it swoops, just missing the man, who ducks and sidesteps into some mud.
‘What the hell?’ he says, looking behind him at the bird.
‘I think it was a crow,’ I tell him, watching as the bird lands on a nearby television aerial. ‘You probably startled it. They’re not used to many people out and about this early.’
‘Stupid thing,’ he grumbles, looking with disdain at his mud-covered boots. ‘It’s a wonder the farmer hasn’t had him with his gun by now.’
As I try to give him my best disapproving look, I notice that now he’s moved I can see what he was doing before I disturbed him.
