Page 61 of Hope and Happiness in Bluebell Wood
Cuckoo Land Homes ~Think above the clouds for your next homeit says in fancy black letters on the large sign behind him he’d been trying to hammer in before he was disturbed. There’s a cartoon cuckoo flying away at the end of the writing, as though it’s sky-written the slogan, and a bold artistic impression of several modern-looking new-build homes set against a bright blue sky, with white clouds dotted carefully overhead.
‘That’s who’s bought this field, is it?’ I ask. ‘Cuckoo Land Homes.’
The man, still looking annoyed at the bird, steps back and regards the sign. ‘It is! Forty deluxe houses and apartments will be built here over the next twelve months.’
‘Forty?’ I exclaim. ‘On this bit of land?’
‘Not just this bit, the three surrounding fields have been bought, too. It’s going to be a marvellous new estate,’ he says proudly.
‘But what about the footpaths?’ I ask. ‘I walk my dog along there. Surely this Cuckoo Land Homes can’t get rid of them?’
The man sighs like he’s been asked this a few too many times already. ‘As we’ve told your sort before, thefootpaths will remain, they will simply weave in and around the houses.’
‘But that will ruin the walk. The joy of walking along the footpath is you’re amongst nature, not in between people’s houses and gardens. And what do you meanmy sort?’ I add as an afterthought, and suddenly I remember where I’ve seen the man before – he was the idiot driving too fast through the village when he’d nearly mown Merlin and me down as we’d waited to cross the road.
That day he’d been in a sports car, today it would appear by the vehicle pulled up on the side of the road he’s driving a sporty-looking Range Rover.
The man sighs again and puts his hand on his hips in a defiant manner. I should have been wary: I was on my own in the early hours of Easter Sunday demanding answers from a man who until a few moments ago had been wielding a large mallet. But for some reason none of this occurs to me, I don’t see this weaselly guy as a threat, all I can see right now, very clearly in my mind, are all the new houses that will completely spoil the look and feel of the village.
‘You’re new here, aren’t you?’ he asks after he’s stared at me for a few moments. He obviously doesn’t recognise me even if I do him.
‘I might be; why does that matter?’
‘It would explain why you think challenging me when I’ve just come to put a new sign up will make an ounce of difference. We’ve been through all this with your parish council, and we’ve held meetings to try to explain what we’re going to do to the local residents. We’ve tried to be pleasant; we’ve tried to listen to what everyone has to say—’
‘But you’re still going to build all your new houses,’ Iinterrupt. ‘That’s right, isn’t it? The residents have objected. The parish council has objected. But you’re still going ahead, regardless of what anyone else thinks.’
The man shrugs. ‘That’s progress for you.’
‘That’s greed for you,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘Don’t worry, I know exactly how all this works. My ex-husband worked in the same industry. It’s not personal, it’s business, right?’
‘Exactly,’ the man says, nodding. ‘People need homes.’
I watch him for a moment or two while I think. The man picks up his mallet, and attempts unsuccessfully to remove some of the mud from his boots with it.
‘What do you do at this Cuckoo Land Homes?’ I ask eventually.
‘Why do you want to know that?’ he asks, looking at me again as though he’s wondering why I’m still here.
‘Because I know you’re not just some lackey who’s been paid to come and erect this sign.’
‘How could you possibly know that?’
‘You’re the boss, aren’t you?’ I suddenly say, and I glance again at his expensive Range Rover. ‘Let me guess, the villagers here have given you so much trouble about this proposed site that no one else dare come and put this sign up. That’s why you’re doing it so early on a Sunday – no, make thatEasterSunday. You thought no one would see you, and you’d be long gone before anyone noticed the sign.’
The man regards me for a moment as though he’s considering very carefully what he’s going to say next.
‘Not just a pretty face, are you?’ he settles on eventually. ‘Colin Cuckoo, pleased to meet you.’ He smiles a cheesy smile and moves towards me, holding out his hand.
Reluctantly I shake it.
‘And you’re spot on. No one else would come here and put up the sign so I had to do it myself. Your fellow villagers are a scary lot when they get a bee in their country bonnets.’ He grins, extremely pleased with his witty retort.
‘Maybe they just care about their village and what you’re going to do to it,’ I reply, folding my arms across my chest.
‘Look . . . ?’ He waits for me to say my name.
‘Ava,’ I reply begrudgingly.
