Page 77 of Hope and Happiness in Bluebell Wood
‘Like Sylvester and Tweety Pie? I like that cartoon.’
‘Yes, a bit like that, I suppose.’ I’d forgotten just how many questions young children sometimes ask. Robin’s quest for answers was admirable, but quite exhausting.
‘What’s that?’ Robin asks now, standing on tiptoe so he can see on to the base of the table. ‘It looks shiny.’
I follow his intense gaze, and see something round and silver among the discarded husks and seed. I reach into the table and pull it out.
‘It’s a tiny watch,’ I say, brushing it clean. ‘It looks like one that might belong to a nurse.’
‘Why?’ Robin asks, looking up at the silver watch hanging from my fingertips.
‘A nurse often pins a watch like this on to her uniform so she can lift it up and see the time easily,’ I tell him, demonstrating how it works. ‘That’s why it looks upside down to you and me – see?’
Robin holds out his hand, so I pass it to him to examine more closely.
‘Why do your birds need to tell the time?’ he asks. ‘So they know when it’s time to be fed?’
I smile. ‘They don’t need a watch to tell them that. They’re clever, they just use the sun coming up and going down to tell them what time it is.’
‘Why was this on the table, then?’
‘That is a very good question. One I’m afraid I don’t have an answer to right now.’
‘You said your birds are magical. Is this one of the special gifts they leave for you?’
‘I guess it must be. I wonder what it means, though.’
‘Roman numerals,’ Robin says matter-of-factly.
‘Sorry?’
‘Roman numerals on the watch. We learnt about them at school. See?’ Robin points to the watch face.
‘Oh yes, so there are. Clocks and watches often have them instead of numbers.’
‘I know. Why?’
‘I don’t actually know.’
‘My teacher didn’t know either.’ He sighs. ‘I guess grownups don’t know everything.’
‘No, they certainly don’t.’
‘Shall we feed the birds now?’ Robin asks, handing me back the watch. ‘They might be hungry.’
We feed the birds together, then we return to the cottage after I’ve persuaded Robin that the birds are unlikely to come if we stay by the feeders.
While Robin sits on the rug by the French windows with Merlin by his side, I make us two hot chocolates – the one thing I could actually make quite successfully in my kitchen now.
‘Have you seen anything yet?’ I ask Robin as I return to the sitting room carrying two full mugs.
‘No,’ Robin says, sounding disappointed. ‘I don’t think they’re hungry tonight.’
‘They’ll come,’ I promise him, desperately hoping they will. ‘Now come and sit up here to drink your hot chocolate. It shouldn’t be too warm, but the mug is quite full.’
‘Why do your birds leave you presents?’ Robin asks after we’ve sat quietly on the armchair and the sofa for a few minutes drinking our chocolate. ‘Do they love you?’
‘It would be nice to think that,’ I tell him as honestly as I can, ‘but to tell you the truth, I don’t know why they do it. It’s very strange.’
