Page 63 of Right Place, Right Time
‘The tree!’ Adam says, rushing to the doorway of the shop. ‘The tree in the middle of Clockmaker Court. It’s the same as the tree in the painting and the same as the tree on the grandfather clock!’
‘What?’ I mumble, for a second not following.
‘It’s only been staring us in the face, Eve!’ He turns back towards me. ‘I can’t believe I’ve only just noticed it. Look.’ He looks out through the open doorway again. ‘One, two, three …’ He quickly counts the branches of the tree. ‘Twelve – just like in the picture and on the clock.’
Adam heads outside towards the tree, so I follow him, pulling the door of the shop closed behind me.
‘How long do you think this tree has stood here?’ he asks, standing underneath the branches and looking up. ‘Oaks have long lives, don’t they?’
‘I believe so.’
‘So what would you guess with this one?’
‘I don’t know. It looks pretty old, though.’
‘She’s a beauty, isn’t she?’ Rocky calls out from across the court and we turn to see him clearing one of the tables outside his café.
‘She sure is,’ Adam says. ‘Do you know how old she might be?’
‘I read once that oaks grow for three hundred years, live for three hundred years and die for three hundred years,’ Rocky says. ‘Some even live for over a thousand years. That one looks pretty old to me. It’s a wonder her roots have never disturbed any of these old buildings, really. They must be pretty big.’
I’m just about to ask Rocky if he knows anything else about oak trees, when Harriet appears.
‘What’s going on?’ she asks. ‘Why are you all staring at the tree?’
‘Just admiring it, my love,’ Rocky tells her.
Harriet looks at us suspiciously.
‘Hmm … probably be for the best if the damn great thing was cut down,’ she says to my surprise. ‘It casts a ridiculous amount of shadow over all the buildings. It would be nice to get some more sunshine in here occasionally.’
‘Oh, no, love,’ Rocky says in protest, disagreeing with Harriet for once. ‘That’s history right there. Just imagine all the things that tree has seen over the years. It was probably here before any of these buildings were. Maybe that’s why Clockmaker Court was built like this in a circle. It was built around this old tree.’
A woman with a baby in a buggy wants to enter the café, so Harriet hurriedly ducks back inside to allow them to enter.
‘Well, I think it’s pretty awesome,’ Rocky says, now Harriet is out of earshot. ‘It would be a travesty if it was cut down.’ He smiles at us as he lifts his tray of empty dishes and heads back into the café.
‘I wonder if this treeisolder than Clockmaker Court,’ I say, looking back up at its gnarled, twisty old branches.
‘And almost more importantly right now, does it have anything to do with our hidden room?’ Adam asks, doing the same.
‘Do you think it might, then?’ I turn and look at Adam. ‘I mean, it is similar to the trees on the clock and in the painting, but are we reading too much into this?’
‘Trees do seem to be a theme, though, don’t they?’ he says, meeting my gaze. ‘The clock, the painting and now this one.’ He walks forward and places the palm of his hand on the sturdy trunk. ‘I bet you’ve some stories to tell.’ He strokes the rough, knotted bark. ‘I bet you know the answers we’re searching for.’
‘Something else is bothering me,’ I say as I look up at the old tree and wonder if Adam might be right. ‘I’m sure I’ve seen another tree like this somewhere before.’
Adam turns back to face me.
‘I don’t mean I’ve seen oak trees before,’ I continue. ‘Of course I’ve seen them many times. But it’s the emblems – something about the simplicity of how the trees have been depicted in the painting and on the clock. It seems familiar.’
‘What in the name of Mary are you two up to?’ Orla asks from her shop doorway. ‘You’ll be hugging it there next, Adam. I thought tree-hugging was much more up my street than yours.’
‘We were just wondering how old the tree was?’ I answer quickly. ‘Any idea, Orla?’
Orla looks up at it. ‘Pretty ancient, I’d say. Our tree has a lot of wisdom in its branches, that’s for sure. You know, in Celtic mythology it’s said an oak tree is a door to ancient wisdom or knowledge, possibly even entry to the otherworld, the realm of the fairy.’
‘I’ll give you ancient,’ Adam says, smiling. ‘But I have to draw the line at fairy. Surely even you don’t believe in fairies, Orla?’
