Page 28 of The Beekeeper's Cottage
Another gadget was removed from Evan’s pocket.
‘Perhaps if you could just stand to one side so I can record the width here?’
Amos moved a foot to his right. ‘About here okay?’
There was a loud sigh.
‘Mr Fry—’
‘Amos… I reckon it’s okay to call me that.’
‘MrFry,’ Evan insisted. ‘I think it’s best if perhaps you could just let me get on. That way we’ll get this done a lot quicker and easier. I’ll ask if I have a question…’
Amos frowned. ‘Right you are then,’ he replied. He planted his feet and took up a stance a little distance away with his hands held behind his back. Then he picked a spot on the opposite wall and stared at it. He didn’t move for about a minute but then he turned his head to stare at Evan, following his every move. The moment the agent looked up and caught his eye, Amos snapped his gaze away, back to the spot on the wall. He couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so much.
After perhaps another ten minutes, which included taking the details of the cloakroom, Evan moved off down the hallway. Amos practically galloped past him.
‘Right, the kitchen now, is it?’ he panted, taking up an almost identical stance in the middle of the room. ‘Now don’t forget—’ he began.
Evan held up his hand.
‘Or, the—’
A glare this time.
Amos could keep this up all day.
‘Mr Fry… As I really don’t wish to capture the essence of this beautiful room with you standing in the middle of the photograph, please could you move?’
Amos moved as if to stand by the wall.
‘Over here…behindme.’ There was an exasperated sigh.
By the time Evan had finished taking the details of the ground floor, he looked fit to burst. Amos, on the other hand, was finding it harder and harder to keep from laughing and had to cough on a couple of occasions to hide his mirth. It was too cruel, Amos knew that, but there was something much bigger at stake here and Grace needed all the help she could get.
He eased off the act a little as they toured the upstairs, but only because Amos wanted Evan to feel relatively comfortable again. After all, he was saving his pièce de résistance for the garden…
They had been in the garage block, looked at the storage sheds and greenhouse, and toured the patio area and flower beds around the area of garden closest to the house. Amos was sure that Evan had taken some beautiful photos of the garden and its sumptuous lawns. He also knew, however, that the best view was from the area of garden where it began to slope away, down to the flower field, past the bees…
They had just got to the top, in among the apple trees, when Amos suddenly ran in front of Evan, and raised his hand in the air. He stood waiting patiently, a hopeful look on his face. The agent was doing his best to ignore Amos, fiddling with the settings on his camera, and so Amos stretched his hand higher and waggled it, looking for all the world like he was about to burst.
‘Yes, Amos… what is it?’ came the weary voice.
‘Sorry, Mr Porter, Sir. I know you said to be quiet, but I can’t stand by and let you just carry on. I’d hate for anything to happen to you, that wouldn’t be right at all… and, oh dear…’ He cocked his head to the side as if listening for something. ‘Can you hear that?’
Evan gave a tentative glance down the garden and then, with a dismissive shake of his head, began to walk forwards. Amos ran in front of him again, arm raised high. Evan stopped dead.
‘What?’ he snapped, his irritation starting to show.
Amos looked hurt. ‘It’s just that the bees…’ He rubbed his neck.
‘Bees…?’
‘Aye… In a right proper temper they were this morning, and by the sounds of things they don’t sound much happier now. Trouble is, you need to go right down by ’em to get the best photos of the view…’
Evan swallowed.
‘I tell you what though,’ offered Amos. ‘I could go down first and see what I can do. They’re used to me, see, and I might be able to calm them down a bit…’
