Page 50 of Autumn in Sycamore Park
Angela shrugged. ‘Oh, nothing. A charming man. I hope he stops by again soon. Sit down, I have something I’d like you to test for me.’
Jennifer grimaced as Angela went back into the kitchen, humming under her breath, practically skipping along as though she had not a care in the world. When she returned, she was carrying two huge mugs of steaming coffee.
‘This is a new potion of my own construction,’ she said, producing a can of instant whipped cream from a countertop. ‘Maple and walnut latte with cinnamon cream.’
Jennifer watched, her stomach rumbling as Angela covered the drinks in a delicate swirl of cream, then pressed two brown marshmallows into the mixture and then stuck a chocolate flake in the top. A final dusting of icing sugar, and she presented the drink to Jennifer.
‘These are naturally made hazelnut marshmallows I got from a shop in the Lake District,’ she said. ‘And this is an organic chocolate stick from the Eden Project in Cornwall. The marshmallows represent the falling autumn nuts, the chocolate is a leafless tree, and the icing sugar is the dusting of the first snow.’ She gave a light, airy laugh. ‘The cream is from Tesco. For the real thing, I’ll whip up my own that I get from a local dairy.’
‘Isn’t that a bit too much snow?’
‘I’ll put a bit of chocolate food colouring in it to make it look like a forest floor. What do you think?’
Jennifer just shook her head. ‘It’s magnificent.’
Angela giggled. ‘Thank you.’
‘Do you do a low sugar version?’
‘Absolutely not.’
Jennifer smiled. ‘Then I’ll have to get up early tomorrow and do some jogging.’
‘Nothing like a bit of exercise, is there?’
Jennifer didn’t quite managethe jogging, but the next morning was a cold but beautiful clear day, so she got up earlier than usual, took Bonky for a walk up and down Willis Lane, then walked to work through Sycamore Park. It was quiet apart from a couple of dog walkers and a few solo joggers, but as she came around the eastern path to Big Gerry’s courtyard, a council van was just pulling up. Jennifer stopped to watch as three men got out, carrying boxes of tools and ladders with them. They began to measure Big Gerry’s trunk, then used torches to peer into cracks and fissures that had appeared over the years. Jennifer wandered a little closer and caught the eye of one of the men.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
The man gave her a grim smile. ‘We’re measuring the old boy up for surgery,’ he said.
‘What kind of surgery?’
‘That remains to be seen.’
‘You can’t cut this tree down.’
The man sighed. ‘Miss, when I was a boy, I used to climb up there with my mates and monkey about. We had great times. You could get right up if no one was looking, although my mum—god bless her—would have gone spare if she’d found out. These days, kids spend all their time staring at lumps of plastic in their hands. It’s a real shame. Do you really think anyone except a few people my age would care if this tree got lopped down? A terrible shame it would be for sure.’
‘It’s a beautiful tree. You have to save it.’
‘I’m not sure we’ll have a choice, once they’ve had their vote up at the council.’
‘When is it?’
‘Next Thursday. And even worse will be if Clover gets her waterworks. Ruin the park forever that will.’ The man smiled. ‘Don’t you worry, they’ll never pass it. They can’t.’
He said the last with a regretful uncertainty. Jennifer stared at Big Gerry for a moment longer, then checked her watch and bade the man a hasty farewell.
‘Areyou sure this is a good idea?’ Amy said, leaning over the copier as sheets of paper reamed out. ‘Ringo’s going to go off his nut if he finds out.’
‘Ringo?’
Amy chuckled. ‘Downton Abbey … Abbey Road … the Beatles. Get it?’
‘Ah, sure. Now, can you go and check he’s still in with Maud?’
‘Okay, wait a minute.’
