Page 28 of Autumn in Sycamore Park
14
The Protest March
‘Save Big Gerry!’Amy shouted, flapping a Union Jack flag in the air, then giving a jubilant whoop. Then, turning to Jennifer, she whispered, ‘Which tree is it again?’
‘The big one.’
‘The leaning one?’
‘Yes.’
Amy pouted. ‘It does look a bit wonky.’
‘We’re not against them giving it a little trim,’ Jennifer said. ‘We just don’t want them cutting it down completely.’
She looked around the group who had assembled on this chilly Saturday morning. A scattering of mostly older people in woolly hats and thick coats, everyone looked defiantly unhappy except Pete Markham, who had set up his van on the edge of the courtyard and was doing a roaring trade in burgers and hot coffee. Amy, who had been eyeing the van since her arrival, was already two coffees and a double egg bap deep, and looked keen to get started on brunch, even with the sun barely up.
‘If they just propped it up with a stick or something, that would be okay,’ Amy said, blowing on her hands as she hopped from foot to foot.
‘That’s the hope, but Angela said it would cost more than just cutting it down.’
‘They do like to cut corners, these councils,’ Amy said. ‘Very big ones.’ Raising a hand into the air, she shouted, ‘Don’t cut corners, or trees!’
‘Good morning!’ came Angela’s spritely voice. Jennifer turned to see her friend walking across the courtyard in a thick puffer jacket, a banner from her shoulder to her waist that read Save Big Gerry in big orange marker pen letters.
‘Thanks for coming,’ she said to Jennifer and Amy. ‘They’ll get our message before the day is out, that’s for sure.’
‘Are the council actually here?’ Jennifer asked.
‘Not yet, but we’ve got the local news showing up in half an hour. We’re hoping a few more people will come by then, too. Pad out the numbers.’
Amy looked at Jennifer. ‘It’s an excuse to call Rick. Should I do it?’
Jennifer shrugged. ‘Won’t he be hungover?’
‘Probably, but I never have a reason to call him. It’s a good excuse, isn’t it?’
‘Go on, then.’
Amy took out her phone and pulled up a number. ‘I got it off the staff contacts list. Do you think that counts as stalking?’
‘Ah … I think you’re okay.’
‘Can you speak? Can you speak?’ Amy gasped, jumping up and down, holding the phone out to Jennifer as beside her, Angela laughed.
‘Hi, Rick,’ Jennifer said, trying to suppress a groan as she rolled her eyes at Amy. ‘I’m really sorry about this, but—’
‘Oh, you’re after Rick, are you?’ came a woman’s voice from the other end of the line. Jennifer’s mouth clamped shut. ‘I’m afraid he’s still in bed. Would you like me to wake him for you? Who is this?’
Jennifer’s cheeks burned. The woman sounded tired, as though a night on the tiles with Rick must have exhausted her, whoever she was. ‘Ah … it’s just Jennifer from work,’ she stammered. ‘Nothing that can’t wait until Monday.’
‘Oh, that’s all right. I’ll let him know you called.’
‘Thanks.’
The other end of the line went dead as though Jennifer’s implication in some charade had been uncovered. She handed the phone back to Amy then wiped the sweat off her palm on to her shirt.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Rick’s … ah … busy. He’s still … in bed.’
