ʺYou all right, miss?ʺ he said. ʺYou got someone with you?ʺ
ʺMy . . . my . . .ʺ
An absurd apprehension overcame her that her mother had heard the scream and was now running down the path towards the wood. Please not! It was all right now. If she found out . . . and Dad would be even worse. . . .
She darted away from the fence, far enough to see. No, she was still reading, and didn’t even look up. Still trembling, Ellie came back to the fence, noticing now the expensive-looking camera slung round the boy’s neck. He was a short but solid-looking kid with steady, dark brown eyes.
ʺWow!ʺ she said. ʺLucky for me you were there! With that, too!ʺ
Her voice came out as a gasping whisper.
ʺReckon so,ʺ he said calmly. ʺPhotographin’ that jay you was watching. Wonderful thing, that camera. You goin’ to be all right, miss? Keep an eye out for you, shall I, till you’re back with your folk?ʺ
ʺOh . . . yes. Yes, I suppose so. I’ll be all right. . . . I’m fine. . . . Er . . . how do I come on a nature trail? Is it just schools, or can anybody . . . ?ʺ
ʺBest you call Welly. Tell ’er about you, shall I? Got the number? Give us a name, then?ʺ
ʺMe? I’m Ellie. What’s yours?ʺ
ʺDave. Welly and Ellie. She’ll like that.ʺ
ʺIs this your wood?ʺ
ʺName runs in the family, manner of speaking. But you call Welly. Good-bye then, miss.ʺ
He nodded to her and turned away.
In a way the strangeness of the encounter was a help, for as she walked slowly back towards the picnic area, Ellie found herself puzzling about it, instead of living over and over again the horror of what had happened. What a funny kid! It wasn’t just his calmness and assurance, the way he’d dealt with those louts, or the very odd way he’d put everything he said, or his accent—she wasn’t good at accents, but she was pretty sure he was English, only talking the sort of English you might hear a couple of old guys, real country people, talking in a village shop. But underneath all those surface things something stranger yet, far stranger.
Her mother was still reading when she reached the picnic area, and closed her book with obvious reluctance, marking the place with a parking ticket. ʺYour hair’s a bit of a mess, darling. Was it as interesting as you hoped?ʺ
ʺThey do nature trails. I’d love to go on one. Can we come again?ʺ
ʺI expect so. The boys are mad on that stupid railway.ʺ
Ellie called the number that evening, as soon as she’d finished her homework. A woman’s voice answered. It sounded a little shaky.
ʺHello?ʺ
ʺI’m supposed to ask for Welly.ʺ
ʺSpeaking. And you must be Ellie. You want to come on a nature trail?ʺ
ʺIf that’s all right.ʺ
ʺWell, so many people ask. . . . Is there anything you particularly want to look at?ʺ
ʺOh . . . I’m interested in the birds and animals, of course, but really it’s the trees. You’ve got some lovely old ones, haven’t you?ʺ
ʺIndeed, yes. In that case . . . it’ll have to be in the morning, so get here as early as you can. We do parties in the afternoons. Just call me the evening before.ʺ
ʺThat’s wonderful, if you’re sure. Oh, wait, please. I wanted to say thank you to Dave. He was terrific! I’d have been in a real mess without him.ʺ
ʺYes, he told me. I’m thankful he was around. I’m afraid you can’t talk to him now—he’s trying to photograph an owl. But I’ll tell him. Oh, just one thing. Did you tell your parents what happened?ʺ
ʺEr, no, I thought . . . but I suppose . . . I mean, those boys might—ʺ
ʺThat’s all right. I called the security people and they picked them up at the gate. They’ll deal with it. They may want Dave’s photograph, but he says your face is completely hidden. With luck you won’t be involved. But perhaps you’d better bring your mother at least as far as the gate this time, so that she can decide for herself if we’re safe people to leave you with. The tour takes about three hours, tell her.ʺ
ʺAll right. You’ll say thank you to Dave for me, won’t you?ʺ
ʺOf course.ʺ
Welly and Dave were waiting for her at the gate into the wood. Welly was in an electric wheel-chair, an old woman with white hair and wrinkled and blotchy skin. She had a really nice smile. Ellie couldn’t guess how old she was—older, she thought, than either of her own grannies. Welly’s hands trembled slightly all the time, but her eyes were bright with life. Dave seemed just the same as before, about ten, a bit short for that age, but stockily built without being fat, and with that strange, calm look as if nothing that happened was ever going to faze him. They all shook hands.
ʺThis is extremely good of you,ʺ said Mum. ʺWe bought a ticket at the gate. Two pounds. It didn’t seem nearly enough to pay for your time. You said three hours, Ellie told me.ʺ
ʺOur time is our own, and we can do what we wish with it. I assure you, Mrs. Ford, it’ll be a pleasure. We are both passionate about our wood, and Ellie seems really interested. I hope she can stay the whole three hours.ʺ
ʺYes, of course, if that’s really all right. I’ve made up a picnic for her.ʺ
ʺWe wouldn’t have let her starve, you know.ʺ
Mum laughed uncertainly. Ellie guessed that she didn’t know what to make of Welly, any more than Ellie did of Dave. But it was only twenty minutes to the library, so she’d get over two hours’ book-choosing and book chat. And everyone was happy.
ʺDave will take you round,ʺ said Welly. ʺWe’ve got two parties this afternoon, and I get tired stupidly soon these days.ʺ
It wasn’t a trail at all. They left the marked path almost at once and checked the whole wood out, almost tree by tree. The birds and animals seemed not to notice them, even when they climbed an immense old oak to which Dave had attached steps and handholds so that he could keep an eye on a bat colony that roosted in the hollow of its trunk, as well as the nest of a green woodpecker in a rotted limb. Astonishingly, the bird stayed on its nest, untroubled by the flash, with a chick’s head poking up beside its wing, while Ellie took several photographs.
ʺUsed to me,ʺ Dave explained.
Unlike normal guides, he talked very little, just showed her things and let her decide for herself, though he answered her questions willingly enough, for instance when she asked how long the bat colony had been there.
ʺLet’s see now,ʺ he said slowly. ʺGreat storm, eighteen ninety-seven, that’s what took ’er top out. Give ’er time to rot ’ollow, forty, fifty year, maybe. An’ the bats were there, definite, come nineteen seventy, and maybe twenty year earlier.
ʺDessay it’ll be in the diaries,ʺ he added after a pause, as if by way of explanation that he hadn’t been working it out from memory.
ʺI trust you’ve had a good time,ʺ said Welly, when they returned to the cottage in the clearing near the middle of the wood, where they’d left her over two hours before.
ʺOh, it was wonderful!ʺ said Ellie. ʺI wish it had gone on for ever! And you’ve got two parties this afternoon. That’s six hours.ʺ
ʺParties don’t get three hours,ʺ said Dave.
Welly paused from ladling stew into three bowls and looked at him.
ʺShe’d do,ʺ he said. ʺGiven she’s willin’.ʺ
Welly returned to her ladling. She seemed not to notice the way her hands trembled. Dave carried the bowls to the table.
ʺBest you sit there,ʺ he told Ellie. ʺJust let old Vick take a sniff—she won’t ’urt. Likes to know who’s what, an’ she don’t see much no longer. All right, girl!ʺ
Ellie sat. An old spaniel heaved herself up from beside the stove, limped across and sniffed at the hand Ellie offered.