The House of Birds and Butterflies. Cressida McLaughlin

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ next day, Saturday, it seemed the whole of Suffolk had decided to descend on the reserve.

      ‘Perhaps they’ve shut Reston Marsh to get it ready,’ Stephan said as he handed Abby a cup of tea, a part of their morning routine that she never took for granted. It was early, but there were already people spilling from the car park towards the visitor centre, the Indian summer bringing everyone out into the fresh air. ‘You know, give it a makeover before it gets spread all over the television.’

      ‘When is the first programme?’ Abby asked, sipping her milky tea.

      ‘Monday,’ Stephan called. ‘Seven o’clock. You going to tune in? I’m curious.’

      ‘I’m definitely going to watch some of it,’ Abby said. ‘I don’t think Penelope can expect us not to be interested when it’s so close to home. Thanks for the tea, Stephan.’ She slipped her mug onto the shelf under the desk and put on her brightest smile for the queue of waiting customers. ‘Would you like day passes?’ she asked two women in brightly coloured outdoor jackets. One of them, she noticed, was holding a white stick, her eyes staring straight ahead. ‘It looks like the weather’s going to hold.’

      ‘Yes please,’ the taller of the two said. ‘Is there a concession for disabled people, for my sister?’

      ‘Of course.’ Abby pressed a couple of buttons on the till and issued them with their passes.

      Her feet barely touched the ground all morning, and she could see things were the same in the shop and café. Just before lunch, Penelope emerged from her office and took her place behind the reception desk as a young, enthusiastic boy pleaded with Abby to help him identify a bird he’d found.

      ‘I know you’re busy,’ his mum said, smiling apologetically. ‘I wouldn’t ask, except we bought Evan a wildlife book for his birthday and he does nothing but pore over it when we’re at home. Even the iPad’s been abandoned, unless he wants to find out some more information about a particular species.’

      ‘That’s wonderful,’ Abby said, smiling at Evan. ‘You’re going to save the planet, you know.’

      ‘I am?’ he looked up at her with wide eyes, his whole body jiggling in anticipation. ‘I’m nine now.’

      ‘You and people like you – and it’s never too young to start.’ She glanced at Penelope, who made a shooing motion with her hands. Abby could see amusement, and something like warmth, in her grey eyes. For what seemed like the first time in months, her boss was in a good mood, and Abby wondered if it was just the busyness of the reserve, or something else, that had lifted her spirits.

      ‘It might fly away,’ Evan whispered seriously, reaching out to take her hand.

      ‘Come on then.’ She let him lead her down the path, past the bird feeders and into the trees, his parents following.

      ‘It’s here,’ he said solemnly, already aware that excitement had to be tempered around wildlife. Abby followed the line of Evan’s finger to where a fat bird sat contentedly on a low branch, its song high and trilling.

      Abby grinned and spent a few moments listening. Evan seemed happy to do the same.

      ‘What is it?’ he asked eventually.

      ‘It’s a mistle thrush,’ Abby said. ‘They’re not as common as a song thrush, and much more speckled. Look at its tummy.’

      ‘Like bread-and-butter pudding,’ Evan said, ‘with all the currants.’

      Abby stifled a laugh. ‘That’s a great description. The mistle thrush with plumage like a bread-and-butter pudding.’

      ‘Do you name the birds?’ Evan asked.

      ‘No,’ Abby said. ‘We have so many it would be hard to keep track of them. Except, there’s this robin who comes and sings on the windowsill sometimes. We call him Bob.’

      ‘Why?’

      Abby shrugged. ‘It seemed like a good name. Robin, Bob. And he does bob quite a bit, he’s very inquisitive.’

      ‘Inquisi—’ Evan tried, stumbling over the word.

      ‘He wants to know what’s going on with everything, like you do with the birds.’

      ‘So I’m inqui-si-tive? Is that a good thing?’

      ‘A very good thing,’ Abby said. ‘The best, in fact. I’ll leave you to your walk, but if you spot anything else and you don’t know what it is, write down a description and when you come back to the centre for some of Stephan’s chocolate cake, which I’m sure you will,’ she glanced at Evan’s parents and they smiled, ‘I can try and help you identify it. And the more you come, the better you’ll get. Soon, you’ll be helping me identify the birds.’ She pulled a small notebook out of her jacket pocket – she always kept one on her, in case she needed to make notes or take down a comment from a visitor – and handed it to him, along with a biro.

      ‘Thank you, miss.’ Evan held out his hand again, this time for her to shake.

      ‘You’re very welcome.’ She shook it. ‘I’m Abby.’

      ‘Thank you, Abby.’ He grabbed his dad’s hand, and began pulling him further down the path, deeper into the woods. ‘There’s a hide down here, Dad, let’s go and see.’

      ‘That was very kind of you,’ Evan’s mum said. ‘I saw how busy you were.’

      ‘Busy is good, and so is inspiring people like Evan. If everyone loves their local wildlife they’ll want to protect it, and that’s all we can hope for.’

      By the time she got back to the centre, the queue had diminished. As she took her place, relieving Penelope, the older woman patted her hand and Abby felt a surge of pleasure that this stern, proud woman was happy with what she was doing.

      She went back to welcoming customers, directing them to different areas of the reserve, talking about the highlights – the kingfisher, the pair of marsh harriers soaring close to the heron hide – as if they had been put on specially. It was only when it got to five o’clock, and they began closing down computers and shutters, that she realized Evan and his family hadn’t come back with a list for her to look at. She was surprised by how disappointed she felt, how much she’d looked forward to firing his enthusiasm even more.

      She said goodbye to Stephan and Rosa, stayed behind for a few minutes to tidy up the reception desk, then called goodnight to Penelope and stepped outside.

      The sun was still warm, but it had begun to sink below the trees. Abby could hear at least two blackbirds, and a tree creeper somewhere in the distance, and the reserve felt peaceful now that most of the visitors had gone. Taking her usual shortcut, she registered that one of the downstairs windows of Peacock Cottage was golden with a soft, welcoming light, and not only was the Range Rover parked outside, but there was another car, a silver Mercedes, pulled up onto the side of the road, blocking it in. Abby found herself slowing, wondering who was inside. As she’d almost passed the cottage, she heard the echo of an opening latch in the quiet and, before she’d realized what she was doing, had slipped behind one of the older, sturdier trees and was peering out at the doorway.

      A man stepped onto the path, and then turned СКАЧАТЬ