[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
pale bronze leaf, and noble, towering beech, and thorn trees, and
delicate, dancing hazel trees.
"They're planted close together so that they can be culled every year
or so, to provide wood for garden fences, trellis work, long poles,' she
told the boys, who weren't really listening.
'When can we get out to play in the forest?' they asked their father.
'Just round the next bold,' Mark said, and a few moments later slowed
and parked in an off-the-road car park with a surface of trodden earth.
There were already half a dozen cars parked there; the forest was a
popular weekend venue. By noon the car park would be full; it always
was on fine Sundays. Even in winter there were plenty of people in
the forest, walking their dogs or riding.
The children all clambered out, chattering excitedly. They had
brought Flora's pushchair, but she refused to get into it; she wanted to
run along with the boys.
'Me walk,' she indignantly told her mother, staggering off behind her
brothers, shouting for them to wait. Of course, they took no notice,
and Flora yelled, red in the face. 'Wait for me!'
The boys ran faster.
'When she's tired she'll want her pushchair, so you'd better take it,
anyway,' Sancha told Mark with resignation as they followed their
children into the forest.
Mark took her hand and swung it as they walked, making Sancha fed
years younger, reminding her of how it had been before they got
married, how much fun they had had together, just the two of them.
She couldn't remember the last time they had held hands as they
walked.
'I think the boys should start riding on Sunday mornings
soon they're old enough,' Mark said. 'I'll drive them here.'
"They'd love that,' she agreed, but for how long would he keep it up?
He often had to work at weekends, and then it would be left to her to
get the boys to the riding stables.
And, of course, as soon as she heard about her brothers going riding,
Flora would want to ride, too, and there would be endless scenes with
her.
The forest held several open glades, whose turf was bitten down
almost to the roots, grazed by the deer which one never caught sight
of but which lived somewhere in the depths of trees, sleeping by day
in among the brambles and tussocks of long grass, to keep out of the
way of human visitors, and browsing by night when there was
nobody around.
The forest glades were also rich with wild spring flowers: creeping
wood sorrel, with its mauve-veined delicate white petals, yellow
oxalis, which only opened out in full sunlight, clusters of blue flax,
yellow birdsfoot trefoil, vetch and purple toadflax, which the children
at once recognised as a relation of the snapdragons which grew in
their garden at home.
'But these are only little snapdragons,' said Felix.
'Baby ones,' agreed Charlie.
'They're the wild version,' Sancha told than.
Charlie's hand reached out, but their father said sharply, 'No, don't
pick any! They'll die before you get them home, and you might
damage the roots.'
'I want some!' Flora whimpered at once, tears coming into her eyes.
'You don't want them to die, do you?' Mark asked sternly.
'Love them want some!' She reached out one small, plump hand to
pick a stem of shivering blue flax, glaring at him, obstinacy in every
line of her tiny body, but Mark was just as stubborn as she was.
'Don't pick it, Flora,' he said, his face set. 'Or I shall be very cross with
you.'
She staggered to her mother, arms held up. 'Bad man. Bad Dadda,' she
sobbed.
Sancha lifted her into her arms and patted her back, automatically
making soothing noises.
'Want flower,' Flora told her. 'Mummy...want flower...'
'No, darling, you heard what Daddy said the poor flower would die
if you picked it. You don't want it to die, do you?'
Flora's wails went up an octave.
'Time for her pushchair, I think. She's obviously getting tired,' Mark
murmured drily, and Sancha nodded. When Flora got tired she
always became crotchety.
The two boys crashed on into the forest, whooping as they ran
through new, young ferns. Sancha strapped Flora into her pushchair
and Mark pushed.'No want to run, want to play with Charlie,' Flora
shouted, kicking her legs, but her parents took no notice, walking on
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]