Chapter 14

Even though he was bursting to tell Deborah what had gone on he realised that she had no clue as to the full situation so he would have to let it develop. He would not see her until Saturday anyway and with Annette there he would have to watch his step.

He arrived early again. Only two or three minutes but Tilly did nothing to alleviate the situation. Deborah was early too, arriving within half a minute. Richard was pretending to be sorting out his shoelace.

"Hello!" he said looking up in mock surprise.

"Hello! Are you starting or finishing?"

What a gem! The situation was defused.

"Starting. Which way are you planning to go?"

"Down the main ride to start with. I'll make up my mind when I get to Green Lane."

"I thought I'd go down to the Old Dairy. It's very exciting for Tilly, lots of rabbits and rats. Shall we do the first bit together?"

"Yes, let's do that. Sorry, I'm forgetting myself. This is Annette. Darling, this is Richard Hoddinot who I've met recently because we seem to walk our dogs at much the same time."

Richard looked at the girl. Mother and daughter could almost have been twins they were so alike. Deborah was wearing a plain white tee-shirt and figure-hugging jeans that showed off her delicate figure to perfection: a small but perky bust, trim waist, gently flaring hips and, for her diminutive height, long slim legs. Annette was dressed similarly except her tee-shirt had a picture of some guitarist on it. Her figure was an under-developed image of her mother's. The pair of them had the same shaped faces with the little upturned noses, the brilliant blue eyes and the wide, generous, full-lipped mouths. The only difference was their hair. Annette's was a golden blonde that was cut to her shoulders. He noticed that as soon as she met his eyes Annette glanced shyly away.

Richard looked between them.

"I think you must be mother and daughter if not twin sisters," he said.

There was a whisper of a smile from Annette.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Hoddinot!" she said and then looked down at her feet.

"And I you, Annette. All set?" turning to Deborah.

"Yup!"

Off they set, the dogs leading and Annette walking a couple of yards in front of the adults. They walked down the hill and started up the other side. Suddenly Annette ran ahead to the start of a hedgerow that was white with blossom.

"Look, Mum!" she said excitedly as Richard and Deborah caught up. "Hawthorn! Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes, darling! I don't think I've ever seen such a display."

"I don't want to be a spoilsport," said Richard, "but actually it's blackthorn. You're quite right though, Annette, it really is stunningly beautiful."

"What's the difference?" she asked.

"Well, first of all blackthorn blossoms in April. Hawthorn blossoms in May. That's why the other name for it is May. Then blackthorn blossoms before the leaves bud whereas the hawthorn leaves come out before the flowers. Look, here are the blackthorn leaf buds still all tightly curled up and, wait a moment, yes, over here are some hawthorn leaves coming out but the flower buds are still tight as tight."

"Gosh! I never knew that."

"Don't worry, Annette. A lot of people don't. Do you know what the fruit of the blackthorn is?"

"No?" There was a definite question in her answer.

"Sloes! People pick them to make sloe gin."

"What?"

"They pick the sloes in the Autumn and put them in gin and then by Christmas they have sloe gin."

"What does it taste like?"

"I've no idea. I've never tried it. Gin and tonic is good enough for me but if you were to ask my sons they'd probably say Yeuch!"

"Why?"

"They don't like gin for starters."

Annette giggled. She had not realised it but she had looked him in the eyes throughout their conversation. Richard was thrilled. Deborah had noticed too but gave no indication.

"Damn!" she said. "Midge and Tilly have vanished."

"I shouldn't worry yet," Richard replied. "Tilly usually reappears at Green Lane to see which way we're going. I expect Midge will be with her."

Richard was keen to get Annette involved again so he searched the sky and was rewarded.

"Look!" he said excitedly pointing above the tree line to their front. "A pair of buzzards!"

Both women followed his finger and spotted the birds drifting in the air currents beyond the trees.

"They look big," said Annette.

"They're about a third as big again as rooks and crows," said Richard. "I just love the way they move effortlessly in the thermals but when they dive on prey whoosh!"

"They're coming closer," said Deborah.

"Just wait till they get over the rookery," said Richard. "The rooks will go ape."

Sure enough as the buzzards drifted over the rookery twenty or so rooks rose and two went to sort out the intruders. They were very aggressive but the buzzards seemed totally unfazed: rising with a tilt of their wings or slipping sideways away from the angry rooks.

"They're not worried at all," marvelled Annette.

"No. They've got them taped."

"Wow! They're so graceful."

"Aren't they? It's like watching miniature condors?"

"Have you seen a condor?"

"Only on telly! I've got a video about them somewhere. I'll lend it to you if you like."

"Yes, please!"

They walked on in silence. Richard and Deborah were both bursting to talk but were inhibited by Annette. Richard also wanted to draw Annette out more but did not want to overdo things. Annette seemed to be the most relaxed of the three but it was difficult to tell because of her retiring personality.

Seventy-five yards short of Green Lane they spotted all three dogs waiting.

"You were right," exclaimed Annette looking Richard straight in the eye.

Richard, delighted, merely smiled and said nothing.

"Don't get smug, Mr Hoddinot, said Deborah digging him gently in the ribs with her elbow. "It was a fifty-fifty chance."

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Richard. "In fact the odds that one or two of them would be there were rather better."

"Humph! Don't start coming the statistician with me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Richard.

"You're repeating yourself."

"Beg pardon, Ma'am!"

Annette got the giggles.

"What are you laughing at, young woman?" Deborah demanded with a big grin on her face.

"You two!"

"Why? I'm not going to let some smug, smarty statistician duff me up."

"What? Me? A statistician? Never! As you know from the tip, I'm only a poor little orphan boy."

"Orphan boy?"

"Mum, what did he do?" Annette's eyes were alive with interest and amusement.

"I'm not going to tell you. It'll go to his head and he'll become quite insufferably smug, even more than he is at the moment."

"Who says I'm smug?" Richard asked plaintively.

"I do," said Deborah firmly.

"Oh! Come on, Mum, tell me," Annette demanded, her eyes dancing.