BETWEEN FOUR JUNCTIONS NAOMI PENNEY

Concerning a Beech Tree

“LIAM! GET DOWN FROM THERE NOW !” Miss Alexandra pushed her way past the crowd of gawking children, the small black heels of her leather shoes sinking into the marsh-like grass of the football field. When she finally reached the trunk of the school’s grandest oak, holding her spectacles in order to properly see what was going on, she shrieked once more, startling the birds along its branches. “What in heavens name do you think you’re doing? Liam, look at me when I’m talking to you!”

“Sorry Miss,” Liam grinned obliviously, swinging his legs from a lower branch and revelling in the attention of his classmates. “Kicked the ball up in the tree. It’s not that high.”

“Liam Milne, you will climb down from this tree and you will climb down now, or so help me I am calling your mother!”

A few hours later, Miss Alexandra found herself at the end of the school day, and she headed home through the city centre on her bicycle. As she cycled through the dimly-lit streets of London, she remembered how harsh she had been that day, but unsurprisingly no feelings of guilt came. She arrived home just as light was losing its grip on the street, dark shadows of night creeping across her suburban home. However, something was different. A white moving van with a colourful corporate logo was parked outside her neighbour’s house and, carrying boxes from this van, was a relatively young, jolly looking individual wearing a tangle of red hair and a police officer’s uniform. Miss Alexandra stood there for a second, confused at the shock she was feeling. She hadn’t spoken to her old neighbour for months. She had noticed that his vegetable patch was rather neglected.

When the joyful policeman noticed her staring at him oddly, he ambled over to their shared fence and introduced himself as Officer Peraltiago.

“But please, call me John.”

“Donna.”

“Lovely to meet you.” The pair shook hands and exchanged a few words of superficial friendly conversation. Donna Alexandra was charmed by her neighbour’s warm smile and reserved yet welcoming manner, but she remained coldly polite. All until he made a perfectly ordinary remark that made her feel like drowning in the sewers beneath them.

“I was actually meaning to ask you something. As you know, my uncle recently moved to Spring Banks.” Donna nodded, although the fact that her old neighbour was in a care home was completely new information to her. “I have been given his house, and I would like to renovate the garden. I was wondering what could be done about your tree.” The tree in question was a large, but not excessive beech. Fairly sturdy, though not likely to weather a particularly cruel storm, with a large nook in its side. “I’m aware it is on your side of the property, but it is rather overgrown, and it’s beginning to disturb my uncle’s fence and vegetable garden. I think the best thing to do is to cut it down, or control its branches at the very least.”

After he said this, Donna’s agreeable mask immediately vanished, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “No.”

“What do you mean?” Peraltiago implored. “There’s nothing else that can be done, and it is really rather old and rotten. It’ll probably come down anyway; surely it’s better if we control when it does?”

“My answer is no, and that is the end of the matter.” She tried desperately to compose herself. “I’d just really rather leave it.” Her neighbour looked at her not in annoyance, as she had expected, but with quiet concern. Maybe she was worse at hiding her emotions than she thought.

“Is there something I don’t know about?” he tentatively asked. “Because if so, maybe I can help?” Defeated, Donna sighed. This was a good person. The man deserved to know what had happened in his own garden.

“You’d better come inside.” she said.

Sitting in her kitchen with herbal tea brewing, Donna Alexandra told the story of how she’d lost her son what felt like a lifetime ago.

“My Mike loved his kite. He would go out with his friends to play with it in the park, but he was always practising flying the thing in the garden, and was forever crash-landing it into your uncle’s vegetable patch.” She took a deep breath, and headed over to check on the tea, as John listened intently.

“One evening he came to me saying the kite was stuck in the very top branch of that tree. By this time the neighbours were asleep, and I was tired, so I didn’t want to get it down. Mike tried to convince me that he could just climb up and get it, but the kite was quite fragile, and I was worried he’d bring it down only to find it broken. I told him to leave it and go to sleep.” She tried to ignore the lump emerging in her throat.

“But he didn’t go to sleep. He tried to climb up and get it, but it was dark, and he slipped. Broke his neck, and I only found him the next morning. Nothing could be done. Poor lamb was only eight.” Donna broke into restrained sobs, trying to hold herself together in front of her silent house guest.

Eventually, he said, “That’s terrible. Is there anything I can do?”

Donna weakly smiled at him “It’s okay. Just an accident.” she replied. “And thank you.”

Months passed. Donna found that having someone who cared about her, truly cared, changed something in her demeanour. The interactions with her students became pleasant, friendly even, and as the autumn leaves fell and new blossoms reappeared, she felt as if she had stepped out from under the cloud which had held her from happiness for so long. Until one afternoon, John walked up her garden path with a sense of urgency not present the afternoon before. In his hands, he carried a single red object. When he reached the door, Donna met him with a welcoming smile. “How are you?”

“My uncle died.”

Shocked, Donna took a step closer to Peraltiago. “I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”