EXCERPT from the WINNING STORY

Pete Pitman - Sorrow Bees

 

Mum was putting the last of the dishes into the dishwasher as I slid on my old pair of Vans and shouted, “I’m just poppin’ round Sam’s for a bit, Mam.”

     She hadn’t heard me. She was staring off into space. She seemed to be doing that a lot, lately.

     “Mam!”

     A blackbird tick-ticked as it stood guard on the back fence.

     “Oh. Sorry, Tom. OK, but don’t be too late.”

     “I won’t. When’s Dad home?”

     She poured herself a glass of wine, sighed and said, “I really don’t know.”

     She followed me out of the back door and made for her favourite spot under the gazebo, while I vaulted the back gate.

     A clumsy wood pigeon crashed and bumped free of the big cedar tree.

     Sam was kneeling by his pond when I got to his house. I squatted beside him and tried to spot what he was looking at. A small prehistoric animal glided through the murky pea coloured water and I recognized it.

     “You’ve got a newt, wow!”

     “Yeah, man. We’ve got a male, two females, they’re the big ones, and some young uns.”

     “Brill, that means no one can build on your lan ...” I realized how stupid that sounded and shut up. Sam hadn’t heard me, it seemed everyone was distracted tonight.

     After a while, he jumped to his feet causing his NHS glasses to bounce on to the end of his button nose. He pushed them back and looked down at me, “Fancy goin’ down the canal?”

     “Aye, why not.”

     “See if the swans have got any young uns this year.”

     “Aye, I like ‘em when they're young, they’re all fluffy and cute.”

     “Yeah man, they can flippin’ spit though,” he pulled a rueful expression due to past experience. “When they're older.”

     We snapped off a chestnut branch each and crossed Mill Farm swishing the heads off some unlucky daisies.

     “Look out!” shouted Sam, raising his stick like a shotgun. “I’ll guard you, Frodo.”

     I looked up to see a squadron of swifts bearing down on us, weaving and diving as they played tag against a backdrop that looked like the inside of one of Mum’s Wedgwood bowls. When we were out adventuring Sam was Samwise Gamgee and I was either Tom Bombadil or Frodo.

     We watched the swifts skim the top of the grass then swerve away. Once they’d gone we joined the canal path just short of Mill Bridge. As we followed the path under the bridge I had to duck down. This was great as it meant I’d grown since last summer.

     “Shame about the club, man,” said Sam, pointing at the wasteland that was once the perfect lawn belonging to the Ilford club.

     “Aye, we had some good dos there.”

     We clambered over the rickety fence and fought our way through the undergrowth to the far corner where the same two swans had nested for the past four years.

     “It’s empty,” I said.

     “Course, they’ll have hatched weeks ago. Most likely on the canal, further down.”

     We returned to the path and trotted towards the lock gates, pushing and shoving each other, as we went. We passed by the backs of some new three-storey houses.

     “These’ve got titchy gardens,” I said. “I wouldn’t like that, would you?”

     “No, man, gardens are neat.” He changed the subject. “Hey, Suresh lives in one of these.”

     Just as he said ‘Suresh’, I spotted our school pal sitting in his handkerchief sized garden.

     I pointed him out and Sam said, “What’s he doin’?”

     “I dunno, he’s very still.” Which was unusual for Suresh, he was as lively as a bucketful of frogs when at school.

     “He’s sad,” said Sam.

     “How d’ya know that?” I asked.

     “Sorrow bees!” he said, waving his arm at a bush close to Suresh.

     “Zorro bees,” I said laughing. “What do they do? Slash a ‘Z’ in your skin with their stings.”

     “No, you silly Hobbit. Sorrow bees. They’re drawn to sad people.”

     “Ooh-er, don’t be daft,” I said, throwing my arms in the air. ”If bees were attracted to people. You know, flying around ’em. They’d panic, the people. ‘Specially girls. Stands to sense.”

     “All right, man. You can laugh. But it’s true,” he said, his face crumpling. “It’s bloody true. Google it, if you don’t believe me.” He knew I wouldn’t because that would mean I didn’t trust my best friend…