Free Narrow Escape by Marie Browne Page B

beach huts and travel through exotic climes. She obviously missed it all and coming back to this swamp must have been a little horrific.
    I wondered, is it better to not go at all and stick with it or, is it better to leave and just come back to the tail end in the hope that things are going to get better? I thought about for a while then went back to being jealous. No, it was definitely better to head south for the winter. Let’s face it, thousands of birds can’t all be wrong.
    â€œSo, how’s it going here?” Donna peered over at the new car park. “When did that turn up?”
    â€œNo more parking on the flood defences, evidently we’re making it scruffy.” I couldn’t resist just a slight dig.
    â€œBut, we didn’t make it scruffy, it was all the lorries and trucks when they were putting that new pylon up.” Donna frowned.
    â€œFences have all got to come down as well and all the gardens have to be cleared.”
    â€œAck!” She stared around at all the junk we all had piled beside and on top of boats.
    â€œIt’s all right; we don’t need to do it yet.” I shrugged. “She just said, ‘spring’.”
    Donna rolled her eyes and huffed, “Well that’s just going to be great, isn’t it?”
    I shrugged and nodded.
    â€œHang on,” she said. “The fences are going to have to come down?”
    I remembered that my next door neighbour had an almost incapacitating fear of dogs; it really didn’t matter if the dog was large, small, vicious, or stuffed. She would go rigid and forget to breathe if there was one in the local vicinity. “Don’t worry; we’ll make sure Mort stays away from you.”
    She grinned in relief, “Thanks.”
    We chatted for a few more minutes then she disappeared back inside Steve’s boat. I waved goodbye and then turned my attention to the woodpile. It had seriously decreased since the beginning of winter. Lifting the tarpaulin, I peered into the empty darkness. Even the multi-legged things seemed to have moved out. Well at least we wouldn’t have to re-locate all that wood. Peering around the back of the shed, I was a little disconcerted by the amount of ‘stuff’ stacked there. There was far more than I had expected: large logs that were waiting to become firewood, bits of plumbing, saggy old walls that had been removed to make way for open plan living. It was all stacked neatly and had obviously been put there with the mental label of ‘To be dealt with later’. Obviously, much later. I wandered away, if I ignored it maybe it would never happen. It was a method that had worked before and I was fairly sure it would work again.
    There was a clatter behind me and Charlie, Sam, and Mortimer all leapt from the boat with matching grins.
    â€œWhat are you lot up to?” I gave them a piercing look. “You all have that ‘don’t ask me what I’m doing because you won’t like the answer’ look.”
    Charlie shrugged. “Nothing …” she said.
    Sam bounced up and down and cut her off. “We’re going to get the push bikes out of storage and then we’re going to tie them together so we’ve got four wheels and see if Mort’s strong enough to pull us.” He finally had to stop talking in order to take a breath.
    Charlie thumped him on the head. “Sam,” she shouted.
    â€œWhat?” He rubbed his head and then promptly fell over as Mortimer took off after some walkers, dumping Sam on to his back in the mud.
    I grabbed Sam’s arm to pull him up and watched as Charlie rescued the walkers from a severe bouncing. “Well he’s probably got the strength to do it.” I paused for a minute then shouted up at Charlie. “Try not to break my dog?” I sighed as she grinned and waved then disappeared over the defences being towed by an over-eager, over-stuffed staffy.
    â€œHey! Wait