Free Darius Bell and the Crystal Bees by Odo Hirsch

again. It won’t help.’
    â€˜Then do you believe us?’ demanded Darius.
    â€˜I think the boys know what they’re talking about,’ said Micheline.
    â€˜No fruit at all?’ said Hector. ‘No vegetables? Is that really what Mr Fisher said?’
    â€˜He’ll have to leave,’ said Darius.
    Hector stared at him. ‘Mr Fisher?’ he demanded. ‘Leaving?’
    â€˜Who told you this?’ asked Micheline.
    â€˜Mr Fisher did.’
    â€˜Does he want to leave?’ asked Hector, looking hurt. ‘Doesn’t he like living here? Doesn’t his family? Don’t they like us?’
    â€˜They don’t want to leave. But if they can’t grow any fruit and vegetables, Papa, they can’t earn any money. And if they can’t earn any money, what choice do they have? Mr Fisher said he’s only got enough for the next few weeks. He’ll have to get a job.’
    Hector was silent.
    â€˜What about next year?’ asked Darius’s mother. ‘Will there be bees?’
    â€˜The Deavers said they’re going to rebuild the colonies,’ said Darius.
    â€˜Hector, maybe we could help the Fishers get through the next year. If we can find some money to . . .’ Micheline’s voice trailed away. Darius saw the way his father was looking at her.
    There was silence.
    â€˜Cousin Julius!’ cried Hector suddenly. ‘If all else fails, I’m sure Cousin Julius will help. Not only sure of it – I’m certain. Why, only the other week I had a letter from him.’
    No one said anything. Cousin Julius was supposed to be fabulously wealthy, and ever since he was a little boy Darius had been hearing how Cousin Julius was going to do this or Cousin Julius was going to do that, or how Cousin Julius was coming to stay or at least drop in for a visit, yet on each occasion Cousin Julius and the things he was supposed to do somehow failed to materialise. Sometimes Darius wondered whether Cousin Julius wasn’t a figment of his father’s imagination.
    â€˜It’s not just the Fishers, Papa,’ said Darius quietly. ‘If Mr Fisher doesn’t grow anything, we don’t get anything either.’
    He paused and glanced at Cyrus, who was watching their father intently.
    â€˜Papa,’ said Darius, ‘you said you understood how serious it was. I thought you were going to think of something to do.’
    Still Hector was silent.
    â€˜Darius,’ said his mother. ‘This really is true, is it? The bees really are gone? This isn’t some kind of a joke?’
    â€˜It’s true, Mama.’
    â€˜And Mr Fisher says that without bees there’ll be no fruit and vegetables? Is that really what he said? There’ll be nothing at all?’
    Darius nodded.
    Micheline looked at her husband. ‘Hector?’
    Darius’s father was silent a little longer. Then he shrugged and heaved a heavy, helpless sigh. ‘What do I know about it, Micheline? It’s a matter for experts. If anyone knows how to get a fruit out of a field, it’s Fisher. If an expert like him doesn’t know what to do about this, what do you expect from me?’

Why had he even thought his father would do something? Darius had imagined that once his father knew, once he understood how serious the situation was, something would . . . happen. But why? Why should it?
    Darius gazed down from the top of the clock tower. He had always liked coming up here to think, although since the earth tremor last year, when the clock had started chiming unpredictably, you did run the danger of being deafened by a sudden peal that might stop after one chime or might go on for twenty minutes – starting, stopping, starting and stopping again – until the clock’s hands finally jumped forward. But he still liked coming here to think – even though there was nothing to think about today but an unbearable sense of