Free Darius Bell and the Crystal Bees by Odo Hirsch Page B

Fisher’s fields. They wouldn’t have quite as much fresh fruit as normal, nor as many fresh veget- ables, and of course there would be no honey, but they would manage. But there wasn’t enough left to help the Fishers. It was the gardener’s entire livelihood for the year that was gone, and there was nowhere near enough money in the Bell account to replace that.
    Darius rested his elbows on the parapet that ran around the top of the clock tower, gazing across the fields. A pigeon landed on the parapet not far away from him and stood, side on, twitching its head, watching Darius with one red eye. Darius watched it back. The pigeon took a couple of steps closer, stopped, and regarded Darius again. Darius wondered what it was thinking. But pigeons don’t think, he thought. Yet there must have been a reason for what it was doing. Something made it fly down here and land, and watch him, and take a couple of steps and watch him again. But the pigeon wasn’t aware of the reason. Or was it? Darius wondered how you could ever know. For that matter, he wondered how much a person could ever really tell about himself. Maybe you thought you knew the reasons for the things you did, but maybe there were reasons behind the reasons, and you didn’t know them. It didn’t feel like it, but then it probably didn’t feel to a pigeon that it was missing anything it should have known, either.
    Darius gazed at the pigeon, wondering. The pigeon looked back at him. Its head twitched a couple of times, and then, for some reason – which Darius didn’t know, and nor did the pigeon, if he was right – it flapped its wings, rose into the air, and glided down towards the ground.
    Darius watched it go. The bird had taken his mind off his disappointment but now it came flooding back. He noticed someone walking through the bean field. It was Marguerite. He watched her as she reached the drive. Suddenly, like the pigeon, not stopping to think about it, he left the parapet and headed down.
    He found her behind the house, sitting on a bench facing the grass. It was just about the only patch of grass left on the estate, and beyond it was the strawberry field – or at least the field where the strawberries would normally grow.
    â€˜Hello,’ he said.
    Marguerite looked up at him. ‘Hello.’
    â€˜Do you mind if I sit down?’
    She shook her head.
    Darius sat on the bench. ‘What are you doing?’
    â€˜Just sitting here.’
    â€˜What are you thinking about?’
    â€˜Nothing.’
    There was silence. They sat together on the bench, staring across the grass.
    Sometimes kids at school teased Darius and said Marguerite was his girlfriend. She was his friend, that was for sure. They had grown up together. Marguerite was always sensible and always said what she really believed, which was a good combination. And if you ever needed help, she was someone you could always rely on.
    â€˜It’s funny there are no bees,’ murmured Marguerite, gazing across the grass. ‘You just think they’re always going to be here – and then they’re not.’
    â€˜I never really thought about them before,’ said Darius. ‘I wish I had. I wish I’d realised how important they are.’
    Marguerite turned to him. ‘Why? What difference would it have made?’
    â€˜I don’t know. It just feels . . . it feels ridiculous that I never even thought about them and then suddenly they seem to be so important.’
    â€˜I suppose you never know how much you miss something until it’s gone.’
    â€˜That’s like something Paul would say.’ Darius paused. ‘Except you actually used it when it made sense.’
    â€˜He’s not so bad.’
    â€˜Marguerite, you should hear him. He’s getting worse!’
    â€˜And he hasn’t used that saying about the bees? It’s so obvious.’
    â€˜Maybe he doesn’t