Phoenix and Ashes

much isn't too much to ask for. . . .

And how much of a friend could someone be, who probably hadn't said more than a few hundred words to him over the course of a decade? Oh, she could be his friend, readily enough, but why should he be hers?

No, he probably wasn't there. He had no reason to be. She was someone pleasant and intelligent to talk to, but he could find that in any of his old friends from the University.

If any of them are still alive. . . .

But to her undisguised delight, he was waiting for her at the usual spot, reading something, as she came up through the last of the trees.

He looked up with a start as a twig broke under her foot, his head jerking wildly as he scanned the trees for the source of the sound. He recovered quickly, and waved at her, but that first reaction made her furrow her brow as she approached him. What on earth had caused that?

Was he seeing some of those wretched goblins?

But—no, if there were any here to see, she would be seeing them.

But his expression was affable enough as she approached, and as she got near to him, wading through the calf-high grass, he flung himself down on his knees, and looked up at her in imploring mockery.

She bit her tongue. Oh dear. Now what is he about? She was afraid he was making fun of her. But on the other hand, it made her smile to see him doing something silly. How long had it been since he'd felt easy enough to be silly?

'Oh, gentle maid, forgive, forgive!' he cried out melodramatically, holding out a bouquet of cowslips and primroses that he must have picked while waiting for her..

'Forgive what?' she demanded with a giggle, taking the bouquet. 'Don't be so ridiculous, you'll get grass-stains on the knees of your trousers!'

He clambered to his feet. 'Forgive that I wasn't here yesterday,' he said in a more normal tone of voice. 'I completely forgot that I had obligations to deal with yesterday. I should have remembered, and I should have told you.'

She felt a thrill of delight, at his words—he had thought about her!—but shrugged. 'Oh, that! I wasn't here either. I heard you were giving the prizes at the school treat and I know how these things go— it isn't just prizes, it's speeches and the Maypole and all of that, so I knew you'd be busy all day, and I didn't bother to come.'

'Sensible girl!' he said, relieved. 'And so I was. I've brought things to make it up. Real bottles of lemonade, the fizzy kind, and some only slightly squashed tea-cakes, and jam. And—' he paused significantly. 'Chicken sandwiches. That's the great benefit of being the lord of the manor, you see; no pesky officials coming around to count how many chickens you've got, and whether one's gone missing.' He shook his head. 'And if you think I am going to feel guilty about depriving some poor FBI of a tin of chicken paste with my scandalous and unpatriotic behavior—'

'Actually,' she said, 'I doubt very much if you're depriving anyone of anything. Most of the villagers have rabbit hutches and unreported hens, and I know for a fact there are unregulated pigs in the woods. No one is feeding any of the contraband animals any rationed grain; they're living off what they can scavenge, and I suspect that's true for what went into your sandwiches.'

He regarded her thoughtfully. 'I expect that's probably true. My cook has an odd pen on wheels full of birds that she moves over the vegetable garden, and I've never seen her throw any grain to them.'

'Exactly.' She smiled at him. 'The chickens are eating bugs, seeds, and weeds, which is saving manpower in the garden, too. They're probably roosters, or at least, capons, which would have been culled anyway as chicks. So no one is being deprived of anything.'

'You salve my conscience as well as my easing my mind.' He sat down on the old blanket he had brought and patted it. 'Come feast with me, then.'

Perfectly happy to, she sat down across from him. Truth to tell, she was rather glad that he had brought most of the tea this time. Without Alison around, there wasn't much bread left, and she had given the old women the last of the cakes yesterday. Her offerings were a bit scanty.

'So how was the school treat?' she asked, conversationally. 'Were the children absolute demons?'

'They were rather decent, actually,' he replied. 'That might have been because we thought of a few more things to keep them out of trouble this year. Swings in the trees, rides in my motor, that sort of thing.'

'That was rather kind of you!' she exclaimed, a bit surprised that he had done any such thing with his fast motorcar.