Paul McCartney's Coat Page 14

  “Well, well, Constance Goodrick” she said, and across the way a young woman suddenly turned completely white. “I think you promised me some of those honey cakes you have a certain way with. “ Constance continued to turn even paler as Alice continued, “And what with me having restored you from that er.. Certain trouble” The word, “trouble” seemed to have a curious slant to it the way Alice spoke it, “last wintertime, I think it was. Shame on you for forgetting a tired old lady a treat.” Constance decided that the best outcome was to stop Alice before she related exactly what it was that she meant by “trouble”. “Mother” she said, “her voice shaking. “My apologies. I shall bake some tomorrow and bring them over before eventide.” Alice chewed her tooth once more, and Henry this time was definitely of the opinion that she was smiling. “Very kind.” she said, turning from the woman. Almost everyone in the clearing attempted to avoid catching her eye. “Very kind indeed. Some of those small pastries would be nice too.” and Constance nodded eagerly.

  Alice made her way to the horses. To John’s utter astonishment she proceeded to pat Satan’s Arse who neighed and nuzzled up to her. “Satan’s Arse” Alice suddenly laughed to herself. Across the clearing Henry noticed the scribe writing this down, then looking confused, hastily crossing it out again. Alice moved to the next horse and suddenly roared laughing. Patting the horse on its flank she chuckled, “Nob. Ah - nob! They certainly gave you the right name.” Nob neighed almost in agreement. And then she stood before Henry.

  “Mother Alice” said Henry as to acknowledge her, and he bowed slightly. Alice ignored him completely and stared past him at the tree. She took in the cut to the trunk, the horse and ropes, then her gaze moved up the oak and high into the branches above her. Then she returned her gaze to Henry. “Old Alice to some, mother Alice to others, Henry Bracebridge.” she said, almost formally, and then waved at the tree itself. “What can I do for you this fine autumn day?”

  Henry was not entirely sure whether to begin right at the start or not, so he started by covering Oliver and Abraham’s attempt to cut the tree down and how the two horses had helped to get it upright again and decided to stop there. Alice continued to stare at the tree as Henry told her what had happened so far, which Henry found quite disturbing. It was almost as if she was listening but that her attention was held elsewhere too. Suddenly she interrupted.

  “I am with you so far Henry” she said, “But why does it matter whether the tree falls or not? They do it all the time in the forest, you know.” Henry sighed. But not out loud. “Because it will fall on the church if we do not prevent it” he stated in explanation. Alice swayed to one side to peer past Henry to the small church, then swayed back to Henry. “And?” she said, as if this was not a problem in any way whatsoever.

  “I think the squire would be at best displeased that his church was fallen down” said Henry, and there was that tooth wagging up and down on her face again.

  “Ah.” said Alice. “Squire” (she said the word in a somewhat sarcastic tone, thought Henry) “Squire Bartholomew Bidecombe bids you to cut this tree down and now you are going to flatten his church as well.” Henry noticed the tooth moving again. “Yet why does the squire request the felling of the tree?” she asked, and returned her gaze to Henry. Henry shuffled nervously from foot to foot. “The squire does not wish acorns to fall upon the graveyard, Mother Alice” and he leaned in closely to her, whispering. “I know it is as ridiculous as it sounds, Alice, yet you know how it is. The squire does not request. He instructs.” and he leaned back. Henry began to notice how quiet the clearing had fallen, every person there hanging upon their conversation.

  Alice raised an eyebrow at Henry’s words. “Acorns, eh?” she enquired, and Henry nodded. “Then why not does he get his self some squirrels?” she asked innocently. “They like acorns. Would have solved it right there and then and stopped this nonsense before it had begun.”

  Henry heard the slight beginning of laughter all about the tree as the villagers caught up with the conversation. Henry sighed, again silently to himself. This was most not definitely going the way he had planned it! Alice suddenly pointed her stick up at the top of the tree. “Who is that up there?” she enquired. “Erasmus Fynche” said Henry. “He was trying to cut some of the higher branches for us but now he is stuck up there. We do not know whether it is safe for him to come down.”

  Alice’s eyebrow rose once more. “Fynche, you say, “she said, and Henry nodded once again. “More like a crow than a finch, what with him flapping about up there and all. Could see him waving to me as I came across the hill right back there” she said, and then continued. “Tell him to come down.” Henry was taken aback. “But Mother Alice, we are not sure if the tree is safe enough for him to come down.”

  “Well” smiled Alice, “You cannot leave him up there waving about in the breeze like a flag on Saint Keot’s day now, can you?” she said sweetly, and there went that eyebrow again. Reluctantly he nodded to Tobias who shouted to Erasmus to descend. Henry and Alice waited patiently until Erasmus set foot on the ground again, and when he did a small cheer went around the crowd. Erasmus disappeared in to the crowd searching for food, enjoying his brief moment of adulation.

  “Seems to me your tree felling has come to a sudden stop” said Alice, and she walked past Henry and to his surprise struck the trunk twice with the base of her stick. Henry moved backwards, vainly attempting to put himself between Alice and the tree. “There it is in a nutshell, Mother” he said. “We seemingly cannot move it this way any further and if we let it fall the way it seems to want to fall then the church is doomed.”

  Alice nodded, as if in agreement with this assessment. “Seems to me Henry Bracebridge that your issue is with the man in the oak” she said, and Henry noticed Mathias nodding madly behind her. “Now I am in not much of a mind about churches ‘an all” she said, peering past Henry at the small stone building. “I am not sure at all about a God who builds a house to live in. Who builds everything outside the house, tell me that then? Apparently it is the same one according to them that frequent it, so I asks myself, Alice, why do they bother?” Henry started to feel despondent and yet lost at the same time. Was Alice refusing to help? “And yet...” she continued, and Henry suddenly felt optimistic once more. “And yet you have already disturbed the man in the oak. He is not best pleased with what is happening here.” The clearing had suddenly gone very quiet.

  At that moment Henry for some strange reason looked up through the branches of the tree just as a small acorn detached itself from a branch and began to fall down, down, straight towards Alice’s hat. Henry looked unable to move as it gathered speed, and then inexplicably at the very last moment it seemed almost to veer sideways and then land softly at Alice’s feet. Without even blinking Alice stooped down, picked up the acorn and stowed it somewhere into the vast folds of her cloak. “That is decided then” she said, and approaching the tree she bowed before it and then sat down with her back to the trunk, the entire clearing watching her every movement.

  “Let us see what he wants then” she said, and closed her eyes.

  VI

  ~ In which Mother Alice sets a task or two, the weather changes and Henry falls in to despair ~

  To Henry it seemed like Alice sat there with her back to the trunk, eyes closed for what seemed like hours. Yet it was probably only minutes before she opened her eyes again. “Eggs.” she said quietly, licking her lips. “Pardon?” enquired Henry, moving closer. “Eggs.” said Alice. “He wants eggs. Three of them. Boiled to hard. Be quick about it, too. The man in the oak does not wish to be kept waiting!”

  Henry stood back, feeling completely lost. Cuthbert leaned in closer. “Did she say eggs?” he enquired politely. “She did.” said Henry. Cuthbert called across the clearing to widow Baston who hastily departed to fetch the eggs. Henry stood watching the tree, peering up in to the autumn sky. On the horizon clouds were gathering, and he felt that he detected a slight swell in the breeze. Nevertheles
s at the moment the sun continued to shine down upon them as the afternoon continued.

  Presently widow Baston returned with three eggs still warm to the touch. “Boiled as hard as you like” she said and handed them over to Henry who thanked her profusely before returning to where Mother Alice sat with her eyes shut still leaning back on the tree trunk. As Henry approached she opened her eyes and took the eggs from him. Placing them on the ground she began to remove the shell from the first one and then began eating it.

  To Henry it seemed that Old Alice took a considerable time to eat all three eggs with one tooth. It was most certainly not a sport for anyone to watch he felt, that was for sure. Eventually she finished the three and closed her eyes once again. “Mother?” enquired Henry. “Yes, yes” grumbled Alice opening her eyes once more. “Bread he wants now. A small loaf will suffice.” and she closed her eyes again.

  Sighing, Henry conveyed the request to Cuthbert and soon Agnes Bent was on her way to collect a loaf from home. Duly she returned and mother Alice repeated her performance, chewing her way quietly through the bread. By now Henry was beside himself with concern. Night was only a number of hours away and there was no way that they could leave the tree as it was. Henry however did notice that the crowd remained as large as it had been. It seemed to him that they were here to see the felling through to whichever conclusion they fashioned. Mother Alice opened her eyes again, and noticing the look of utter consternation on Henry’s face scattered a few crumbs about her. “The man in the oak has one final request before he considers leaving the tree.” Henry nodded dumbly, as did Cuthbert. “Milk” she said, licking her lips, “as fresh as you can get.” Clemence Chudderley was duly dispatched and returned presently with a large pitcher of foaming, creamy milk. Old Alice settled down to swig the milk and when done wiped the froth from her lips with her sleeve. Closing her eyes once again she settled back against the tree. After a short while she gave a small burp and then was quiet again. Henry paced the ground back and forth before her. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Thirty. Henry was almost completely certain that he heard her snoring. At last he could take no more and rushed towards where she sat, eyes closed, nodding. She was snoring! Henry got to within six feet of her, fully intent on shaking her awake when suddenly one eye shot open, and then the other. Eyebrow arched. Henry stopped dead in his tracks as Alice stood. “The man in the oak is ready to leave” she pronounced and a small sigh rippled through the increasingly restless crowd.

  From somewhere within her robe she produced the acorn she had caught before and threw it high into the air, before catching it again, holding it in a fist in her hand. “The man in the oak is gone” she said to Henry, and made to leave, stroking the horses once more and moving away from the tree. She turned around to Henry as she made to leave, and putting her finger in her mouth to wet it, held it high in the air before her. “I would not be of a mind to proceed with any less than all haste” she said, and putting her hand down opened her other hand to show Henry the acorn. To Henry’s amazement the acorn seemed almost to wiggle in her hand and then it was gone, replaced back in to some fold of her cloak once more. Alice looked at the stunned astonishment on Henry’s face and gave him a big broad wink.

  Slowly she made her way to the edge of the clearing to make her way home. “Men.” she thought to herself as she left her audience behind her. “As if they don’t make enough trouble with what they have stuffed down the front of their breeches without getting it into their heads to go around cutting down trees as well.”

  Walking slowly along the narrow road Old mother Alice could not help but smile to herself as she made her way home.

  VII

  ~ In which Rain begins to fall, Henry makes a decision and a tree falls. ~

  Henry stood in the clearing in a state best described as a mix of total amazement and utter confusion all at the same time. As far as he could tell they were no further along than they were several hours before. He stared down at his feet in a loss as what to do next. As he did so he felt something fall upon his hand. Wet. Looking up at the sky he saw large black clouds gathering overhead. As he stood there the single spatter of rain began to multiply. Slowly a light rain began to fall, yet increasing minute by minute. Total despair fell upon him, but it was time to proceed, and to see the outcome for whatever way it would be.

  Gathering his helpers about him they soon had the horses taking up the slack once more. The word was given to pull and the two horses strained at the rope. Nothing. Slowly the rain began to increase, the wind gathering as the rain continued to fall. Henry charged all available hands to the ropes but still the tree failed to move. The tree began to catch the wind, the higher branches not totally free of leaves, acting almost as if a sail, pulling the tree towards the church. Browned leaves and twigs cascaded down around them, acorns dropping all around, covering the ground. Across to the horses Henry saw Satan’s Arse and Nob struggling to move the tree, their lips foaming with effort, their legs like pillars of rock pawing at the ground. Yet no progress was made. Still the rain increased. The villagers gathered in the clearing were now either pulling on a rope or sheltering under the eaves of the tree itself. Though not in the direction of the church, Henry noted. Even the scribe and his assistant had put away their tools and were heaving on a rope as hard as they could.

  Now the ground was growing muddy underfoot. Henry joined in at the ropes, putting his full strength behind the effort of pulling the tree down. Yet still the tree failed to move. Slowly at first, almost unseen to the eye the tree began to move back towards the church. At first Henry thought that he was imagining things, the descent of the tree on to the church a result of his by now desperate frame of mind. Standing away from the rope he checked their progress. Now there was no doubt. The tree was slowly but surely falling in the direction of the church. Assessing the situation Henry could see that the main factor in this was the wind which was pushing the tree in that direction. It was the one thing about which he could not do anything. If it were not for the two horses and half of the village heaving on the ropes on the other side of it the tree would have by now flattened Squire Bidecombe’s church completely.

  Henry stood back, slipping in the now churned up mud, slipping and falling to his knees. In his mind he was desperately attempting to explain to the furious Squire how exactly it came to pass that he had destroyed his church with an enormous oak tree. The injustice of it all - and all because of a few acorns once a year! Henry could not decide what he was more furious at - the squire for requesting the felling of the tree, or himself for leaving Abraham and Oliver alone with the means to cut it down in the first place. Either way, he cursed himself as he lay sprawled in the thick mud, it was all his fault. All his.

  He sat there for a while as the toil on the tree continued, but now he knew he was powerless to prevent it falling on to the church. Its time had come, and he was to blame. He raised himself to his feet, covered in mud, and the wind tore at his face now, the rain getting heavier and heavier.

  Tearing at his face.

  Yet he was facing the tree now, his efforts to free himself from the mud having turned him about as he had struggled to get to his feet. The wind had changed direction! In astonishment he remembered Mother Alice holding her wetted finger in the direction the wind was now blowing from. “I would not be of a mind to proceed with any less than all haste” she had said and Henry began to laugh like a madman. “Pull!” he screamed at the villagers and slowly, slowly, the tree began to rise away from the church again. Now upright. Then slowly tilting away from the church. In the right direction.

  Suddenly there was an enormous crack. Almost like thunder it was, and Henry turned away from straining against the rope. Time slowed. It seemed to Henry when he looked back on it in later years that at that point everything stopped. Only he was free and able to move. Through the driving rain he saw the trunk had shattered, huge chunks of wood flying in all directions. The see-sawing of the mighty oak had finally proved too much of it. T
he entire tree shuddered and still upright the body of the tree separated from the trunk and swayed backwards and forwards, almost as if deciding which way to fall. Henry tore his gaze to the branches above and saw that although the horses, the villagers and the force of the wind would send the tree their way -the right way - the weight of the upper branches and their spread favoured its descent to that of falling upon the church.

  Silence filled Henry’s head. The success of their endeavour was balanced on the edge of a knife blade. But slowly, slowly, almost impossible to tell, the tree began to lean towards the church. Henry was in despair. Olive and Abraham cowered, as if the final day of retribution had come. Judgement day.

  He had seconds to act.

  Like a mad beast, roaring like a demon and covered from head to foot in thick grey mud by now he flew across the clearing towards the two horses. Screaming madly he leaped through the air and mounted the first horse, kicking at its flanks for all he was worth.