21. A Taste of Honey: Part One

Audrey brought the Range Rover to a halt next to the makeshift hide. It was the first of the newer models she had driven (Richard being Richard it was, of course, the very latest model) and she had to admit that the handling was superb. She swung her feet out, slammed the door shut, had taken only a few steps when something tightened around her ankle and she was pulled to the ground. Her cry was answered by a low bellow and a high-pitched screech, and then a flashlight shone in her eyes.

' 'Oo goes there?'

'Ned, what on earth are you doing?' she yelled back.

'Is that you, Mrs fforbes?'

Ned, from what she could make out beyond the glare of the torch, was holding a shotgun and pointing it at her. 'Of course it's me! Where's Marjory?'

'I'm here. Sorry, Aud. We set some booby traps.'

'Obviously.' Audrey struggled valiantly, then gave in. It was pointless. 'If one of you doesn't get me out of this thing, I shall start screaming.'

'Oh, gosh…'

Once released from the snare, Audrey stood, pointedly brushing the mud off her clothes while glaring in Marjory's direction. And then frowned. As torch beams moved about, her friend's face was occasionally illuminated and Audrey couldn't help but notice that there was something … odd … about her appearance.

'Marjory.'

'Yes? Oh!' Marjory put up a hand against the sudden beam of light directed at her face.

Audrey closed her eyes for a moment and then asked: 'Marjory, is that camouflage paint on your face?'

'No!' Guilt crept across her paint-smeared features. 'Yes. It's mascara, actually.'

'Never mind twitchers, you look like you're after the Viet Cong.'

'It's been a very long night,' Marjory said, an edge of hysteria in her voice. She took a breath and continued more calmly: 'It's not like we can all share the hide with Richard for six hours.'

Audrey rolled her eyes. 'That was the luck of the draw! You had as much of a chance as I did.'

'No, I didn't! Those slips of paper were all the same!'

Audrey stared at her. In the unforgiving glare of the torchlight, and with the black streaks across her face, Marjory suddenly seemed like the emissary from hellish realm. 'What are you talking about?'

'The Brigadier set you up! He knew you'd never join the watch without good reason, so he wrote "midnight to six a.m." on one lot of slips and "Richard DeVere" on the others. And, of course, here you are.' She paused, frowned, stared into the darkness beyond Audrey's head and then back at her friend. 'Where is Richard, anyway?'

'He… He has some business to finish up,' Audrey said weakly. She had thought she had been so careful, had hidden it so well. But if even the Brigadier knew…

'Oh.' Marjory looked disappointed, but cheered almost instantly. 'Do you want me to stay until he arrives?'

For a moment, Audrey considered presenting Marjory to Richard, in all of her mascara-smeared glory. But it wasn't really fair. 'No, you go on home. And for heaven's sake, wipe that stuff off your face.'

'Oh gosh, yes!' Marjory pulled out a tissue and scrubbed at her cheeks. It didn't really help. 'Are you sure you don't want us to stay for a while? It might not be safe here on your own.'

'Nothing is going to happen,' Audrey said firmly. 'The whole charade is a perfect waste of time.'

'Then why-' Marjory broke off. 'Never mind. Stupid question.'

It was a relief when Ned and Marjory finally left and Audrey enjoyed the peace of the hide. Not the most comfortable location to spend six hours, but it was a small price to pay for six hours of Richard's company.

A fact that everyone in the village apparently knew.

Propping her chin in her hand, Audrey stared blankly across the fields. It was a perfect night: clear skies, the moon rising and a breeze that still held a touch of summer's warmth.

It was, however, a little unnerving. Every sound seemed louder, harder to identify and Audrey started to regret sending Marjory off. And when she heard the crack of twigs under footsteps, she gripped hold of her torch, judging its weight.

And then, from outside, a familiar voice said softly, 'Audrey?'

Her shoulders sagged with relief. A light appeared in the opening and a second later, Richard slipped into the hide. 'I didn't want to frighten you.'

'I don't scare that easily,' Audrey responded crisply, ignoring the remnants of the sudden fear that were still making her heart beat a little faster than usual.

He joined her by the low ledge, gingerly taking the camping stool beside hers with the air of a man who had little faith in the robustness of strips of canvas and hollow metal tubing. He switched off his torch and there was absolute darkness, broken by ominous creaks from the camping stools.

'It's all done,' he said. 'There'll be two hundred and fifty units of Mrs fforbes-Hamilton's Bee Eater Honey ready for the paying public by morning.'

'It really is very kind of you.'

'Yes, it is,' he agreed and she laughed.

Her eyes adjusted to the gloom, and the faint glow of moonlight poking its way into their shelter allowed her to make out his profile.

'How much am I paying you for it?'

'Fifteen pence per jar.'

'And you sell it for fifty-nine!' It was outrageous.

'And then you slap a two pound price tag on it faster than you can say "mark-up".'

'Yes, well…' Audrey blew out a breath. She heard him laugh softly. A pause, and then she said, 'I keep thinking about Patrick Aston.'

'The fish man?'

'Mm.'

'What on earth do you want to think about him for?'

'I don't want to, I just can't help it. He was selling farmed salmon and pretending it was wild, wasn't he?'

'Yes.' Richard sounded puzzled. Then his camping stool made an alarming series of creaks and groans as he turned towards her. 'Audrey, you're not doing anything like that.'

'Aren't I?'

'Of course not. That man is a fraudster. You're just trading on a brand name, it's completely different.'

'But I'm selling your honey as natural honey.'

'My honey is natural!'

She was sceptical. 'Is it?'

'Of course is it.' He sounded offended. 'On a larger scale than yours, but the process is the same. I couldn't call it natural honey if it wasn't. Well, I could. But I wouldn't. I am not like Patrick Aston.'

'I know that,' she said quickly. 'It just- It feels like a fraud. I'm passing it off as being from my own hives.'

'My hives are your hives for the foreseeable future,' he said comfortingly. 'There you are: now you're not even fibbing.'

'Just stretching the truth.'

'That's just good business sense. It isn't as though you're making false claims. You're not saying it's honey from bees that only feed on a specific flower or that it comes from an actual bee eater.' He paused. 'If honey does come from that bird, you should be charging a lot more than two pounds.' She could sense him smiling and felt her own lips curve upwards in response. 'I still can't believe I didn't think of it myself. I must be slipping.'

'It's rather endearing,' she said into the silvered shadows that surrounded them.

'What is?'

'The clear-sighted businessman more concerned about protecting a bird than turning a profit.'

'Oh, don't say that. I have a reputation to maintain.'

Audrey didn't ask what reputation he thought that was: if he were fishing for compliments, he would have to look elsewhere. The truth was that in the village the sentiment towards him was one of near-universal adoration.

'Which reminds me: I have some papers for you to sign.'

'Oh?'

'Don't worry, it isn't anything sinister. It's a standard copyright to protect the brand name.'

Audrey laughed, incredulous. 'Isn't that going a bit far?'

'Not at all. Word about the bee eater will spread fast enough and, like I said, it's a great brand name. The last thing you need is some unscrupulous businessman cashing in on the enterprise that you've established.'

She tilted her head. 'That sounds like you're speaking from experience.'

'A bitter one,' he confirmed, 'but I never let it happen again. Sign the papers when we finish here, I can fax them to the lawyers and they'll be filed by close of business. You, the name, your logo, they'll be safe. There's, uh, there's also another document…'

She steeled herself. 'Well?'

'Should you decide to sell your wares through a third party, it's an exclusive deal to supply Cavendish Foods. Starting with the honey, but we'll take the candles, the mead and anything else you produce. Final terms to be agreed at a later date.'

The sheer front of the man was unbelievable. The assumption that she would simply go along with this!

'You don't have to agree, of course,' he said, reasonable as always. 'But it isn't the worst idea.'

'Under the circumstances, I can hardly refuse.' She tried to sound brisk and businesslike. It didn't quite come out that way. Far too much warmth in her voice. Was that how she always sounded when she talked to him, she wondered. Was that why everyone knew?'

'Good. I- Oh. I knew I'd forgotten something.' He stood, the canvas groaning unmercifully at the motion. 'I'll only be a moment.'

'But where-'

He was already gone. Audrey heard a door of the Range Rover opening and then closing and after a few moments, Richard returned, this time carrying a hamper.

'Mrs Beecham's compliments,' he said. 'Going by the weight, she's supplied us with enough food for a platoon.'

Curiosity piqued, Audrey switched on her torch and shone it at the hamper. 'What's in it?'

Sandwiches, pâté, cheese, crackers, fruit…

'Is that a bottle of champagne?'

'Half bottle.'

Without thinking, Audrey shone the torch into his face. 'Why?'

Squinting against the glare, Richard reached across and switched it off. It seemed unfathomably dark.

'Why not?'

Why not, indeed? But there was something in his tone. 'And the other reason?'

Silence and then she heard him blow out a breath. 'It's a bit silly.'

'It can't be any more silly than pretending your drawing room is Switzerland.'

'I don't know…'

'Oh, you have to tell me now!'

'Well,' he said reluctantly, 'all right. Do you remember that TV series,The Avengers?'

'Patrick Macnee? Oh yes, I loved that!'

'So did I. Well… Whenever they were keeping watch for assorted criminal masterminds, there always seemed to be champagne about. It all seemed very glamorous and romantic.'

She smiled to herself. That was also very endearing. 'I see. So, I'm Emma Peel to your John Steed?'

'Something like that.'

Audrey took a breath. 'Theirs was a platonic relationship.'

'Was it? I always thought there was a bit more to it than that.' There was a pause and then he cleared his throat softly. 'Audrey…'

'Yes? Richard?' Another of those delirious teetering moments. And it would be so easy to fall, but she wouldn't, she shouldn't, but it would be so very easy…

'Audrey… What's that?'

'What?' she asked, breathless.

'That.'

'I don't-'

'Shh! Listen!'

She heard it then: the low throb of an engine; and when she looked out, there were headlights cutting through the darkness and heading straight towards the tree and its precious visitors.

'Twitchers,' Richard hissed, as though they were the worst blot on the face of humanity. Given their timing, Audrey agreed.

'What do we do?'

'Stop them. They're after the eggs. Come on!'

They crept out of the hide. The engine and the lights had cut out and they could hear voices floating on the night air. A Land Rover was parked on the opposite side of the small spinney and they could make out dark shapes moving about. Torch beams appeared.

Audrey located Richard's ear. 'Can you see how many?'

'Three, I think.'

'They might have left the keys in the Rover. If we take them, they're stuck.'

'Good idea.'

They started creeping forwards, and Audrey reflected on the irony of the lord of the manor moving stealthily across his own land as though he were a poacher.

She did not reflect for long. The torchlight ahead of them was swinging erratically and in one pass the beam caught them. A shout went up.

'Damn it!' Richard gave her a little prod. 'Go on!'

Audrey hesitated for a moment, saw Richard charge towards the trespassers and started running.

She had once been both the school's cross country and steeplechase champion. But that was a long time ago now, and she could feel her lungs burning as she gasped in air, her legs feeling heavy. Emma Peel, Audrey thought grimly, had never had to give chase while wearing wellies and a tweed skirt. If she had, her adventures might have turned out very differently. There were shouts, thuds and she tried to ignore the horrible thought that there were three of them and only one of Richard.

It was just a bird, after all. It wasn't worth getting hurt over. Or worse.

But she was nearing the Rover and on the periphery of her vision, she was aware of a dark shape, carrying a torch, also running towards it. She put on a burst of speed and got there first, wrenched open the door and let out a cry of triumph when her hand closed over the keys still in the ignition.

'Give me those keys!'

A little man with a weasel face and a ratty-looking green parka.

'Not on your life!' The words came out in gasps.

He lunged at her. 'I said give 'em, you bi-'

He was grabbed by the collar and shaken, the way a terrier shakes a rat. In the jerking beam of light, Audrey saw Richard deliver one blow to the man's jaw. He crumpled.

'Are you all right?' Richard asked her, urgent.

'I'm fine. Are you?'

He grinned at her. 'Never felt better.'

'Oh, Richard!' She felt breathless and exhilarated. Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck. He caught her, held her to him for a moment, and then Audrey pulled away, smoothing down her hair.

There were two other shapes huddled on the ground some distance away, one of them audibly lamenting a possible broken nose.

'Well,' Richard said, 'I think we've definitely earned that champagne!'

It took some time to make the sleepy desk sergeant at Marlbury police station understand what she was telling him. Audrey had, at first, been insistent that they both go. But, as Richard had pointed out, if another group of twitchers turned up, it would all have been for nothing.

They had discussed it while drinking the champagne and eating their sandwiches (both were excellent), and Audrey felt that this was the ideal way to arrive at any decision. In the end, she had driven down to Marlbury alone.

When the sergeant finally realised that Mr DeVere was standing guard over a group of miscreants, on his own, and there was a possibility that more were on the way, there was more activity than the station had seen in decades. A constable was dispatched, immediately, to the scene; and after a somewhat fraught telephone conversation, a support team was due to start out from Taunton within the hour.

It was after five by the time that she and Richard started towards home: a slightly shorter watch than they had signed up for, but certainly the most eventful. They reached the lodge first and without consultation, Audrey led the way to her own front door.

'Tea or coffee?'Audrey asked once they were inside. The house was silent and they spoke quietly, not wanting to wake Brabinger. It wasn't just altruism: after a night filled with noise and other people, neither wanted to lose the simple pleasure of being alone together.

Richard scrubbed at his face. 'Coffee. Do you need any help?'

'No. I'll bring it through when it's ready.'

She moved quickly around the small kitchen. That was one thing that limited space had in its favour, Audrey thought: nothing ever took very long. Her eyes alighted on the few jars of honey that were left over from the day's endeavours and smiled to herself. Of course, Richard had swept in at the last minute to solve her problems. It was what he did.

And maybe, just maybe, whatever it was that he wanted to say to her would be a solution to their conundrum. Perhaps he could see an answer that she couldn't.

Picking up the tray, Audrey carried it into the sitting room, placed it on the table. 'You still haven't told me what it was you wanted to-'

He was asleep. His cheek propped up on one hand, long legs stretched out on the rug, his eyes were closed and his breathing deep and regular.

Audrey sighed, watching him for a few moments. 'It's probably just as well,' she said softly. 'I don't get to have you.'

A comma of dark hair had fallen across his forehead and she couldn't resist gently brushing it back. It was silken between her fingers and she studied the lines of his handsome face.

And then the doorbell rang, a shrill tone that cut through these moments of stillness; Audrey moved away guiltily, fiddling with the photographs on the mantelpiece as Richard stirred.

It was Mr Cadwallader and what seemed to be a perfect battalion of bird enthusiasts. Audrey had not particularly cared for him the first time around but now she felt active dislike. The house suddenly seemed to be full of people and she loathed each and every one of them. Brabinger came down, pulling on his black jacket and still looking bleary-eyed.

A touch on her elbow and Audrey turned, found Richard's dark eyes regarding her seriously. 'I still need you to sign those papers.'

They had been in his jacket pocket and he pulled them out, urging her to read them. She waved that away and located a pen. 'I trust you,' she said, smiling up at him.

Cadwallader appeared to be locked in a debate with the Taunton police over the best way to guard a tree. Richard looked at them, incredulous, and shook his head. He turned his attention back to Audrey.

'Look, why don't we have lunch later?'

'That would be lovely. What time shall I come over?'

'How about I pick you up instead and we go to the Harbour Arms? Say, one o'clock?'

'All right. I'll see you then – Mr Steed.'

He smiled at her and raised his hand in salutation. 'Mrs Peel.'