Sunny Days and Sea Breezes

by Carole Matthews

  ‘It looks very much like a working car.’ I try to be diplomatic.

  I don’t know what type of car it is – possibly a Corsa? But it’s of vintage origin and is absolutely wrecked. Every panel is a different colour of purple and it’s much-dented. It must be regularly used to transport his stock of wood as, when I climb into the passenger seat, the inside smells of tree resin, leaves and earthiness. There’s soil in the footwell, a pile of clothes and empty sandwich wrappers on the back seat.

  He throws a few more bits into the boot, slams it shut and then climbs into the driver’s seat. We set off, gears grinding, and I settle back into my seat as we trundle through the lanes. The traffic is slower today and we crawl through pretty touristy villages with thatched cottages and abundant tea shops.

  It’s half an hour later when we turn off into a track in a wooded area that’s barred by a metal barrier. Ned pulls up and then goes to unlock the barrier so that we can pass through. The further we travel along the track, the deeper into the woods we go. The trees tower above us, every shade of green you can think of, and the sun peeps through whenever it can. Eventually, we come into a clearing where Ned parks and we get out of the car.

  ‘Welcome to my office,’ he says, gesturing at the forest that surrounds us on every side.

  ‘What a fabulous setting.’ There’s a lock-up barn on one side with an open area that’s filled with some of Ned’s work-in-progress. Next to that is a huge pile of logs – some the size of branches, but others that are enormous tree trunks. There’s another area covered by a canvas canopy that I can see is Ned’s main work area – there’s a sturdy bench, stacked wood everywhere and an inch of sawdust on the ground. But the most impressive thing is the number of Ned’s sculptures that are dotted around. There’s a magnificent sculpture of a fairy king that stands about three metres high, next to him is a wizard with a magnificent crown and another that’s some kind of sprite sitting down, his long legs stretching out in front of him made of gnarled tree branches.

  ‘He’s a tree spirit,’ Ned says, following my gaze. ‘I’m thinking of writing a kid’s story book about him or some poetry – if I ever get round to it.’

  ‘He’s amazing. He looks as if he’s about to rise up and move. You should get together with George. He’s writing a book.’

  ‘Is he?’ Ned looks interested. ‘I might chat to him.’

  On the other side there are more Green Men with long beards carved with leaves and flowers. Then there are smaller animal sculptures: a kingfisher on a log, a badger and a hare.

  The most imposing piece is an oversized chair that looks almost finished. It stands about ten feet tall and looks as if it’s come straight from a fairytale castle. ‘This is incredible.’

  ‘The giant chairs are one of my most popular sculptures. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve done for various places. They’re really popular in woodland settings. This one has got to have a final sand – which is my most hated job. Then it goes to its new home in a country park on the mainland,’ Ned says. ‘Want to sit in it?’

  ‘Of course.’ He gives me a hand and I climb up the side of the chair using the carved footholds until I can swing into the seat. My feet dangle in the air and I feel like a kid again, dwarfed by this enormous sculpture. ‘I love it.’

  I sit and let my eyes close. Without too much persuasion, I could fall asleep up here. The forest is still, settled around us. The only sound the snatches of nearby bird song. I could forget my worries in a place like this.

  ‘I’d better start some work,’ Ned says, to bring me out of my daydream.

  Reluctantly, I rouse myself as he holds out a hand to help me down.

  When I make the jump down the final step, he catches me by the waist and lowers me. It feels as if the air crackles around us and I wonder if it’s being surrounded by all these enchanting pieces.

  ‘How did you find this spot?’

  ‘I sort of stumbled on it. After art college I was doing some tree felling on the big estates around the island to make some cash before I could work out how to make a living out of being an artist. I landed up here on a short contract and got chatting to the landowner. He’s a decent guy and we got on well. Towards the end of the job, I cut down a particular branch and I could already see the figure in it – a Green Man. I don’t know what made me do it, but during our tea-break on shift, I took the wood and had a go at carving it. As I didn’t have any other tools to hand, I used the chainsaw. It seemed like the natural thing to do. I never looked back.’

  ‘It was clearly meant to be.’

  Ned shrugs nonchalantly as if it’s the kind of thing that everyone can do. ‘Now I rent this space from the landowner – very cheaply. I help him to manage the forest and I get to keep some of the timber that we cut down. It works well for both of us.’

  ‘Amazing.’

  Then he seems bashful that he’s revealed so much of himself. ‘There’s a kettle in the barn if you want to make a brew. Nothing fancy. Strictly builders’ tea here.’

  ‘Want one?’

  Ned nods and heads off to unlock the barn. As I go to get our sandwiches from the car, he shouts over, ‘Grab the cushion and blanket from the back seat too and you can sit on the bench over there.’ He points to another seat that he’s sculpted.

  I do as I’m told and put the packages down on the bench in a shady spot with the multi-coloured blanket and cushion. In the barn, I clear sawdust sweepings from the work bench and make us a mug of tea.

  When I deliver it, I ask, ‘So what are you working on?’

  He stands back so that I can see it properly. ‘This is going to be a mermaid and it’s destined for the garden area of a fancy new seafood restaurant in Cowes that’s opening in time for the summer season.’

  It looks like a figurehead from a sailing ship carved into a tree trunk and I can see that the mermaid is starting to emerge, rising organically from the wood. Her face is lifted to the sunshine but has yet to receive its finer features. The body curves down to the roots of the tree and Ned has started to cut in some scales for her tail. At the bottom, delicate fishes have been carved into the wood and I’ve no idea how he does such detail with nothing more than a chainsaw.

  ‘It’s beautiful already,’ I tell him.

  ‘There’s a long way to go yet.’ He rubs his chin as he regards his work critically. ‘Let me do an hour so and then we’ll stop for some lunch. Does that suit?’

  ‘Yes, perfectly.’

  ‘You need to wear these.’ Ned roots in his tool box and pulls out a pair of safety glasses and some ear defenders. I wrinkle my nose. ‘Trust me. You’ll thank me for them. Bits of wood fly everywhere and, unprotected, your ears will ring for days.’

  So I put them on and settle on a nearby bench while Ned puts on his gloves and pulls the chord of his chainsaw, making it growl into life again. He lowers his full-face visor. Soon he’s into his rhythm and it’s like watching him dance. His body moves and sways and the sound of the chainsaw ceases to be an irritant and becomes more like music. It’s not all hacking with a chainsaw, a lot of it seems to be fine-tuning. With a few carefully executed cuts and slices, the mermaid’s tail takes shape and her features appear. I feel so privileged to watch Ned work and love the way his hands move over the emerging sculpture, bringing it to life.

  Though Ned is working up a sweat as he works, I’m feeling cool sitting here in the breeze and the shade of the trees. So I curl up on the bench, pull the blanket over me and then tuck one of the cushions under my head. My eyes grow heavy as I watch him engrossed in his work and it’s not long before I let sleep take me.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Ned cuts his chainsaw and the absence of noise rouses me from my doze. Blinking my eyes

  open, I realise that I’m still wearing my safety glasses and they’re digging into my head.

  ‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ he says softly. ‘Ready for some lunch?’

  ‘You’ve finished?’

  ‘Nah,’ he says.
‘I’ve made good progress, but there’s a way to go yet. A bit more shaping then I have to sand her down. That’s going to take a while.’

  ‘Do you do it by hand?’

  ‘On something with such intricate carving, then mostly. It’s a filthy job. I end up covered in fine dust.’

  I cast my eyes over what he’s been up to while I was sleeping. ‘She looks amazing.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ned agrees. ‘Mighty fine. I think my client will be pleased.’

  ‘I’m sure they will be.’

  ‘It’ll keep me in beer for the summer if they are.’ He casts a glance at the sky and the gathering clouds. ‘Lunch outside or do you want to retreat into the barn?’

  I should have brought a jacket, but I’d rather eat al fresco. It makes a welcome change from a sandwich grabbed at my desk. ‘I’m happy to stay out here if you don’t mind me hogging the blanket.’

  ‘Every woman I’ve ever shared a bed with has been a blanket-hogger. Why is that?’

  I flush slightly at the intimate revelation. Then I get a strange feeling of jealousy or something similar to it when I think of the women who’ve had the pleasure of Ned’s company in bed. A more pertinent question is: Why is that?

  ‘Let me go and make us another cuppa,’ he says. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  When Ned’s gone, I wrap the blanket round me and take a minute of two to get my eyes to focus. I must have been in a deep sleep as I have that groggy feeling of not quite knowing where I am. While Ned’s still making the tea, I get up from the bench and go to have a closer look at the mermaid. I run my hands over the intricate carving. The wood feels warm beneath my hand, almost alive.

  I’m still admiring her when he comes back and hands me a mug. ‘What are you going to call her?’

  ‘I haven’t decided yet.’

  ‘I’d love a mermaid named after me, but I don’t think that Jodie is very mermaid-esque.’

  ‘I was thinking Nereida, which is Greek for mermaid.’

  ‘That’s lovely. I might just change my name.’

  Ned laughs. ‘That’s a bit drastic. I could do a more appropriate carving for you. It wouldn’t be any trouble.’

  ‘I’d really like that.’

  ‘Let’s call it quits for the sandwiches.’

  ‘I’m not sure that a few rounds of cheese salad sarnies is adequate payment.’

  ‘Maybe we’ll think of something else,’ Ned says.

  And it sounds like a pick-up line, but from Ned it doesn’t sound sleazy. I blush anyway.

  ‘It was mesmerising to watch.’

  Ned laughs. ‘Well, it certainly sent you into a deep sleep.’

  ‘We did only have a few hours’ sleep last night after our sandcastle adventures,’ I remind him. ‘I didn’t realise I was so sleepy, though. This tea’s helping to revive me.’

  ‘It does kind of send you into a trance,’ he admits. ‘I find it very meditative.’

  ‘I’d love to have a go.’

  ‘That can be arranged, but you’d need to put some safety gear on.’

  ‘More?’ I still have my safety glasses perched on my head.

  ‘I always wear cut-proof trousers and gloves. I’d never work without them. You don’t want any accidents with one of these bad boys. This chainsaw is smaller and more manoeuvrable than one for felling trees, but they’re still lethal. If you hit a knot or dropped it, this thing would cut through your leg like butter.’

  I grimace. ‘Maybe not, then. I’m not good when it comes to danger.’

  ‘I’ll be right here with you to guide you.’ Ned raises an eyebrow in invitation. ‘I’ve got spare stuff. It won’t take a minute.’

  I get a rush of recklessness. When am I ever going to get another opportunity like this? ‘Go on, then.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I’m trying not to think what I look like in Ned’s spare cut-proof overalls and gloves. But it gives us both a fit of the giggles. Ned is slim, but they’re still baggy on me. And, as he’s tall, the legs of the trousers pool round my ankles.

  ‘Stop it,’ I say to Ned as we get ourselves under control. ‘I’m taking this very seriously.’

  ‘Good. Because you don’t mess with chainsaws. Put your safety glasses on.’

  I do as I’m told.

  ‘I’m going to start the chainsaw, then I’ll stand behind you and help you to hold it. We’ll just try some straight cuts.’

  Ned isn’t, of course, letting me loose on the beautiful mermaid. While I was putting on his overall, he chose a large tree branch and set it on end for me to practise on. He starts the chainsaw and it rips awake. I place my hands on it where he’s showed me and hold the chainsaw. The strength of the vibration shocks me and I grip it tighter. Ned’s hands fold over mine and he guides them towards the branch. I make my first cut, the teeth of the saw ripping into the wood with a ferocity that frightens me. It looks a lot more relaxing when Ned is in control. He holds me in the circle of his arms and helps me to move the blade. My hands and arms shudder and the blade is going anywhere but where I want it to. Ned steadies me and I lean my back into his chest so that I can feel how he shifts his weight. I’m trying to steer the chainsaw with my hands, yet I can tell that it’s definitely a full-body movement that’s required. And I’m glad that it’s taking all of my concentration to control the saw as this proximity to Ned is quite distracting and not at all unpleasant.

  When I’ve managed to make a few straight cuts, Ned guides the chainsaw in a curve which is much more difficult as I’m going across the grain of the wood and the saw feels as if it wants to bounce. He holds my hands tighter and we move together. Speaking is impossible over the noise, but I feel that we’re communicating well and with a few errant cuts along the way Ned has encouraged me to carve out a heart in the tree branch.

  When it’s completed, he cuts the saw and the ensuing silence is a welcome relief and a shock. Reluctant to break the moment, I stay in the circle of his arms while we appraise my efforts.

  ‘Not bad for a beginner,’ Ned teases.

  ‘It’s brilliant and you know it,’ I bat back.

  ‘Yeah. Well done,’ he agrees. ‘Thinking of becoming my apprentice?’

  ‘You never know,’ I tease. ‘This is so much harder than it looks. I can’t begin to tell you how much I admire the standard of work that you manage to achieve. It’s breathtaking.’

  ‘You flatter me. Now for some well-earned lunch?’ He moves away from me and,

  instantly, I miss the feeling of his arms around me. I was getting a bit too used to that.

  We sit together on the bench together and I pass him a tin foil packet of sandwiches.

  ‘Bliss,’ he says. ‘I’d call that a good bit of work.’

  His face is soft in repose and I realise that I like looking at it very much. As we eat, the breeze dies and the sun peeps from behind a cloud. I lift my face and let the rays that are filtering through the trees fall on my face.

  I don’t know whether it’s the company or the place, but this is the happiest I’ve felt in a very long time.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  When we’ve eaten, Ned takes me to walk through the forest where he gets his wood from. ‘I do this walk nearly every day,’ he says. ‘I check that the trees are OK and look at those that need felling. If they’re old and in danger of falling or have become diseased, I tell the landowner and we usually take them down together. It keeps me in touch with them all.’

  ‘It doesn’t look like it’s changed for a hundred years or more.’

  ‘It probably hasn’t,’ he says. ‘There are no public thoroughfares, so it’s pretty much untouched.’

  I hear a drumming noise and Ned takes my shoulders and angles me towards a tree ahead of us. ‘Woodpecker,’ he says. ‘Just below the canopy.’

  The bird has beautiful black and white feathers with a distinctive red flash on its crown and tail. We watch it drilling into the tree. ‘I’ve never seen that,’ I whisper.

  ‘T
hey forage for insects in the bark. Seems like a hard way to get your lunch.’

  ‘Cheese sandwiches are definitely an easier option.’

  We stand still, observing him until he flies away.

  ‘We have red squirrels here too, but they’re very shy. We’d be lucky to catch a glimpse of one of them.’

  But catch a glimpse, we do. A few moments later, one scampers across the path. It’s tiny compared to our usual grey squirrels and its striking chestnut colour stands out against the lush green of the leaves. Even as I let out a gasp, it shoots up the nearest tree and is gone from sight.

  We watch for a short while, but Ned says, ‘It won’t come back now. They’re the most elusive of creatures. That was a bonus.’

  Indeed it was. Then we continue with our walk through shaded glades and green lanes until we come to a boundary fence. ‘This bit’s National Trust land. It’s a very special place.’

  So we climb over the low fence and come out into a broad meadow that’s filled with tall grasses and wild flowers.

  ‘They’re only just coming out,’ Ned says. ‘In summer, this place is filled with all kinds of flowers and butterflies. We should come back then.’

  The thought is quite appealing. We walk out through the meadows and towards an Estuary.

  ‘Ancient salt marshes,’ Ned says, indicating all the little creeks that clearly only fill at high tide. ‘You wouldn’t think so now, but this area is rich in history. It was once a thriving port and it’s seen the plague, French invasions, smuggling – all of life.’

  The landscape is bleak, but stunning. Ned and I are the only people in sight and I could happily spend the rest of the day here.

  ‘We should head back.’ Ned sounds as reluctant as I feel. ‘I’ve got a space to look at for a potential commission, so I have to leave carving for today.’

  ‘Thanks for letting me share it with you,’ I say. ‘It’s been fun.’