by Bev Robitai
‘Robyn, come and meet Henri Leveque, the man who taught me all I know about the woods. Henri, this is Robyn Taylor, a friend from New Zealand.’
She found herself the subject of a brief but intense scrutiny from eyes so dark brown they were almost black. The laugh lines at their edges saved them from being intimidating, although Robyn felt as if they had seen more than her surface appearance. She straightened her shoulders and shook Henri’s heavy calloused hand firmly.
‘Good to meet you, Henri. Mike tells me you’re a whiz at making maple syrup.’
‘Among other things,’ Mike cut in hurriedly. ‘I didn’t tell you Robyn, but Henri is a highly respected sculptor. His wood carvings are in galleries and museums all round the world.’
‘Oh? Are there any here I could see, Henri? I love artwork.’
‘If you are really interested, young lady, and not just being polite, I will show you.’ Henri paused for her agreement, and ushered her inside.
Once her eyes adjusted from the bright sun outside, she saw a room that instantly made her feel at home. The walls were wooden, lined with shelves and alcoves where various carvings were featured. Some pieces were placed near windows, where the play of light showed their textures and angles to best effect. One piece in particular caught her eye, and she made a bee-line for it. It was a torso, semi-abstract, but with an inner strength that communicated instantly with the viewer.
‘Wow, I’d love to photograph this piece. It would be a real challenge to make it come to life on a flat page.’
‘And how would you do that?’
She looked up at him to assess whether he was serious. ‘If you are really interested and not just being polite, I’ll tell you. I’d shoot it in black and white against a black velvet backdrop, so there was nothing to distract the eye. I’d light it with a torch during a long slow exposure, moving the light around so that every detail was lit, but aiming longer from each side to create some shadows.’
His eyebrows rose.‘You know your subject, young lady. I’d like to see your work. Do you have your equipment with you?’
She shook her head regretfully.‘Not for this sort of thing. I’ve got the Nikon, but no decent lighting gear. But we could come back another time, if Mike didn’t mind?’
‘No, of course Michael won’t mind. And he’ll go in the kitchen now and make us all a cup of coffee, won’t he?’
Henri looked at Mike enquiringly, but the order was direct. Mike obeyed with a smile.
Henri guided Robyn to a comfortable sofa and sat close enough to speak quietly. ‘So, Robyn, what brings you here all the way from New Zealand?’
Under his intense scrutiny, Robyn found herself discarding the glib answer she had ready, and answered him from the heart. ‘I’m here to punish a man who stole from my family.’
‘He stole money? Possessions?’
‘Money, and he was indirectly responsible for my father’s death.’
‘That is a serious crime. Could the forces of law not punish him?’
‘They said they couldn’t. This guy’s clever and didn’t leave any evidence.’
‘And how do you intend to punish him?’
Henri kept his eyes on her face. She felt herself blush.
‘Ah, well - I have to admit that I came here all fired up ready to fight with him, to hurt him and pay him back for the damage he did to us, but now things are a bit different.’
‘Yes?’ His eyes were kindly now, reassuring and expectant.
‘Now I’m helping Mike to get the evidence he needs so that the man can be arrested here and tried for his crimes. As long as he doesn’t enjoy his life spending what he stole from us, I’ll be happy.’
Mike carried a tray of mugs into the room.
‘Michael, you are pursuing this wicked character within the law, yes?’
‘Who, Colwyn? Yes, all legal and above board.’
Robyn felt a twinge of guilt. The deceit they were using on Colwyn to achieve their goal might be within the law, but she doubted Henri would approve, and for some reason, his opinion mattered to her.
‘Is it ever justified to use bad means to achieve good ends, Henri?’
‘Only your heart can weigh the balance of both sides of the question to know whether it is just or not. If your heart has doubt about the means you use, it will not be at peace with the result.’
‘What’s worrying you, Robyn?’ Mike handed her a cup of coffee.
‘Ah, nothing serious. It’s just that I hate having to pretend to be something I’m not. We’re lying to Colwyn, so doesn’t that make us as bad as he is? You know what I mean?’
‘Yes, I hear what you’re saying. You’re an up-front sort of person and you’d rather deal with him in an up-front way, right?’
‘Exactly! Don’t you agree, Henri?’ She appealed to the older man, expecting his support.
‘Ah, but when you are trying to trap a wolf, you must think like a wolf, yes? It is the sneaky, unexpected trick that will catch the sneaky thief, I think.’
Robyn looked disappointed.
‘So I have to go on pretending to be a rich heiress, and cosy up to that slimeball? Damn!’
‘How did the cosying up go last night, Robyn?’ asked Mike. ‘You haven’t told me how what happened with that couple he wanted you to meet.’
‘Kate and Alan? Well they’re lovely people, really sweet, and Colwyn is all set to have them sign over their entire retirement fund to him. He introduced me as a confirmed investor, to convince them that they are doing the right thing.’
‘Good grief! How did you handle that?’
‘I choked on my drink and escaped to the ladies room to think. While I was sorting myself out, Kate came in, so I grabbed the chance to talk to her alone.’
‘Good thinking, but risky. What did you say to her?’
‘Ah, now that was the tricky bit. I knew if I told her Colwyn was a fraud and a criminal, she’d never have been able to pretend to him that she didn’t know. She’s so sweet and innocent that her face is an open book. So I tried a bit of reverse psychology. I said I was mad keen to invest, and that even though my advisors had said that I should have him checked out thoroughly, I wasn’t going to bother. How could he possibly be a crook with those lovely blue eyes? I was just going to sign all my money over to him without a second thought. So what if he hasn’t been around very long - everybody has to start somewhere.’
Henri nodded approvingly and Mike leaned forward. ‘So, how did she react?’
‘She started to look pretty thoughtful. I reckon she’ll put the brakes on their deal while she gets a bit of checking done - hopefully that’ll buy us the time we need to nail him.’
‘Oh well done, Robyn!’
‘I think you have all the sneakiness you need to catch this one, yes?’
‘Thank you, chaps. I think it must have been your influence Henri, giving me that sudden attack of conscience just now. Does he have that effect on you too Mike?’
He coloured slightly, to her surprise. ‘Not for many years, thank goodness.’
Henri chuckled. ‘One day, mon ami, you can tell her all about your youthful indiscretions. But today, we are not concerned with that. Let us drink our coffee and chat awhile, then I will show your friend my maple trees and the sugaring shack, yes?’
As it was mid-summer there was no collecting going on, but Henri demonstrated the process on a tree he had tapped back in the spring. Robyn was fascinated to see the way the maple sap was collected from small metal pipes hammered into the trees. A notch on the upper side of the pipe held the handle of a tin collecting cup which would slowly fill with sap as the liquid rose in the early spring.
‘How do you know when to put the pipe into the tree?’
‘Ah, that’s part of the secret. The old folks say to watch the snow drifts at the fences. When they get below the top two rails you should go tap because it’s almost too late. There is only a short time when the sap rises strongly enough to gather - about two or three weeks
. But when the flow is good, you can gather it twice a day.’
‘What happens to it then?’
‘I take it to the sugaring shack and boil it down - come and see.’
The shed was dim and sweet-scented. A large stove stood at one end, with a flat pan hanging from the rafter above it.
‘I boil about forty gallons of sap to get one gallon of syrup - or more if my customer wants a thicker batch. So you see, Robyn, it takes a great deal to make just a little syrup - which is why it costs so dearly.’
‘It makes me wonder how anybody discovered the process in the first place. Wouldn’t it have been easier just to use honey as a sweetener?’
‘Ah, you are a practical woman, and one who is unafraid of bees, I think. You look for an efficient solution to a problem, at least where emotion is not involved, yes?’
Mike caught her eye and grinned.
‘He sees right through you, doesn’t he? I got used to it years ago, but it still makes me think twice before I visit just in case I’ve got something to hide.’
‘Is that why you have not been by for so long, Michael - you are leading a life in the city that I would be ashamed of?’
It was Robyn’s turn to chuckle as Henri raised an eyebrow at Mike.
‘Well if you two are going to gang up on me,’ he complained, ‘I think I’ll go home now. Robyn, I’m sure Henri would call you a cab to get you all the way back into town.’
‘Oh blow it out your ear! What makes you think you’d have a show of beating me back to the van and driving off without me?’
‘Is that a challenge?’
‘Oh Mike, don’t be so silly. How could we possibly leave like that without saying a proper goodbye and thank you to Henri!’
She quickly shook Henri’s hand and whispered farewell, then sprinted towards the van which was some distance away, leaving Mike standing open-mouthed.
‘Don’t you think you should go after her, Michael?’
‘Oh, she won’t get far.’ He jangled the van keys in his pocket. ‘She’ll sidle back in a minute looking all embarrassed. Anyway, thanks for a pleasant afternoon, Henri, I promise I won’t leave it so long before I visit next time.’
‘I think you maybe won’t leave at all, mon ami, unless you hurry.’
A puff of exhaust spurted from under the van. Mike looked at the keys in his hand in disbelief.
‘How - ? She hasn’t got the key!’
He started to run, calling a hasty goodbye over his shoulder as the van began to move.
He chased it down the leafy driveway all the way to the gate, where Robyn sat smugly waiting for him to come and open it.
‘So, can I give you a ride back to the city, Mike?’
He leaned on the edge of the driver’s window and caught his breath, then looked at the wires protruding from under the dashboard.
‘What have you done to my van?’
‘I just hot-wired it Mike, don’t make such a fuss. Haven’t you ever lost your keys and had to do that? Come on, get that gate open or we’ll be here all day.’
He let her through then closed it again, and pulled open the driver’s door.
‘Out you get, Robyn. You won that round, OK? Happy now?’
‘Perfectly, thanks. But I’ll just slide across the seat here I think, instead of getting out. I wouldn’t want you to drive off and leave me behind.’
He grinned. ‘That’s a good call - it had crossed my mind. But just remember, that’s two I owe you for. Don’t think for a moment that I’ve forgotten that dunking in the bath, missy.’
‘Whatcha gonna do about it, city boy?’ She paused thoughtfully. ‘Actually I don’t know if I can call you city boy now that I’ve seen your country background. We’ve got more in common than I thought.’
She glanced across at him, feeling a spark of pleasure when he smiled back.
They buckled their seat-belts and set off slowly along the rutted track to the road.
‘I like your friend Henri, even though it feels like your soul is under inspection when he talks to you. How long have you known him?’
‘Most of my life. He’s always been kind of a guiding light when things got complicated, you know what I mean? He has a way of cutting to the real truth of things.’
‘Yes, I noticed that. It must be good to have someone whose judgement you can trust, and who knows the real you.’ She looked at him searchingly. ‘I bet there aren’t many people who do. You’re the most private person I’ve ever met.
He considered her comment. ‘Yes, you’re probably right. Henri’s one-of-a-kind, that’s for sure. I’d trust him with anything, and he would always do what’s right.’
‘And he’s so conveniently discreet, too. He didn’t give me any juicy details of your “youthful indiscretions” but then again, he did say that you would tell me all about them, didn’t he?’ She poked a finger at his denim-clad arm.
‘Oh sure, and he said “one day” too, didn’t he? That day is a long way off, I can tell you that right now.’
‘Chicken!’
‘Snoop!’
‘Hey, you’re the snoop mate, it’s your job. Mr professional nosey-parker.’
‘Oh sure, throw that in my face,’ he said in mock-injured tones.
They drove on in comfortable silence.
Back at the township of Marmora, Robyn caught sight of a convenience store on the main road.
‘Can we stop for a tea and a pee, Mike?’
‘A what? Oh, sure.’
He locked the van and followed her into the shop, where he poured himself a coffee from the dispensing machine while Robyn disappeared into the restroom. He was selecting a cookie to go with it when he heard a faint crash of breaking glass from outside, then the familiar sound of his van engine.
Coffee splashed to the floor as he sprinted towards the door, bursting out onto the forecourt in time to see his van pulling out onto the main road east towards Ottawa.
He ran back inside to the counter.
‘Can I call the cops to report a stolen van please, and is there a rental car agency here in Marmora? If I’m quick I might be able to catch up with it.’
‘Sure, you can pick up a car right across the street - and I’ll call the cops for you if you give me the details.’ The dumpy woman behind the counter was quick to help, noting Mike’s van make and number then waving him on his way.
‘You go get ‘em, honey! Our cops need a few more people around like you!’
Mike yelled towards the washroom door as he ran.
‘Robyn! I’ll be across the street at the rental car place. Get over there NOW!’
He raced over the highway, cut through the red tape of the rental agency in record time and looked around for Robyn. No sign of her. He briefly debated going back to the convenience store but the need to retrieve his van overcame everything else. Every second he waited, it would be another mile further away and harder to catch up with.
He threw himself into the rental car and sped off in hot pursuit.
When Robyn came out of the restroom she headed for the coffee dispenser, stepping over the spilt cup on the floor with a frown. She poured herself a coffee and looked around for Mike. Assuming he must be in the men’s restroom himself, she sat down and sipped her drink.
Several minutes passed.
She looked at her watch. She finished her drink.
She called to a man who had just come out of the men’s room.
‘Excuse me, is there a guy still in there?’
‘No, it’s all empty.’ He walked away, looking at her strangely.
Robyn went to the counter and spoke to the dumpy woman.
‘Hi there, have you seen the guy I came in with? Medium height, light brown hair, wearing a blue denim shirt?’
‘Did he have a white van?’
‘Er, yes, that’s right, that’s the chap I’m looking for.’
‘Well he doesn’t have one now!’ The woman chuckled at her own joke until she saw the unamused look on R
obyn’s face. ‘Oh, I’m sorry hon. He didn’t say he was with anyone - he just rushed right on out of here when he saw his van was being stolen. I reported it to the cops for him.’
‘Stolen? Oh hell’s teeth! Well, where did he go?’
‘He ran straight over the road to the rental agency - I think he was going to grab a car and chase right after them. Last I saw, he was burning rubber heading down the highway.’
‘Bloody hell!’ Robyn exclaimed indignantly. ‘What did he expect me to do?’
‘Honey, I don’t think you were on his mind at all.’ The woman shrugged. ‘You can come wait in the back if you want, I guess he’ll turn up and get you sooner or later.’
‘Thanks but no thanks. I’ll just wait outside for a bit, and if he doesn’t show up I’ll hitch back to the city and wait for him to turn up at home. There’ll be plenty of traffic headed that way at this time of day, won’t there?’
‘Sure, if you want to take the risk.’
‘Oh what the hell - it beats waiting round here like a lost dog. Thanks for your help.’
Robyn went out onto the forecourt to try her luck at hitching a ride.
After twenty minutes she started to get bored.
On a trailer outside the store there was a big sign with moveable letters, proclaiming “BUY LOW COST MILK, CREAM HERE.” Robyn started to play mental games with the letters, till a wicked grin lit her face. She looked around, walked over to the sign, and made some changes. By the time she’d finished, the sign read “SCREW YOU MIKE, LAME CLOT.”
She walked away from the scene of her crime and went further along the road to get a better chance of picking up a ride.
After a while she gave up waiting around and began striding out along the main highway. The day was hot and very humid with little breeze to cool the sweat from her face and body, so her clothes clung unpleasantly. Cars and trucks zoomed past her as she walked on the wide shoulder as far away from them as she could get. It was good to be out in the open, with grass and trees around her instead of streets and buildings, but many of the plants were unfamiliar and made her feel strangely out of place. The air was moist, and laden with a variety of small stinging, biting insects.
She looked with interest at each farm she passed, trying to see how their farming practices related to her own. Some of the fences surprised her with their simplicity, and she realised what Henri had meant by measuring the snow drifts to the top two rails. The cedar rail fences were nothing but four lengths of roughly shaped timber laid interspersed in a zigzag formation, with no posts dug into the ground, no wires, battens or strainers. She was sceptical of their value, until she thought a little harder and considered the seasonal difficulties that farmers faced here. At least a rail fence could be laid in the depths of winter when the ground was frozen, or in the spring when everything was boggy from all the melted snow. And with a photographer’s eye she noted that they were pretty darn picturesque, too.
