She pressed Maria’s name and the phone rang at her aunt’s end, in the cabin at Honeybee Haven. But it rang and rang until, finally, it went to the old-school answering machine.
‘Hi, Maria, it’s Tansy,’ she said after the tone. ‘I’m sorry I’ve missed you. I just wanted to check you’re okay. I got caught up with work yesterday and I didn’t want you thinking that I . . .’ She fumbled for words. That she judged Maria? That she thought less of her? The truth was that she didn’t know how she felt about what her aunt had revealed. But she did know that she still wanted Maria in her life.
‘I didn’t want you thinking I’d forgotten about you,’ she said, smiling, hoping the smile travelled along the phone line to Maria’s answering machine. ‘I’d like to come up tomorrow, if that’s okay? If not, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll see you then.’
Tansy answered the door with her toothbrush in her mouth. She’d always been a social f losser and brusher, wandering the house, watching television or carrying on a conversation while attending to her teeth. It still made Dougal laugh after all these years. This morning, she’d been pulling on her sneakers with one hand while the other held the brush when there was a knock at the door.
She flicked the bolts open. Standing there was none other than her father.
‘Dad,’ she mumbled, and wrapped her spare arm around his neck. ‘Come in, come in, I’ll just get rid of this,’ she said, moving her mouth less and less as toothpaste began to dribble over the edges. She left him to close the door, ran to the bathroom (with her laces still undone), spat and rinsed and was back again just as her mother emerged from the guest bedroom.
‘Hello, dear,’ Finlay said, scratching the back of his neck. Enid’s posture was stiff.
‘Come and have a seat, Dad,’ Tansy intervened. ‘Would you like a cuppa?’
‘Coffee, thanks,’ Finlay said, easing himself into the soft lounge chair.
Leo appeared then and greeted Finlay, stooping to where he sat and hugging him. ‘Good to see you,’ he said. ‘We’ve been enjoying the company of your lovely wife. Thanks for lending her to us.’ He was trying to be charming, Tansy assumed, but it didn’t quite hit the mark. Clearly neither Finlay nor Enid knew what to say.
‘Mum, would you like a cuppa too?’ Tansy asked, motioning to Leo to join her in the kitchen.
‘Alright,’ Enid said, sitting on the lounge opposite Finlay.
Leo retrieved cups from the drawer near Tansy and leaned towards her, his voice low. ‘Are you heading to the Haven today?’ he whispered.
Tansy shot him an alarmed look to tell him to be quiet, but nodded once.
‘Can I come too?’ he mouthed.
She nodded automatically, with no time to think about how his presence might affect her time with Maria. For now, she was just hoping to keep her parents amicably in the same room together, not yelling at each other, and no one storming off.
The cups rattled on the tray as she carried them to the coffee table. Then back in the kitchen, she tamped down coffee into the filter basket, striving as always for perfectly even resistance in the grinds—one of the key technical processes in producing first-class coffee—and turned on the machine. The water drizzled through the grinds and the tantalising scent of espresso wafted around the room. Leo nabbed the first cup and excused himself to have a shower. Tansy repeated the process twice more then joined her parents, presenting the rest of the coffees, along with milk and sugar, and took the opportunity to tie her laces.
‘What brings you up here?’ Enid asked Finlay, taking a coffee.
‘I missed my wife and I’m not too proud to admit it,’ Finlay said, his eyes holding Enid’s while her cheeks flushed pink.
Tansy wasn’t sure where to look; the moment seemed so intimate. She heard her mother swallow, then watched as Enid replaced her cup on the table, and took another cup for Finlay and added milk and sugar just as he liked it, stirred it briefly and passed it to him without a word.
‘Are you up here for the day?’ Tansy asked, touching her dad’s arm.
Finlay kept looking at Enid. ‘Not sure yet,’ he said.
Tansy nodded, accepting that this visit had nothing to do with her and that her presence was neither wanted nor required at this moment. She cleared her throat. ‘Well, I have a client to visit today so I’ll be off. Leo’s coming with me, because he . . . um, well, he’s offered to assist,’ she stammered, wanting to get through this lie as quickly as possible, ‘so we’ll both be out of your hair. Dad, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. There’s plenty of room.’
Her father looked at her then and gave her a grateful smile. ‘Thank you, love.’
Leaving them to it, Tansy knocked on the bathroom door and yelled at Leo to meet her downstairs at the car. He arrived a short time later (men truly didn’t need much time in the bathroom, she marvelled), with wet hair and smelling faintly of aftershave. She wondered who’d taught him to do that, to put on just the right amount of aftershave so it wasn’t suffocating. Dougal, probably. Then again, maybe it was his mother, Rebecca.
‘So why are you coming?’ she asked, pulling out onto the road and stopping for a couple of surfers weighed down by boards balanced on their heads.
‘No lectures. And I liked your aunt.’
‘Is that all?’
He paused a moment. ‘And Petrice will be there. I like her too.’
Tansy was surprised, but took a moment to check herself before she spoke. ‘How do you know Petrice will be there?’
‘We swapped numbers when I was last up there. We’ve texted a few times.’ He smiled then. ‘She’s quite funny, actually. Her messages make me laugh.’
Tansy was totally perplexed, trying to imagine how that shy, petrified-looking young woman could possibly be funny, even via text.
But then, she’d never have guessed Maria was a murderer, either.
She wondered if she should tell Leo what she knew before they got there. No, it wasn’t her story to tell. ‘What do you talk about?’ she asked instead.
‘Books, movies, politics,’ he said. ‘Writing as well. She writes short stories.’
Interesting.
‘So . . . she’s a friend?’ she asked, trying not to sound too excited but privately thrilled that he’d made a new connection with someone else who was a writer; her mind leapt to the hope that Petrice might convince him to stay at uni until he finished his course (of which there was only six months to go, for God’s sake . . . anyone with half a brain could see it would be stupid for him to pull out now).
‘Yeah,’ he said, a little guarded. ‘I’d call her a friend.’
‘That’s great,’ she said, and genuinely meant it. ‘You can never have too many friends in life.’
They cruised down the highway for about half an hour, then turned off into the long and winding green flats, where Tansy stopped to choose a bunch of yellow and pink flowers from a bucket on the side of the road, leaving five dollars in the honesty box chained to the wooden shelter, then continued up the steepening slopes to Honeybee Haven.
27
Maria saw the white car pull into the car park and greeted them there. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she said, striding to the driver’s door. Tansy’s face fell as she stepped out of the car, clearly taken aback by Maria’s brusqueness. Then Maria noticed Leo in the car too. ‘Oh, hello, Leo.’
‘What’s the matter?’ Tansy asked, thrusting a bunch of flowers and a box of chocolate at her. ‘You seem upset.’
Maria took the flowers and chocolate, considered them briefly and said thanks, and even she could tell she was being too perfunctory. She needed to slow down. ‘The flowers are lovely. And the chocolate will be quite a treat, I’m sure. So many years since I’ve tasted it.’ She brought the package to her nose and inhaled, closing her eyes. ‘Oh my.’ Her words elicited a smile from Tansy. ‘Please, don’t mind me, I just have lots I want to show you today,’ Maria said.
Tansy brightened. ‘Bee things?’
‘Yes. It’s no
t overly common for this time of year, but one of my hives has been particularly busy and I have to extract honey. I want to show you how to do it.’
‘That sounds like fun,’ Tansy said, locking the car and following Maria across the lawn. Leo came too. ‘Leo’s come along hoping to see Petrice. Is she here today?’
‘She was,’ Maria said, ‘but she’s gone home.’
‘Oh, why?’ Tansy said.
Leo looked towards the dining hall as if hoping Petrice might still emerge. ‘I’m sorry, Leo. Sometimes things just get too much for her and she needs to retreat. It can hit her quite suddenly.’
‘It’s okay,’ he said, a small smile betraying at least a hint of disappointment. ‘I’m sure you could use my help.’
‘Would you like to work with the bees too?’ she offered. Everyone liked to feel useful.
His smile brightened. ‘Yeah, that sounds great.’
She considered Leo’s face. It was such a gentle face. Not unmanly. But kind, yes, that was the word. He had a kind face. She didn’t know why, but that observation made her feel sentimental, but for what she wasn’t sure. Her father, maybe. He’d had a kind face.
She mentally pulled herself together. Over the past couple of days she’d experienced an endless flow of emotions. It wasn’t just that she’d made her confession to Tansy, though obviously that was big enough. It was because she was ‘getting her affairs in order’—preparing to leave this place. And that was why it was important to teach someone else as much as she could. Once she left here, Michaela would need to find a new manager. She’d briefly thought that Petrice might be able to step up. But realistically, and certainly after today, Maria knew that wouldn’t be the case.
Petrice had been listening to the radio in the car on her way up to the Haven this morning. The hourly news had come on, something she’d learned to avoid in case of random triggers that could affect her mood. But she’d been distracted and forgot to turn it off in time. The lead story was about a man who’d burnt down his house with his children inside. Petrice had snapped off the radio, but it was too late. She’d managed to get to work but hadn’t lasted long. Fortunately, Maria had phoned her psychiatrist and been able to secure an appointment for her for later today.
Still, she wouldn’t give up on her altogether. Petrice had come a long way since she started here three years ago and Maria felt great pride that she’d played a part in that. Petrice trusted her, a bold and brave step for someone who’d been so mistreated. Maria wanted Petrice to have a job even after Maria herself was gone, but she wasn’t ready for a management role.
She’d then entertained the idea that Tansy might be able to slip into the role. It was ridiculous, of course. For one thing, Tansy was leaving for Canada. And she already had a career; she didn’t need another. But the thought had persisted, helping to quell her anxiety about leaving this place and her precious bees; she needed to believe that she’d be handing it all over to someone she trusted.
She glanced at Leo again, and wondered.
‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ Tansy asked quietly, out of earshot of Leo, putting her hand on Maria’s arm. ‘I know that what we talked about on Saturday would have brought up a lot of stuff for you.’ She was biting her lower lip and frowning.
Poor Tansy. What a load she must be carrying now. Her elderly aunt was a murderer. What a mad world it was.
‘Come on, let’s go see the bees,’ Maria said.
At her house, she kitted Leo and Tansy out in layers of protective gear. Tansy shrugged into her full beekeeping suit with much more ease this time, Maria noticed. She walked more confidently towards the hives too. Leo carried the big food-grade bucket with the new empty frames inside. The wooden frames knocked against the side of the bucket as they walked. Maria carried the smoker, the bee brush and the J-knife, and led the way to the hive with a heavy sense of occasion. How many more times would she get to do this?
‘Do you collect the wax as well?’ Leo asked.
‘I do. I use it to make candles, lip balms and hand cream, and body butters. The body butters are particularly rewarding, and good sellers. You whip them up with an electric beater and they’re so fluffy.’ Maria felt a small pang, a yearning, actually, to use those beautiful body butters on her own dry, ageing skin. ‘You can use the wax to waterproof your shoes, too,’ she added.
Tansy held up a frame with preformed hexagonal wax cells, studying them. ‘Each cell is identical,’ she marvelled.
‘Well, they’re done by machine, but the bees can do it too. They’re master mathematicians, making absolutely perfect honeycomb.’
‘That’s wild. I couldn’t do that with a ruler and set square,’ Leo said, eyes wide, impressed.
Maria smiled, pleased with his wonderment. If only more people understood how utterly priceless bees were, and how inexpressibly clever. Instructed by God. They had to be. They lived such short lives and yet they seemed to hold all the knowledge in the world and conquer the equivalent of mountains in that time. What a gift they were.
When they got to the hives, Maria showed Tansy and Leo how to pull out the heavy frames full of honey, removing them slowly so as not to squash a single bee in the process. She showed them how to hold the frame with the cells facing downwards and watch to see if any honey fell out, which would indicate it wasn’t yet ready to be harvested. How to gently brush the crawling bees off the frame, moving the wet bristles in an upward motion so that any busy bees with their backsides in the air and their heads inside the cells would be brushed out, rather than forced down and squashed.
‘You must never kill a bee,’ Maria said. ‘It is of the utmost importance that not a single bee is killed.’ She faced Tansy, her eyes drilling into hers through their face nets.
‘Yes, of course,’ Tansy agreed. ‘I would never—’
‘Every one of these bees is precious. Every one. And it is the beekeeper’s duty to honour their lives. It is not a duty to be taken lightly. Do you understand?’
Both Tansy and Leo nodded vigorously.
Maria nodded too, satisfied, and went back to her task of imparting knowledge. She showed them how to replace the full frame with a new, empty one, ready for honey to be laid straight away. She checked the other frames, partly filled and capped, and again explained the importance of ensuring there was enough honey to keep the bees going if the great weather they’d had suddenly turned and the bees had to bunker down and look after themselves instead of foraging. As she worked, to her pleasure Maria managed to fall into the state she had come to think of as bee meditation—a timeless zone of bliss.
On the way back, Tansy and Leo carried the bucket between them, weighed down by three full frames of honey, totalling over ten kilograms. Some bees followed them, smelling the honey, or maybe wanting to protect it. But they left the bees behind at the front door of the cabin, painstakingly removing individuals from their bee suits, from the bucket and frames and then closing the screen door behind them. A few persistent girls hung around the door, buzzing gently.
‘I extract honey the old-fashioned way,’ Maria said. ‘I like to be as hands-on as I can be, and it’s also the cheapest way to get the honey, rather than spending money on equipment that makes life easier but just makes people lazy, I think.’ They hauled the bucket into the middle of the kitchen floor and left it there while Maria pulled out more food buckets of the same size, a large metal spoon, bowls, knife and a large metal strainer. ‘The trick is to get it as soon as possible once you’ve taken it from the hive, because it will still be warm and runny, at almost human body temperature.’
Maria placed one of the frames inside a big stainless-steel bowl holding it vertically, and worked a sharp knife down over the surface, the wax caps falling into the dish, releasing the honey. Her heart rate increased with the effort, her biceps complaining a touch with the resistance from the wax. You had to work hard to win the prize—bees had a lot of defence systems to get through. Then she placed the strainer over the bucket and rested
the frame on them, and with her spoon began to scrape down the remaining wax and honey into a big, sticky orange mess.
‘Gravity is our friend here,’ she said, puffing slightly. ‘We’ll leave the honey to strain into the bucket overnight and tomorrow there will be clean wax on top,’ she touched the strainer, ‘and beautiful honey in the bottom.’
‘What about those?’ Tansy asked, pointing to the heap of caps in the first bowl.
‘These we wrap in some muslin cloth and hang over another bucket and wait for the honey to drip out.’ Maria smiled. ‘And then we bottle it all and take it to market to sell for the Cambodian children.’
‘It’s gorgeous,’ Tansy said.
Leo took a turn then, carefully lifting the second frame and repeating what Maria had shown them while she made subtle adjustments to his technique. He listened closely to her instructions and asked thoughtful questions. She liked him even more.
‘It’s been so nice having you here,’ she said suddenly. ‘Both of you. I’ve taken great pleasure in passing on my bee knowledge to you. I regret now that I haven’t done more of that, run workshops and so on. People could have come and stayed here for a weekend and I could have taught them how to start a hive. The bees are running out of time.’
‘You still could,’ Tansy said, leaning against the kitchen bench, leaving Leo to do the muscle work. ‘There’s a growing bee awareness out there. Everywhere I look now, I see bees. It would be a great time to start and a way to raise even more money for the orphanage.’
Maria shook her head and washed her hands under the tap, the honey dissolving and disappearing down the drain. ‘I’ll be going away soon,’ she said quietly.
‘What do you mean?’ Tansy passed her the knife and spoon to wash too.
‘I have to confess to the police what I’ve done.’
Leo turned to face them then, confused. Tansy flicked a quick look his way but waved a hand at him to tell him not to get involved.
‘What? No, you don’t. Why would you do that?’ Tansy said, her voice high-pitched.
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