It was a cold grey November day. The weather was slowly changing into a worldwide freezer; the lake at the rear of the house was still from the enclosed solid ice. The converted barn house was built on the cobblestone road,( a few miles from any civilization.) It was a quiet enclosed building with quiet pigeons; it’s perfect for a quiet family. The whistle of the wind was hushed by the occasional robin that would tweet and sing for hours. The granite sky was bringing the storm inland and the blissfulness and peacefulness was dripping away.
Many a year, my birds flew like swarms of bees through the meadow near the north of the estate. The gardener was a cheery sort of women. She had a wisp of white hair surrounding a sharp small face. A few months before she was diagnosed with cancer, she kept herself in tip top condition, because the doctor said to. Her partner was the butler. Much to the dismay of his wife, his was a talkative sort of chap, with a mop of charcoal hair. His spotless diner suit hung on his skeleton like a coat on a hook. It looked as if it match but was not entirely comfortable. It’s been a few months since his 50th year, but I still see him doing his rounds and marching to each part of the house.
The women of the small village of Malham were all very diverse. For instance one woman had a job with Gordon Brown another is the sister of Katie Price. Others consisted of a doctor, a hairdresser and a farmer’s wife. In last year’s big freeze, we were very much sheltered from the outside and aided the elderly citizens who could not get out of their retirement thatched cottages.
The greens were an unusual family; farmers of the land they worked the land and in turn the land worked them. The family of five had a mum, a dad, two sons and a daughter. The daughter, Emily, was younger than most, even younger than me. At 5 years old, she had the IQ of someone of more experience and maturity. Nevertheless she was smarter than most and prettier than most,...