Sweet Hole

I felt an enormous sense of relief and homecoming to be back in the Dulverton house. I had been away more than 4 months, and in that time spring had turned to summer, and the garden desperately needed a lot of work. Over the next week I spent most of a working day in the garden, and Ben and Sophie kindly cooked and prepared meals for us.

Sophie was also busy with commitments to her University, and their attempts to organise a new academic year with all the uncertainties that still hung over what would be happening. There were lots of online conferences and documents to read, as well as the subject reading that she needed to do to keep abreast of current research and thinking, with all the note-taking and revision of lecture notes this gave rise to.

Fortunately I had just finished dealing with an editor’s comments on my latest work, which was the ghosted autobiography of a forty-something t.v. ’personality’, considered, by someone worthy of paying for. By contrast I was looking forward to my next work, which was a commission for a new biography of an early twentieth century novelist now believed to have been seriously undervalued.

Ben was very busy: The National Park had seen a huge increase in visitor numbers, and unfortunately not all of them respected the park in the way it needs. So a lot of his time was spent clearing up the leftovers of illegal camping and littering.

From this you will see that we were all quite busy, and it wasn’t until the weekend that Sophie and I gave ourselves a break. For Ben the weekend was when the rangers could least afford to take time off. There are loads of lovely walks around Dulverton, and we set off to walk to Hawkridge along the Exe Valley Way, largely through woodland and along the river. We were talking about my next project, with Sophie feeding in her perspective on the historic significance of this author on universal suffrage and women’s rights. I loved these conversations, not only because they fed into what I was doing in my work, but also her comments were always drawing from the particular character that I was studying to the broader context.

We then fell to talking about our neighbour Joan. The two houses were only a few yards apart, set at different angles, and then there were no other houses that we could see in any direction. We had been neighbours since we bought the house in 1997. Geoff and Joan had already been there for twelve years. We got on well from the start. Their two children were a bit older than ours, but they all got on pretty well, bar the occasional temporary falling out. It was a great place to grow up they all agreed. The town was only a ten minute walk away along footpaths, and there was accessible open space all around.

”So what was your particular relationship to Joan? I’ve noticed that you seem to have a very relaxed and warm kind of rapport. Is she older than you?” Sophie wanted to know.

”Yes, she is older, but by how much I couldn’t tell you. Geoff died two years before Diana, who was already quite poorly herself. The two women had always been close, and during that two years they bonded so firmly that they became virtually indispensable to one another. Diana was a moral and practical support when Geoff died. Then Joan often sat with Diana when she was bedridden. When Diana was dying, and after she died, I was mighty glad to have Joan next door.”

”I’m sorry to intrude, but I’d really like to know just how close you are, if you see what I mean,” Sophie persisted.

”You’re asking if we had a sexual relationship, and for a short while we did, but it was probably not what you’d imagine. To be fair to us both I think I’d better write it down.”

”That seems very fair. Particularly following my narrative. Now you can put yourself up for censure!” She was joking, I think, just.

We were in deep woodland at this point, and I suggested that we step into the sylvan gloom a short way to relieve ourselves. I peed against a tree; she crouched down close by. We had never made any attempt to hide ourselves: like little animals we treated it as part of the bonding process, although we never found the need to sniff each other!

When we’d finished and adjusted our clothes I said: ”You see that beech tree over there?” pointing to a fine specimen 15 yards away; ”I want you to go over to it and wrap your arms round it.”

”I didn’t know you were a tree hugger darling.”

”I’m not, but just now I want you to be one.”