I asked her if she still had the cockerel as I hadn’t heard him for a while. No, she said and then explained how a friend of her daughter’s had wanted one and instead of taking the younger one he’d gone for the older one. We only want it as an ornament, he’d told her. We won’t want him to do anything. The younger one clearly isn’t as vocal. She wasn’t sorry to see the old one go. He was a nasty bugger, she said. I’d never heard her use a swear word before, it sounded odd. She laughed. Apparently he’d started flying at them. I had to use a stick to keep him away, she said. The rabbit no longer troubles them as all the ‘fine’ beans are now gone. She’s eaten them all. There must be a nice fat rabbit out there on that field, I said. Yes, she said, we like to watch them. Nevertheless, she is sorry about the loss of the beans. They were coming lovely, she said.
I worry about the ethics of relaying these snippets of our conversations. But I hope she won’t mind, and will see it as a tribute, a sharing of the warmth I feel for her. Love, actually.
