The Willows and Beyond (11 page)

In fact, it was Mole’s birthday and Ratty was mischievously enjoying the fact that his friend thought he had forgotten the date altogether. Indeed, he had been careful to make no reference to the Mole’s birthday, and had given no hint of the surprise in store, though he had second thoughts when he saw a brief look of disappointment in the Mole’s eyes when he first saw their little repast and realized there was no obvious sign of extra festivity.

“His surprise and pleasure will be all the greater’ the Rat told himself, hoping that Nephew had risen to the task and even now was preparing Mole End
for
the surprise celebratory tea. To maintain the secret, he had been careful to stow away in his boat the special cake he had made.

He proposed to ferry the Mole back across the River at half past two, at about the time he expected others to begin making their way to Mole End.

Yet any initial disappointment the Mole might have felt had soon evaporated before that mutual feeling of friendship and leisurely enterprise and comfort the two always found together, whatever the circumstances. In any case, he was concerned about the Rat’s health —which was surely much more important than forgetfulness of a birthday! — and he welcomed this opportunity to raise what he knew might be a difficult subject.

“Ratty, dear friend, I was wondering if I might just risk your ire and mention a matter that has worried me concerning your well-being? You have seemed so out of sorts lately”

“Humph!” said the Rat, frowning, for he had no wish to spoil a day that had gone so well with talk of his health.

“No, really, Ratty, if I cannot say what I feel on this subject then who else —“Mole,” said the Rat with sudden and unexpected good humour, “do you not think that one of those excellent chocolate truffles Master Toad thoughtfully brought back from Paris for each of us might just complete an excellent morning’s work doing nothing in particular?”

The Mole could not but agree and allow himself to be diverted for the moment from his purpose. In any case, he and Nephew had long since scoffed all of
their
box whilst the more austere Water Rat appeared to have a good many left.

“Rwatty,” he began a little later (the truffles were large, succulent and gooey, and it was not easy to talk and eat one at the same time), “I yam — I dwoo —just a moment, old fwellow”

The Mole chomped away, nodding his head, rolling his eyes, and trying to make his point by gesture alone, but not succeeding very well.

“What I was trying to say,” he said at last, “is that you really must try to see some sense on this matter and consult a —“Have another, Moly old chap. It’ll help you think about the things that
really
matter.”

The Mole tried not to accept but — but accept he did.

“Well,” he said, “wharr sheems to be impor — impwor — O bwother!”

“Let’s leave that subject, shall we?” said the Rat quietly and firmly.

“Yes, Ratty,” said the Mole meekly, and together they watched the River’s flow. As a light breeze began to make the branches of the willows Opposite tremble, they sat in silence, Ratty dwelling upon their happy yesterdays, the Mole pondering a less certain future.

A long time later, as it seemed, the Rat’s ship’s clock struck half past two, and he announced it was time to take the Mole home.

“It has been a very pleasant morning but the days are drawing in and there’s a moist chill in the air. I must get you back if I am to be home myself before dark.”

“Yes, Ratty,” said the Mole, not yet moving. “Tell me, has the River given you further notice of that warning you sensed some weeks ago?”

“She has,” said the Rat quietly. “I was too tired to accompany him myself, but Otter went upstream to the Town the other day, with Young Rat for company, and looked again at those filthy factories we saw.”

The Mole nodded grimly at the memory.

“It is not good news, Mole. She looks all right to those who see only the reflections of the sun and sky upon her surface. But those of us who look deeper see that she is sick, and hurt. She is ailing, Mole, and I fear matters will get a great deal worse before they ever get better. I never thought I would be glad to say that I am growing old, or that I do not want to know what the future holds in store. But so it is, so it is.”

In this quiet way the Rat intimated to his friend why he had no wish to talk of his health, and that he was as aware as Mole that he was growing old. What did he have to live for if she he loved might already be dying and he unable to do aught about it?

“O Ratty,” whispered the Mole.

They sat in silence a few more moments before the Mole roused himself, stretched and said, “I had not intended to mention it but I would like to do so now and I know you will not take it amiss. Today is my birthday, and I confess I was a little disappointed that you had forgotten it.”

“Why, my dear chap, I really, I mean —“ cried the Rat, quite genuinely lost for words.

“No, no, do not apologize,” said the Mole, raising a hand. “Let me say only that I could think of no better place to spend this day than here, talking just as we have always done.
This
has been my birthday and I am grateful for it. Take me home now, but do not mention what I have said to Nephew, who also forgot. A quiet and modest supper with him and early to bed, that’s all I require.

“Well, Mole,” replied the Rat, recovering his composure and much amused, “I wonder if you will still say so when you put your head upon your pillow tonight. Meanwhile, I am sorry if—”

“Really, no apologies! Now, boatman, ferry me home!”

Mr Toad’s day had started earlier, and had proved a lot less pleasant than Mole and Ratty’s.

He had risen early and after a hearty breakfast dressed himself in his hiking gear, except for his jacket, cap and snow goggles. He was taking a turn about his terrace, alpenstock in hand, when Master Toad finally made his first appearance of the day.

Gone was the youth’s grand resolution of the night before, and desire to be compliant to Toad’s will. Back had come the malingerer, the prevaricator, the maker of excuses — especially when Toad appeared from outside, hale and hearty, and dressed, as it seemed to his ward, in a ridiculous yet intimidating way.

“You cannot mean that I, ‘oo ‘as ‘is clothes fitted by the most chic houses in Paris should wear such monstrosities as these?” he exclaimed.

“Sensible and practical they are,” declared Toad, “and you will get used to them.”

“What time this afternoon do you propose we go ‘iking?” he asked his guardian unenthusiastically. “I am weakening rapidly and before long I fear my knees will not be able to support my weight and regretfully I shall ave to rest.

“That
is
a shame,” said Toad, “and I would not want to put you to the trouble of climbing stairs in such a state, but I have something I bought specially for you, and have left it in my bed-chamber. But if you are too weak —“

Master Toad, who rather liked gifts and suchlike, rose with alacrity, saying, “Only
later
will I be so weak, but for now —With that, and driven by the same greed that afflicts so many indulged youths of the wealthier classes, he scampered up the stairs, two at a time.

A short time later he returned looking crestfallen, carrying the pair of hobnail boots Toad had left out for him, along with a handwritten tag that read:
For Master Toad, on the occasion of his first hike.

“In view of the fact that weakness will beset you later today,” said the ruthless Toad, “and that you still have enough strength in your legs to bound up the stairs, I suggest we leave at once. Finish your breakfast, put on these hiking clothes and report to the gun room!”

“But, Pater,” cried the defeated youth. “My studies, my work!”

“Pooh to that!” said Toad. “I’ll see you in five minutes.” Master Toad found his guardian ready and waiting, and greatly to his surprise carrying a haversack a great deal larger than the one intended for himself.

“Put that on your back and follow me,” said Toad tersely, pointing to the lesser one.

Master Toad grudgingly complied, hoisting the wretched thing onto his back with a curious twisting contortion, and a strangled grunt.

“Where are we going?” he panted as he was led round the corner of the house towards the garden terrace, sweat already breaking out upon his youthful brow.

This seemed a reasonable enough question to ask, but Toad gave it a strange response.

“I want no moaning or grumbling! I want no insubordination! Follow my lead without question and we will get there.”

He was following Colonel Wheeler’s injunction to leaders not to show their hands too soon to those they lead. That warning had been given lest a leader lose his way and the party become demoralized, but Toad knew perfectly well where he was going. Indeed he was greatly looking forward to reaching Mole End and intended to be there when the surprise birthday party was due to begin — but first he planned to take Master Toad to wilder parts for some instruction in the skills of hiking.

So it was that Toad found himself leading his young and increasingly rebellious ward across his garden, a terrain that till that moment had been perfectly familiar to both of them, but which with loads upon their shoulders suddenly seemed full of steep hills and treacherous hollows, and decidedly alien. To make it worse, for the special occasion of the Mole’s birthday Toad had impulsively thrown three bottles of champagne and some cheeses into their haversacks, which weighed them down more than he might have expected.

Toad had decided upon the Wild Wood as the site most suitable for the instruction he intended to give in the arts of mountain navigation, scrambling and rope-work, the techniques of traversing glaciers and climbing sheer ice walls — and other skills Colonel Wheeler deemed it wise for expedition leaders to impart to their followers. That the Wild Wood had no such natural features was rather a relief to the indolent Toad. Yet he felt sure that with a bit of imagination, the large and ancient oak trees would do for the climbing, and the root-veined forest floor would double up for glaciers.

A short while later, they had made their way, with not a little difficulty, over the great hill that was the Iron Bridge, to the edge of the Wild Wood. Then, peering into its dark interior, eyeing its shifting shadows, listening to the eerie sounds from within of the crying and baying of predatory creatures, and the hisses and whispers of sinister ones, Toad immediately had second thoughts. A fact which Master Toad very quickly surmised, suggesting that a walk along the bank in the direction of Ratty’s house might serve best to orientate them to the new world of the expeditionary.

“We might ‘ave a cup of tea with Mr Ratty,” his ward dared suggest.

“Exactly what I had in mind, dear fellow, but I would be obliged if you would leave the leading to me and the following to yourself!” said the self-important Toad, taking the path alongside the Wild Wood, and averting his eyes from its threatening interior.

For a short while their hike became almost pleasant, but all too soon their haversacks grew heavier on their backs once more, and the two adventurers began to find that even this most familiar and normally trouble-free of paths presented unexpected difficulties and dangers. In no time at all Toad had strayed far from the River and found himself among bramble bushes a good deal higher than himself. In consequence he got quite lost, fell into muddy dikes (six times, the same one twice), tripped over his trusty alpenstock (times without number) and finally managed to entangle both of them in his climbing rope in a thicket.

It was as they sat back to back, struggling to free themselves, that a cloud obscured the sun, all suddenly grew gloomy and Toad realized how far they had strayed into the Wild Wood. The brambles of the River Bank had been left far behind, and were replaced now by the twists and contortions of old yew trees and bent beech, amongst which the more ancient trees of oak and elm, which it had been his original intention to utilize for climbing practice, rose up like malevolent giants.

A chill wind seemed to blow up from nowhere, even as those shrieks and cries, those shifting sounds and shadowy forms that they had been seeking to avoid all morning, redoubled in intensity.

“Toad!” whispered a voice from a nearby thicket.

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” mocked another voice from amongst the rotting branches of a fallen tree, where Toad was sure he espied the blinking of black shiny eyes and the glint of sharp teeth.

Then, in a lower whining weaselly-stoatish kind of voice, “Young toads, we like ‘em: we marinate ‘em, we roast ‘em and eat ‘em up! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

Whether or not Toad heard this last was doubtful for he was already in a blind panic, but Master Toad heard the threats, or thought he did, and cried, “Mr Toad, what shall we do? We are lost! We shall die! They will ‘ave us for tea!”

Not for the first time since he had assumed his wardship of Master Toad, Toad discovered in himself resources he did not know he had.