The Willows and Beyond (19 page)

“Yes, Ratty, yes, of course it does,” said the Mole, casting himself down before the fire once more, not sure what to say to his friend in this strange, distracted mood.

Certainly, there was no doubt in the Mole’s mind that Ratty was still lacking in good spirits. Why, over the next few weeks even the Sea Rat could not seem to raise him up, nor the Badger when he came by. As for Mr Toad, his chatter and banter had finally seemed to leave Ratty more irritable than before.

By the time March came in and brought with it storms and rain and sudden chills, and a rising of the River to dangerous levels that had the Rat and the Otter much perturbed, it seemed to the Mole that if only the Rat could be got safely to spring he would be all right once more, and all along the River Bank would see the real Ratty again.

When the River’s level began to drop the Mole hoped the tide had turned in the Rat’s favour. The days grew lighter, the sky brighter, and the catkins tumbled into the River in the more blustery winds.

“It’s almost spring, Ratty!” the Mole would say each day. “Why the blackthorn blossom’s out upon the hedgerows in the lane by Mole End! I wish you would come and see it!”

Then came a day, a happy day, when the Mole found the Rat sitting out on his porch, watching the River’s flow.

“You see, spring
is
in the air!” said the Mole. “You look so much better for some fresh air!”

Yet the Mole wished it were truly so, for the fact was that the Rat looked old now, and unhappy, and as he stared at the River the old light of excitement in his eyes had gone, as it had gone in some strange way from the River as well, where once the surface had seemed to dance with reflections of sun and sky, of dawning light and fading day.

Nevertheless, after that, the Rat was always out when the Mole came by, sitting and staring, standing and watching, as if trying to recapture something he had lost.

“It’s almost spring, but not quite!” the Rat declared one day, adding, “And it
is
almost time for our first boat—trip of the year, eh Mole!”

How cheered the Mole was to hear him say such a thing, so much indeed that it brought tears to his eyes.

“You’ll really venture out on the River then, when the weather’s warmer?”

“And why not, Mole, why not?” said the Rat robustly, working as hard at raising his own spirits as at responding to Mole’s. “I may have had a bad winter but I can feel the sap rising all about, and this touch of sun on my face and that blossom on the bank makes me believe I’ll be fit enough to venture out, with a little help from Young Rat with launching the boat, and yourself with the oars. Why you’re quite a dab hand yourself at sculling these days.”

For some reason this moved the Mole greatly.

“There, there, old fellow, there’s no need for tears,” said the Rat gruffly “I would just like to say that I may have been a little distant all these gloomy weeks past, but there’s not been a day when I’ve not counted my blessings to have you aboard as a friend. You know that well enough, I daresay.”

“There’s no need, Ratty, really no need.”

The following dawn, when the Mole awoke, he knew even before he had opened his eyes that spring was suddenly upon them. Why, there was no doubt of it, none at all, for he could scent it in the air, and hear it in the breeze, and see it in the bright colour of the sky that met his eyes when he opened his curtains.

“Nephew? Nephew! Rise and shine, for the first day of spring has come. Rise and —“

But Nephew was up and ready with two poached eggs on toast for his uncle, just as he liked them, and a pot of tea that would be brewed to perfection once the Mole had consumed the first egg and was contemplating the second, which was when he generally poured his first cup of tea.

“Will you be—?”

“I am and we shall!” said the Mole. “Just as soon as I have made up the last few things for that luncheon-basket I have had all ready and waiting these long weeks past.”

“Will Ratty be ready, do you suppose?” said Nephew.

The Mole laughed gently.

“He said to me as I left him yesterday that we should go afloat together once more, and surely today is the day!”

The Mole could resist going outside no longer and flung open the door that spring might enter their home at last.

“Just look and listen to that!”

For the birds were thronging and busy with song, and in the field the rabbits, so long dormant and only lately beginning to be active once more, were up and nibbling their way about the pasture, startled for a moment at the Mole’s exclamations of delight as he stood upon his porch.

“O yes,” said the Mole with touching certainty, “Ratty will have long since been up and about, working at his boat, and he’ll be impatient for my arrival.”

The Mole was not disappointed. He and Nephew walked down the path with the picnic gear and, sure enough, there was the Rat humming to himself on the other side of the River, working on his boat, which had been hauled up onto the bank.

“I’ll leave you both to it, Uncle,” said Nephew and with that he was gone, glad to see the world was coming to rights once more.

“Ratty!” called the Mole from across the River.

“Hullo, Mole! Thought I’d see you this morning,” responded the Rat, “in fact I was sure I would, for it feels to me that spring is here at last.”

“Yes,” said the Mole happily, sensing that something of the old Ratty had returned.

“I won’t be a jiffy, old chap. Just waiting for Young Rat to come back from the Hall, where he stayed last night, so that he can give me a hand getting the boat into the water. Time was when I did it myself without difficulty, but these days…”

“We’re all getting older, Ratty,” said the Mole, sitting down upon the basket, content to wait awhile and watch the River flow by.

It was not long before Young Rat came along, and with a shove and a heave the two of them got the Rat’s boat afloat. Then the youngster quickly sculled across to the Mole, securely stowed away his basket and blankets and brought him back across the River to where Ratty awaited, puffing at his pipe.

“You can take her out, Mole,” he said, “and I’ll be passenger, for the River’s not so spry that she’ll give you trouble, and I’m still a little stiff Maybe I’ll bring her back downstream later in the day”

Then Young Rat set the Mole up with the oars, settled Ratty down with a blanket about his knees and climbed nimbly ashore.

“I was nearly forgetting, Cap’n,” he said before letting go of the painter, “Pa’s written you this letter.”

Then, having handed it to the Rat, and pushed the boat out into the water, he watched with a critical eye as the Mole struggled at the oars.

“Take it more gently more slowly Mr Mole, sir, and the River’ll do the work for you!” he cried, just as the Rat had often done.

In no time at all the Mole had found his stroke again and even found time to wave goodbye.

The Rat was too pre-occupied with the sights and sounds and scents of being afloat again after so very long to want to read a letter just then, so he stuffed it in his pocket, saying, “It can wait till we stop for lunch.”

“I hope you agree that upstream is best to start with, Ratty?” said the Mole.

The Rat nodded his agreement, for it was the way they had always gone, and any other would have been unthinkable, though the oarsman always asked.

“Best picnic spots that way,” said the Mole as he set to at the oars.

“By far the best,” agreed the Rat.

“It
must
be the first day of spring!” cried one rabbit on the bank to another later. “Mr Ratty’s abroad in his boat, and he’s got Mr Mole with him as usual.”

This happy refrain was heard again and again along the River Bank all morning, as the sun slowly rose and warmed the air, bringing with it the promise of new life for beast and bird, insect and fish, glad to say farewell to the old and bitter winter that had now passed on, and give happy welcome to the new season just begun.

From time to time Mole and Ratty waved a greeting to those they passed by upon the River Bank, but for the most part they were lost in their own slow world of water and spring sunlight, of sky and shade, and of the creak of oar and plash of blade on the River’s shining surface.

Sometimes they dawdled, sometimes turned; sometimes the Mole felt inclined to take them a little faster, and at others to drift back down the River for a while. But mostly they talked, or if they did not talk, then the Rat puffed at his pipe and the Mole dreamed, and if they did none of those things they just
were,
together and companionable.

“Do you remember the first time I took you this way?” said Ratty.

“And how I made a mess of things and you had to rescue me — and you said then, as I recall, that there was nothing quite like messing about in boats and I — ignorant as I was — rather doubted you!?”

Laughter and memory filled their talk, for there was not a stretch of the River Bank they had not in some way shared together, and though the Mole had come rather later to River life, and to his abiding friendship with the Rat, they had more than made up for it in the many seasons since.

When the Rat spoke of such things to others, which was not often because that was not his way, he always said that without the Mole along to point out new things, to argue with over a point all afternoon and to share a fretful thought concerning others along the Bank, life would not have been half so rich and joyful.

Toad saw them coming along the River that day He was stretched out in his chaise longue on his terrace at the time, thinking that if someone or other did not stand up and shout “It’s spring at last!” he would, when he espied Ratty’s boat and knew that they had made the declaration better than he ever could.

He hurried down to greet them and invite them ashore, but they preferred to stay where they were and talk to him while bobbing about upon the water, for they wanted to go on a little before they took their luncheon.

“At least take a bottle of champagne,” suggested Toad, but the Mole declined, saying that which Toad knew well already, that champagne went to his head and, after all, he
was
in charge of the boat that day.

“Well, well, it’s good to see you up and about once more, Ratty, and next time you come along I shall insist — absolutely insist! — that you moor your modest craft by my boat-house and I take you for a spin in my motor-launch.”

The Rat smiled and said he certainly would when the weather was warmer, though if Toad did not mind it might be wiser if Young Rat took the helm.

“Whatever you say, Ratty!” cried the cheerful Toad. “Now, luncheon calls me too.”

So they parted, the one for a dining room and a butler to serve, the others for the verdure of the River Bank, and a basket filled with all the components of a luncheon as fine in its way as any that graced a great hall’s table.

“To Toad!” cried the Mole at the end of their repast, for he had not forgotten to bring a bottle of his best Sloe and Blackberry, which, though too sweet for a main course, did very well with pudding.

“To Ratty and to Mole!” cried Toad, standing at the open window of his dining room in Toad Hall. “And to the first day of spring!”