The Willows in Winter (13 page)

The one and only light that Badger could
discern in the dark tunnel into which he had been plunged by Toad’s abduction
of the flying machine and Rat, and his wild ascent into the heavens, was that
Rat might still be alive.

Whether or not Toad was alive seemed to matter
not one whit to the Badger now. If Toad was alive and well — and it would not
surprise Badger one bit if he were —then he, Badger, would personally make sure
that the wretched animal was never allowed to darken the portals of Toad Hall
again, or sully the banks of the river.

“He shall be banished! He shall be persona non
grata
! He shall —” Thus the Badger had fumed for a very
long time.

But far more important was the possibility that
the tiny dark object that he and several others had seen falling from the
flying machine over the Wild Wood, whose rapid downward descent had been
arrested by the opening of a parachute (after what had seemed a period of
several lifetimes to those watching it), might be the Water Rat.

“It
must
be Water Rat!” declared the
Badger as that distant black object drifted beyond the Wild Wood and then out
of sight.

“As for that — that animal,
that
disgrace
to us all, that Toad,” he growled, watching as the flying
machine disappeared in the opposite direction, its engine restarted and
purring high in the sky once more, “beware the wrath of Badger!”

But the Badger was not the only one who had
watched Toad’s flight in mounting alarm and dismay, for the Otter had also
witnessed events. He had seen and heard the first flight, just as the others
had, and as his searches for Mole had thus far been in vain he had come to much
the same conclusion as the Badger and the Rat, and headed for Toad Hall.

His passage there across the fields was much
slower, however, and he still had some distance to go when he saw the flying
machine careering towards him, and spotting Toad himself at the helm deduced in
a trice all that had happened. Then, watching open-mouthed, he followed the
fatal flight, and observed that same black dot falling through the sky, and the
machine’s revival into life in mid-air before its disappearance eastwards.

Full of wonder and dismay, the Otter wearily
made his way to Toad Hall, where he joined the Badger and Mole’s Nephew
Together they re-organised the search, one party under the Otter’s leadership
to continue the hunt for the Mole, the other led by the Badger himself, to see
if they could find the Rat and discover whether, as seemed likely, he needed
help.

The Badger’s mood was bleak as he pressed on through the wilderness of
the south-west reaches of the Wild Wood, beyond which Rat (as they hoped it
would prove to be) had been seen to disappear. In the space of half a day the
Badger had been torn from the comfort and security of his home, and had then
proceeded to lose his closest friends in Mole and Rat; and Toad was gone as
well.

“Toad!”
fulminated
the
Badger again, as he crashed on through the undergrowth, thrusting aside a huge
raft of unkempt bramble, with the terrified weasels and stoats in his wake.

“And Toad again!” he growled, kicking a rotting
log out of the way.

“Toad one more time!” he snarled, tearing aside
a holly bush and marching on, as behind him his helpers muttered “That terrible
Toad!” and “Most shocking Toad!” and “Very insufferable Toad!”

The Badger heard all this, and it did not
improve his temper at all, for he could detect in their “
terrible’s
”, and their “
shocking’s
”
and most definitely in their “
insufferable’s
” a vein
that ran counter to what they seemed to mean. A vein, in short, of respect,
admiration and downright awe for a creature whose rebellious and radical spirit
they had long since concluded was gone forever, but which they had now seen
resurrected Phoenix-like with the flight — the terrible flight — of the flying
machine.

To add still more to the Badger’s ill-humour,
and the ferocity with which he attacked any obstacle in his way as he sought
out the Rat, was the reluctant acceptance that in his heart there was a morsel,
perhaps only a mite, of liking and respect for Toad. Without Toad, after all,
what would he and his more reasonable and sober friends have had to talk about
all these years, and vent their occasional irritation on?

Without Toad there would indeed have been a lot
less colour about the place, as that most worthy and reasonable of animals, the
Mole himself, had quietly said on more than one occasion.

Now, it seemed, Toad was gone forever, or if he
was not, and it was Toad they were now searching for and not the Rat, then Toad
might as well
be gone forever as far as the Badger was concerned. Which
left a little sadness in the Badger’s heart, for terrible, shocking and
insufferable as Toad indubitably was
,
he meant no harm
by what he did. It was not all his fault, for what hope could there be for an
animal as irredeemably self-centred as he was?

“That Toad!” declared the Badger, thrusting his
way through the last swathes of undergrowth of the Wild Wood and emerging into
the daylight that illuminated the frosty ploughed fields before him, and the
canal beyond.
“That inconvenient Toad!”

But even in that moment all thoughts of Toad
were banished, and all fears and dreads not just for the Rat but for life
itself.

For there, wrapped about the base of an old
gnarled oak that formed part of the distant boundary of the fields, and not far
from the canal itself, were the billowing white folds of a parachute; and
standing on the canal’s edge was the Water Rat, plain as could be, and alive!

It seemed that the Water Rat was too far off to
hear the Badger’s happy call immediately, for he did not respond to it, but
stood stock-still, staring off across the canal as if he had seen something
there from which he could not tear his eyes, not even to turn and greet his
rescuers.

“My dear fellow!” cried the Badger, coming up
to him at last and beginning to think Rat had turned deaf, for he had not
responded to their joyful cries. “It is I and some helpers and we have been
searching for you. I cannot say how glad I am to see you safe and in one piece.
Water Rat, dear chap! It is Badger!”

Only then did the Rat turn to look at his
friend, and at the weasels and stoats accompanying him, but he stared at them
so vaguely, from so strange a distance, that they all stumbled to a halt, and
the Badger said, “Dear fellow, you don’t seem yourself at all.”

“Badger,” said the Rat, shaking his head, “you
have come then?”

“Of course I have come!” cried the Badger.
“When I saw what happened, and your passage through the air, and its arrest to
a safer speed by means of that newfangled thing over there, that —”

“Parachute,” said the Rat quietly, “a wonderful
invention.”

“Yes, well, the parachute,” went on the Badger,
“I naturally hoped it was you, and so we came as soon as we could, not at all
sure what we would find. You seem a little
shaken,
I
must say, and perhaps —”

“I am shaken,” said the Rat quietly, “very
shaken.”

“It can be no pleasant thing to be hurled out
of a flying machine so high above the ground,” said the Badger.

“I didn’t notice that at all,” said the Rat.
“And falling through the air was not unlike swimming through water, which as
you know, Badger, I am well equipped to do.”

“Well then, all is well, all is well,” said the
puzzled Badger.

“I saw
Beyond
,” said
the Rat very quietly.

“Now we had better get back,” said the Badger,
ignoring him. “I fear Mole has not yet been found and Toad —”

“I saw — Toad?
He
was safe enough,” said
the Rat. “Badger, you just don’t seem to understand, I
saw
Beyond
—”

But again the Badger did not hear the plea, or
the wonder, or even the loss in his voice but interrupted him busily, saying,
“Now, it would be better if we did not rest here but back at my home, to where,
by the time we return, I am sure Otter will have sent a report. Is that all
right, Rat? Will you come along now?”

“Come along?” repeated the Rat, looking back
across the canal in a distracted way once more. “Come with you now? Yes, yes, I
suppose I shall. Has Mole not been found then?”

He said this with what seemed almost
indifference, at which the Badger, much perplexed, said with some asperity,
“No, he
isn’t
found, Rat; he is very much unfound. He is lost and
gone.”

“But the river flows on, I daresay,” observed
the Rat
moonily
.

At which the Badger finally decided that the
poor animal was worse affected by the accident that had befallen him than he
had at first thought, and the best thing was to abandon conversation and get
him back somewhere familiar, safe and warm without more ado.

“You are to come to my home, Rat,” said the
Badger gently but firmly, “and there you will be fed and looked after till you
fully recover, which may take weeks, months even. You must sleep and take
things very easily and —”

“Badger —” said the Rat, trying to interrupt
him. “Now, old chap, it’s really best if you don’t try to talk or even think —”

“But, Badger —”

“— because,” continued the Badger
overbearingly, you are not quite well, you see —”

“But —”

“—
so
now we will set
off and discuss things later.”

“Yes, Badger,” said the Water Rat meekly, for
he had given up trying to talk sensibly to his normally sensible friend. “For
now!” he muttered to himself as he obligingly settled in behind Badger on the
long journey home.

The Badger was now quite convinced that the Rat was unstable, or at
least in a bad state of shock, that the Mole was lost for good, and that Toad
was unlikely to return; accordingly he began to behave in what he no doubt felt
was a firm and resolute manner. Decisions must be made, orders given, and
although nothing would now ever be the same, at least things could be returned
to some order and stability if a purposeful course were followed. This became
his dominant and overriding principle, and it rode roughshod over all else, and
appeared quite out of character for the animal all River-bankers had always
thought to be the wisest, the kindest and the most trustworthy they knew.

“Otter,” declared the Badger after a week of
brooding, during which the Rat showed no signs of recovery, but persisted in
speaking of having seen
Beyond
and the wonders that
were there, “we shall have a memorial service for Mole the day after tomorrow.

“You really think that’s for the best, Badger?”
said the Otter doubtfully. “Isn’t it perhaps a little forward? I mean Mole
could still be alive for all we know.

“Could be, could be!” snapped the Badger. “We
must be realistic and face the facts. He has gone from us. He is no more. He
may very well be better off for it, for all I know Meanwhile we are left behind
and must recognise that if Rat is not to go completely out of his mind — and I
have seen similar cases to his where the delusions increase till irreversible
dementia sets in — we must gather together and say goodbye to Mole in a fitting
manner. This may settle Rat back into reality.”

“But —”

“O, not you as
well,
Otter,” cried out
the Badger, in a voice of such irritation that the Otter almost backed away in
surprise. The truth was that the Otter was beginning to think that
he
was
the only normal animal left along the river, now that Toad and Mole had
disappeared, or whatever they had done, and poor old Rat could only mutter
about Beyond, and now the Badger had become quite impossible to talk to, and
determined to do anything rather than do nothing, when nothing, thought Otter,
might very well be the most sensible thing to do.

“We’ll hold the service tomorrow at dusk,” said
the Badger. “We shall gather and celebrate the memory of Mole at the spot where
he gave up his life, that others might live.”

“Yes,”
concurred
the
Otter in a low voice.

“Don’t forget to tell Portly. We must look our
best. I shall instruct the weasels and the stoats in how to comport
themselves.”

“They need to be there, do they?” said the
Otter. “Mole was not especially fond of them,
nor
they
of him. They only helped with the search because you offered them the prospect
of high tea.”

“Tea?
At a time like this?
O wretched animals that they are,” responded the Badger passionately “No —they
do not deserve to be there! Let them skulk in the Wild Wood! The rabbits can
come instead. They will swell the numbers. Now, I must consider all that needs
to be done.”

“Yes, Badger,” said the Otter once more,
catching a sudden glimpse of the Rat who was peering round the guest bedroom
door, for he had been confined to bed and told to rest and sleep. As the Badger
hurried off busily to make his plans the Otter sidled over to the Rat and said,
“I wish you’d come back to us, Rat, and be normal once more. Badger’s gone off
his head. I mean, do you really think Mole’s — er — gone for good?”