Her thoughts circled round and around, squashing her awareness. She darted here and there under the Oak Tree, lacking focus.
‘I can’t trust them; I can’t trust anyone!’
Edna huffed aloud, gathering close a few more dropped acorns. Internally her voice droned on What is the point of forgiveness without trust? I can’t trust her, she who called herself my friend, not now, not after what she did. It’s all very well saying that other people’s wrongdoing is their problem not yours, but her wrongdoing is about me. It’s all about me. I nearly starved last winter. Edna bristled her tail with indignation. And what for? So that she and Stan, my Stan, could cosy up, just the two of them. Well, as for Stan, weak. A wobbly, weak-willed, wabitt of a squirrel who is only interested in his own nuts, she’s welcome to him.
Oak, groaned with the anguish of it all. It could be tough being a tree, all these troubled souls expecting so much of him. These dam squirrels and their winter hoards, if it wasn’t for them, he could take a rest every now and again. A rest from producing thousands of acorns in the hope that at least some would survive to grow past his demise. He yawned his way into speech. Leaves shook as bark cracked wide.
‘Well, I can trust, I can trust you and them to rob me blind, year in, year out, without fail, with never a word of thanks, just sneaking off with the babies every Autumn.’ Even Edna stopped her worriting, open-mouthed for once.
‘It all depends, doesn’t it trust, I mean on what you expect from it. Every year I forgive you after every theft. If I didn’t, I’d be angry, angry and miserable, a bit like you, and when you stir up an Oak Tree well …’
Ominous cracks high above as Oak flexed his muscles made Edna flinch.
‘I trust you to follow your gathering instincts and I trust myself to provide, to meet the needs, to be enough. So, stop your moaning, trust yourself, forgive, forget about them and move on … at least you can move, on.’
Edna shuffled over to Oak, spread her tiny arms as wide as she could and hugged Oak tightly.
‘Thank you’ she said. ‘Thank you Oak, for being you, for being there for us, we need you. I’m going to make sure to drop a few acorns in the right places every time I build my hoards.’ Oak blushed a bushel of copper that fluttered to the ground, concealing many of his potential progeny.
‘Hoards?’ He grunted, ‘Plural?’
‘Yes, well you know what they say, Once robbed, twice the stashing.’ Just as Edna was about to return to her squirrelling, she heard a languorous gravelly voice from her distant past call out to her, well, pre-Stan at least.
‘Need a hand there Edna, peut-être?
Instantly, her heart softened and she turned to face Pierre. Elegant, debonair, Pierre.
‘Oh,’ she murmured with her most seductive smile, ‘you’re back, well, I don’t mind if you do, uh, lend a hand … ’ It was Edna’s turn to blush.
Stan, watching from a high bough noticed them leave wistfully. ‘Edna is so lovely,’ he sighed, although a small part of him couldn’t help wondering where she might cache this year’s bounty. Oak smiled with his half-century of knowing and shook his head to gently release a fresh shower of nuts and Stan was back to gathering, for a squirrel’s desire to accumulate, is its most seductive habit.