Tell It To The Bees

Beatrice kept up with the old tradition. She gave them all the family news . . .

OF course the wedding reception must be here,” Beatrice told her youngest sister on the phone. “I won’t hear of you moving it. OK, bye.” Bea put the phone down. Her other three sisters, all sitting round the diningroom table, looked at her.

“Was that Karen about the wedding?” Helen asked casually.

Bea frowned. She wasn’t buying the coincidence that Karen had phoned just as the other three had “dropped in”.

A honey bee had somehow found its way into the kitchen. It buzzed around in growing panic, bumping off the window. Bea waited till it settled, then gently trapped it with a glass and piece of card before releasing it through the open kitchen door.

“Yes,” she said. “Can you believe she suggested they have the reception elsewhere?”

Helen took a deep breath.

“Actually, we were all talking about the wedding last week. Karen’s found this really nice hotel with gorgeous grounds. To be honest, she seems to have her heart quite set on it for the reception.”

Millie and Amanda nodded but Bea laughed.

“That’s crazy! Everyone knows it was Mum’s dream to have the wedding reception here.”

“That’s just it,” Amanda said carefully. “It was

Mum’s dream. I don’t think Karen was ever that keen, but with Mum ill, she went along with it. Now she’s beginning to consider other options.”

“She can’t just change her mind,” Bea protested.

“She’s the bride,” Millie said tentatively. “It’s her prerogative to change her mind.”

She looked at the others for support.

“That’s right,” Amanda said. “Besides, Karen’s worried that having the wedding here might be too much for you, with everything you’ve been through this year.”

“We’ve all been through it,” Bea argued.

“We don’t just mean Mum,” Helen replied, “though it’s true you did the bulk of the caring at the end. But you’ve had moving house and leaving work, and settling the kids at the new school.

“We just think having the wedding here might be too much for you.”

“It won’t be,” Bea said stubbornly.

Millie tried another tack. “Have you considered it might be too much for Karen? All the memories?”

Bea looked down at the table.

“The memories are what will make it so special.”

“Just hear Karen out,” Amanda urged. “She’s entitled to have her big day the way she wants it.” Bea sighed but nodded. “OK, I’ll talk to her. You could have just said something, you know. You didn’t have to stage an intervention!”

The three younger sisters smiled.

“It’s not an intervention,” Helen said. “We actually came to talk about your fortieth birthday.”

“That will definitely be here,” Bea said firmly.

“We thought you might like to do something different, like go away for a break, just the five of us. Maybe even abroad for a few days?”

Bea was aghast. Christmas, Easter and big birthdays were always celebrated here on the farm!

“It’s just an idea. Will you think about it?”

This was ridiculous. Bea couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Surely she wasn’t the only one to see how important it was to keep the traditions alive now Mum and Dad were both gone?

“Thanks, but I’ll stick to the original plan and have it here. Now, try some honey cake.” She cut four thick slices. “I’m thinking of taking some samples round the local tearooms, to see if they’re interested in selling it.”

Helen ate a forkful and closed her eyes. “Gorgeous.” “Tastes like heaven,” Millie said.

Bea grinned. “Mum’s recipe. She was going to try to sell the cakes before she got ill, to bring in a little extra income.”

“She did say that,” Amanda said. “But Mum talked about a lot of things. She hardly ever followed any of them through, though.”

“What are you saying?” Bea was indignant.

“I’m just wondering if you’re doing this because you want to, or because Mum wanted to.”

There was quite a bit of truth in what she said but Bea didn’t want to listen.

“We can’t just let her ideas die.”

The silence in the kitchen stretched. “She’s gone, Bea,” Helen said gently. “Maybe it’s time we started forming new traditions of our own.” Bea started gathering plates.

“There’s nothing wrong with the old ones.”

****

Half an hour later, as her sisters were leaving, they each gave Bea a hug.

“Take care of yourself. We’re worried about you. You look exhausted.”

Bea washed up the tea things, gazing out the window at their mum’s beautiful cottage garden, vibrant with flowers and alive with the hum of bees.

When Dad died, Mum had sold most of the land, but had been content to live here on her own with her beehives.

Growing up here had been idyllic. Bea and her sisters had all married and moved away but had loved coming to visit. The house was always filled with laughter.

After Mum died, though, no-one wanted to live so far out of town.

Bea felt it was her duty to keep everyone together. She persuaded her husband Richard to move here, though it meant giving up her admin job at the local college.

She missed the hustle and bustle of a busy office, but wasn’t this view worth it? Yes, the kids missed their friends and the shops and the cinema, but they’d make new friends and they’d be off to college in a few more years, anyway.

If Richard found the long commute a challenge, he didn’t complain.

Sometimes, though, Bea caught him looking at her as if he had something on his mind. He never said anything, and she never asked if there was anything wrong.

How could anyone not love living here? This house was her parents’ dream. The idea of giving it up was unthinkable.

A knock at the door made her jump.

“Beatrice, how are you?” Stella Summers was an old friend of Mum’s and Bea wanted her advice.

“I’m fine, Mrs Summers.” “You look tired, dear.” “It’s been a difficult year,” Bea admitted.

“It has,” Mrs Summers agreed sadly. “Your mum would be so proud of all of you and how you’ve managed. Now, what’s the problem with the beehives?”

They both donned protective clothing and walked down the hill, past the stream and into the wildflower meadow where five hives were dotted about.

Bea pointed one out. “This was Mum’s very first hive. She swore that the honey from this hive tasted better than any of the others. The bees used to be so placid, but this year, well, see for yourself.”

Angry bees poured out of the hive and began to buzz around their heads.

Well protected by her clothing, Mrs Summers didn’t light the smoker which would make the bees drowsy and easier to handle. Instead she stood, calmly watching the hive.

“Do you still keep up the old traditions?” she asked after a moment.

“Of course,” Bea said. “I look after them just the way Mum did.”

“And do you tell the bees your news?” Mrs Summers smiled.

Bea smiled, too. Her whole family had been brought up with the folklore of telling the bees the news.

“Every day, just like Mum did. They know all about Karen’s wedding plans, though I’ve yet to tell them about her crazy idea about having the reception in some hotel.

“I’ve told them that Amanda finally listened to me and dumped that boyfriend who never had a proper job. And just this morning I told them that I’d persuaded Millie to study medicine instead of archaeology. I mean, who makes a living as an archaeologist?”

She heard her voice rising and stopped herself.

“Sorry. But yes, I tell them everything.”

Mrs Summers looked at her.

“The bees are very agitated,” she observed quietly.

“I know. That’s why I was so worried.”

Mrs Summers lit the smoker and waited a few minutes for the bees to quieten before lifting the top off the hive.

“Goodness, look at all this honey!”

Bea did. There was a lot, more than she had seen in the other hives.

“Wow! They’ve been busy.”

Mrs Summers gently picked up a few bees and examined them.

“There’s no sign of disease that I can see. In my opinion, these bees are simply exhausted. That’s why they’re so unsettled. They’ve been working overtime to please their queen.”

Bea looked at the bees still buzzing angrily around her head, glad of the veil that kept them from reaching her. Then she looked at the magnificent harvest of honey.

“There’s so much! More than enough to last all winter. Why don’t they just slow down and enjoy it now?”

“I don’t think the queen will let them.”

“That’s crazy. If she’s working them too hard, they need to take a rest.”

“They can’t,” Mrs Summers said. “They don’t have a choice. Their queen is everything to them and they’ll do whatever she asks of them, even if it causes them harm.”

Bea frowned.

“They could just leave. They don’t need to put up with that.”

“Oh, they will.” Mrs Summers replaced the top of the hive. “I expect they’ll swarm soon. You’ll need to watch for that or you’ll lose them for ever. They’ll set up a new hive, with a new queen.”

****

Bea was quiet as she walked up the hill and saw Mrs Summers off. She turned to give the house a long hard look. This place had been her parents’ dream. But was it hers? Or Richard’s?

A bee buzzing in the lavender drew her attention. She stared at it for a long time. The significance of Mum’s favourite hive being the one to cause the problems hadn’t escaped her.

Had she been too busy telling the bees her news to stop and listen to what the bees were telling her?

Queen Bea, the family called her, but suddenly the nickname didn’t seem quite so affectionate.

In the kitchen, Bea made herself a cup of tea and sank into a chair. The truth was, she was exhausted.

She was running the house, running the kids around everywhere, working hard to keep the extended family together.

But was her fussing actually driving them away?

Stirring some honey into her tea, Bea did some long, hard thinking. She would sit down with Richard tonight for a heart to heart. Then she’d gather her siblings for a serious talk.

And she’d listen, really listen, to what everyone had to say.

It wasn’t her job to run everyone’s lives, to make decisions that affected the whole family. This place could still be a holiday home for the family to enjoy. Or they could rent it out. Or sell it. There were many options, but Bea had been so busy she had only seen one.

Maybe some time away to reconnect with her sisters wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

And once they’d all talked – everyone, not just her – they’d all go and tell the bees their decision. n

“In my opinion, these bees are simply exhausted”