Page 21 of The Killing of a Chestnut Tree

Amake frowned at the question. “That is where I grew up, yes.”

Someone passed us by with a basket full of apples.

“Why are Farleigh’s fruits so extraordinary?” I asked.

Up until now, Amake had seemed cautious about us. But this question made her smile. “I think about it often,” she said. “In fact—that’s what drew me to Farleigh in the first place. My husband used to have fruits imported to our house in Lagos, and there was nothing in the world quite like them. When he died, I decided I would come to Farleigh and see for myself what made them so special.” She crouched, and plucked a fallen apple from the earth. “I think it might be that the trees are happy.”

There were words in all of the trees around us.

BRIGHT

STATURE

RESPITE

“What makes you think they are happy?” asked Havelock.

“My husband owned many orchards,” she said. “My family grew up working them. I have seen many trees, planted in strict rows for efficiency. But here, they grow where they like, and they seem to not mind sharing the space at all. I think it might be that their words are not just for us, but for each other. I think they might talk to each other. I think they might be a community.” She bit into her apple, savouring the taste. “I am much happier in a community than I am by myself. So—it stands to reason.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Havelock.

“Me too. What brings you to Farleigh? Are you here for the fruit as well?”

“We’re here about the Duke.”

Amake’s face fell. “Not a fruiting tree, but a terrible loss nonetheless.”

“The Duchess says that you and she have a disagreement.”

“Ah,” said Amake. “I see. And that’s why you’ve come to see me? You think I might have had a hand in it.” She chewed on another mouthful of apple, thoughtfully. “I am happy here,” she said after a moment. “Happier than I have ever been in my life. Happier than I was with my family, or my husband. Here—I am part of a wonderful community of people and trees. I love Farleigh, and I would not do anything to risk my happiness here, even if I do not see eye to eye with the Duchess.”

“If you don’t mind me asking—what is the nature of your disagreement?”

“A simple enough thing. As I told you—I came here from halfway across the world, drawn by the fruit. And what awaited me here was so wonderful that it changed my life—it changed me for the better. I think Farleigh could change many other people for the better, as well. They could be welcomed here, just as I was, and learn what it is to find new ways of loving the world that we are blessed to live in. I would welcome many more people to Farleigh than we do.”

“Heather Fairweather would have Farleigh closed off,” I said.

Amake nodded. “Heather and I are at odds. I understand her fear, and I would certainly be cautious about throwing open the door, but I still believe that knowledge of Farleigh would do much good in the world. I discuss my thoughts with the Duchess often. She believes that we must remain hidden, for the good of the forest. I respect her authority, but I still petition her.” Amake gestured with her apple at us. “What about you both? Do you feel changed by Farleigh?”

Havelock smiled. “I am still gathering my thoughts.”

“Then, perhaps, before you go, you might come back to me, and tell me how your time here has made you feel.”

“We shall.” Havelock tipped his hat. “Oh! I’m told that you have an axe?”

“An axe?” Amake blinked. “Yes. I keep an axe.”

“May I see it?”

“Of course.” Amake led us through the trees. “What use is it to you?”

“The Duke was felled with one.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” I interjected, “why do you keep an axe at all?”

“Sometimes, a tree falls,” said Amake. “Usually, it is the wind. A tree will grow too tall too fast, and winter will come, and a high wind will topple it. They can be impatient to reach the sky, that way. Mostly, we leave fallen trees where they lie. Sometimes they will sprout again. From time to time, a tree will fall through a house, though—or fall in such a way that threatens to topple other trees—and that is when we must intervene. I keep an axe, and some saws, for such an occasion.”

“Grim work,” I remarked.