By Helen E

The bungalow next door stayed empty over spring and summer. The occupant had been a widower like me but increasing frailty forced him to move near his grown-up children. I must write and tell him what was happening with his much-loved home. I had begun to think it would never sell and was relieved when the For Sale sign was taken down and curtains appeared at the windows. I was taken aback when excavators came to scrape away the garden to bare earth. A concrete covering appeared in the front whereas the back was laid down to turf apart from a stark rectangle of naked earth presumably for the householder to plant up. I suppose I was lucky that they hadn’t used astroturf. Oh well, difference makes the world go round and I was quite happy mooching about my own abundant garden. Even then in autumn there was a profusion of squashes while the asters and chrysanthemums were brilliant pops of colour. The trailing honeysuckles and clematis provided plentiful food for the late bees which I keep in two hives at the end of my garden. They used to forage in next door’s garden but now I couldn’t imagine a self-respecting bee being seen dead in that food desert.

I was curious to see the homeowner and before long a trim lady, about the age of my daughter, drove up to park by her front door. She slipped inside before I had even time to wave. She might be a bit different to the last owner but I thought it would be neighbourly to go round the next day with a jar of honey.

The next morning, not too early, I went over and the lady promptly opened the door. I held out my gift and introduced myself. I’d like to tell you her name but she didn’t tell me. She just snapped sharply,
“Oh no, I don’t eat honey. I can’t abide bees.”

“Are you allergic? That’s awkward, I keep a couple of hives.”

“I don’t believe in allergies; I just avoid nasty insects. I hope you keep your bees out of people’s gardens. Aren’t there bylaws against it?”

I ignored that. “Where have you moved from? “

“I’ve spent my whole life in London and now I can work from home I decided to move to the quiet of the countryside. I’ve been meaning to complain about the leaves from your trees coming over my fence. I’ve swept them up in a pile and I’ll leave them on your side. Goodbye, I’m supposed to be working.” She slammed the door.

So, abruptly dismissed, I stood on the doorstep with my jar of honey feeling like a goof. I didn’t get the feeling we were going to be friends. Oh well it takes all sorts.

I still waved to the new lady when I occasionally saw her in the garden but she turned her back, often retreating to her house. I don’t know why I bothered but didn’t want to be the one in the wrong. Funny woman. Still, I had plenty to do putting my garden to rights for the winter ready for much planting up in the spring.

The bees began to emerge more regularly from their hives in spring, feeding on the remaining snowdrops and crocuses plentiful in my garden. Next door was just grass and bare earth until to my surprise some green spikes appeared in the flower bed. They quickly revealed themselves to be red fragrance-free tulips. Oh well no danger of bees going over to next door’s garden.
One afternoon in May, I was startled by a frantic banging on my front door. I opened it to find the spiky neighbour. I wondered if tree blossoms had fallen next door but before I could say a word the lady gabbled:

“They’re in my porch!”

“What an earth? “I responded.

“Your bees!!!” burst out the woman, too frightened to be properly angry. “I can’t get in my front door, they’re a seething mass. It’s horrible!! There’s so many! “

The lady was so distressed I felt sorry for her. I tried to calm her down by saying my bees were happy in her their hives but I would come over and take a look. Just in case I suited up and checked my busy hives. I then took a polystyrene bee box -a nuc box- I use on these occasions. Sure enough, there was a buzzing clump of bees clinging to the porch ceiling. The neighbour stayed in my own garden wringing her hands. I’d never seen anyone actually do this before. I brushed the bees into the box with its inviting smell. I got the queen and most of the swarm and closed the lid.

“Don’t worry,” I called to my neighbour, “I’ll leave the box here until dusk and the stragglers will find their way through this tiny entrance to join the rest. Then I’ll take the swarm away and find a beekeeper who’d like a new colony. People often call me to get rid of swarms at this time of year,”
She stood at her front gate which was the nearest she’d venture by herself. I expected her to be quite short with me as I had seen her when she was at her tearful worst. I was dumbfounded when the first smile I had ever seen appeared on her face. Then blow me down, she actually thanked me and tremulously asked me.

“Will they come back?”

“Shouldn’t think so, just unlucky this time. Still, I’ll always collect them.” I escorted her to her back door and she said she was grateful and asked after my daughter who she had seen visiting.

I supposed it’d take a little bit of time to get used to each other. She continued to keep her garden closely manicured, planting out sharp pointed agaves and stiff begonias, but she began to wave back when I gestured. It was a start.