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Chapter 04
Long moments later, the garden gate closed with a click behind the postman. He'd spent longer at the cottage than he'd intended. The woman had been very attractive with dark hair framing a face with delicate features and startling blue eyes. His heart was still pounding.
"So much for your plan," he told himself. "Get in, get the job done and get out was what you were supposed to do! It's always the same, give yourself enough rope and you'll hang yourself."
But then he thought: "Stop worrying, everything couldn't really have gone better."
The path he took alongside the river would lead back to where he'd left the van. He always enjoyed this section of the river with its deep slow-moving currents, overhanging chestnut trees and shadowy trout that darted between the stones in the shallows.
A canoe floated downstream carrying the two children he'd heard earlier. The postman shaded his eyes from the glare of the sun on the river trying to see what was in the boat that was making them so excited. Then they spotted him and paddled over.
"Angus, Angus ... look what we've got here," said Charlotte. She was the older of the two children and usually took charge. Andrew, her younger brother was ten years old and normally accepted her leadership but today wanted to share in the glory.
"It's a hunting bird," he said, proudly. "Look at its strong talons and powerful beak."
"You've got a kestrel hawk there," confirmed Angus.
"It landed at the end of the boat and then just keeled over," said Charlotte. "It looks hurt."
"If we hadn't been there, it would probably have fallen in the river. It was us that saved it," said Andrew. His heroic part in the action was now a defining moment in his life.
"Don't get too close," said Angus, cautiously. " It's frightened and you'll get pecked."
The kestrel was making a hissing sound. Angus looked shrewdly at the bird.
"There's not much you can do," he said. "It's the wildest of wild animals. Why don't you paddle over to that small island in the middle of the stream? It'll be safe there while it recovers its strength? Maybe nature will take its course although, to me, it just looks dazed."
"Thank you Mister Angus," they chorused and launched themselves vigorously off into the river with the kestrel still huddled in the prow of the boat.
Halfway to the island, the bird shook itself violently, hopped up on to the prow of the boat and with a high-pitched scream skimmed low over the river and soared up above the valley and into the distance.
"The kestrel's better, the kestrel's better ..." the children shouted gleefully.
Angus smiled, hefted his postbag more comfortably on his broad shoulders and started to walk quickly down the riverbank. He found himself whistling an old tune from his childhood. It was good sometimes, he thought, to have a happy ending to the story.
As he drove away in his van, he thought of the attractive lady at the cottage amid the brambles and undergrowth at the end of her garden.
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