The Dragon Man - Brian Stableford [45]
“And thanks to you,” Sara told them, grinning to show that she wasn’t serious, “so do I.”
And so the time went by, until the rose had not only opened all the way but had acquired its final veneer and begun to secrete its nectar. It was then that Sara realized that there would be a particular moment to mark its maturity after all: the moment when the rose was visited by its first nectar-seeking hummingbird.
Not unexpectedly, though, that didn’t happen right away, even though the perfume was a little less discreet than she had promised her parents. The nectar’s scent was certainly subtle, but it gradually built up in the dining room until it became distinctly noticeable.
“If this goes on,” Mother Jolene observed, when everyone except Father Lemuel was gathered for dinner one Wednesday evening, “we’ll have whole flocks of hummingbirds zeroing in on us from every point of the compass every time we open a window—and it is July, going on August.
“I don’t notice it myself,” Sara said, blushing slightly. “I’ve got used to it. But the scent dissipates very quickly in the open air—I’ve had my bedroom window open for three nights running, but not a single hummingbird’s picked up the scent as yet.”
Father Aubrey seemed to be amused by this admission, but it seemed that he couldn’t think of a joke in time to slip one in. Father Gustave took a more practical approach to the issue. “It’s just that no one has bothered to program the air-filters to take the perfume molecules out,” he said. “If you can’t stand it, Jo, you’re very welcome to pop down to the cellar and retune the system yourself. I could try if you want me to, but Lem’s the expert”
“There’s no need,” Mother Quilla put in. “The wallskin will adapt automatically—just give it a couple more days. You didn’t complain fifteen years ago when we had the nursery decked out with wallflowers, Jo.”
“I thought they were gillyflowers,” Mother Maryelle put in.
“Technically...,” Father Stephen began—but no one wanted a pedantic sermon on the precise etymological implications of the words “wallflower” and “gillyflower”. Mother Verena was quick to say: “Have you seen any hummingbirds yet, Sara?”
Sara admitted, by means of a shrug, that in spite of opening her window every evening to provide a means of getting in, she had not.
“It’ll be different when we next go to Blackburn,” Mother Verena assured her. “There’ll be plenty of people out and about showing off their living jewelry.”
“Your rose will probably be mobbed,” Father Aubrey suggested. “You’ll be fighting off hummingbirds with both hands. Mind you don’t damage any, though—we can’t afford a lawsuit, even if Maryelle offers her services for free.”
Mother Maryelle—who worked as an investigating magistrate, weighing up the cases put together by opposing sides in legal disputes—did not dignify this comment with a reply, so Sara felt free to do likewise. The conversation soon reverted back to the usual political issues, including profoundly unexciting commentaries from all and sundry on ongoing UN debates regarding the redevelopment of Antarctica, plans for the redevelopment of the Furness Tip, proposals for changing the livery of Blackburn’s robocab fleet and the chances of Yorkshire beating Lancashire in the annual cricket match at New Trafford.
When Sara went back to her room after dinner she opened her window immediately, and then called Gennifer for a chat.
Inevitably, “Any hummingbirds yet?” were Gennifer’s first words too—but Sara had her camera set to close-up, so there was no point in shrugging her shoulders again.
“Not yet,” she said. “If we lived closer to the cityplex it would be different, but hummingbirds are thin on the ground in these parts.”
“They never touch the ground,” Gennifer pointed out, pedantically, “so whatever they