Darius Bell and the Crystal Bees Read Online Free PDF Page B

very depressed about it. Well, I told him, as long as he and Mrs Deaver can manage, we’ll be all right. We can manage without honey for a year, can’t we? It’s not a disaster.’
    â€˜I suppose so,’ said Darius quietly. He frowned, breaking off another piece of pie with his fork, taking plenty of cream with it. As he chewed, he thought about the hive at the pumpkin field. He remembered the last few bees crawling sluggishly inside. They weren’t the last to leave the hive, apparently. They were the last to die. It was sad to think that—
    Darius heard a clink. He looked around. Marguerite had put her fork down.
    â€˜Don’t you like the tart, Marguerite?’ asked Mrs Simpson.
    Marguerite’s face was pale. ‘Are you sure all the hives are empty?’
    â€˜That’s what Mr Deaver said.’
    â€˜ All the bees are dead?’
    â€˜That’s what he told me, Marguerite.’
    â€˜Does my father know?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ said Mrs Simpson.
    Marguerite stared at the cook for a moment. Then she jumped up and ran out.

Darius thought he knew what was wrong as soon as Marguerite ran out the door. It hit him straight away, the memory of something Mr Beale had said when they were studying bees a couple of weeks previously. As they go from flower to flower to collect nectar, bees carry pollen. The delivery of pollen is necessary for fruit to form. According to Mr Beale, humans depended on bees to an extent that most people didn’t even begin to understand. Or as he put it: if you don’t have bees, you don’t have fruit.
    In her rush, Marguerite had left her schoolbag. Darius took it and went after her.
    He could see Marguerite running for the gardener’s lodge. She disappeared behind it, where Mr Fisher had his various greenhouses and potting sheds. Darius went from one to the next. Finally he found her with her father.
    Mr Fisher’s face was pale. He was staring at Marguerite, half disbelieving, half in despair.
    They looked around at him.
    â€˜I . . . brought your bag,’ murmured Darius, holding it out to Marguerite.
    Marguerite took it from him wordlessly.
    â€˜Is it true what Marguerite has just told me?’ said Mr Fisher. ‘Are all the hives empty?’
    Darius nodded. ‘That’s what Mrs Simpson said.’
    There was silence. Darius glanced at Marguerite. Her face was grim.
    â€˜Mr Deaver hasn’t told me ,’ muttered Mr Fisher to himself. Suddenly his tone changed. ‘What if she’s wrong?’
    â€˜Mrs Simpson?’ asked Darius.
    â€˜What if she misheard? What if she exaggerated?’
    Darius frowned. Mrs Simpson wasn’t one to exaggerate, not in his experience. Mr Fisher himself was more likely to do that.
    â€˜Maybe Mr Deaver said it was a couple of hives here or there and Mrs Simpson took it to mean all of them.’
    â€˜Why would she do that, Mr Fisher?’
    â€˜Who knows?’ cried the gardener excitedly. ‘That must be it!’ He laughed. ‘It couldn’t be right. It couldn’t!’
    â€˜Perhaps you should go and talk to Mr Deav—’
    Before Darius could finish, Mr Fisher ran off to do exactly what Darius had been suggesting.
    Darius glanced at Marguerite. ‘It didn’t sound to me as though Mrs Simpson made it up.’
    Marguerite looked at him for a moment, then went after her father. Darius went with her.
    Mr Fisher ran ahead of them. He disappeared down the side of his pumpkin field. When they glimpsed him again, he was heading into the plum orchard. Darius had never imagined the gardener could move so fast.
    They got to the buttery. There was no answer when they knocked. Darius pushed gently on the door.
    â€˜Mr Deaver?’ he said. ‘Mrs Deaver?’
    They listened. They could hear voices from a room at the end of the corridor. One of them was Mr Fisher’s.
    They went down the corridor. The door at