A Fresh Perspective

Matthew Roy Davey

Part of Liam was glad when they found out the trees were to be cut down. Claire had been bored for a long time and the protest group would give her something to do. It was a small strip of land in front of their house, wasteland really, where buddleia and bushes had been allowed to grow, flourishing until the houses on the other side were obscured by foliage.

Claire was incandescent when she found out houses were going to be built on the plot. She wanted the council to designate it as a nature reserve. She loved to sit and stare out of their bedroom window, watching the birds she said. She even kept some binoculars on her dressing table.

A bloke on the other side of the reserve, Stephen, set up the campaign group and Claire pitched in. They’d meet most evenings to plan their resistance and write letters, but it was all in vain.

Liam left the house one morning in June with trees towering over the road. When he got home that evening they were gone. Their road, he thought, was much airier, the sky bigger.

When he came through the door Claire didn’t answer his greeting so he went up to their bedroom. She wasn’t there either. The room seemed filled with light. He walked to the window and stared out. Where the trees had been was a barren strip of gouged earth. For the first time in years he could see the houses on the far side. In fact he could see Stephen’s house. Peering closer he realised he could even see into Stephen’s bedroom. Something was happening. He picked up the binoculars.

Time seemed to stop and Liam had to remember to keep breathing. The binoculars wobbled. No wonder the campaign had failed.