Darius Bell and the Crystal Bees by Odo Hirsch Page A

this meeting looking for a solution, and he had found one!
    He went to the door. Oliver and Paul went with him. Paul lingered a moment. ‘Thanks for letting us in, Mr Heberden,’ he said, and scampered out.
    They headed back to the lobby. Darius couldn’t keep the grin off his face.
    â€˜Amazing,’ said Oliver.
    Darius nodded.
    â€˜You know what they say,’ said Paul. ‘If you don’t ask, you’ll never know.’
    Darius laughed. He had asked – and look what had happened!
    â€˜That was perfect,’ he said as they turned into the lobby. ‘Just what we need. If we can just get some hives brought in, Mr Fisher’s fruits will—’
    He stopped. Directly in front of him, on his way out of another corridor, was the mayor, George Podcock, wearing his blue ceremonial robe and gold ceremonial chain of office, surrounded by a huddle of officials.
    The mayor stopped in the middle of whatever he had been saying and stared at him. ‘Darius Bell! What are you doing here?’
    Darius didn’t speak. Partly because he froze at the sight of the mayor – and partly because he didn’t see why he needed to say what he was doing just because the mayor asked him. It was a free country, after all.
    â€˜I said, what are you doing here?’ demanded Mr Podcock again.
    â€˜It’s the Town Hall,’ said Darius. ‘Anyone can come here.’
    â€˜Can they?’ said Mr Podcock with a sneer. ‘I’m going to ask you one more time, and I advise you to answer. What are you doing here?’
    Darius didn’t reply – he didn’t need to. The usher in the lobby answered for him. ‘He was at the apiarists’ meeting, Your Worship.’
    â€˜Was he just?’ said Mr Podcock, without taking his eyes off Darius.
    â€˜He was,’ said the official. ‘Him and his two friends.’
    â€˜And where was this apiarists’ meeting taking place?’ demanded the mayor.
    â€˜In the Round Room, Your Worship. I believe it’s still under way.’
    â€˜Is it?’ The mayor threw a glance at Darius. ‘I might just go and see these apiarists myself.’
    He marched on, surrounded by his officials, and turned into the corridor Darius had just come out of.
    Darius shook his head, smiling at the mayor’s pomposity. Mr Cuthbert had already come up with a solution to the problem. Did George Podcock think he was going to be able to come up with something better? What did he think he was going to do? Bring back the bees with a shake of his golden chain?

The more Darius thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. Bring in hives!
    The people with the hives would get their honey, Mr Fisher would get his fruits pollinated – and everyone would be happy. Even the Deavers might benefit. Perhaps the hive-keepers would leave some of their bees in exchange for being allowed to use the estate, enabling the Deavers to repopulate their hives for next year.
    The Deavers . . . Darius lay awake that night, thinking about them. Why hadn’t they thought of asking people to bring in hives? Surely they must know about that possibility. Any apiarist would. Or maybe not. Maybe that was only something apiarists did in Canada, which was why Mr Cuthbert knew about it. But then he remembered that it wasn’t actually Mr Cuthbert who had first mentioned the possibility, was it? It was Mr Heberden. If Mr Heberden knew about it, surely the Deavers would have known as well.
    They couldn’t purposely have avoided telling Mr Fisher about the possibility of bringing in hives, could they? Why would they? What would they have to lose? No, it wasn’t possible. They were such nice people, like two rosy, wizened apples. It would be an insult even to ask them. There had to be another explanation. They just hadn’t known it could be done. They couldn’t have.
    But really? Wouldn’t they have known?
    Darius put the