12:16

The farmer decided in favour of patience. He favoured the room with a bleak glare and settled his gaze on the beaver. A small nod seemed to indicate he was waiting for the beaver to get on with it and contained the suggestion that if he didn’t like what he heard he wouldn’t be here long.

As this little tableau settled into a mutual smirking contest, Gareth had finally processed the last few moments. “Him? My father? What the hell is going on? First the envelope and now you are trying to…”

“I’m not trying to tell anyone anything. I am telling you how it is. So if you could contain your youthful rage for a few minutes more I think I can satisfy your curiosity.” The beaver hadn’t taken his eyes off the tall farmer in the wicker chair, but nonetheless Gareth had a feeling he was being glared at by the heretofore friendly creature.

“Fine. I’ll shut up. This is going to be a hoot.” Gareth grabbed Rowan’s hand and slid back into the couch. “A real hoot,” he mumbled to himself.