In the Shadow of the Trees (14 page)

The inside of the van was like a warm lair made dark by wooden walls and heavy velvet curtains. It was surprisingly cosy, the chairs and sofa draped with tapestry rugs and swinging lamps made from coloured glass squares. Fleur and I sat on opposite sides of a table on which she had lit a single candle, throwing a circle of light around us that shut out the rest of the world.

‘Have you known Liam for a long time?’ I asked.

‘No, only the six months he spent on the road with us last year. But you get close to people when you’re living side by side every day. They become like family.’

‘I only met him a few weeks ago. We didn’t get off to a good start and I still don’t know much about him.’

‘Nor does anyone else. He showed up at the fair one day, driving a campervan. Asked if he could do a bit of busking to earn some petrol money. The punters loved him and so he stayed on, just tagged along like most of us do. Sometimes you know not to ask where people come from and why.’

‘So you think he’s hiding from something?’

‘Tell me who isn’t. But no, you’re right, he’s a fugitive if ever I saw one, but not from the law. No, he’s running from whatever caused the pain.’

‘The pain?’

‘Yes, can’t you feel it? He’s been badly hurt. Sometimes it’s so strong it’s almost tangible.’

‘Yes, I’ll go with that. I suppose that’s what makes him so defensive.’

‘Don’t be fooled by the barbed wire. Inside he’s soft as butter. But there are wounds in there that can’t be healed. Anyway,’ she reached behind her and took a bundle of black silk from a cupboard, ‘let’s see why he’s so worried about you.’

‘Is he?’

‘Of course. Why do you think he brought you here?’

She unwrapped the silk and took out a deck of cards, placing it on the table between us.

‘Look, I’m not sure if I really believe in this sort of thing,’ I said. ‘Fortune telling I mean. Will it still work?’

‘As long as I believe in it we should be OK.’ A soft smile played around her mouth. It was often there.

‘How did you get into it? I mean, did you have to take lessons or something?’

‘My grandmother showed me, much to my mother’s disapproval. She had the second sight, as they called it. I took a foundation course in psychology and then got a job in the personnel department of a multinational corporation. It involved talking to employees about their personal problems. Trouble was I could see what was really wrong with them. I couldn’t help advising them to do things that weren’t in the company’s interest, like throwing in their job, cashing in their superannuation and buying a fishing boat. Eventually I took my own advice and went on the road with Carl. Would you believe he used to be a systems analyst?’

The cards, larger than normal playing cards and covered in brightly coloured pictures, were impossible to shuffle and cut as Fleur instructed. I fumbled and a few fell onto the table. She picked these up and studied them carefully before slipping them
back into my hands. Eventually she took the whole deck from me and closed her eyes for a moment before laying three rows of three cards face down on the table.

‘The top row represents you and where you’re at in the present.’ She turned the first card over. ‘This card represents the inner self, your centre. Ah,
The Magus,
of course. He’s a channel of divine power. See, he holds the magic wand through which he calls down the fire of the gods. He’s a craftsman whose skill lies in the translation of the unknown into the known. That’s the gift you have. It’s the centre of your being, the force that drives you. And this,’ she turned the next card, ‘is what you show the world.’

‘
The Fool,
’ I read upside down. ‘Now that looks more like me.’

‘Now don’t take the titles too literally. It’s more about having the openness and naïvety of a child. I imagine people have difficulty in reconciling your art with your personal image.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, you’re not how most people expect artistic genius to be packaged. I’d have taken you for the bass player in a rock band.’

‘Hey, I’ve always wanted to learn the bass.’

‘And you do tend to walk blindly over the edge of a cliff, like this fellow is doing, never stopping to think before you act. Look at this next card,’ she turned the third in that row, ‘
Strength.
See the young woman is holding the lion’s mouth. She has control of a great force—at least she thinks she has. You’re a powerful channel and there are energies working through you that are beyond your comprehension. Fortunately others recognise that in your art, even if you don’t. Consequently your sudden rise to fame has left you a little bewildered.’ She ran her fingers over the three cards, as if feeling for something.

‘The reason Liam brought you here, at least the underlying cause of the problem, is that you’re so involved with your work
that you can’t, or won’t, see that what you’re dealing with
is
beyond your control.’

‘I do get very intense about it. I have to immerse myself completely in what I am doing. Like you say, it’s a force that drives me. Something he wouldn’t understand.’

‘I think it’s more than that. Ask me a question.’

‘Will I be able to complete the project?’

She pulled another card out of the pack.

‘
The Empress.
Something you create will come into being, but the fruit you bear may not be what you thought.’

She turned the next three cards.

‘This line is about what is happening in your life at the present time.
The Five of Swords, The Nine of Swords
and
The Moon.
This is a troubled picture, Regan. You’re surrounded by deception. No one is what they seem to be. And you’re having disturbing dreams.’

‘Yes, that’s true, I am. I’ve told nobody.’ But there I was, on the card, in bed and waking from a nightmare, swords stacked behind me.

‘And
The Moon
here, something deep and primitive is being called forth. I don’t like this.’ Fleur was looking worried herself and I was beginning to think this wasn’t such a good idea.

She pulled another card from the pack.

‘
The Knight of Swords.
You’re not alone. Someone comes to your aid but he may not prevail. Do you want to go on with this?’

‘Christ, yes. Don’t stop now.’

She turned the last row.

‘
Judgement.
Deeds of the past being worked out in the present. And
The Seven of Wands,
that’s swiftness, it’s gathering momentum.’ She turned the last card. ‘
The Hanged Man.
A sacrifice. Ask me a question.’

‘What’s going to happen?’

She took another card from the pack and laid it between us.

‘
The Tower,
’ she whispered, turning it towards me. Bodies were
thrown from a high building as lightning struck the roof. ‘It ends with fire and death.’

‘Is that it then? What happened to the tall, dark stranger and the win on Lotto?’

Fleur grasped both my hands.

‘Regan, this is serious. You’re in great danger.’

‘Well, tell me what to do then.’

‘Run. That’s what you should do. Run now while you still can. But you won’t, will you?’

I
N
denial. That’s what they say, isn’t it? As if denial isn’t something you do, but something you’ve inadvertently blundered into, like a frightened animal trapped in quicksand. Help, she’s in denial, fetch ropes and boards, we’ll pull her out. But by then it’s too late and you get sucked down and down as your body is imprisoned, limbs numbed beyond feeling, immobilised, paralysed. No amount of reasoning can talk you through; no loving arms can drag you free. It fills your mouth so you can’t scream. It clogs your ears, making you deaf to all warning, to every plea of wisdom and sanity. Down and down you go until it seals your eyelids, blinding you to the very substance of your self-betrayal. Denial. Seeping through the pores of your skin, polluting the blood and silting up the brain. And there you lie, rendered helpless by the weight of it all.

And that is how it was when we left the land of the gypsies and drove home. We had all said goodbye and exchanged hugs and promises. As they walked us to the truck Liam hung back and spoke with Fleur. He strode with shoulders hunched, hands in pockets, looking at the ground. But Fleur glanced towards me and placed her hand on his arm. I was too far away to hear any words but her face said urgent.

In the truck we were silent, each unsure of the other, until Liam spotted a bar and said we should stop for a beer and a sandwich. I knew it was time to talk.

‘So, what did Fleur say? What did she tell you?’

‘That I take my work too seriously and I need a holiday.’

‘Try again.’

‘All right, she said I was under some sort of stress and it was time I moved on.’

‘In other words she said you were in danger and you should get the hell out of there,’ Liam said.

‘Something like that. Well, if you knew why are you asking me?’

‘To see if you were listening. And are you going to?’

‘Move on? Yes, when I have finished some more of the pieces. The agreement was for three months and I’ve been there nearly a month already.’

‘And how many of the pieces are finished?’

‘Well, one, you saw that. And I’ve made a start on the second. Sometimes things happen more slowly. It’s not a production line, you know,’ I said.

‘No, I realise that, but I’m wondering if the reason your work has slowed down has anything to do with the hours you spend wandering through the bush.’

‘Well, of course I do, that’s what these sculptures are about. I have to get in touch with my subject, immerse myself in the environment.’

‘And how deep do you have to go? I’ve watched you wandering up in those hills, hour upon hour sometimes, just standing staring at nothing as if you were mesmerised.’

‘Oh, you’ve been spying on me, have you?’

‘No. Yes. For God’s sake, someone needs to look after you.’

‘And that’s why you took me to see Fleur? Beware the gypsy’s warning? You’re beginning to sound like those Irish folk tales. “Don’t walk on Sullivan’s land or your wedding dress will make your shroud.”’

‘Well, you said it.’

‘Oh, come on now, I’m hardly likely to go marrying old man Sullivan, am I?’

‘It might not be as simple as that.’ Liam spoke quietly and I realised he was genuinely worried.

‘So you do agree there’s something strange going on?’

‘Maybe. Whatever is or isn’t wrong with the place it’s certainly doing you a power of no good.’

‘And what’s it doing for you?’

‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

‘Is it helping you to hide from whatever it is you’re running from? Well, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? And don’t tell me fence-mending is a significant career move. Maybe running away is your answer, but it doesn’t work for me.’

‘So why are you here then? Artistic inspiration, is it? Or has it got something to do with that young whelp you were trying to escape from?’

I gasped and pulled back, as if he’d actually slapped my face.

‘No, no I’m sorry,’ he stammered, ‘that was out of order. This isn’t going the way I intended. Look Regan, it’s just that I’m concerned about you. No. No, it’s more than that. Something’s happening to you and it’s scaring the shit out of me. Now maybe it has got something to do with this Sullivan business and maybe not. Whatever the cause, that place is destroying you.’

I lifted my glass from the table, took a slow, deliberate drink and said nothing. Then Liam, too, lifted his glass, tossing the remains of his beer down his throat. He looked at me with eyes as dark as slate.

‘You won’t budge, will you? You’ve not taken a blind bit of notice of anything Fleur and I have said.’ He slammed his glass down on the table. ‘God, you’re a stubborn woman.’ He spat the words at me and, snatching up his hat, stormed out of the bar.

I was determined to finish my drink in a leisurely fashion and not go running off after him. Besides, he wasn’t going anywhere. I had the keys to the truck.

‘Well, what happens now?’

It was the following morning. We were at the woolshed having our ritual coffee. I’d woken early and been working for a couple of hours; at least I’d tried to work but I was finding it unusually difficult to focus on the sculpture. It was as if the day away had disconnected me in some way.

‘You’re looking better. Nice to see you a bit rested. Sleep well?’

‘Yes, you were right. I did need a break.’ I had slept long and deeply. No, no dreams. ‘So, what now?’

‘Well, I’ve done all that needs to be done for today so I thought I’d take a trip back into town, see if I can ferret out some information. Then on the way back I’ve got an appointment with the sexton of the local church. I rang him earlier and he said if I could drop in round about five he’d show me the parish records. We’ll see what that fetches up.’

‘Right, I’ll get my stuff.’

‘I said I’m going. You’re staying here. I’ll have to take your truck, of course. You can keep an eye on the dogs.’

‘Great. Thanks.’

‘Come on, I’ll walk you back to your place and get the car keys.’ He set off through the trees with me catching up behind.

‘Can you drive?’

‘Of course I can bloody drive. You know that, I’ve driven the truck before. And, yes, I do have a licence. Your insurance will cover me I hope.’

‘How the hell should I know? It cost a lot of money, so I suppose it ought to.’

‘And stay near the cottage. I don’t want you wandering up
in those hills. Do you hear me?’

I wasn’t going to be put down by this exhibition of macho dominance so I started singing ‘The Teddy Bears’ Picnic’:

If you go down in the woods today, you’d better not go alone, If you go down in the woods today, it’s safer to stay at home.

Liam spun round and jabbed his finger at me. ‘And that’s not bloody funny!’

After he left I made a serious effort to get down to work but couldn’t concentrate. The second piece was emerging, but slowly. I had the major shape outlined and was now working with the smaller chisels and gouges to define the facial features. But something was missing and it was hard to resist the pull of the trees. I needed to walk, but Liam had insisted that I shouldn’t go into the bush, and, as he was running all over the region to satisfy my curiosity, I felt obliged to do as he said. However, no one had mentioned not walking around the lake. Besides, it was about time someone had a word with Sullivan.

By the time I got to the house the sun was directly overhead. Sullivan was sitting on the deck, a glass in his hand, gazing into the distance. I don’t think he realised I was there until the steps creaked under my foot, and then he looked up and stared at me as if he did not know who I was.

‘Hi Sullivan, nice morning.’

‘Ah, Regan, yes. Come up, come up.’ He nudged a chair in my direction, then picked up a bottle. ‘Will you join me?’

‘No thanks. Perhaps some water? No, don’t get up. I can find the kitchen.’

I found a clean glass, filled it and returned. By then I think he’d
forgotten all about me and was quite startled when I emerged from the front door.

‘How’s Badger?’ he asked.

‘Oh, he’s mending fine. He can walk around the yard a bit now. He’s putting on weight, though, I’m sure Liam’s spoiling him.’

‘And what about you? Are you comfortable? Is there anything you need?’

‘No, the cottage is wonderful. It’s just, well, I thought I ought to drop by and thank you for inviting me to share in your Christmas.’

‘It was a pleasure to have you here, but I have to confess the idea was all Jason’s. And all the work too. Suddenly got it into his head that Christmas was a time to be at home celebrating. He never thought much about it before.’

‘Not even when he was a child?’

‘That was different. When he was small and his mother was here, she made it really something. She’d have the house all prettied up, greenery and bright lights. And the tree, of course, we had to have the biggest tree, with fairy lights and covered with glass balls and tinsel. Then she’d go shopping for him, practically cleared every store in town. She got me this Father Christmas outfit and made me dress up, the whole bit. Don’t know who was more excited come Christmas morning, Jason or her.’

‘And what happened when she…when she wasn’t here any more?’

‘I tried. And he tried too, poor kid. But it could never work. Everything I did seemed to reinforce her absence. It was like there was this big empty hole in the house, and the more I tried to fill it the bigger it got.’ Sullivan reached for the scotch and topped up his glass.

‘I can’t imagine what it must be like to grow up without a mother,’ I said.

‘Can’t you? Funny, I can’t imagine what it would be like to have one.’

Of course, I’d forgotten. Or rather I hadn’t thought it through. Sullivan was orphaned too, probably at about the same age. It was his mother up there in that clearing.

‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I’ve seen her grave, you know. Jason showed me the first day I arrived. But I have been up there since. Jane, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, Jane Sullivan. Though I can’t remember her at all. That makes it easier, I think. The problem with Jason was that he could remember and he wouldn’t let go.’

‘He told me he used to go to his mother’s room.’

‘Yes. Sarah—my wife’s name was Sarah—she said she needed her own space. That’s the way she put it, one of those phrases she’d picked up. She was into all that New Age stuff, read endless books about eastern philosophy, crystal power, that sort of thing. Couldn’t understand it myself. She got into meditation and said she needed somewhere—how did she put it?—“free from unsympathetic vibrations”. So she moved into that room, practically lived in there when she wasn’t at the cottage. Only Jason was allowed in with her—they treated it like a privilege, being in Mummy’s special place. Afterwards he sort of held onto that room as if it would bring her back. Became like an obsession with him. I began to worry, after what happened with his mother. But eventually he seemed to snap out of it. Strangely enough it was Christmas that did it.’

‘How was that?’

‘Well, in spite of everything I’d tried to keep Christmas over the years. Always bought him something special. I think he must have been about ten that year. He used to spend hours looking through the family photo albums, looking at pictures of his mother and grandmother. But he started taking an interest in the photographs themselves, kept asking all sorts of questions that I couldn’t answer. Then he took to getting books out of the library, all about camera techniques and developing and so forth. Anyway, I decided to get him a camera, not a snapshot
thing but a good one. We blacked up the boxroom and set it up as a darkroom. It was like another world had opened for him.’

‘So, that’s how he got started. You gave him the most important thing in his life.’

‘But there was no way I could have given him back his mother.’

I was walking a very narrow path here. I took a long drink of water, and then chose the words carefully. ‘He doesn’t talk much about his mother. But he did say she spent a lot of time in the hills, just walking he said. She must have loved this land.’

‘We both did. But with her it was more than that. It was like she was entranced by it. It was after Jason was born—not an easy birth and she never really recovered. Oh, sometimes she’d be fine, like at Christmas and birthdays. She always loved celebrations, made a big thing of it and I was relieved to see her happy. But if I were honest I’d have to say she was too happy, you know, she’d…she’d go over the top, like she was a kid herself. Then other times she’d go inside herself, want to be left alone. Even moved into that cottage to get away from this house and me. Days on end she’d spend there. Sometimes she’d take the boy with her, but mostly she preferred to be on her own. And then she’d go walking, hour upon hour, and it seemed like she’d forgotten all about the child. Certainly she’d forgotten all about me.’

‘It sounds like there was something really wrong with her. Didn’t you think she might have needed help?’

‘Well of course I did. Postnatal depression they called it at first, then a psychotic breakdown. The doctors came up with all sorts of labels but none of it made any difference.’

‘So what became of Sarah?’ I whispered it softly.

But he said nothing, just shook his head and closed his eyes tight against the world.

I slipped away silently and retraced my steps along the lake path, leaving him clutching his glass.

Liam had been gone much longer than I had anticipated and daylight was fading when I saw headlamps along the lake road throwing highlights across the water. Bramble bounded off to meet him and practically dragged him out of the seat. Even Badger struggled down the steps, his tail sweeping the sawdust. I was quite pleased to see him too; it was the only day I’d spent there without knowing he was around.

‘Bramble, you’re a brazen young lady,’ he said as she slurped his face with her big, wet tongue. ‘And you here too, Badger. You didn’t walk, did you?’

‘He did. We took it very slowly, mind. And he may need the wheelbarrow service to get home. I hope you’re hungry, I’m making supper for us.’

‘Starving. Nothing since lunchtime. I thought the sexton would never let me go. I’m probably the first person who’s taken any interest in his paperwork for years.’