Tree Slayer

by Harriet Springbett

  “Hello darling!” Eole’s mum said to him, and traced a heart shape over her chest.

  Eole growled at Darwie to lie down and didn’t respond.

  Eole’s mum introduced herself as Alexandra, Rainbow mumbled her own name, and then Alexandra nudged Eole’s sister.

  Hestia ignored the nudge. “What are you doing with my brother?” she asked.

  “Hestia! Don’t be so rude,” said Alexandra. She looked Rainbow up and down and then threw her hands in the air. “Oh, my word, you’re hurt.”

  Rainbow looked down at her leg, where the blood had dried in a patch.

  “Darwie bit her,” said Eole.

  “It’s only a little nip,” said Rainbow.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Alexandra. “Eole, go and get the first aid kit.”

  Despite Rainbow’s protests that she would treat her wound at the campsite, Alexandra hustled her to the stone bench. Rainbow sat down and Hestia stood right in front of her, her arms folded.

  Rainbow would have felt intimidated, but Mary compared Hestia to a mini-warrior princess and made Rainbow giggle. She quickly turned her laugh into a cough, at which point Eole appeared with the first aid kit and Alexandra started to clean the injury.

  “I’m Rainbow’s soulmate,” said Eole.

  Alexandra stopped dabbing at the wound. When she resumed, her touch was rougher.

  Eole pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and gave it to Hestia. “Is it good or bad?”

  “Did she do it? Your ‘soulmate’?” Hestia made air quotes as she pronounced the word.

  Eole nodded, and Rainbow realised they were studying her drawing of him.

  “It’s all right, I suppose.” Hestia passed it back. “So what’s this soulmate business?”

  “It’s nonsense, that’s what it is,” said Alexandra. She slapped a plaster onto Rainbow’s leg and stood up. “There’s no such thing as a soulmate, darling. God looks after your soul. What you mean is that you’re her special friend.”

  Hestia turned away from Alexandra, caught Eole’s eye, and mimicked sticking two fingers down her throat. Rainbow grinned. Eole was lucky to have a sister.

  “I’m not her special friend,” said Eole to his mum. “I’m her soulmate. Like I’m not your special son, I’m your adopted son.”

  There was a silence.

  “Now you are talking nonsense,” said Hestia. But her eyes were wide, and she looked uncertain. She glanced from Alexandra to Eole and back again.

  “I have to go,” mumbled Rainbow, and picked up her packed rucksack. “See you tomorrow, Eole.”

  Chapter 15

  “I don’t believe it! You’ve lied to us for all these years!” shouted Hestia.

  Eole closed his eyes and rocked from the balls of his feet to his heels and back again. With Rainbow’s departure, his joy at finding a new place to belong had evaporated like a low-altitude cumulus cloud.

  “It’s not like that,” retorted Alexandra. “Stop being so stubborn, and listen to me. Hestia! Come back here this minute.”

  Eole heard footsteps retreating, more shouts from further away, and then, at last, calm. He opened his eyes. Alexandra’s lilac fragrance and Hestia’s pomegranate deodorant lingered as sour reminders of their visit. He didn’t want to be here when Alexandra came back, so he strode up to the pass with Darwie at his heels.

  Now Rainbow had gone, his thoughts returned to Tintin. He decided to finalise his mapopedia, but he couldn’t conjure up his friend with the same strength as before he’d met Rainbow. Tintin’s deep voice kept morphing into Rainbow’s clear laugh, and he found himself planning the most efficient routes between the summer pastures for tomorrow’s mission rather than concentrating on his memories. It felt wrong to be thinking about Rainbow when he should be mourning Tintin.

  Before nightfall, he returned to the hut. There was no sign of Alexandra. He packed his rucksack, put on his headphones, and walked down to his former home in the valley.

  Hestia’s boots, platform shoes and flip-flops were sprawled over his floor tile, as well as over her own. He put his walking boots on the spare tile, the one reserved for visitors’ footwear.

  In the kitchen, Patrick was sitting in the rocking chair in a pair of shorts, drinking a glass of – Eole breathed in to check – Hoegaarden beer. Alexandra made a half-smile at Eole, which didn’t match her red eyes.

  “Darling, you’re back! Come and sit down. Your sister has gone to spend the night with Caroline.”

  “If that’s an invitation to dinner, I accept,” he said.

  “What nonsense! You don’t have to be invited.”

  He sat down in the chair she pulled out for him and folded his hands in his lap.

  “Sheep OK?” asked Patrick.

  Eole nodded and told him about Dizzy.

  Alexandra bustled around, passing him the mixed salad, heating up moussaka in the microwave, and asking questions about Rainbow. He didn’t know any of the answers, except where Rainbow lived, so he told her about the spiritual commune.

  “She sounds rather weird,” said Patrick.

  Alexandra jabbed him in the ribs. “She’s Eole’s special friend. Where are you going with her tomorrow, darling?”

  “I’m showing her around the summer pastures,” said Eole.

  “What about the fencing?” said Patrick.

  “Let him spend some time with his friend,” said Alexandra. “He’ll do the fencing when she’s left.”

  “Which is when?” asked Patrick.

  Eole shrugged. He didn’t want her to go home. Ever. Once they’d finished her mission in the pastures, he hoped she would stay for the rest of the summer. She could draw while he made cloud art for her and tried to actually read his birthday books instead of just staring at the pages and missing Tintin.

  After dinner, he had a shower and listened to Bach’s Brandenburg concertos while he changed his clothes for a clean set of grey shorts and black T-shirt. He found his lightweight tent and repacked his rucksack, zipping his wallet of savings into the top pocket. Alexandra tried to stop him leaving when he told her where he was going, but he thanked her for her hospitality and walked out with Darwie, saying he’d be back in four days.

  At the campsite, he found Rainbow’s tent – he could smell her woody fragrance – and pitched his tent next to it, his guy lines crossing hers. He couldn’t get any closer. He crawled inside and fell asleep with Darwie beside him.

  For the next few days, Rainbow followed Eole through cool woodlands, into shrubby prairies and up to each village’s summer pasture. He hovered in the background and didn’t ask her why she was still searching. Perhaps he believed the school project excuse she gave the shepherds as she studied them out of the corner of her eye, looking for a golden glow, and asked tactful questions about tree gifts.

  She drew pictures of everyone she met, as well as sketching sleepy marmots, an injured stoat and a Pyrenean chamois. In the evenings she visited the farms in the valley while Eole remained beside his tent, wearing his headphones, his nose in a book. He was even less confident about talking to people than her, so she had to take the lead. Gradually, her self-assurance increased, and Mary’s voice grew quiet. Rainbow didn’t mention her gift or Amrita or the Tree Slayer to anyone, and as a result nobody treated her like a weirdo. It was refreshing. She felt like a different person, as if doing things alone made her a whole person in her own right. And she was touched by the farmers’ interest – though none of them, so far, were remotely golden or gifted.

  By the end of the third day her legs no longer ached. On the fourth day, after she’d healed a Scots pine suffering from dothistroma disease, Eole asked her to demonstrate her gift. She couldn’t see any harm in it, and shaped the branches of a healthy pine for him.

  “Can anyone else do that?” asked Eole.

  “No. I think I’m the only one. For some reason Amrita chose me to bear this gift. Sometimes it feels like a weight, but mostly I feel lucky. It’s part of me – in fact, it i
s me. It’s who I am. If I didn’t have this, I’d be nothing. But I’d love to find someone who’s as close to trees as me. Well, I think I’d love it, though actually it’s nice to be unique.” She stopped talking, wondering why she was sharing this with the very person who might inadvertently kill the One Tree and cause her and Amrita’s deaths. “Is that how you feel about your special skill?”

  “No,” he said.

  He didn’t offer anything more, and she didn’t pry. He was the easiest person to get on with, never questioning her decisions and showing no need for conversation. He didn’t seem to need anything apart from huge amounts of food, and to keep his distance from other campers. He closed in on himself when he came down from the mountains, and would put on his headphones and sit outside his tent, staring at his books or leafing through them. She didn’t get the impression he was actually reading them.

  On Sunday evening, as she stirred their sausage and lentil dinner, he told her they’d finished their tour of the summer pastures and that she’d met all the farmers.

  “No! Surely there must be one we’ve missed?”

  He shook his head. “So what’s the next part of our mission?”

  She sat back on her heels. She’d trusted that she’d find her soulmate. She’d never given up hope, even in the difficult moments when she missed Christophe and wished she were working with Thierry. Now there was no hope left. She must have done something wrong, or ignored a sign. Or had her soulmate been Tintin? Surely not, because he was already dead when Amrita had appeared and given her the mission. Whatever the reason, there was no point staying here. Yet she couldn’t bear to return to Cognac and risk bumping into Christophe and Emilie.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “We could go back to Tintin’s hut,” said Eole. “You could carry on your project research and drawings there, and help me look after the sheep. I could shape clouds for you and we could read my books together and discuss multiverses.”

  “It’s not as easy as that,” she said. She needed a sign. “I’m going to hug a tree. Why don’t you come?”

  “No,” he said.

  He didn’t have the slightest affinity for trees, but at least he’d stopped kicking them and calling them assassins. She ate her meal, then left him with his boring books and walked to the deciduous trees on the edge of the campsite. She hugged an old beech tree and an oak, and then healed a few ashes that were suffering from pest infestations. She was searching for a mother tree like the François I oak – one that would show her images, talk to her and give her advice.

  The valley trees breathed deeply and slowly, as if, like Eole, they held a world of air inside them. They were clean and relaxed compared to the Charente trees, and she suspected it was because they suffered less from human interference. As with all trees, she could sense their feelings when she placed her hands on their bark, but none spoke to her. Amrita had told her to trust the trees, but the trees weren’t helping her find her soulmate.

  Help me, Amrita, she pleaded as she hugged one tree after another.

  There was no response. Had her vision been a hallucination, after all? Had she lost Christophe and Thierry for nothing? Her Amrita dreams had stopped, which must mean something. And she’d neutralised the Tree Slayer by getting Eole to promise never to make a gale again. Only her soulmate was missing. Perhaps it was time to go home and think about what to do next.

  When darkness fell, she returned to the campsite. As she passed the office, the owner came out and greeted her.

  “That Christophe called for you again,” he said. “It’s none of my business, but I’d appreciate you calling him back and telling him to stop pestering me.”

  She apologised. It was the fourth time he’d given her the same message: the fourth time Mary threatened an explosion of anger if she dared give in and call him back. The first time she’d put it off because she didn’t want to think about Christophe. The second time she’d wondered whether it was urgent, and decided Mum or Domi would have called if it had been important. The third time she’d expected it. Last night, he hadn’t rung, which should have been a relief, though she’d actually felt disappointed. It was time to think about the poor campsite owner and ignore Mary’s threats.

  She fetched her purse, picked up the telephone receiver of the public phone in the campsite office and dialled his number. The owner went outside onto the terrace.

  Christophe answered, and she fed her coins into the phone. It was bittersweet to hear his voice again, and she understood why Mary hadn’t wanted her to phone him.

  “Please stop harassing me,” she said. “The campsite owner is sick of taking messages and I don’t want to talk to you.”

  She pressed her fingers onto the plastic prongs that held the receiver, cutting off the call. Her hand was shaking.

  The phone rang, making her jump. Mary implored her to leave it. Rainbow looked outside the office and saw the campsite owner gesturing at her to answer. The call could be for another camper. She reluctantly picked up the receiver.

  “Rainbow? Please listen. I need to talk to you. Are you there?”

  “I said to stop calling me.”

  “Rainette. I miss you so much. I didn’t realise how much I’d miss you. I made a terrible mistake. I should never have let you go. Please come home. Please forgive me. Rainbow?”

  She imagined Christophe sitting on his sofa, his head in his hands as he spoke to her, motorbike oil under his bitten nails. She pictured the way he swung his head back when he laughed, and how he slotted his fingers between hers when he teased her. She imagined Apple and Acorn playing together at his feet.

  “What about … that girl?”

  “I can’t even think about her. My head and heart are full of you. I’m lost without you,” he said. “Nothing makes sense.”

  She visualised his warm brown eyes, his hand running through his hair and tugging at its ends.

  “Rainbow? Are you OK? Have you found your shepherd?”

  “Not exactly. I’ve pretty much failed at everything.”

  “Oh, Rainette. I’m so sorry. What happened?”

  Rainbow hesitated, waiting for a reaction from Mary. At the very point she needed Mary’s resolve, Mary was silent. Rainbow was alone.

  “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. It’ll be easier face to face.”

  Eole didn’t like Lucien Latapie’s campsite. He’d much rather have been free in the peace of the mountains than hemmed in by people and voices. But Rainbow was here. The headphones worked well, and nobody approached him and Darwie. He hoped they would work as well at university – and that he’d be able to read again before the new school year started.

  It was dark when Rainbow came back from tree-hugging. She smelt of crushed leaves, sticky sap, and something sleepy from the trees. He studied her face, trying to analyse the smell. She wasn’t looking sparkly, but she wasn’t frowning either.

  “It’s time to go home,” she said.

  He reached into his tent, pulled out his sleeping bag, and began rolling it up.

  “Not now, Eole. Tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh. To the spiritual commune with Domi, Jasmine, Sandrine, Alain, Aziz–?”

  She made the T-sign before he could finish the list of twenty people, and said, “Yes.” He had lots of questions about what they would do there – whether he could sleep in his tent, away from the commune so he didn’t have to meet the people but not too far so that he would be close to her, whether it was near the sea because he liked long empty beaches but not the sea itself, and whether Domi would tell him where the voices came from, and what the next part of their mission involved. But the questions were all rushing and tripping over each other, like the farmyard stream when the glacier melted and the white water gushed and swirled in eddies. He couldn’t get the words out.

  His feet started to itch. He concentrated on them and played part one of the trick Rainbow had shown him when he’d described itch, shuffle and escape to her. He imagined his feet growing
wiggly little roots down into the earth, spreading through layers of strata in a delta shape from his feet and holding him tight in place. Now they couldn’t take him anywhere.

  Rainbow went to brush her teeth and he played part two of her trick, which was to let all his thoughts slide down his body, through his legs and his roots into the earth, where the sand and stones absorbed them.

  While his thoughts travelled, he studied the stars until the names of the constellations filled the vacuum in his mind where his questions had been. When he’d finished, he rubbed his stiff neck and found he was in control of his feet again. Rainbow knew where they were going and what they were doing: it was enough. Soulmates belonged together. He climbed into his sleeping bag and stroked Darwie until he fell asleep.

  At seven o’clock the next morning they took down their tents and Rainbow threw all her kit into the yellow Mini. He packed his rucksack and gave her a 200-franc note to pay Lucien for his pitch, then sat in the passenger seat and settled Darwie at his feet. He was ready.

  They left Arrens-Marsous and he opened the map book. But when they reached Arras-en-Lavedan, Rainbow turned left.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “I’m taking you home. Where exactly do you live? You said it was up here somewhere.”

  He reached for the door handle and pulled it open. Darwie yelped. Rainbow swerved into a gateway.

  “Close the door! What’s the matter with you? I told you yesterday we were going home.”

  The words wouldn’t come. He shook his head violently and slammed the door shut.

  She pulled on the handbrake and sighed. “Did you think you were coming home with me?”

  He nodded.

  “Look, your part in the mission is over. I’ve had a nice time with you, and I need you to keep your promise about the Tree Slayer, but you’ve got your sheep to look after. I’m going home, back to my boyfriend, and hopefully my summer job.”