“No, that was some other girl,” he said. “Rainbow’s chained to it.”
“Oh, good. I don’t know why she bothers with trees, but still. Hats off and all that. It’s a great party. Better than the boring B&B. Come on, let’s get into the thick of it.”
She hurried after the crowd, and Eole turned to go and report back to Rainbow.
“Eole! Don’t you dare,” said Maman. “Stand still so I can look at you properly.”
Eole waited while she blew her nose. Then she told him off. She told him off for running away and for not eating properly and not keeping clean and not telephoning often enough, and Eole said nothing. He simply listened to the sound of her voice because it didn’t feel like she was telling him off. She was doing the same thing as Patou when he came home after the summer in the mountains and sniffed every corner of the barn to refamiliarise himself with it, and it felt right.
Chapter 37
Rainbow shifted her position on the branch so she could see the group marching around the corner towards her. Where had they all come from? She couldn’t see Eole anywhere.
The journalists took photos, held out microphones, and talked to the people at the edges of the crowd, which passed the contractors’ cabin. Madame Moulin had disappeared inside, and now Rainbow saw someone throw a projectile at it. A yellow stain slid down the side, joined by red splodges: eggs and tomatoes.
The crowd continued towards the mayor’s car, stationary on the track. Rainbow grinned. This was more like it. She wanted to join in. She wanted to open Barateau’s car door and see globs of egg and tomato all over his face. She pulled the key from her pocket and slotted it into the padlock.
“Don’t come down yet,” came a voice from behind the tree.
She jerked her head around. Could it be …? “Chris!” The joy that electrified her was stronger than anything she’d ever felt for him before. “I thought you’d gone.”
“I did go.” He climbed up the ladder. “I went for a spin so I could think about you and Eole. I’m sorry. My reaction was out of order.”
“That’s OK. I didn’t have time to explain–” started Rainbow. She was stopped by his kiss, which was quick but intense, as if he’d channelled all his love into one intimate second.
“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “I trust you. I should have trusted you from the beginning. Anyway, I stopped at the ecology festival in Paimpont.”
“You brought all these people?”
“Not really. I told you the locals were great. They got me up onto the live music stage and I just mentioned the new authorisation to cut down Druid Oak. And the fact you were chained to it. Oh, and when I remembered they’d known Druana, and learnt that she’d protested about cutting down the trees, I said a few words about not letting her die for nothing.”
“Wow! You should be a politician.”
He laughed. “I was just lucky. The festival atmosphere had a lot to do with it. And the rumours about backhanders Barateau received from the golfing company. Let’s hope the demonstrators’ methods of persuasion work.”
Rainbow looked past his shoulder. The protestors were yanking the mayor’s car door handles and drumming on the roof.
“Things are getting out of hand,” she said.
“I’ll entice them over here,” said Christophe. “Then you can talk to them.”
“No! Wait.”
Speaking to a huge crowd wasn’t part of her plan. She didn’t have any experience of soapbox politics. They wouldn’t listen, and half of them looked drunk, anyway. She’d only planned to get the mayor here with the journalists and shame him into backing down. But it hadn’t worked. What exactly could she say to the demonstrators? She and Druid Oak would end up covered in egg and tomatoes.
Christophe kissed her, whispered, “Courage!” and slid down the ladder.
She wanted to disappear into Druid Oak, like one of her bodies had done at the silver maple. She closed her eyes and imagined the wrinkled bark creeping over her arms, her legs and her back: absorbing her, like skin healing over a wound. It felt possible. She just had to press herself a little harder.
Eole couldn’t see Hestia in the group and he wasn’t prepared to get close enough to find her. He approached Druid Oak with Maman on one side and Darwie on the other, which was right. It felt like belonging, even though he wasn’t at home.
“I’m going to give that young Rainbow a piece of my mind,” said Maman.
Eole protested that Rainbow hadn’t done anything wrong and that she was too busy saving the forest to have time to be told off.
Someone ran up behind them, breathing heavily. A smell of orange flower filled Eole’s nose receptors and he saw a woman in her twenties, wearing ethnic genie trousers and a multi-coloured hippie smock. A faded blue scarf was wrapped around her head.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I’m looking for Rainbow and Eole.”
Before Eole could answer, Maman spoke: “Why? Who are you? What do you want with them?”
The woman introduced herself as Melanie Brown.
Eole told Maman that he’d phoned her, and while Maman looked at him with her eyebrows raised, blinking, he led Melanie towards Rainbow and explained what was happening.
Rainbow sensed she could disappear into Druid Oak, but she also knew she would regret her cowardice forever if she gave up now.
The lump of hate she’d felt inside her when she’d accepted Mary was harder than ever, which was strange, because although it was dense, it somehow comforted her. She concentrated on it, curious to know why it had become so hard. Was it trying to catch her attention? She visualised it in her mind’s eye.
It wasn’t a lump. It was a box. Whatever Mary had put inside it was as heavy as hate. Mary had more secrets, and until Rainbow opened the box and understood Mary completely, she couldn’t become truly One.
Hoping it wasn’t a kind of Pandora’s box, she reached towards it with her mind and slowly opened it.
A purple mist swirled out and engulfed her. Carried within the mist particles was the conviction that she could do anything she set her mind to. It didn’t matter what people thought. She was RainbowMary and if she decided to succeed, she would.
It wasn’t just a box, it was a treasure chest – and its contents were the source of Mary’s strength. Mary and her boxes! They were lifesavers.
She opened her eyes, ready to take on the world.
A familiar figure was standing at the top of the ladder.
“So. This is the Tree of Life and Death,” said Melanie.
“Is it?” Goose pimples rose on Rainbow’s neck and arms.
“That’s what the journos are calling it. I rang some colleagues and caught up on events, and Eole told me the rest. I think we can save the forest, thanks to poor Druana Cazenave and that cute Eole. And to Barateau’s corruption. We need to get these local guys organised. Then we’ll have a fab story to go with your travel log and your quest. I bet we’ll get loads of pledges of support when the feature comes out. Is this your travel log? Can I have a quick look?”
Rainbow gave it to her and looked over Melanie’s shoulder. The protestors were rocking the car, ignoring Christophe’s shouts to gather under Druid Oak.
“We’ve got to get them over here,” she said.
Melanie twisted round to look and then snapped the travel log shut.
“I’ll deal with them.”
She left Rainbow and elbowed her way through the people to the mayor’s car, where she climbed onto the bonnet, and then the roof.
“Listen to me, you lot. The mayor’s not going anywhere. There’s a girl in the tree, in case you hadn’t noticed. She’s ready to sacrifice her life so they don’t cut it down. And she’s got a great story for you. Come and hear how Druid Oak called her all the way from Cognac.”
The protestors’ faces turned towards Rainbow. She raised an unsteady hand in acknowledgement. They must have latched onto the word ‘Cognac’ and thought there would be free drinks, because they traip
sed across the grass and let Melanie organise them under the shade of Druid Oak.
Rainbow’s heart crashed against her ribs, despite her conviction that she could do this. She needed to see a friendly face.
Eole was right below her, sitting cross-legged on the grass, his eyes fixed on her. Somehow, Darwie had arrived and his head was on Eole’s lap, and Alexandra was beside him, sitting on her raincoat. Christophe was laughing with a girl. It was Hestia! Serge stood in the audience, talking to a journalist and showing him the flyer Druana had made. Even Madame Moulin had come out of her cabin – though Rainbow couldn’t see the other contractors – and was standing behind everyone with her arms folded.
Rainbow and Eole were no longer a duet, as Eole liked to say. They were part of an orchestra. And she was supposed to conduct.
She felt sick.
She couldn’t throw up. Not in front of everyone.
They were on her side. They all wanted the forest to remain intact, although Serge had made it clear that no one would appreciate anything spiritual. She had to be careful what she said. Melanie had caught their attention, but how could she follow it up without making her and Eole sound like weirdos?
She, RainbowMary, would find a way, because she was One.
She cleared her throat and raised her hands.
The chattering below her stopped. In the sudden silence, the bulldozer engine roared into life.
“OK, so … Hi there, folks. My name’s Rainbow, and I’m not used to public speaking. I just wanted to say that I may be sitting here, in Druid Oak, but my protest isn’t just for this tree. If I could, I’d be sitting in every condemned tree in this forest. Trees are important. They can’t defend themselves from humans, so we have to do it for them. We mustn’t let anyone fell any part of this magical forest of Brocéliande.”
Some people clapped. There was even a cheer.
“Bar-ra-teau, au ca-chot!” chanted a voice.
A few heads turned to check on the revving bulldozer, but nobody moved.
“What’s this about cognac?” asked a woman.
“How did the tree call you?” said another.
Rainbow hesitated. The bulldozer edged towards Druid Oak, its caterpillar tracks crushing the wild flowers in its path. The tractor engine started.
She could ignore the hook Melanie had used to catch their attention. She could invent a story about a friend calling her to come and help, and in doing so hide the nature of her and Eole’s gifts for understanding trees.
Or she could tell the truth.
Her gift defined her. Without it – without trees – she was nothing.
“It may be difficult to believe,” she said, “but the forest called us. You see, I have a rapport with trees: I can understand their feelings. And my friend Eole – Druid Oak’s baby – can hear them talking. Their voices guided us from Cognac to this amazing forest.”
There was silence from the audience.
“Trees are far more developed than we realise. They communicate with each other through their roots and by giving off chemical messages. In every forest there are special hub trees, or mother trees. They’re ancient trees that protect and nurture all the trees around them. Science is just starting to prove this.
“But there’s more. Some of these trees have a spiritual connection. They’re special mother trees and they hold the history of all treekind. The trees refer to them as ‘One Trees’.
“Brocéliande has a One Tree. More than that, Brocéliande holds the last One Tree. We don’t know exactly where it is, or exactly what role it plays, but we do know we have to protect it, which means we must protect the whole forest. But we can’t do it alone. We need your help.”
Exclamations of wonder and a wave of chattering filled the air. People shouted out questions. Rainbow answered as many as she could, aware of the bulldozer creeping inexorably closer.
It reached the end of the branch she was sitting on.
The branch trembled. She stopped talking, mid-sentence. Had the bulldozer touched it?
She laid her hands on the trunk. Druid Oak was shivering. She hugged it, but it was like hugging a rock: there was no reaction. The tree was too close to death.
A car door slammed. She glanced across the clearing to the track.
“The mayor!” she shouted, pointing at the figure running away.
Christophe and Hestia jumped up and ran after him. The journalists and a few members of the group followed them. Christophe caught the mayor’s arm. The mayor shook off his jacket and escaped. Hestia launched herself into a rugby tackle and threw him to the ground.
Within seconds, the journalists had gathered around. Hestia sprang up, her fist raised in triumph. Hugues Barateau staggered to his feet and then brushed himself off with short, sharp strokes. The journalists brandished their microphones, cameras and notebooks.
A police siren sounded.
The branch shuddered. It was going to fall. She could unchain herself and save her life, or she could try to help it.
She threw herself along the branch and held it tight with her arms and legs.
Hold on, she breathed to it.
The chain cut into her back, but she ignored it. Fibres twanged under her. It reminded her of another tree, another branch, another country. But this time it wasn’t her fault. She closed her eyes and sent all her energy, all the energy around her, into the branch. Could she make amends? She begged it to hold on.
Gasps and shouts of ‘Eole!’ came from below the tree.
The bulldozer horn blared.
Rainbow opened her eyes and saw Eole lying across the bulldozer’s path, right below her branch.
Alexandra tried to pull him up.
Darwie dashed from left to right between the bulldozer and Eole, nipping at the caterpillar tracks.
The bulldozer stopped.
Rainbow willed Druid Oak to hold tight to its branch.
Fibres strained and snapped. A series of images flashed before her eyes: flocks of people, gathered like sheep beneath her; an old man in a white tunic; a baby nestled in a bed of leaves inside the hollow trunk; a girl, falling through branches; herself, chained to the branch; a forest of withered trees without leaves; Amrita, her eyes closed, hands folded across her chest.
Druid Oak spoke one word.
Rainbow asked one question.
She got one answer.
“Eole!” she cried. “Move out the way!”
There was a blur of movement, a thunderous crack, rushing air. And then darkness.
Chapter 38
Rainbow woke up in a hospital bed. There was no pain. There was no empty space in her mind between falling with the branch and waking up in the hospital room. It wasn’t like last time.
Voices chattered around her. She lingered on the familiarity of them and then opened her eyes. Her family were grouped at the end of her bed, their backs to her. Domi was asleep on the chair. Outside, it was dark. She wiggled her fingers and toes and shifted each joint. Good. Everything was stiff, but she wasn’t paralysed. She turned her head and looked at the other bed.
It was empty.
“Eole?”
Her voice was croaky, but it was enough to bring a rush of faces and hands towards her. She blinked. They were all a bit wavy when they moved, and it was even worse when they all talked at once. She sipped from a glass Mum held out and tried to concentrate. There was something she needed to know.
Christophe took her hand in his. “Nice sense of drama,” he said. “But twice is enough.”
She squeezed his fingers and closed her eyes. It was too complicated to look and listen at the same time. Is this what it was like for Eole? Eole. That was what she needed to know.
“Is Eole OK?” she asked.
“The doctors think so,” said Domi’s voice, after a pause. “You can go and see him a bit later.”
She smiled, but wasn’t sure that her lips actually moved. They were so heavy.
The Lord’s Prayer interrupted Eole’s calculation of
the nineteenth position in the Fibonacci sequence. He wished Père Laurent and the congregation would shut up and let him concentrate.
“Shhh,” he said.
Miraculously, they went quiet. Though of course it wasn’t a miracle, because miracles were just a melodramatic way of referring to coincidences/events in the queue for scientific explanation. And now his own mind had interrupted his brain’s calculation and he would have to start again from the beginning.
“Eole?” whispered Maman’s voice.
He opened his eyes.
He closed them again.
It was all wrong. There was no churchy gloom, only a dim white blur. It felt like the middle of the night. And he must be half asleep because he hadn’t even noticed that, instead of the usual musty stone and furniture polish, the room stank of disinfectant and blood. His head hurt and his ears were ringing.
He opened one eye. Maman. Hestia. Where was Darwie? He opened the other and looked around. It was dawn. He was in hospital. Darwie must be outside. Eole was the only patient in the room, which felt illogical. There should be someone else.
Rainbow.
His memory galloped across his brain like the mountain ponies when he teased them by raising a wind: Rainbow – the trees screaming – Maman – Druid Oak – the bulldozer – the branch crashing down and him rolling out of the way because Rainbow had told him to, but she hadn’t told him soon enough and an offshoot of the branch had accelerated towards him and–
“What happened next?” he asked.
Maman and Hestia both started explaining at the same time. He felt sick at the thought of other people’s hands putting him onto a stretcher and then taking him off and examining him and sticking needles in him. It was lucky he’d been unconscious. Even though he’d failed to protect Rainbow one hundred per cent from the bulldozer that had made the branch fall, she hadn’t died. She was asleep in room 102.
“Can I see her?”
Maman told him he’d have to wait. She said that once the doctors had finished puzzling over the ear, nose and throat examinations and the X-rays of his lungs – and that they’d accepted he was exactly how God intended him to be – she was taking him home. She was going to feed him up and get him healthy again, since Rainbow hadn’t looked after him properly. It was lucky God had been watching over him.
Tree Slayer Page 30