‘So, how can I help you Lori?’ Tom asked me, as we walked over to a catchment area in which he released the two small butterflies captured in his net.
‘Well, I’m here to find out more about butterflies and their habitat and their life-cycle. But I’m also here to ask you about a specific variety of giant butterfly. I’m hoping you might be able to help me to track it down.’
As soon as I mentioned giant sized butterflies his interest was certainly piqued.
‘How very interesting. We have a Pterourus Homerus here that I can show you. That’s a Giant Swallowtail native to Jamaica. We also have the Morpho Menelous. That’s the Giant Blue Morpho. Are you studying the giant genus specifically, Lori?’
‘Well, it’s more like research. And, it’s very interesting that you have the Blue Morpho, as it’s the Green Morpho butterfly that I want to find.’
‘Really? Then I can only wish you luck, because as far as I know, it’s extinct.’
‘That’s what I’ve been told too. But are you at all familiar with the research of Alfred Russel Wallace – the nineteenth Century biologist and explorer?’
Tom looked delighted. ‘Yes, absolutely. He’s a hero of mine, actually.’
‘Mine too!’ I enthused, suddenly feeling all geeky and collaborative. ‘I recently saw a TV programme about the research that Wallace did in the Galapagos Islands. It was about the migration of indigenous species over incredible distances. It’s inspired me to hope that the Green Morpho could perhaps be rediscovered elsewhere in the Caribbean and then re-established back to its original home on a small island in the British Virgin Islands.’
Suddenly, Tom’s eyes were sparkling and he had the biggest grin on his handsome face.
‘Well, my goodness. That’s a great theory you have there and a really interesting quest!’
‘And, I was wondering if you had any information on where I might start looking for the Green Morpho? Or, if you have any contacts in the butterfly world who might be able to help or know of any similar research being done, or indeed of any recent sightings?’
‘Okay, Lori. Leave it with me and let me make a few phone calls. I’ll get back to you later today. In the meantime, let me show you around the conservatory here and take you through our Stages of Life butterfly exhibition. I think you’ll find it very interesting.’
I happily agreed to the private tour and I was feeling so relieved that he hadn’t simply dismissed my theory as impossible rubbish and that he actually wanted to help me.
We entered the main exhibit area and walked together side by side along a winding pathway that was meant to replicate a tropical Caribbean rainforest. The air in the conservatory was still and warm and heavily scented with the varieties of tropical flowers that provided the caterpillars with their favourite food source. ‘Caterpillars are very fussy about what they’ll eat.’ Tom told me. ‘Many species will only settle for one or two specific plants in their diet. It’s one of the reasons many have become so endangered.’
‘So, if I’m hoping to find the Green Morpho, what plant should I be looking for?’
‘They love one particular kind of tropical creeper. It’s called the Clitoria Ternatea.’
‘The clitoral what?’ I gasped. ‘Noooo! You just made that up!’
I suddenly caught a terrible fit of giggles. I couldn’t stop laughing.
Tom looked delighted. ‘No. I assure you, the flowers are the shape and form of a woman’s genitals, hence the Latin name. But of course it’s more commonly known as the Butterfly Pea, and where you find IT you will surely find THEM!’ He enthused.
I could hardly wait until I could tell Ethan about this, he’d think it was absolutely hilarious.
Joking aside, I had to admit that this was really useful information.
Exactly the kind of thing I needed to know for when I found the giant green butterfly.
The first part of the Life Cycle of a Butterfly exhibit showed examples of the egg stage of the lifecycle. There were lots of shrubs and plants and vine leaves with the undersides of their leaves covered with tiny textured butterfly eggs. Tom pointed all these out to me and I marvelled at them. I thought each looked exactly like a shiny drop of dew and yet inside there was a tiny fertilised beginning of a new butterfly. At the next stage, where the caterpillars had hatched and emerged from the eggs, we stopped so that Tom could reach up and pluck a caterpillar from the underside of a succulent and fleshy green leaf.
We were stood underneath a large tree that was feeding lots of chomping caterpillars.
‘Look here,’ he said. ‘You can see this one is shedding its skin in order to grow bigger.’
I peered at it and tried not to look disgusted. I really wasn’t so keen on caterpillars.
All I saw was a wriggling, furry, and horrible looking maggot that gave me the shivers.
‘Typically, this will happen up to five times and just look at all those tiny body hairs!’
I shuddered. The fat ones with lots of hairs, I decided, were even more nausea inducing than the smooth soft and squidgy ones. I took a step back. It was incredibly hot and humid in this part of the exhibit area and it was suddenly hard to breathe. I was starting to sweat profusely and my breathing had quickened. I was starting to feel horribly dizzy.
My heart was racing. My skin was burning hot, but I was also feeling icy cold.
What was happening to me? I started to worry that I might vomit.
And, in front of delicious Dr Tom, that would be really embarrassing.
Then the unthinkable happened. The most awful thing. The stuff of my nightmares.
At first, I didn’t realise what was causing the feeling of pitter-patter on my head and on my shoulders and my bare arms. I thought that maybe the sprinklers had come on because of the heat. I turned my eyes away from the small hairy yucky squirming creature cradled in the centre of Tom’s palm and then noticed that there were more of them on the ground and all around us.
Instinctively I touched my hair. What was that?
Droplets of condensation from the tree above perhaps?
But caught between my fingers was another of the wriggling green and hairy beasties.
I immediately threw it down on the ground and raked at my hair and found more.
On the ground there were now hundreds of them.
It had started to ‘rain’ caterpillars.
In horror, I shook my head and rubbed my hair and stamped my feet and started screaming.
I carried on screaming and doing this ‘rain dance’ until Tom grabbed me firmly and shook my shoulders while yelling my name loudly until I stopped screaming and stamping.
Then I stood there in front of him shaking and sobbing and in something of a complete mess.
‘Lori, look into my eyes. Come on, focus. Lori, breathe deeply and look at me!’
I did as I was told while Tom counted to five slowly and deliberately until I was calm.
‘Oh my goodness. What just happened? What have I done?’ I gasped in horror.
All around us there were sticky squishy squashed dead green caterpillars.
‘You had a panic attack.’ Tom told me. ‘Have you ever had one before?’
‘No. Never. I didn’t know what was happening to me. It was awful.’
I was shocked. I was appalled. I was full of apologies and totally and horribly embarrassed.
Again, fearing I might vomit, I turned and fled outside through the nearest emergency exit door and sat down on a bench outside with my head down and my arms wrapped tightly around myself until the sick feeling subsided. How excruciating. I knew I was averse to caterpillars.
I knew I didn’t like them at all. But I hadn’t realised until now that I had a real fear of them.
Even if they do look revolting and creepy – like Ethan once said to me – it’s not as if they bite or they are poisonous or anything. My fear is stupid and totally unreasonable.
Tom came outside and sat with me. We didn’t speak for what felt like foreve
r.
I’d just murdered hundreds of his children. I suspected that he hated me now.
‘Lori. I think the best way to handle this is for you to go back inside and face your phobia.’
I looked at him in amazement. Was he mad? Did he not see what just happened in there?
He stood in front of me and held out his hand. ‘Come on. You must do this.’
I took a deep shuddering breath as he took my hand in his and spoke to me softly.
‘I mean, how are you supposed to re-establish a population of Green Morpho in the British Virgin Islands, if you can’t tolerate them at the caterpillar stage? Besides, I still must show you what I personally consider to be the best bits of the exhibition. That’s the silken cocoons. And, if we’re really lucky, we’ll get to see a new butterfly drying its wings for its very first flight. You don’t want to miss that, do you?’
I was suddenly tearful and so touched by his care and his forgiveness that I felt obliged to do as he suggested. And, of course, he was right. How was I supposed to complete my mission to get the island back for Ethan, if I couldn’t stand the sight of a little caterpillar, let alone a giant one? So I stood up on my wobbly legs and followed Tom inside.
Maybe this time I was more prepared, I don’t know, but I forced myself to be brave and I did manage to control myself and to do the deep-breathing thing and to hold a caterpillar in my hand. I didn’t like it. But I did it. After seeing the caterpillars in the silken cocoon stage and watching a butterfly slowly emerge to dry its wings and then to be surrounded by a myriad of fluttering beautiful butterflies including the impressive Giant Swallowtail and the (commonly found) Giant Blue Morpho that was so big that I held it across both of my outstretched hands, I was feeling recovered and entirely grateful to Tom, albeit, still very embarrassed.
He seemed to have forgiven me, even if I hadn’t yet forgiven myself.
He told me I didn’t need to attend his talk this afternoon, as I’d had the private version of it.
‘Go somewhere and relax, Lori. Go to the beach. I’ll make a few calls this afternoon,’ he told me as I was leaving. ‘I have colleagues dotted around in various places in the Caribbean doing research on various projects. I’ll ask about for you. Let’s see if I can find out any news on the possible whereabouts of your fabled Green Morpho.’
We shook hands formally and I thanked him again and gave him my phone number.
Then I made my way back down through the gardens and out of the black wrought iron gates and down the street to my hotel room for a lie down and a nap to recover from my ordeal.
It was during this quiet time in my room, and while reflecting on what had happened to me in the conservatory, I realised it had been exactly what I thought had happened to me as a child.
The subconscious mind worked in strange ways. Was my aversion to caterpillars actually a real fear? Tom had called it a phobia. Was he right?
If so, then finding the giant sized Green Morpho, would be even more of a challenge.
I checked the time. It was 4p.m. here and so 8p.m. in London. I knew my mum would be home.
She was happy to hear from me and I listened to how busy she’d been all day. I asked her if she’d seen the boys and Zoey. She said she hadn’t. And this weekend coming, she knew they had Christmas parties to attend, so she didn’t expect to see them this weekend either. She asked me how I was getting on with my exhibitions, so I explained about being at the butterfly exhibition and how seeing caterpillars everywhere had freaked me out.
‘The strange thing is that I remembered something about being trapped in our old garden shed with lots of caterpillars. Do you know if that really happened to me when I was young?’
‘Ah, the caterpillars in the bucket!’ Mum chuckled on recalling the event. ‘Yes, you were only about six or seven years old and we came tearing out the house because you were screaming like a banshee and trapped in the shed. But the door wasn’t locked and you had taken all those awful little creatures inside there with you. It took us ages to calm you down. What a terrible scare you’d given us and yourself!’
‘Well, I suppose that kind of explains a few things.’ I remarked with a shudder.
Chapter 11
I must have dozed off for a while lying on my comfortable bed in my hotel room. My mobile phone ringing woke me up. It was Tom. He said that he’d just spoken over the phone to a friend who was a zoologist on another island here in the Caribbean and he had a bit of information that might be of interest. Suddenly, I was wide awake.
‘Oh, wow, that’s fantastic. Can we meet somewhere to discuss it?’
I was just about to suggest a cocktail bar somewhere for a drink.
‘Lori, let me take you out to dinner tonight. I know an amazing restaurant in the hills.’
I was rather taken aback, especially after what had happened today.
I was still cringing and thinking he must have the impression that I’m a crazy woman.
Neither was I normally up for accepting dinner dates from handsome men whom I don’t know very well. But it’s an enticing offer and I am feeling hungry and a restaurant on St Lucia in the hills does sound rather amazing. Plus, he has ‘a bit of information’ for me.
‘Erm, thank you, Tom. That sounds very nice. I’d really like that.’
‘Then I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.’
‘Okay, I’m at the Loverlie Island Hotel.’
And, once again I find myself in a situation, whereby I have nothing suitable to wear.
For a moment, I have a pang of regret about leaving my beautiful dress in the Bahamas.
Then, on second thoughts, it could be a tad too dressy for a casual Caribbean restaurant.
Having spotted several small boutiques around the town square area when I’d first arrived, I grabbed my purse and headed out in search of something light and casual to wear while having dinner with Tom. Not that this is a date. This is just having dinner with a new friend.
I walked down the narrow street towards the square, passing small colourful houses and friendly local people, who either nodded graciously or waved politely as I passed them. As I walked passed one house, I saw a young woman there with a little girl sitting on her lap.
They are sitting in the open doorway and the woman is braiding the little girl’s hair.
She calls out to me. ‘Hey, lady, come here. Come inside. I can tell you your future!’
I stop and turn and smile. What an extraordinary gift?
I’d absolutely love for someone to be able to tell me my future.
I laughed. It would solve all my problems for sure.
If I knew exactly what my future looked like, then I was sure to be less stressed about my choices and less anxious about making all the wrong decisions. The little girl is bright eyed and beautifully dressed and her hair is decorated with colourful beads and ribbons. But the woman’s dress is worn and her expression is worn too. Her eyes gave me such a soulful look that I nod my head and I understand. It didn’t matter to me if this was a hoax or a scam or the real deal.
This woman is just looking for a way to feed her family tonight.
‘I can tell you where to find your fortune or the man of your dreams!’ She assured me.
I walk towards her. ‘Okay. Do you read the tea cup or the cards?’
‘The tarot. I have a special gift passed on to me by my mother and my mother’s mother and her mother before her. They were all able to see the future in the cards. My daughter will also have this gift. I charge only ten dollars for a reading. That’s a very cheap price.’
The little girl smiled and nodded her head and all her beads and ribbons shook.
I was ushered inside the small room, sparsely furnished but spotlessly clean.
I sat down on the chair opposite the young woman, who took a pack of tattered looking tarot cards from a silk cloth wrapping. She handled them very carefully and began to slowly shuffle them. ‘As you can see, these cards are very old. They once belonged to my gr
eat great grandmother who brought them here from New Orleans. Before she owned these cards, they belonged to Marie Laveau, the witch queen of New Orleans. They have very special magic in them and I warn you that they only ever speak the truth.’
It was a lovely story and certainly added depth to the reading.
She studied me intensely as she shuffled and lay out four cards in a spread on the table. She then looked down at the cards and gasped, seemingly taken aback by what she saw in them, or rather she made a great show of being impressed by them. She touched each one lightly with the tips of her fingers. The first card depicted a noble man dressed in armour and riding on a chariot and carrying a sword aloft in his hand.
‘Unlike many others who come to St Lucia, you are not a tourist here. You are like the man in The Chariot because you are on a special journey. You are on a quest of great importance. You are looking for something and you seem very determined to find it. This card is one of great bravery.’
‘And do I find what I’m looking for?’ I asked her, by way of encouragement.
I had intended on staying visibly sceptical or at least as quietly detached as possible, because of course many ‘fortune tellers’ get their insights by reading the subject in front of them, rather than the cards on the table. But I couldn’t help myself. I was suddenly super excited because she was saying all the right things to me. All the things I wanted to hear.
It gave me a weird kind of hope that she was a genuine fortune teller after all.
She cast her eyes down to the next card. But, from where I was sitting, it didn’t look at all promising. This card showed a tall tower with lightning strikes hitting it and flames shooting out of it and someone falling out of it head first onto rocks. Oh dear. Gloom and doom and perhaps even death. I felt my mouth go dry in my anticipation of her telling me something like: If I were you, lady, I wouldn’t even think about getting on an airplane anytime soon.
She looked at me intently again. ‘Your quest of great importance will be a challenging one. The Tower shows both challenge and change –but if change is what you seek –then you will be very successful.’
The Next Adventure Page 14