by JD Nixon
“Feel free to discard your underwear as well, Tilly. Many of choose to be as unrestricted by clothing as possible,” suggested the Head Farmer.
“Thanks anyway, but underwear is good,” I said firmly. I tried valiantly to banish any thought of her nakedness. I was given a pair of flimsy sandals to replace my beloved runners. The Head Farmer came over to me and turned me around, pulling my hair free of its ponytail.
“We encourage natural beauty in all its forms,” she explained enigmatically as she gently fluffed my hair around my head. I took a step away from her as soon as it was polite and gathered my clothes, clutching them to my chest. I really didn’t like it here.
“Jye will take you to the sleeping quarters now, and then I’ll meet you again in the dining hall.”
Jye took me back to the Kombi where I hauled out my suitcase. He didn’t offer to carry it for me, and I followed him to a building to the right of the main office. He opened the door to reveal a long room filled with two rows of army style bunks, each with its own combined cupboard/dressing table standing next to it.
“This will be your bed here,” he said, guiding me to an unoccupied space in the middle of the left row.
“Is the men’s dormitory on the other side of the building?” I enquired politely.
“No, Tilly. We all sleep in here. Men, women and children. We’re a true community.”
“Really?” I said, not bothering to hide my dismay. “Everyone together in this room?”
“Yes, it’s an incredible bonding experience for all the Farmers. A way of confirming that we share everything in this community.”
Shit! I nearly cried with depression. A whole month of unwelcome togetherness with a bunch of whackos, twenty-four hours a day. I missed my little flat already. With heel-dragging reluctance, I put my suitcase on the bed and unpacked my meagre belongings under Jye’s watchful eyes. For some reason I couldn’t explain, I hesitated about taking out my electronic tablet, and left it sitting snugly in its hidden compartment. I pushed my empty suitcase under my new bed.
“Excellent,” said Jye. “Let’s go eat. I’m famished.”
The dining hall was another huge communal room on the right side of the main office, next to the dormitory, long tables and bench seats filling the space. A door at the end of the hall obviously led to the kitchen. A terrible smell pervaded the room and I hoped to God that it wasn’t dinner, because I’d suddenly lost my appetite if it was.
The bench seats were teeming with Farmers, everyone dressed in the ugly homespun shifts (for the women) or homespun shirts and drawstring cotton pants (for the men). There were about one hundred people, ranging in age from the middle-aged baby-boomers, who were probably the original Farmers, down to a newborn baby who stridently screeched its displeasure at being kept waiting for its food. Its mother obliged by popping her boob out in front of everyone and shoving it in the greedy baby’s mouth. I knew it was natural and a beautiful thing, but it always made me feel uncomfortable to witness, and I looked away. Maybe because I knew that my boobs were only ever going to be playthings for men and would never nurture another human being, my ability to procreate prematurely ended by the car accident with Niq. Never mind, I told myself. I didn’t care anyway, not being a particularly maternal person in the first place.
I felt like the new girl at school as Jye led me to a table. Everyone stared at me and gossiped discreetly behind their hands. I was suddenly shy and I didn’t make eye contact with anyone as Jye herded me to my seat. He was then called away by another Farmer.
“Hello. Welcome to The Farm,” said a gentle male voice next to me, and I raised my head to thank him for his kindness. We stared at each other, mouths gaping in surprise.
“Tilly? Tilly Chalmers? Is that really you?” he asked in wonderment.
“Oh, my God! Simon?” I couldn’t say another word, completely dumbstruck.
“Tilly! How wonderful to see you. I’ve often thought about you and hoped that everything turned out well for you. And here you are! It’s like a miracle.”
During university, Simon Fells had been the absolute love of my life – a very attractive, intelligent boy from a well-heeled family, studying philosophy, and with a profound interest in exploring the meaning of life. We’d dated for almost two years at university and I would have married him in a blink if he’d asked. But he hadn’t. Instead, at the end of our second year, he found God, or rather an eccentric interpretation of God’s word propagated by a cultish religious group active on campus at the time. I tried everything from sex to overt threats to keep my hold on Simon, but I felt him slipping away from me day by day, the cult’s grip on him tightening.
One awful day he told me that their teachings had changed the way he looked at the world. He’d decided not to spend the summer holidays with me backpacking around Europe as we’d planned, but instead he would be joining the cult members at their rural retreat ‘to find himself’. I didn’t know what he found, but unhappily, it wasn’t his way back to me. Then I received a letter from him in which he’d said that it was now obvious to him that our beliefs were fundamentally incompatible, that he wished me well in the future, but he was staying on at the retreat permanently. My heart broke in two that day.
I guess the Farmers were that weird cult. It had taken me a long time to get over him, and to run into him again with no warning played havoc with my equanimity. He looked good, time had barely touched him, and all kinds of emotions rushed to the surface as I gazed at his wavy brown hair, soft, loving dark brown eyes and beautiful smile. It struck me suddenly then how much Will looked like him, which set off another series of questions in my head. Had I been trying to replace Simon with Will all this time, and hadn’t realised?
“Here I am,” I managed to say, smiling with uncontrived happiness at meeting with him again.
“Oh Tilly, there’s so much I wanted to say to you but never had the chance, and now here you are sitting next to me, and I can’t think of a thing to say.” He pulled a face in self-reproach.
“Simon, we have so much to talk about. Is there a chance later on, maybe?”
He looked around quickly to see who was paying attention to us. No one seemed to be. “Maybe. Anyway for now, can we pretend we’ve just met? Sometimes the Head Farmer is a little . . . strange about our previous lives. She insists that we leave our other lives completely behind. She wouldn’t like it if she knew that we’d been . . . friends . . . previously.”
Friends? What the hell? He was the first man I’d ever slept with. And yes, I did have to wait until university before I had sex for the first time, Mum and Dad keeping a very close eye on me before then. I’d been his first lover as well. We’d discovered everything about sex together, with much laughter and love. How could he think what we’d shared had been just friendly? His words hurt me, and I think it showed on my face because distress crossed his face. Underneath the table, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly, a small smile on his lips.
“We’ll talk later,” he whispered, and glanced around again anxiously. Jye came over and sat across from Simon and me, looking between us guardedly.
“Tilly, you’ve met Farmer Simon?”
“Yes, thank you. He’s given me a very warm welcome to The Farm.”
Fortunately, the serving of dinner momentarily halted all conversation. My heart sank when I realised that the disgusting smell was indeed our food. I glanced down at my plate trying to identify the meal. It was brown, glutinous and lumpy. Everyone else in the room tucked in heartily, conversation flowing again, using the hard slabs of homemade bread to sop up the revolting gravy, toasting each other with goblets of water. I really, really, really needed a glass of wine, I decided. Particularly to face dinner. I picked up my fork and tried to stab one of the gelatinous blobs. It had the texture of a blood clot, which turned me off the dinner immediately. I pushed a hard piece of bread into the gravy and nibbled on that. Forget a glass of wine, I needed the whole damn bottle.
“Not enjoyi
ng dinner?” asked Simon quietly.
“I might enjoy it more if I had any idea what it was,” I whispered back.
“Indeterminate Stew. That’s what I call it.” He briefly flashed me a smile.
“Is there any meat in it?”
“No, we’re vegetarians.”
“Thank God for that! I was afraid I’d been dished up some very cheap and nasty cut of meat, like the nostrils or anus.” He tried to suppress his sudden laugh, cleverly turning it into a cough, his eyes streaming. I helpfully thumped him on the back.
“Thank you, Recruit Tilly. Thank you and bless you. That was a very gristly piece of tofu I had,” he managed to splutter as everyone looked over in concern. When he’d subsided and everyone else had gone back to their dinners we looked at each other.
“Oh, Farmer Simon, I want to say so much but I can’t. Not here, with everyone watching.”
“I’ll wake you up tonight, very, very late. We can talk then. Okay?”
“Okay.”
That was all I managed to say before Jye took control of me again, bringing me up to the top table where the Head Farmer sat. She seemed to have polished off three bowls of the disgusting gruel and, judging by the crusts, at least five pieces of the teeth-breaking bread.
“Recruit Tilly is ready for her assignment, Head Farmer.”
“Tilly, my dear. You and Farmer Simon seemed to be getting along famously.” Her blue eyes raked over me intently.
“He’s a very kind person. Thank you for placing me next to someone so nice. I was feeling a little overwhelmed.” I hoped that allayed any suspicion she had. I didn’t underestimate her intelligence and observational skills.
She shot me a sharp glance. “Indeed he is. We all love him for those qualities.”
I smiled politely, as if I wasn’t interested in talking about Simon at all.
“Tilly,” she said softly, clasping my hand and stroking the back of it with her thumb again. It gave me the creeps and it was all I could do not to snatch my hand away. “You have so much to learn about being a Farmer. I would love to teach you. Personally.”
“Thank you, Head Farmer,” I managed to stammer. “That’s an incredible honour to me, I’m sure.”
She nodded gravely, only confirming to me that she did consider it to be an honour. I badly wanted to remind her that I was on an assignment, because the way she talked to me made me think that she forgotten that important fact.
“What time do the Farmers go to sleep, Head Farmer?” I asked, feigning a yawn. “I’m quite exhausted from the drive here.”
“Soon enough, Tilly, soon enough,” she smiled and stroked my hand.
I suddenly felt nauseous, but wasn’t sure if I should blame the Indeterminate Stew or her overly intimate touching.
“First we have the evening prayer,” she advised, and still holding my hand, led me off to the building on the left side of the main office. It was a huge hall, empty of any furniture. She kept hold of my hand as she took her place at the front, still standing. All the other Farmers trooped in, chatting casually, taking their place, cross-legged on the floor, and facing their leader. When everyone had finished filing in and had settled down, the Head Farmer released my hand, leaving me standing awkwardly in front of everyone while she addressed them.
“Welcome, dear Farmers, welcome, as we reach the end of another of our Lord’s glorious days,” she began, and there was a general cheer of contented praise from the audience. And for the next thirty minutes, she spoke eloquently, not quite praying, not quite sermonising and not quite lecturing, but a mix of all three. Her theme intricately combined the importance of respecting the earth through sustainable organic agricultural practices, and the worship of God, who brought forth the bountiful harvest and consequently existed in each vegetable the Farmers grew and ate. I scratched my head over the meaning of it, distracted by her boobs, which swung freely with every grandiose gesture she made. It was probably a fairly hypnotic sight from the audience.
When she’d finished speaking, she turned to me and gestured me over to stand near her. She threw a heavy arm around my shoulder and proceeded to introduce me to the audience as the community’s new recruit. I was treated to a hearty round of applause and a few interested looks from some of the male Farmers. Simon gave me an encouraging smile.
After the ‘sermon’, everyone battled in the (thankfully) gender-divided bathrooms situated at one end of the dormitory to brush their teeth, take a shower and use the toilets. Simon prepared for bed across the aisle from me, about five people closer to the exit. I realised, after exchanging a few words with my neighbours, that new recruits were always placed in the middle of the room. Having a bed at the far end was a great sign of trust. I wondered briefly why Simon wasn’t at the end. Presumably he’d been part of the cult since we’d broken up about seven years ago.
It took a while for everyone in the room to quieten down, even after the lights were switched out. I was very conscious of other people around me as I attempted to sleep. A snorer, who’d dropped off as soon as his head hit the pillow, thundered through the room. A sleep-talker conducted a dream conversation out loud. The newborn screeched uncontrollably for a while before the mother shoved her boob in its mouth again. I hoped she kept it there all night. Someone farted loudly, creating a ripple of giggles around the room.
“Silence!” ordered the Head Farmer in her commanding voice. There was silence.
I lay in my hard, uncomfortable bed, still wearing my rough shift, wide-awake, eyes searching the ceiling for some escape. I hated it here. Despondent, I pulled up my abrasive army surplus blanket, which had the texture of being manufactured from pubic hair. I stealthily slipped my phone from my dresser drawer, and hiding under the blanket, checked it for a signal.
Nothing.
A few tears of self-pity plopped out of my eyes. Back at the Warehouse, Heller had probably gone out to get laid, Daniel and Niq were watching some gory movie without me, and the twins didn’t care anyway. Nobody missed me and everybody was getting along just fine without me. I was like the scratchy pubic hair blanket – surplus to requirements.
The only thing stopping me from a full-blown pity attack was the audience. You couldn’t properly cry yourself to sleep when there were people everywhere listening. I reached for my iPod, prepared to let other more talented people do the caterwauling for me, but it wasn’t where I’d left it when I unpacked. Oh, just great! Someone had stolen my iPod already. And they called themselves a bunch of Christians!
I stared at the ceiling for hours, replaying my favourite songs in my head and heroically trying to erase any thought of anyone at the Warehouse. It was a long night. Just when I thought I might go completely insane with insomnia, when everyone else was fast asleep, a furtive figure approached me. It was Simon. He put his finger to his lips and took my hand, leading me away from the main door to a corridor where a side door exited to the outside. He didn’t speak, but led me to a small distant building, some kind of shed. Inside, he rearranged stacks of hay to make a comfortable seat for us both. I sat close next to him.
“Imagine meeting up with you after all this time . . .” he started, but faltered. Instead, he stroked my face gently with his hand.
“Simon.”
“Tilly. I’ve thought about you so much over the years. I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I know we were much more than friends, but I suppose I’ve tried not to dwell too much on that physical side of my former life.” He smiled at me. “I’ve never had another relationship since you.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised. “But you’re allowed to have relationships here, aren’t you? I mean, there’s a baby, so someone’s being intimate. Though heaven knows how with everyone sleeping in the same room.”
He smiled again. “We can, but . . . This will probably make you laugh. I took a vow of celibacy when I joined and I’ve been faithful to that vow ever since.”
“Wow! All these years? No sex? I’m impressed. I seem to recall that you q
uite enjoyed it once upon a time,” I teased. “How have you ever managed to cope for so long without it?”
“Lots of praying and cold showers,” he joked. “I keep myself busy farming. I’ve become a good farmer, if that doesn’t sound too boastful.”
“No, not at all.”
“I treasure my connection with the soil and the plants. It’s so spiritual for me to nurture the earth and watch thing grow. I’m very happy here. I’m fulfilled.”
I took his hand. “I’m glad you’re happy, Simon. I always hoped you would be.”
He looked down at our entwined hands. “That’s very sweet. You’ve always been a generous person, Tilly. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you didn’t think well of me after I dumped you so suddenly. It was cruel and cowardly of me, and I want to apologise for that. I should have been kinder and more considerate of your feelings. But at that point I was desperately keen to cut myself off from my old life and start again with my new life here.”
“I won’t lie, Simon, it was a painful time for me. I loved you very much.”
“I know. I loved you too. Have you found happiness, Tilly? Or is that why you’re here? Are you still looking for it?”
I longed to tell him my real reason for being here, not wanting to deceive him, but I had to respect the wishes of my client. “Maybe I’m just feeling a bit lost in my life,” I said vaguely. “I thought I’d give The Farm a shot, but I’m not sure it’s going to be the answer for me.”
He squeezed my hand. “I’m hoping that you do decide to stay, Tilly. I’ll have to seriously reconsider my vow if you do become a Farmer. You’ve grown even lovelier over the years than I remember.” He smiled in the darkness at me, and leaned forward to fleetingly touch his lips on my cheek. “We better go back before someone notices we’re missing.”
He stood up and holding my hand, we returned to the dormitory. We quietly crept back into our beds and I gratefully fell asleep straight away.
Chapter 13
It seemed like only a second after I closed my eyes that everyone was stirring in the dormitory. I opened one eyelid, decided it was far too early for my liking and closed it again, rolling over. I buried my head under the hard, lumpy pillow to block out the noise of the others moving around. A hand grasped my shoulder and shook me.