We Go Forward

by Alison Evans

  "Well, I'm from Yorkshire. I've been here for twenty-five years." He looks around at the park and I wonder if he means Germany or if he means the actual park. Just thinking about living in a caravan park for twenty-five years makes my breathing stop. "Came here when I was your age and I loved it. I've been back home a few times, you know, but I always come back."

  "Twenty-five years," I repeat. I wonder if I could stay away from Melbourne for that long. "That's a while."

  He nods. "Met my wife here, though she's from Thailand. Sometimes we go back to visit my brother in Leeds. Twenty-five years, but it's gone like that."

  I haven't even been alive for twenty-five years; could it go that quickly?

  "Make sure where you end up is where you need to be," Mark says, and then the woman comes back and hands me a clipboard with a contract in German on it.

  "So I've just gotta sign this?" I ask him.

  "It explains all the rules," he says. "In German, course. But basically you promise not to destroy the campsite, the electricity is a standard fee, just there… Boring stuff, really. They are not liable for any damage caused to either the caravan or yourself, all that."

  Well, we're probably not going to catch on fire. "All right, cool." I sign away after filling in all my details and asking Mark a few questions.

  The woman says something.

  "You lot paying with cash or card?"

  "Card."

  "All right, just follow Mary through and she'll sort you out."

  With that, he's off walking towards the showers. Twenty-five years. That's a fucking long time, Jesus Christ.

  We spend the morning showering and it's great to finally be clean again. There are washing machines with English instructions, too, so we can have clean clothes again.

  I've got no idea where we are, because sometimes it doesn't really matter at all—somewhere down the fairy tale road, maybe. I don't need to know what time it is, and I've got no phone reception. I think it's great, but I know that Roslyn is probably dying.

  We catch a bus that takes us through a very sparse forest. Even though there's no green left from the winter, the trees are so thick that I can't see through to the other side. The bus takes us past a fancy-looking restaurant. Just looking at it, I can feel the euros disappearing from my wallet. It's astounding that people can eat in places like this, because I can't begin to imagine being able to justify spending that much money on one meal.

  "Aw, shit, that looks hella fancy," Julie says, and presses the next stop button. I panic, because we're going to have to get off the bus now.

  "It'll be great!" Julie says, while Sam looks at her in utter disgust.

  "May as well go inside," I say, shivering as my recently-washed still-damp hair sucks any warmth from me that I had. "It's freezing out here and there is literally nowhere else to go."

  "I dunno," Roslyn says, zipping up her coat. "They probably have some kind of sensor that doesn't let in poor people. I'll have to watch you from outside."

  "We'd have the best time," I say. "Sipping wine beside an open fire place, you, staring with your huge baby eyes from outside…"

  "Get lost," Roslyn says, nudging my arm as we follow Julie and Sam across the road. "My eyes aren't that huge, either."

  "We're in a random forest," Sam says to Julie, who are still arguing about how we shouldn't go into the restaurant. "We could be murdered and no one would know."

  "The next bus isn't for ages, so we may as well go in." Julie shrugs. "And besides, we could be murdered anywhere."

  "Jeez," Sam says. "Way to look on the bright side."

  "It's what I'm good at," Julie says, with a shit-eating grin. "Come on, it'll be great."

  As Sam swears her ass off, we enter the restaurant into a foyer that's decorated with a huge vase with flowers in it; the whole place is colour-coordinated to them. White and light green. Everything is so clean. There's a coat rack and the carpet is so plush, I can feel it even through my huge boots. We make it across the foyer and come to the restaurant main without getting kicked out for not being fancy enough.

  There's a huge camera set up, and there are sound and whatever else people standing around.

  "Oh," I say. "Sorry, we'll—"

  Two of the restaurant staff come up to us and shake our hands, start talking in German.

  "We don't er, speak…" Julie says. "Nein Deutsch."

  The staff switch languages immediately without any pause. "My apologies, of course. Welcome. May I take your jacket?"

  After they've shaken all our hands, taken our jackets, shown us to the table, pulled out our chairs for us, and told us all about the specials, Roslyn turns to me and whispers, "I think we've been mistaken for someone."

  "No shit," I reply.

  "See, Julie?' Sam says. "We've been murdered and now this is heaven."

  "You're welcome," Julie replies, grinning at her. "Swanky heaven, baby."

  "Only the best for us."

  "Seriously, though," Roslyn says, leaning in. "They must think we're someone, right? Not everyone gets that treatment, right? Right?"

  "I mean, we are the only people here," I say, turning around to look. The back wall is a huge window looking out into the forest. It doesn't seem like it's real; it's too pretty. There are little patches of snow that haven't quite melted away yet and the trunks of the trees stand stark against the white. "Maybe they're just having a laugh."

  "Or because their manager is here so they have to pretend like they care." Roslyn nods.

  The waitress comes back and we order. Roslyn and I get the cheapest things and Sam and Julie's aren't that much more expensive. They're still high prices; maybe I'll just skip lunch today and eat some of the stale cereal we have in the van. For dinner, too.

  "Thank fuck we had showers before coming here," Roslyn says. "Y'know we hadn't showered in, like, three days before this morning?"

  "I know," I say. "I could never forget. It was disgusting."

  The camera crew aren't sure what to do and we all keep making awkward eye contact. The restaurant is super silent and we end up just whispering to one another.

  "Maybe they're making a documentary about royalty or something," Julie says. "That could be us."

  "I doubt that royalty would be catching the bus?" Sam replies. "And then ordering literally the cheapest things."

  "Come on, Sam, it's just fun. Maybe we're modern royalty," Julie says, wagging her fork around as she speaks. "In touch with the peasants and shit."

  "Well, excuse me," Sam says, rolling her eyes. "Of course we're modern royalty; we're not fuckin' time travellers."

  Behind Sam and Julie, I can see two staff members talking to each other behind the bar. They keep looking at us and one of them is shaking their head. They're pointing at the clock.

  "Wait, no, we are time travellers," Roslyn says. "Look, they even know because we weren't supposed to arrive for another fifteen minutes."

  It's quarter to twelve. Maybe they're waiting on someone arriving at twelve; they've booked out the whole place and we've ruined everything.

  "We should leave," I say.

  "We can't do a runner," Roslyn hisses. "That is so gross, Christie. Have you ever worked in hospitality? I used to work in this café, and one time, this group jumped the back fence instead of paying. We are not doing a runner." She jabs her finger at me as she glares and I shrink away from her the tiniest bit.

  "I didn't mean it like that," I reply. "I just mean they're probably waiting for someone important."

  "But darling," Julie says. "We're the queens of the realms of space and time."

  "There's no one else to wait for," Sam says, raising her glass.

  "They do seem to be waiting for someone, though," Julie points out. "But they aren't gonna kick us out, right? I mean, they let us in."

  "It's fine," Sam says. "If they need us to leave, they'll just say."

  A big car pulls up in the carpark. It's shiny. Another follows.

  "This is the end," Roslyn says. />
  "It's fine, Roslyn," Julie says. "We can just explain."

  The other people come in, four women. Their fashion is much more expensive-looking than ours, and they don't look like they've been living in a van for the past week. Their hair is perfect. Their skin is perfect. Their posture, even.

  "Fuckin' hell," Roslyn says. "Look at them, they're actually literal queens. They're going to smoosh us under their boots and I'm going to thank them for it because they're actually perfect, like Natalie-Dormer perfect."

  "They're not queens," I say automatically. "Germany doesn't have royalty."

  "Fuck, I was joking." Roslyn frowns at me. "Bloody hell, I'm not that ignorant."

  "Sorry."

  "Whatever." She rolls her eyes, picking at the skin beside one of her nails.

  The women get the same treatment that we did, with the handshakes and the coats being taken and whatever, and I'm just trying to disappear into my seat. Start my new life as a non-sentient wooden chair. It'll be fine.

  "What if we're those annoying people in the café who just won't leave despite being clearly unwelcome?" Roslyn says.

  After the women are seated, our food is brought over and we start eating as the camera crew start to film whoever these people are. Everything's in German, but they're too quick for me to understand any of it. As we watch them, Sam and Julie whisper to each other behind their hands and Roslyn inhales her food; she wants to get out of here as soon as possible. By the time I'm half done, she's setting down her spoon, twitching in her seat.

  "Roslyn," I say once I've finished my soup that is delicious, but definitely not worth its price. "Do you wanna step outside for a bit?"

  She breathes out and immediately looks relieved. "Yeah."

  "We'll be back in a sec," I tell the others, whose meals aren't even half done.

  We go up and pay for our own meals, Roslyn jittery beside me the whole time. I help her put on her coat and she squeezes my arm before we get outside.

  "You okay?" I ask her as the gravel under our feet crunches.

  "Fine," she says, wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm.

  "You're acting pretty odd."

  She doesn't reply.

  "Do you wanna talk about it?"

  "No." She breathes out. "I just miss everything, all the time."

  "Everything?"

  "Everyone."

  "Vee?" At least I think that was the name of her friend.

  "Yeah. I got an email from her before, when we were on the bus, and I want to tell her to fuck off and never talk to me, but also I just want to forgive her and be friends again and pretend nothing happened. And I miss Laini, and I even miss John. They're just people I've dated but, like," she runs a hand through her hair. "I loved them a lot. I miss Jalen and even their stupidly attractive boyfriend."

  "Roslyn." I take her face in my hands and squish her cheeks together. "It's okay. You're just homesick."

  She sniffs and looks at me. "Oh." Her shoulders relax and I let her face go. "Right." She breathes in deeply, holds the breath, and releases. "That makes sense."

  "Still sucks, though, right?'

  I don't get a lot of homesickness, really. I miss some things, like the magpies calling out in the bush back in Australia, the way the mountains hug Lucerne, but not often. Never a whole place, only bits. I miss people more. And then I run from them, too; there are gaps where they were.

  "You'll be all right."

  We link arms and wait for the others in the cold, but it isn't so bad, really.

  Chapter Eleven

  Roslyn

  We're officially in Hamelin, the place where the piper guy lured the children away after the shithead mayor or whatever wouldn't pay him for getting rid of the rat infestation. In the middle of a square, there's a statue of the guy playing his pipe as he leads a trail of children through a magical door.

  "And that is why you should always pay your artists," Christie says, pointing at the piper. "If you only promise them exposure, they're just gonna steal your kids."

  "Christ," I say. "Fair enough, I guess."

  We walk around the town and find the Rathaus, and all of us pose and take selfies in front of it. There's a gift shop and pretty much all they sell is rat-themed stuff.

  @roslyn: chcolate rats for sale in hamelin, idk if I'm keen on those tbh

  We don't stop for lunch, but decide to keep going to see how many other places we can visit before we have to take the van back in two days. This is a terrible plan, as we end up making too many wrong turns and soon we're on a road where the internet doesn't work. The road doesn't even have any shoulders—it's just lined with trees—and while it's super pretty, it's far too thin for the huge-ass van.

  We're driving down it for about fifteen minutes and Sam keeps yelling at Julie because she got us lost, and Julie's having none of it. I tried to talk to them a while ago and got my head bit off, so I sat back down and joined Christie in trying to ignore literally everything. We've both got our headphones in, she's burrowed into her doona, and I'm just staring out the windows at the forest. We're going so terrifyingly fast for such a narrow road: the trees are streaks.

  Eventually, we stop. I look out the windscreen to see where we are. We've come to the end of a dirt road.

  "Where are we?' I ask, pulling out my headphones.

  "Bumfuck nowhere," Julie says.

  "I thought that was in Australia."

  She grins. "Shut up."

  "We're so fuckin' lost," Sam says. "I've got no fucking clue."

  Through the trees ahead, I can see something. "Is that the Autobahn, up ahead?"

  "Seems like it?" Julie says after a few moments.

  There are rows and rows of trees where the road ends, but there's a little gap so we can see the Autobahn up ahead. We won't be able to drive there, though. We need to find the nearest entry ramp.

  "These trees are planted weird," Christie says, looking out the windows. "They're all in lines. And what the fuck is that goddamn murder shack doing here?"

  I look out to see where she's pointing, and see a rickety-looking thing on thin wooden stilts, three metres in the air.

  "Another one?" I say. "Dare you to go in it."

  "Done." She unbuckles, extrapolates herself from the doona, and is out the van door before I blink.

  I jog to catch up with her, and Sam and Julie watch from the van. Christie climbs up the ladder to get to the shack. When she reaches the landing, she puts a foot down. Her foot goes right through the wood.

  "Fuck!" I cry out as she yelps, my heart beating so hard that I can feel it in my throat. I see that the stilts the shack is on are spindly things, barely there. The wood is all old and damp and there are spider webs everywhere. This shack hasn't been used in a very long time, whatever it's for.

  "I'm okay," she says, clinging to the railing. "Gonna come down now, though."

  "Please do not fall and die."

  "I'll try," she replies. When she's safely on the ground, I can see she's shaking a little, but I pretend not to notice. "That wood was rotten as all hell."

  The trees around us are completely still and silent, the only sounds coming from the Autobahn. The rows and rows of trees are starting to give me the creeps; something is so ominous about them. I stare into the rows that eventually turn to darkness. Anything could be in there.

  @roslyn: so if I die it's because this forest is teeming with monsters, goodbye friednds

  We get back in the van and drive back down the winding road. I look over at Christie and can't think about what'd happen if she had fallen. We still haven't come across anyone else on the road and it's almost like we're the last ones left in the whole world. Then we find the Autobahn filled with so many cars, and it's like we're nobody at all, just four tiny souls drifting through a world they don't know at all, swallowed up by how many other people there are.

  The next couple of days, we don't follow any maps specifically, but just head in the general direction of Munich. By the time we find
somewhere to park the night before we have to return the van, we're all exhausted and there are no celebrations to say goodbye to our last night together. I climb up to sleep beside Christie for the last time and I can hear Sam and Julie talking to each other at the other end of the van. I fall asleep to the words that are too quiet for me to understand.

  *~*~*

  After dropping the van back, we catch a taxi to the Munich hauptbahnhof. One thing I like about all the main train stations: they're all so open. They all have the same half-dome roof and the familiarity is comforting. We line up, so Julie and Sam can buy their tickets to Amsterdam.

  "Our train is in ten minutes," Julie says, checking her ticket.

  She puts down her suitcase and hugs Christie first, then she grips me. I'm surprised at the fierceness of her. She's so warm.

  "It was so great travelling with you," Sam says. She hugs us both, her touch lighter than Julie's, but still with the same kind of urgency. She grips our hands. "Thanks."

  "We'll miss you," Christie says. "Have the best time in Amsterdam. If I'm ever in Sydney, I'll see if you're around."

  "Same here," I tell them, and I'm a little more than surprised to realise I do mean it. I can't deal with this on so little sleep; I'm tearing up. Even if all they did was argue with each other. "And if you're ever in Melbourne, I've got a couch." We've got each other on Facebook and maybe they'll take us up on our offers, who knows.

  We hug again one last time and then they go off to their own travels, separate from us.

  Christie turns to me and sniffs as she wipes the back of her hand against her cheek. "Coffee?"

  We can't check into the hostel until two o'clock, so we sit in Starbucks for three hours. We talk for a little while, but fall into silence. She continues reading a book she found in an op shop that's in English, and I make the best of the free WiFi. In their email, Jalen tells me they got the job they were going for and they ran into Vee at uni. She's not doing too bad and I'm happy for her. I mean, my life is going pretty okay, too. I've got a new friend. I'm in fucking Munich.

  I sigh and look out the window. I can't keep missing everyone like this.

  Christie looks up from her book and I smile at her to say nothing's wrong. Which is mostly true. She goes back to reading, tucking some loose hair behind her ear. It's comforting, I realise. We know how the other works and we fit together.