“Don’t start that again, love. There’s no point.”
Domi laid a hand on Mum’s knee. “Tell her, Jasmine. It’s time.”
Rainbow looked at Domi in surprise. “You know who he was?”
He nodded. His eyes glittered with tears. “He was my best friend.”
“Was it … Michael?” Rainbow turned back to Mum. “Was Michael my dad?”
Mum sighed. “Yes, love. I’m so sorry. I said it was better that you didn’t know.”
Rainbow looked from Mum to Domi. Her mouth hung open. How could they sit there and just say the words like that? How could they have both known and said nothing to her? She closed her mouth and swallowed.
“You lied to me! You said my father had died. Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
“I always meant to tell you, love, only I never found the right time. Then, when Michael died, I thought there was no point in making things even harder for you, especially as you’d been in contact with him without knowing he was your dad.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before he died? Why didn’t he tell me?”
“I’m sorry, love. I had no idea he was living in the village. I only learnt he was there when I saw him in Fraser’s car. At that point I was more concerned about you than him. I didn’t know he was your friend.”
“So how did you find out I knew him?”
All this time she’d thought he was her secret. Her legs refused to hold her upright any longer. She collapsed onto the end of the bed.
“He didn’t die immediately. He spoke to Fraser while I was holding you and waiting for the ambulance. Afterwards, Fraser told me what he’d said.”
“And?”
Mum swallowed. She had tears in her eyes, but Rainbow refused to relent. Mum deserved this to be difficult.
“He wanted me to tell you he was your dad, and to ask your forgiveness for not having had the courage to tell you himself. He moved to the village to be near you. He’d planned to come to the house and introduce himself. But then he bumped into you accidentally. After that he couldn’t find a natural way of telling you. He felt guilty about deserting us. He was afraid he’d lose your friendship.”
Tears trickled down Rainbow’s face. “He was my best friend. We spent hours and hours together. He taught me all about trees and he helped me improve my drawing. He must have been on the way to tell you about my art lessons when the accident happened,” she whispered.
“Yes. He was coming to confront me. Fraser said he was furious about me telling you that he’d died when you were a baby. In the end we both lied to you, love. I’m so sorry.”
“Why did he abandon us when I was a baby?”
“He was never one for staying in a place for long. The responsibility of being a father was too much for him. That’s why I hated him.”
Rainbow couldn’t feel any pity for Mum. She blew her nose and turned to Domi.
“So how did you know him?”
“We grew up together. He was here in the commune with me when Jasmine came over. This is where they met. You were conceived here.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You never asked me about your father, and you didn’t tell me about Michael. I had no idea he was so important to you. If you’d mentioned him I would have told you the truth, or got Jasmine to tell you. When you first arrived here and Jasmine explained what had happened, I was worried. I thought you’d reject your gift if you knew you’d killed your dad.”
Rainbow sighed. Domi laid a hand on her shoulder.
“Does it change anything, fundamentally?”
She shook his hand away.
“Of course it does. I feel as if my whole identity has changed.”
She told them about the meeting she’d just had with Mary and recounted Mary’s side of their story. Domi nodded from time to time. Mum sat silent and white-faced.
“Mary says you confessed Michael was my father while I was unconscious. Is that true?”
“I don’t know. I can’t be sure of what I did and didn’t say. I certainly thought about it. I was in a terrible state. I didn’t know if you were going to live. I’d just seen Michael die; seen my white lie come true. I was delirious.”
“And what did Mary mean about the birth certificate?”
Mum sighed and shook her head. She suddenly reminded Rainbow of Mary.
“She’s right. Michael wanted you to be called Mary, after his mother, so that’s the name we gave you. I was so angry with him when he left us that I called you Rainbow instead. You know … the hope after the rain.”
“So I’m really Mary.”
“No, you’ll always be Rainbow,” said Domi. “The question is, does this change the way you feel about trees?”
She slowly shook her head.
The old grin lit up his face. “Good, because Sandrine has found your destiny.”
She struggled to transfer her thoughts to the future. “Go on.”
“She says there’ll be a huge gale here on the eve of the year 2000. It will be the beginning of a new life for you and your English tree friends.”
Rainbow snorted. “Right. A gale! You think I’ll sit around here for the next five years waiting for a prediction to come true? I don’t even know any English tree people.”
“Maybe Mary does,” said Domi.
Rainbow rolled her eyes to the ceiling, stood up and left them. She went to the kitchen and boiled a saucepan of water for tea. So Mary had told the truth. Michael was her father. Now she thought about it, it was obvious. She remembered the way their hands had fitted together on the day she’d sold him the tomatoes. And the sepia photos he’d shown her of his great-grandfather, the man with magic hands. Not just his great-grandfather, but her great-great-grandfather. She had a whole new history now; a history she’d inherited, along with her gift, through Michael. An unexpected smile alighted on her lips. She had known her father, after all. And he had been the best. How could Mary have overlooked the precious time they had spent together? Poor Mary. She was like a negative to Rainbow’s positive.
Her thoughts turned back to her parallel. Domi’s mother had been wrong. Two parallels could coexist. It was like having a twin sister. It would be fun. She doubted Mary had any contact with trees-huggers, though. She would have to ask her.
Tree-hugging always made her think about the Amrita Devi legend. She remembered there was a disagreement about the end of the legend. Some people said Amrita had defended the tree and died, and others insisted she’d lived. And Mum had mentioned the possibility of the two Amritas coexisting. Just like her and Mary. Except that she and Mary were both very much alive. The hint of a hazy memory dangled just out of reach. She couldn’t quite catch it. Perhaps Mum would enlighten her later on.
She glanced out of the window into the September dawn. Two figures were sitting on a red motorbike. She pulled on her jacket, stepped out of the door and walked around the house to meet them.
Mary rushed towards her. She looked concerned. Rainbow’s habitual loneliness evaporated into the cool air. It was going to be wonderful to have a twin sister.
Rainbow and Mary
Mary hurries towards Rainbow, anxious to know how she is coping with the truth. She remembers the disorienting horror she felt when she learnt she’d killed her father.
She stops a step away from the person she could have been, and looks into the face she knows so well. The expression is one she remembers from a long, long time ago: Rainbow looks calm, relaxed and accepting. She has learnt the truth, and yet she looks happy. How can it be possible? Mary is once again overcome by a desire to change. This time, she desperately wants to be Rainbow.
Rainbow saw a silent plea emanating from Mary’s sad eyes. She reached out and grasped her hand.
“Come with me,” she said. “We need a tree.”
The sun was rising. A short distance away, silhouetted by the sun, stood the silver maple tree. It had always made Rainbow shiver in dread. A strong, thick trunk grew straight out
of the ground and then, at the height of a thirteen-year old girl, it split into two. Each bough continued upwards. The strong one was vertical, the weaker one bent right and then left in its search for sunlight.
For the first time, Rainbow felt drawn to the silver maple. She led Mary to it. Holding hands, they spread their arms around the trunk and embraced it. Rainbow closed her eyes. Her residual anger over Mum’s lie seeped into the bark. It travelled through the phloem network and down into the tree’s roots.
An icy shock ran the length of her backbone. It was like the time she’d fallen into the freezing cold water of the Blue Lake when she was twelve years old. Coming out of the water all those years ago, her clothes soaked, she’d felt heavy and cold. This aftershock was slightly different, though. She felt fuller rather than heavier. A hazy knowledge and a patchwork of images flashed into her head. They were pictures of a past that could have been hers. She knew one of the faces. It was Patti. She also knew that Patti was now Trish. Alongside Trish she could see Sandrine and the vision of a huge, desecrated forest awaiting her nourishment. This was her future! Trish held the key to a lifetime of worthwhile work with trees.
She opened her eyes. She had to tell Mary how much better the silver maple had made her feel.
But Mary had gone.
Rainbow let go of the maple trunk and looked behind it. There was no one. She scrutinised the fringes of the wood and the vineyard on the other side of the track. Mary was nowhere to be seen. She rested her hand against the maple to balance herself.
The answer was here. She looked up into its canopy and realised she need look no further. The weaker, twisted branch had no sap-beat.
She glanced towards the car park. Christophe was still sitting on the motorbike. How would she tell him that she’d made the girl he loved disappear?
He must have sensed her disarray because he slid from his motorbike and hurried towards her. He was smiling. A tide of heat flushed through her, turning her icy insides into steam. The way he moved made her feel … well, strange.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “You loved her and I’ve made her disappear.”
“No, you haven’t,” he whispered.
She looked into his enticing brown eyes. He seemed different. Magnetic. She couldn’t look away.
“She’s inside you,” he continued, “back where she belongs.”
He was right. And Mary had intoxicated her with an overpowering need for him. She reached out her hands, brought his face close to hers and kissed him. He responded. A cocktail of novelty and familiarity exploded inside her.
When she drew back and opened her eyes, he was smiling at her. Slowly, she smiled back. This time, it was right.
“The beach?” he suggested.
“Yes,” she said. “But first there’s something I must do.”
“You need a tree.”
She nodded and turned back to the silver maple. Her hands found the part that fitted her palms best and she laid her cheek against its bark. The maple was silent. She no longer needed to communicate directly with it. Instead, it was an opening, a window she could look through. Outside the window there was a green haven of trees, their branches stretched out in acceptance, their leaves gossiping softly in the breeze. On the edge of the wood stood Amrita, dressed in pinks and reds, her long black hair shining. She was smiling, her arm held loosely around a healthy silver maple tree. Her other arm reached towards Rainbow. Welcome, she seemed to be saying. You’re healed. Rest for now and be ready. Our future lies together. She waved at Rainbow and slipped between the trees and out of sight.
Rainbow opened her eyes and let her hands slide down the trunk.
“All right?” asked Christophe.
She nodded. “Everything is perfect. Let’s go dune-jumping.”
Acknowledgements
A published novel is the end point in an evolution of ideas and drafts. Tree Magic wouldn’t have evolved without the help of many people, both directly and indirectly.
In particular I’d like to thank my writing group, Lumineuse: Helen, Fiona, Rhonda, Min, Chris, Barbara and Nola. Thanks also to my early readers: Darylle, Angie, Hester, Rachel, Michelle – and to Fiona, Gwen Davies and Sarah Hutchinson for their interest and suggestions.
For their help with my research, thanks to Anne Hind and Liz Leo, to Emmanuel Perrier of the Emile Cohl School and to the Angoulême Comics Festival team. Martine Fievet, Patrick Chappet, Rity and Dimitri were inspirational, and I must thank Tini and Sprog for living where they live and knowing what they know. Special thanks to Christine Colson-Cecchini for her lesson in positive thinking.
Thank you to the Impress Books team, especially Julian Webb, my editor, for his patience.
Last but not least, my heartfelt thanks to Cycy, who supported me without ever reading a word I wrote. And to my daughters, whose excited demands to hear about Rainbow kept me writing.
Copyright
First published 2017
by Watchword eBooks, an imprint of Impress Books Ltd
Innovation Centre, Rennes Drive, University of Exeter Campus,
Exeter EX4 4RN
© Harriet Springbett 2017
The right of the author to be identified as the originator of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 9781911293002 (pbk)
ISBN: 9781907605994 (ebk)
Typeset in Sabon by Swales & Willis Ltd, Exeter, Devon.
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