by Sam Taylor
XXVII
All was black but for a rhombus of blue light coming from the kitchen doorway. I moved through and opened the outside door. Lightning flared across the sky. I had a sudden bad feeling. Barefoot on the grass, my feet soon covered with mud, my nightdress soaked by rain, I ran around the side of the ark
Where were they? My heart was beating fast. Inside the bamboo hut? I ran there and found it empty. In the orchard? I ran past the vines and peered through the darkness. No sign of them there either. Then I heard a noise. The words were indistinct, but it sounded like Will’s voice. It came from somewhere behind the chicken shed. Again I ran, terrified now at what I might discover, terrified that I might arrive too late
And there I found them, in a slick of mud, the two of them barely visible in the teeming darkness
My father was kneeling astride Will’s body, his face so ugly in profile and rage that for a moment I didn’t recognise him. All was still, tense, balanced; there was almost no noise at all now, apart from the rain. I stared at my father’s deformed face, and then traced with my eyes the diagonal lines of his arms, those lines which led down inexorably from his shoulders, the two of them joining, meeting, in his thick forearms and large, coarse, oar-like hands, which were covering the delicate span of Will’s throat. I screamed. My father looked around and instantly pulled his hands from Will’s throat, as if it were fire
Alice, I
He looked down at his hands. As if they were actually burned
I, um. It’s not what you think, I was
He sounded like he was talking in his sleep
Listen, Alice, you mustn’t
But I was no longer Alice. A hellcat, a vengeful beast, I went for his ugly face with my nails, scratching and hitting. I could feel his stubble and the rain-greasy skin and the jawbone and cheekbone moving and something warm and liquid. I could smell his foul wine breath. I could hear his sleeper’s moans. I could see nothing, nothing at all. I scratched and hit and kicked and bit and spat until he crawled away from Will’s body, beyond the circle of mud, beyond my vision, and I put my hands softly to my true love’s face
It’s all right, Will said, in a small voice, then coughed, swallowed. He sat up and I cradled him. It’s all right
He was shivering. The rain was pouring over us
Will I love you
Alice there’s
Oh Will, oh Will, I was so frightened
Alice there’s something I need … to tell you. Tomorrow
Yes, tomorrow. Tell me tomorrow. Come now
‘I think it’s time we were going.’
I open my eyes. The air is greyer, mistier than before.
‘All right.’
I stand up and we begin to walk. Beneath our feet the ground has turned to rocks, mossy and cracked and shifting, so we must measure each step or risk a twisted ankle, a broken neck
You were strangling him
The words almost got stuck in my throat. The anger was blocking their way. I stared at my father, who stood the other side of the kitchen table. It was morning. The morning after. Yesterday morning
I
You would have killed him
I honestly
I will never forgive you
He shuddered. Alice I’m so sorry, I
His eyes were bloodshot and yellow-clouded; such feeble and desperate orbs that I could not look into them
Nothing you say can ever
Alice, you may not believe this, but I am sure that, even if you hadn’t come, hadn’t found us
You would have killed him. He would be dead
No, no, no, I don’t believe that. I know it looked bad, looked terrible, but I think somewhere deep inside me that
Don’t lie to me. I saw you
Something inside me would have screamed out No, would have stopped me from
The words froze in his throat, and I stared at him again. You’re wasting your breath. I don’t believe a word you say anymore
It was his turn to look away. Where is Will now?
I smiled. In my bed
He swallowed, nodded, stared at the table. At his hands, on the table. His large brutish strangler’s hands
Has he told you
Told me what
He sighed. It doesn’t matter. Listen, Alice, whatever happens, whatever anyone says, I love you, and always have and always will. And anything, everything I said and did, it was for your sake
He looked me in the eyes again, and I shook my head. In a gentler voice I said
I can never trust you again Pa
That’s a shame, he said, his voice breaking. That’s a terrible shame
We walk for an unguessable length of time, moving more and more slowly. Soon we cannot even see the ground below us. The mist is thickening and all is palest grey.
‘Damn this cloud,’ Will hisses, to himself.
‘We could stop for a while. It might clear.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. There’s no way I can tell where we’re going like this. And these rocks are dangerous. Come on, let’s find somewhere more open where we can sit down.’
We walk sideways, until the rocks below give way to stones, soil, creepers, weeds. Will uses his hands to ascertain the lie of the land. He kicks away brambles and nettles, and eventually finds a bed of broken ferns on which we can sit. He leans back against a tree and I lie with my head on his chest, too tired to read or think. All sound is muffled inside the cloud. The milky vapour seems to remove us from the world of conversations, of each other. Even touching, we are as alone as we are in dreams. Not like yesterday, when
what would your
We were in the lake, our legs and hands touching under the water. The air was so hot. I wanted to kiss him like before, like all the other times, but the spy and the tyrant were both close by, pretending to watch Daisy as she splashed in the shallows. I whispered
Come with me
Where?
You know where
Oh
Will shot a brief look at my father, who was splashing water at Daisy, trying to hide his fear as she laughed, crouched down, jumped up. Trying so hard to make everything seem normal
All right then. You go first Alice, I’ll be there in a minute
I squeezed his hand and left the water. Without a glance backwards, I walked through the trees to the other side. There was no shade, but at least here I couldn’t be seen. My desire was baking, rising, growing in the vast endless oven of the afternoon.
At the edge of the sunflowers I turned back to face the way I had come. And there he was, a dark precise I on the horizon. He was coming
Come in unto me
I got down on my knees and crawled through the narrow gaps between the sunflowers. For once, the air here was barely any cooler than the air beyond. I could taste my own sweat in my mouth. I crawled to the middle and took off my bikini. But what would your I lay on my side in shadow, naked, listening to the grazed sound my breath made as it left my lungs. And I waited
To wait, to wait, to
give me your will Will I want to swallow your pride I want to taste a little honey at the end of your rod in mine hand and now
I could hear him coming: a stifled cough, and the sound of his hands and knees on the dry ground. When at last he emerged into view I murmured
Will, come
Alice
dup me farce me tup me stanch me love me shove me lick me suck me fuck me
He crawled closer, I breathed his breaths, one, two, three times, and then. I attacked him: threw my face at his, pressed my lips hard against his mouth and flickered my tongue inside. I scratched his back he sucked my nipple I bit his shoulder he
A sound disturbs me. I open my eyes, but the mist is as thick as before. I close my eyes again and listen closely. The sound of twigs cracking, an animal breathing. I wonder what it is – if perhaps my father – but Will is here. I am not alone. I touch his thigh
His body stirred. Mine was burning, yearning. I whispered
&n
bsp; Come in unto me
Hmm?
Come in unto me
He stopped kissing my neck and looked at me curiously
What do you mean?
It’s what they say in the Bible
I was blushing
I don’t know how else to say it
Oh. But
Please Will I love you I want you to
I want to Alice, but I can’t. How can I? You’re
Don’t say I’m too young
I know I know but you are
I’m older than Juliet
Alice I can’t what would your
I don’t care what he thinks. I wish he were dead
What would your
I don’t care I wish
What would your mother say?
Dub. Dub. Dub. The echoing pulse in my ears
My mother?
Alice I’m sorry I
Hope, Hope, and
My mother’s dead
Your mother’s alive Alice
But. Dub. Dub. Dub. Hope, Hope, and
Alice I’m really sorry I wanted to tell you before but it’s been
My mother’s alive?
She is. She wants to see you again. She sent me here
You know her but but she can’t how can she
Hope, Hope, and, like a shadow issuing blackly from its heels, Fear
I know her well she’s a wonderful woman she wants me to bring you all
But I don’t understand how can she be? The sea, it
Your father lied to you about what happened to your mother, Alice. He lied to you about a lot of things. I’ve been wanting to tell you the truth ever since I arrived, but … I don’t know. I went along with all he said because I needed to win his trust, to begin with. Then I needed to win your trust, and Finn and Daisy’s. And after that, I kept saying to myself, today I’ll tell her, but … it was your father’s force of personality, his will. To go against it would have been like swimming into the tide, and it was so much easier to just let myself float. Especially as the current took me to such beautiful places
He stroked my face, and I touched his fingers to my lips. It’s OK, I said, it doesn’t matter
Anyway, I felt I had to warn your father first. It would have been better if he’d told you himself. Told all of you. I still don’t know if Finn and Daisy will believe me over him. But so I warned him yesterday, after you’d gone to bed, and. Well, you saw what happened
Yes, I saw
I open my eyes. Is the mist clearing?
XXVIII
I can feel it, ghostlike, chilling my bones. I can feel it, in the white vapour of the cloud that envelops this forest. I can feel it, like a premonition of wintertime. The COLD.
The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved.
It was after breakfast when I walked in and found Alice’s bed empty, the sheets cold. O generation of vipers, who hath warned you to flee from the wrath to come? I told Finn to look after Daisy and ran up to the orchard. From the tallest cherry tree, my eyes scanned the horizon in every direction. The sea was markless, smooth as glass. There was no sign of them.
Have they already gone?
I reach the final slope and pause for breath. I can feel the wasps stirring in my chest. Easy, take it easy. I look up through the mist and see the birches and beeches disappearing upwards into whiteness, haggard and petrified, like the sinners of Babylon vainly waiting and praying to be let into Paradise. Will I even be able to see anything from the top of the Tree? Is it already too late? I shiver, and remember yesterday, sitting by the lake with Finn.
We were in shadow, side by side, watching Daisy splash in the kneehigh water. That was the day’s only solace, seeing her so happy and unafraid in the lake, as if nothing had ever happened. I kept my eyes on her all the time. Why? Because I was scared she might go under again? Yes … and no. It was also to stop Finn looking in my eyes and seeing the story of the night before writ there in letters of blood.
He asked about the wound over my eye, of course, and about the bruises on Will’s face. I told him we’d had an accident, but I knew he didn’t believe me. Even Daisy could feel the strangeness in the air. They’d probably overheard me pleading for Alice’s forgiveness, my tears and Sorry I’m so fucking sorry what can I. So I wasn’t fooling anybody. But I could hardly tell him the truth, could I?
We sat on the bank of the lake, watching Daisy and, beyond her, Alice and Will. Whenever Alice caught me looking at her, she stared back, cold and hateful, and the SHAME and REGRET soaked through me, so I tried not to let my eyes wander. I blanked out the black spinning horror of the world and filled my whole vision with Daisy’s smile, her laughter, the sexless perfection of her little body, the light reflected onto her skin by the water. For truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun.
But remember the days of darkness, for they shall be many.
The next time I looked up, they’d gone. Alice and Will. They weren’t in the lake anymore. I wondered then if they were escaping, if he’d told her those LIES about her mother yet. I wondered if I would ever see my daughter again. But she came back without him in the evening and I thought everything that maybe everything was maybe everything would be.
Fuck it.
She is lost to me now, whatever I do.
I am as water spilt on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again. Let mine eyes run down with tears and let them not cease, for my whole fucking life is broken with a great breach, O with a very grievous blow.
I went in the cabin this morning, and found it gone. My journal. The story of the last ten years of our lives. I’d tried to burn the pages, but. Has she read it yet – what remains of it? Does she KNOW? The sky ought to crack open when she does. But if a tree falls in the forest with no one there to hear it, does it even make a noise?
XXIX
Is the mist clearing? Perhaps – it seems more luminous than before – but it is still too dense to walk through. And anyway Will has fallen asleep. I look at his bruised face tenderly, slumped backwards against the tree trunk, his mouth slightly open. The air is cold, so I zip his fleece up to his chin, and lightly kiss his cheek.
Feeling thirsty, I open the rucksack and hunt inside for the bottle of water. And see the black book. My father’s journal. I forget my thirst and pick up the book.
I feel
I feel like I am about to open my eyes for the first time in my life. And I’m afraid of what I might see.
I let the book fall open by chance, and force myself to read.
… walked back down to where we’d left the truck. Suddenly I knew what I had to do. I removed all the bags from the back of the truck, then got in the cab and drove to the edge of the path. Killed the engine, left the stick in neutral and the handbrake off, and got out again. Briefly I looked down, over the edge, into a green abyss. Then I walked behind the truck and pushed. For ages, nothing happened, I was pushing and pushing, against like a solid wall, and then the wall slowly melted and moved away on its own, wheels turning, hood leaning, the whole weight tumbling over the edge and me standing there, dazed by vertigo, the thrill of it rushing thru me, watching our last link to the old world smash dreamily into the mountainside 1 … 2 … 3 times and finally explode in a tiny ball of flame, no bigger than the flare of a match, no louder than …
Will murmurs something in his sleep. For a moment I think he is going to wake. He doesn’t, but it reminds me that time is short; soon the mist will clear and we will have to begin walking again. I turn a few pages and read on.
… to sleep soon. Christ my back and shoulders and arms ACHE. I look like I’ve got rocks under my skin. But I’ve nearly finished the fourth ladder now, and after that I’ll just have to make the final platform and cut away some branches and I’ll be able to see 360°. Like the bird’s nest in a ship. That’ll make me feel so much safer, being able to go up there every morning and check the horizon with the binoculars. I climbed up to the top branches
yesterday evening and took a look and there was nothing – nothing at all as far as my eyes could see. For the moment I do believe we’re safe. Nobody knows we’re here. And yet … something still bothers me. I know what I have to do, and that’ll be a hell of a job, but … once it’s done, it’ll be like we really are cut off from the world here. All alone …
… of the morning and Mary’s just got out of bed. Daisy was crying when I came in, and I picked her up out of the cot, but my hands were so frozen and covered in dirt that she screamed even louder – and then Finn and Alice started fighting. Damn Mary, I’m out there all fucking day in blizzards and darkness, digging this endless fucking moat and she’s got nothing to do but look after the kids, cook a few meals and keep feeding logs into the range and she can’t even manage that without moaning. She started crying last night when the kids had gone to bed, saying it was so desolate here etc etc. Well what the fuck did she expect? It’s winter up a mountain for Christ’s sake! It’s so tough staying patient with her, but I know I have to. I keep telling her that spring’ll be here soon and how we’re free from all the fears we had in the city, but …
Moat. My chest tightens as I read the word again. It is a word I remember from the Tales. But how. I glance at Will’s face – his closed eyelids twitching violently, as if he’s remembering my father’s attack – and then back at the half-burnt book.
… is killing me I swear! Still no rain. The sun’s been out all day, so the snow’s melted and at least Mary and Alice have cheered up a bit (they were out all afternoon planting potatoes – which we’ll damn well need because we’ve got thru more than half the preserves already!) but FUCKING HELL how did I fuck up the calculations on how much water I’d need so TOTALLY? I’ve diverted the streamwater and shovelled all the goddamn snow into it but it’s still not even half full. It looks so sad, so fucking ridiculous – just a gigantic damp ditch! I want to cry. Tho Finn made me laugh this evening when he started playing in it like it was a paddling pool. I had to tell him to come out because I was afraid he’d rip the liner. Oh please God let it rain tomorrow …