The Power of Forgetting

by A M Russell

  'They are like seagulls.' said Joe who seemed permanently attached to the binoculars. Hanson shaded his eyes for a moment, and then for some reason looked hard at me. The others were staring upwards.

  'The path divides a little way ahead,' he said, 'that is the way we came yesterday. But for now we'll take the route by the shoreline.'

  'How far is it?' Marcia asked.

  'About ten minutes' walk.' Hanson said, while still looking at me.

  We set off again. This time proceeding cautiously. Joe walked at the back now, and much as Adam had once done, he kept looking back. I was thinking of Adam on the beach. I could see his face in my mind's eye. I remembered his eyes. He was trying to warn me. Something was wrong…. I could feel it. There was nothing about our plan that was ill advised in the ordinary sense of the word. It was just a feeling of disquiet. Oliver walked next to Joe. Marcia was with Hanson at the front. Janey followed. Then Davey and myself.

  'How far to the fence?' Davey asked me.

  Involuntarily I looked at my watch. Gone six o'clock, 'I don't know…ask Hanson that.'

  'I just thought you might know something.'

  'Why?' I asked suddenly suspicious, 'how could I possibly know? I've never been here before.'

  'No…I mean, of course not.' He turned away then. What was going on?

  We reached the sand line. It was a broad belt of flat even sand that had no mark except for the footprints of seabirds. We walked along the grassy thin belt, looking all the while to our left of any sign of the end of a fence.

  The ground rose over a small sand dune. We slid and scrambled down the other side. The sand was deep, soft and fine. It held the warmth of a whole day soaking up the sun's warmth. We were all very warm and thirsty by then so we stopped at the bottom. Just ahead there was a spiky green line that transversed the landscape in front of us. I had been thinking of fences of varying sorts all day; perhaps imagining some high metal thing with spikes on the top. This looked quite innocuous, and not very tall.

  Marcia saw me looking. She put the water bottle to her lips again, all the while staring at me and glancing sideways towards this new obstacle.

  'It must be electrified.' said Davey.

  'You bet,' Hanson sounded impressed, 'enough to cook at chicken. I think that there must be way of bypassing it. But I don't know how.'

  'I do,' said Davey, 'but I suspected that it might be alarmed too.'

  'Lighting up the Christmas tree of fairy lights on the main computer display?'

  'I certainly won't be something they don't notice.'

  'So where is the end?' said Janey, practical as ever.

  We turned left and started to follow the line of the fence out onto the sand, keeping a safe distance from this unpleasant "live" hazard.

  'There is it!' said Janey, as Hanson pointed at the same moment. They glanced at each other and laughed. I saw Davey scowl. He saw me watching him, and his expression quickly smoothed back out again.

  We came to the end of the fence. The last bit was a neat sloped top that buried itself in the sand. The sea was about ten feet away. We all filed round this thing, one at a time, being careful not to touch the fence; while all the time trying not to get our feet wet. I wondered at the reason for our careful circumspection; clearly the electrical charge would not extend to the shoreline. Even I knew that water and electricity don't mix. I sensed that Oliver was watching me. He was quieter than usual - if such a thing is possible. We climbed up a rough banking bedecked with spiky grass and other resilient vegetation. We got to a dusty incline that took us right up if we traversed it at a diagonal. No one spoke for quite a while. It was the feeling of being exposed on this stretch of beach. I reckoned that it was more by sheer good fortune, than any skill on our part that we weren't detected going into the camp.

  Ahead was a line of mixed trees, and shrubby bushes, mixed in with these a few taller bushes with heavy heads of flowers bending multi-roseate stalks. We entered the thicket and pushed deeper in. Pretty soon it was clear that we would have to stay in the thinner and more spread out parts, as the trees and other strange to identify plants are growing too close together for us to pass without forcing a way through. This would be unwise. We needed to leave a little trace of our presence as possible. The time now is near to half past seven in the evening. It is that peculiar time of day when everything seems to go quiet.

  'Tide is turning.' said Oliver and sniffed. Joe looked to our left towards the sea, and lifted the binoculars to his eyes again. He glanced at me and looked away, as if to pretend he hadn't been checking me every five minutes or so since we left camp this morning. Ten minutes later we have come to a narrow stream. After a brief check we splashed across quickly and continued on a leveller, grassier part.

  It is nearly eight o'clock and the sun is setting over the sea. We were glad to be told by Hanson (who had said nothing at all for hours) that we were only a twenty-minute walk from the chalets that were set back slightly from the grassy meadow.

  There was a shady little walkway; rather like a small inlet- clearly tidal, and for the moment baked in little ridges and swirls. Not far away we could see the sea foaming and boiling as it raced its way across the shallow incline of the level part of the beach. Our imprints in the semi dried sand would be erased inside the hour.

  Entering Lorraine's chalet was an unceremonious act. We stepped in through the open double door from a little porch area. Inside was an enormous sitting room, with huge ethnic looking rugs and Javanese wood furniture with a lot of multi-coloured cushions. I brushed past a wind chime as we entered. Almost immediately I heard a voice from the back parts of this luxury abode.

  'Well it's about time! I really thought you were going to be here an hour ago… was the stream full already? Did you have to walk round…...?' the speaker came into view head turned still rubbing dry those tumbles or red ochre hair; then she froze with her mouth slightly parted regarding the scene of us lot stood four square on one of her rugs. I was at the back of the group and I think it was Joe who spoke first:

  'Good evening Ms Addis. We are sorry for the intrusion. I hope that we are not too alarming.'

  Hanson stepped forward and quickly led her by the arm and through, I supposed, into the room she had emerged from. We looked at one another, as a hastily worded apology and explanation was furnished by Hanson in soothing tones that I hardly thought he was capable of expressing. They both came back a moment later. And giving credit to Lorraine's sense of practical adaptability, she seemed quite at ease with us all. She held out a hand to Davey.

  'Charming.' she said as he took it in speechless awe at this magnificent creature. I suppose I never mentioned that Lorraine was a stunning looking woman. You forgot this, when you were away from her; supposing wrongly that her looks matched her quality of character and were therefore mediocre; but not in the least.

  Half an hour later, we were all sat around in the comfortable chairs with glasses of cool cocktails. Our packs were stacked neatly to one side, except for Oliver's; which he kept at his feet. He looped a headset over and listened to the earpiece in his left ear; 'Nothing doing.' He said. The radio signal was unobtainable here; and we could not find any strength in the relay from our vehicle, too low down as it was in the jungle area by the tidal causeway.

  Marcia and Janey both got up at the same time and vanished through to the kitchen area, where Lorraine was concocting something fabulous for us all. Hanson had gone to "Help"; but I knew that look. He was more interested in admiring what she looked like form the rear than any duties of the preparation of the food that Lorraine so precisely would lay out. I wondered if we would hear yowls of anguish as someone interfered with her careful laid out place settings. But no… from a distance we heard amiable chit chat, and something akin to a friendly atmosphere began to permeate into the whole situation.

  As we sat down to dinner, I marvelled at the organisation that so invested such care in the provision of luxury and comfort; and yet had such twisted ideals an
d purposes. It was so seductive. Not perhaps, in the way Lorraine herself could be, but it did fog the issue on whose side one ought to be on; if anything like moral ambivalence had darkened your heart in the intervening time between the idea first being mooted and the few milliseconds after that; that is the time in which it takes the weaker willed person to decide to succumb. I was only enjoying one evening of this special treatment. And yet it seemed to last for ages. Dinner was truly gorgeous; with fish, and salads, and various dressings. And we each had a glass of wine at our right hand. How could one not be content?

  I suppose I knew that Lorraine was saving me until later. She had glanced at me sure. But to really look, to hold my gaze and to call back from the dead the moments we had once shared; that would be done later as I sneaked out onto the porch for a smoke. I sat in the rocking chair and breathed the night air. The light flared briefly and I drew it into myself again. With something like a sigh of relief I exhaled. I could hear music from within. Everyone was relaxed, and for the moment safe. The tidal inlets would ensure it; as well as the thick Jungle beyond.

  I gazed upwards into the star splattered sky, and the night flowers broke out the scents from their cups and blended with the sharper taste of the Russian.

  'Jared….' she said down on the porch, legs elegantly curled to one side. I found myself looking down at her, and not liking it much elected to sit beneath her on the step. I regretted this almost immediately. She draped herself over my shoulders, and kissed my neck. I carried on smoking.

  'I'm glad you're here.' She spoke very softly. I thought perhaps she was gaging the difficultly rating of this ex, in the light of all the co-factors that might influence the evening's progression in her favour, and against it.

  I blew out a stream of tobacco haze and turned towards her then; she was waiting for something. Some clue, some reaction, some recognition of what we used to have. I realised that I did feel kind of drawn to her. When you haven't had any sort of really fulfilling physical action with a woman in such a long time; you can't help thinking about the last time it was good.

  Lorraine was that good. She was unbelievably good; as good as they get…. It was a solid miracle of mind over matter, getting away from her; or as other college buddies suggested, the victory of idiocy over opportunity.

  I could not stomach the fact of others being there. It wasn't even a moral thing; it was just a sense of revulsion against the proprieties not being observed in the duvet department. I felt that she could at least have changed the sheets. Then, if I had been less particular, she might have still had me in her clutches, despite my broken hearted regret.

  'Hey…. how are you Lorrie?' I spoke softly as she had done, hoping perhaps to elicit some response that told me how things were really with Hanson. I guessed rightly that she was far more interested in him, that he was in her. His reasons for doing what he had done became confused at that point. Or rather I was confused. She bent over me and pressed those willing lips into mine. I didn't push back, or move forward. I made no movement with my arms. But I could feel a response. Wine I suppose…. She knew me so well; that side at least. A couple of glasses of wine, and she could get me into bed, when we had been together, whatever preoccupation of mind I did have at the time. Lorraine was not distracted by other concerns. She didn't have something else spinning in her head while she was with you. Or if she did it wasn't strong enough to be an obvious intrusion. She was clever, but not a thorough-going intellectual way like Janey; or as a business-minded creative like Marcia.

  'If we get through this; and you are back in London…. Come to see me Jared. Right now; it's a bit difficult.'

  'Oh? Why?'

  She looked at me as if I just landed from Mars. 'You do know what been happening lately don't you?'

  'Yes. Of course.' I said.

  'Well then…' Lorraine was looking expectant.

  'What? Sorry?' I took another drag, 'What are you on about?'

  She seemed exasperated then; 'Just come and see me when you are back in London, Okay?'

  I was so perplexed by this that I just nodded and swallowed, feeling a little foolish. She regarded me with a look of pity, as one who has heard more than her fair share of confidences divulged to her in one afternoon. But as it stood, I hadn't told her anything. I felt it was important to agree. Some rigid sense of rightness; that makes me want to keep my word even against the apparent instinct to run a mile, made me take her hand and say very seriously: 'If I'm back in London, and you're there; then I will come to see you.'

  She was surprised then; and looked a little bewildered by the ease with which she had extracted this promise. But I wasn't in any mood for a fight or anything disagreeable right now. And something……

  It was like I'd just remembered something. As if on walking I had grasped the tail end of a dream. I blinked a few times. She kissed me again. And this time I kissed her back. A promise; and a sweet anticipation. Wine cannot be blamed for it. But there it is. She stood very smoothly and elegantly then; the silk of her skirt brushed my face as she slid back towards the double doors. I was left staring into the warm night. And thinking nothing in particular, until ten minutes later when Davey came looking for me.

  We were assigned the next door chalet: - that was me and the lads. Oliver stomped off to see what the bathroom was like after declaring the accommodation "Adequate". It was actually as well appointed in a simpler style with lighter coloured wooden furniture and grassy woven rugs. The effect was restful and less exotic than Lorraine's place, which on the whole helped me to relax a little. The layout was similar so finding the booze was no problem. I was just pouring a whisky when Joe and Davey came back in. I passed them each a glass.

  'Do they have ice in this hell hole?' asked Joe and when I shrugged, got up and presumably went to look for some.

  'What's up with him?' Davey voiced my unspoken question.

  I leaned back and gazed upwards considering the answer carefully. I swirled the golden liquid round the glass, then looked back at him. He was watching me in a way that suggested he had more on his mind that just Joe's slightly odd behaviour.

  'Where is Hanson?' I asked. If anything Davey stared at me harder as Joe put a bowl down between us. Oliver rounded my chair and joined us in altogether a better humour than earlier. He was wrapped in a towel and rubbed his hair roughly to dry it. It stuck up in spikes like baby hedgehog prickles. He patted them back into place with one hand and took the fourth glass I had set for him.

  'Glad to see that someone has got their priorities right.' Oliver fixed us with a bright-eyed expression of understated provocation. Joe stared into the glass.

  'What is Hanson doing?' Joe looked up at me.

  'Davey?' I said, with a gesture of helplessness.

  'There are two spare rooms; and Hanson was already booked into one. The ladies have taken the other.'

  'Interesting.' said Joe.

  Davey turned to him, 'About Hanson staying over there?'

  'No. that we didn't know about all of this beforehand…. we’re not a threat. Not anymore.' Joe seemed to glaze over then.

  'What about our proposed sortie into the camp for nicking computer files.' Davey said, 'don't we have reason to be worried? I mean really…. everything is favourable at the moment…but….'

  '…wait until the wind changes,' Joe cut in, 'this is all going to hell in bucket!'

  'How can you possibly know that?' Davey asked, 'I think we can assume that there is a least five people for whom our very existence will be a rather annoying inconvenience. But I'm pretty certain that they haven't crossed paths with any of us recently, that means…'

  'Don't be naïve.' Joe looked pained, 'this has the potential for fuck up central! Come on! Didn't anyone notice?'

  Oliver just watched, and seemed to be waiting for something. Joe sighed heavily.

  'They knew we were coming,' I said, 'and they know we are here now.'

  Joe seemed startled, 'why, oh why do you keep that to yourself?'

&n
bsp; I shrugged, 'I didn't want to spoil anyone's dinner, ' I thought they were all being thick. Marcia had already said it. Perhaps they had forgotten.

  'Okay clever clogs!' said Davey, gesturing that I speak.

  'The plates and maybe the glasses.'

  'Oh?' Davey hated being beaten to it be the others. Oliver grinned. He was clearly way ahead, and had already incorporated this into his new plan.

  'Shit!' said Joe.

  'We've got until ten tomorrow.' said Oliver suddenly, 'we need to be clear by then.'

  'And what about Lorraine?' Davey asked. I felt my heart sink. I had not recalled that I was supposed to be staying here with her and Hanson to do a debrief. I was ready to do what I could to make Marcia change her mind about the groups we'd be working in tomorrow. But I just smiled pleasantly. 'She is too scared of the big bad boss, to be any trouble. She might kick up a fuss however, if she is made to do anything other than waft around looking fantastic.'

  Davey rolled his eyes at me, Joe laughed. Oliver looked thoughtful, 'No angel that one.' He said. I suppose I must have scowled at Oliver. He seemed grim then and settled into that painfully silent watchful mode. Joe seemed a little less bothered and, after finishing off the whisky dragged himself away to get some sleep.

  Our little late-nighter broke up shortly after that. I found they had given me the single room, the twin one was occupied by Davey and Joe, Oliver took the double.

  I slid into the sheets and waited for sleep to come in the semi dark bedroom.

  I think it must have been about four in the morning; the dead of the night. I was woken from a confused dream by the sound of scuffling. I lay there thinking of all the reasons why I should go and investigate; but for some reason my body was describing to me a reluctance that I could not explain. This was new. I had never hesitated before… I chided myself for being lazy and unfocused, and slid out of the low bunk.