Rosa and the Veil of Gold

by Kim Wilkins

  “I’ll scout ahead a few hundred feet,” he said. “You wait here.”

  Em waited while Daniel moved off. She could hear his footsteps, the scuff and rattle of leaves, birds hopping between branches and chirping softly, but no other sounds which would indicate civilisation was nearby: no planes, trains or cars. She hoped they hadn’t wandered into an enormous uninhabited woodland. If so, they wouldn’t last more than a few days. A jolt of survival instinct. She stood up and went after Daniel.

  “You know, Daniel,” she called, “maybe we should just go back to the road.”

  He turned, frowning. “Why?”

  “We could get lost in the woods.”

  “I know my way back from here,” he said. “Straight along the gully then west.”

  “But as we go further…”

  Daniel pressed his lips together as he thought about this. “Okay, either we wait out on the road for a car that may never come along, or wander in the woods looking for a house which we may never find. If a car comes, it might not stop for us anyway. If we find a house, at least we have a chance to tell somebody what happened.”

  “So you want to keep walking?”

  “You saw a light last night?”

  “I think so. Yeah.”

  Daniel pulled off his scarf. “I have an idea,” he said, picking at one of the decorative knots. “We’ll mark our path. I’ll tie a piece of wool to a tree branch every twenty feet or so. That way, if we haven’t found anything in a few hours, we can follow the path back to the road and try our luck out there again.”

  “That’s a great idea,” she said, relieved.

  He pulled out a long strand of wool and tied it to a branch. “Okay. Marker number one. We’ll come back here if we haven’t found anyone to help by…what time?”

  Em checked her watch. Swore when she saw it had stopped. “I don’t know. What time is it now?”

  “The sun was directly overhead before the clouds moved in. It’s probably around lunchtime.”

  “Which would explain why I’m so hungry. Look, Daniel, I have really uncomfortable shoes on. I’ll only be able to walk another couple of hours before my toes start to bleed. Let’s give it about an hour, then head back.”

  “Agreed.”

  They moved on, Daniel stopping every so often to tie a thread around a branch, carefully ensuring that the last thread was visible from the position of the new one. Em felt reassured by the sight of the bright crimson and purple markers among the trees. She tried to ignore her sore toes. They walked on together, long after they both tacitly agreed that there had probably been no light in the woods the previous night, long after her feet were beyond returning to the road, long after hunger and thirst had become the predominating discomforts. Rescheduling interviews and the possibility of ruining her wool suit had moved a long way down the list of priorities.

  A loud electronic beep stopped them in their tracks, oddly out of place in this quiet woodland.

  Em reached into her pocket. “A death rattle,” she said, pulling out her cell-phone. “The battery just ran out.”

  “Let’s stop and rest a minute, and decide what to do next.”

  “I’m really tired.”

  “I’m not sure, but I think I can hear water.”

  “Oh, water would be good,” she said, pocketing the cadaver of the cell-phone. “I can walk as far as water.”

  They headed a little further north, tying wool threads to branches, until they found a narrow stream cutting through the forest.

  “Do you think it will be safe to drink?” Daniel asked.

  “I think it’s more dangerous to be this dehydrated,” Em said, picking her way down to the shallow edge of the stream. Brown mossy rocks were visible on the stream bed. The water bustled and gurgled. She bent to drink: cold and sweet.

  “It tastes fine,” she said to Daniel, who had joined her. “In fact, it tastes wonderful.”

  Daniel drank and then splashed his face, sitting back on his haunches and removing his shoes with a sigh. “Em, I think we’re lost.”

  “I think you’re right,” she said. “How are you doing in there? I see you’re pretending to be calm.”

  “I’m a mess, Em,” he said with a self-conscious laugh. He ran a hand through his hair, which left a curl sticking up at the front. It made him look even more flustered. “I’m panicking.”

  “To be frank, I’m a little worried too. What next?”

  “We could follow the stream. Much more likely to find a house or farm.”

  “We’re not returning to the road then?”

  “I don’t know. I have this awful sense that we’re making all the wrong decisions. I’m afraid to make any more.” He wrapped his arms around his knees. “I’m so hungry I could eat bark.”

  “Me too.”

  “Is there anything in that shopping bag besides the bear? Chocolate bars? Day-old sandwiches?”

  Em slid the bag off her shoulder. “I doubt it, but you’re welcome to check.” She lay the bag on the grass and pulled out a cashmere scarf she had bought in St Petersburg, then the bear. “See, nothing,” she said, showing the empty bag to Daniel.

  Daniel was staring at the bear, ashen.

  “Daniel?”

  “Her eyes,” he managed.

  Em turned the bear to face her, already knowing what she would see. Although she had witnessed it before, it still sent a shock of adrenalin to her heart. “They’re open,” she said.

  Daniel shrank back involuntarily. “They weren’t before, were they?”

  “Be calm, Daniel. Don’t flip out.”

  “It’s hunger. It’s tiredness. I’m hallucinating.”

  “Then I’m hallucinating the same thing.”

  “My memory’s faulty. She always had her eyes open.”

  “She didn’t, Daniel. They were closed.”

  “You’re wrong. You’re wrong.” He scrambled to his feet, then stood woozily. Em grabbed him and helped him to sit, telling him to put his head between his knees. His shoulders rose and fell too fast.

  “Breathe normally,” she said, stashing the bear. “Remember what I said. Pretend to be calm, pretend it’s all okay.”

  “I can’t, I can’t. I saw…”

  “I saw too. I can’t explain it and I’m frightened.” Yes, that was the feeling: a discomfort that she wanted to shrink from, a longing for somewhere warm and safe. Fear. “I’m afraid of it too, Daniel, but I’ve put her away now. Let’s not look at her again.”

  He raised his head, and Em saw that his eyes were rimmed with red. She was reminded of her son when he was only small, crying about a bad dream, and was puzzled that Daniel could allow himself such freedom to express his childish emotions.

  His breathing slowed and shuddered as he got himself under control. “What do we do?” he said, swallowing hard. She could tell he was trying to sound brave and capable. “I can’t go any further.”

  “I can’t either. We’ll camp here tonight; follow the stream tomorrow.”

  “It was bad enough when I thought we might die here, but there’s something else going on.”

  “Something neither of us can explain. I know. We’ll keep busy. We’ll build a fire and we’ll try to find something in the woods to eat, and we’ll play logic games and make alphabet lists. We’ll keep the fear at bay, because it’s no use to us.” She stood and offered him her hand. “Come on, let’s find some firewood.”

  Daniel’s mind was a black, confused place. Though fear wanted to hold him immobile, Em wouldn’t let it. She ordered him about: collecting firewood, building a fire before nightfall, then keeping his mind occupied with games. Alphabet lists: apple, banana, celery followed by Afghanistan, Brazil, Canada, followed by azure, brown, cyan…Then logic problems: if two trains are travelling towards each other on the same track at one hundred miles per hour…It stopped him from curling into a foetal position and gnawing his knuckles, but the logic problem that neither of them could solve was how the bear, a solid inanimate o
bject, had changed form since the previous day.

  He couldn’t imagine a more hellish situation. Lost on the edges of a Russian wilderness with inexplicable enchantments around him, aching with roaring hunger. At least it took his mind off the social anxieties of being forced into the company of a brusque woman he barely knew. As night deepened, the clouds moved and the stars became visible. Daniel sat as close to the fire as he could. Em was further off, huddled into her coat with her back against a tree.

  Stillness brought thoughtfulness. “Em, can I see the bear again?”

  “Are you sure you want to?”

  “Perhaps there’s a mechanism in it, something we didn’t notice before.”

  But Em was already shaking her head. “I’ve checked.”

  “Let me see for myself.”

  She sighed, and drew the shopping bag from her coat. Daniel felt his skin shrink over his muscles. She handed him the bear.

  Daniel sat up, cradling the bear on his lap. Her eyes were open and staring back at him. It wasn’t as bad as he’d thought, looking at the bear a second time. Perhaps he’d started to accept it. Rosa would have accepted it in an instant. Her disdain was reserved for sceptics: “Who are you, Daniel St Clare, to suppose you know everything about anything?”

  “Are you okay?” Em asked. She had left her position against the tree, and come to crouch next to him.

  Daniel was touched by her concern. She certainly wasn’t as cold as everybody had said, though he still found her lack of any visible reaction to the day’s events unnerving. She was handling it like ordinary people might handle unexpected guests dropping in.

  “You know the worst part?” Daniel said to her. “It’s not just that she moved. It’s because it’s her eyes.”

  “I know. As though she was sleeping, but now she’s awake.”

  “Why is she awake, I wonder?” Daniel said.

  “Rosa said she wanted something from us.”

  “To get us lost in the woods?”

  “Daniel, we’ve been two days without sleep, walking miles in woodland. I think we’re both in danger of becoming hysterical.”

  Daniel shook his head, swallowing a laugh. “If this is you hysterical…”

  “I handle things my own way. I’m puzzled and a little afraid. But I know that things often seem worse when I haven’t slept. I suggest we put the bear away, pull close to the fire and try to sleep. Even if it’s only for a few hours.”

  He handed her the bear. “You’re right. Though I don’t know how I’ll ever get to sleep with so much on my mind.”

  “Let your body take over. Turn your mind off for a while.” Em rolled onto her side, trying to pull her overcoat down over her knees.

  “Easy to say.”

  “Easy to do, Daniel. If your body needs to rest, all you have to do is let it. Be quiet and still. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

  Daniel lay down and closed his eyes. He was anything but comfortable—his legs ached, his stomach gnawed, the ground was hard beneath him—but he was exhausted. He focused on the noises around him. A night breeze in the treetops, the hoot of a distant owl, Em’s sleeping breath, the rustle and pop of the fire, his own heartbeat warm in his ears.

  It took time but, at length, he slept.

  Em shook him awake some time later. He couldn’t estimate how long precisely, but night had rolled back leaving dim morning light in its place.

  “What is it?” he said, his mind still hazy.

  Em’s eyes were worried. “Something weird is going on.”

  But she didn’t need to tell him, because it became apparent the instant he glanced around him.

  “Shit!” He sat up, unable to trust what he saw. They sat in a wide, open field. The stream was gone, the trees were gone, their fire, the branches and all their markers.

  “I woke up from the cold, twenty seconds ago,” she said. “I’m as puzzled as you.”

  Daniel didn’t point out that “puzzled” fell well short of describing his state of mind. “Could we have wandered in the night?”

  “Both of us?” She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Daniel, Rosa tried to warn us. She said the bear was enchanted—”

  “There’s no such thing as enchantments!”

  “Well, you explain where we are. You explain the colour of the sky.”

  Daniel looked up. She was right, the sky was an odd silver-grey, although clear of clouds. The sun was distant and tinged with violet, lending an odd cast to the landscape.

  “I’ve gone crazy, that’s it,” he said. “This is just some wild hallucination.”

  “Whatever you say,” Em replied, “but we’re stuck in this hallucination together, and I’m really hungry and I see a cottage in the distance.”

  Daniel’s eyes followed where she was pointing. Backlit under the sky, a little cottage surrounded by silver birch puffed smoke from its chimney. Daniel’s body froze. “We’re not going up there, are we?”

  “Food, warmth and explanations,” she sniffed, pulling herself to her feet.

  He clutched his knees to his chest. “We don’t know what might be in there.”

  She yanked him to his feet. His legs were jelly beneath him.

  “Get up,” she hissed. “Get moving. This is a serious fuck-up and I have no idea what’s going on, but I won’t let you make it worse by falling to pieces. Move.”

  Her anger shocked him out of his pit. He gathered his coat and the bag with the bear in it, and followed her across the field to the mysterious cottage.

  The grass was long in places and seeds clung to his jeans. The sky brightened, but he couldn’t guess the time. The air was very still, only the faintest hint of a breeze up high. Em walked ahead of him, her hands out at her hips to touch the heads of the long stems. The surreal light gave a false familiarity to the scene, as though he’d seen it before in a painting or a dream. The cottage was small, little more than a square hut, with fancy carved shutters and a design of suns and moons painted over the lintel. It looked inviting, with its cornflower blues and dandelion yellows; but the garden around it gave quite a different impression, tangled and overgrown with briar and sedge. The silver birch trees draped their heavy branches over the roof and windows.

  Em stopped on the doorstep and waited for him. “Are you okay?” she said.

  “No.”

  “Nor am I. Take a deep breath and keep breathing.”

  She lifted her hand and rapped five times hard on the door. Daniel’s body tensed. Moments passed.

  “There’s nobody home,” Em said, then pushed the door with her toe. It inched inwards. “But it’s open.”

  Daniel looked at her silently.

  “We’re going in anyway, right?” she said. “We need food.”

  He shrugged, uncertain.

  She sighed—exasperated—then turned to the door and gently pushed it open. “Hello? Is there anyone home?”

  Daniel translated the sentence into Russian as they crossed the threshold. The cottage was neat and bright: just one large room with walls of unfinished pine. A large, square stove, decorated with ceramic tiles and heaped on top with blankets and pillows, dominated the space. Em was already going through cupboards.

  “Bread, pancakes, jam,” she said as she pulled the food out and crowded it onto the long wooden table, along with plates and knives.

  Daniel hesitated near the other end of the table. “What if the owner of all this food comes back and finds we raided his cupboards?”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll leave some money. We haven’t eaten in a long time. Whatever we’ve got ahead of us, we’ll need sustenance.”

  Daniel pulled out a chair and sat with her while she spread jam onto the bread and rolled the pancakes and began to eat. Hunger won out over fear, and he reached for the bread.

  For a few minutes, the only sounds were the sounds of their greedy eating, and Daniel felt some of the tension leave his body. Yes, fear had made him jittery and shaky, but hunger had played its part as well.
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  “What’s that noise?” Em said, stopping in mid-reach for another pancake.

  Daniel pricked up his ears and listened to the distance. Far off, he caught a whooshing sound, as loud as industrial machinery, but one suburb over. Before he could place the sound, it raced towards them, whooshing and rattling, gathering intensity, barrelling towards the cottage. “It’s coming closer.”

  “It’s wind.”

  The still air outside was being churned by a vast engine, roaring down on the branches above them, making them bend and snap. Quickly, precisely…a jet plane or a meteor bearing down on them. Daniel moved to push himself out of his chair and run—anywhere—when the wind abruptly stopped. The door to the cottage blasted open, and the owner stepped in.

  He was more than six-and-a-half feet tall, with a wild beard and wild hair, rough skin that resembled bark and pale protuberant eyes. He was dressed in ragged green clothes. Daniel and Em were frozen like prey, with crumbs on their chins and jam on their fingers.

  “Who are you?” he asked. The language he spoke was Russian, but a coarse, accented variety Daniel was unfamiliar with.

  Em took over, smoothly rising from her chair and dusting herself off. “Forgive us, we thought nobody was home. I’m Em and this is Daniel.”

  He stared at her offered hand, paying keen attention to her watch. Then, without shaking her hand, he pulled out a chair to sit with them. “At least you haven’t eaten it all,” he said, spreading jam thickly on a pancake and shoving it in his mouth. “Where are you from?” he said through a giant mouthful. “Sounds like Mir. Am I right?”

  Daniel noticed for the first time that the man’s clothes were all on backwards.

  “Actually, I’m from Boston originally but I’ve lived in London a while,” Em said. “Daniel’s from Cambridge.”

  “Yes, yes. You’re from Mir.”

  “So where are we now?” Daniel ventured, dreading the answer.

  “Skazki.” The man leaned back and smiled. A chunk of food hung in his beard. “Oh, you’re lost, aren’t you? You’ve never heard of Mir or Skazki?”

  Daniel caught Em’s eye, switched to English. “He’s using the Russian words for ‘world’ and ‘story’,” Daniel said.