Charlie's Dream (4 page)

Marie came out of a blissful sleep to the sound of someone singing. The voice sounded beautiful as it sang a song about true love and the triumph of the heart. It was Gemma, and as Marie woke up enough to realise this, the memories of the previous day came crashing back. She felt sick to her stomach as she thought about Charlie lying on the ground, white and still, so she lay quietly beneath her doona and tried in vain to distract herself by looking around the room. Gemma's home was quite different in the daytime. The large French doors that ran along one wall were now flung open and the morning sunlight streamed into the cottage. The doors led out onto a courtyard that was completely enclosed from the rest of the garden by a high terracotta coloured wall. The area was crammed full of pots and hanging baskets that struggled to contain an array of wildly coloured plants and ferns that dangled and swayed perilously from their confinement. There were a few varieties that Marie could identify from her cocoon on the couch, but the majority were totally new to her. With horns and splayed-out leaves that cast eerie shadows on their neighbours, they looked like they had been collected from some hidden Peruvian jungle. The air was filled with the sound of chirping, as a dozen songbirds hopped after Gemma while she watered all the plants. She stopped at every one in turn, touching it lightly as she removed any dead foliage and gave each plant a drink from a long-nosed watering can. As Gemma nursed each plant, the birds sat on her shoulders chirping loudly, as though they were a team of trainee doctors, examining each patient and giving their prognosis to the head surgeon.

"Hello," said Gemma cheerfully, as Marie emerged through one of the French doors. The little flock of songbirds flew up from Gemma's shoulders into a nearby Staghorn fern to appraise the newcomer.

"Hello," said Marie sleepily.

"How are you feeling this morning?" asked Gemma.

"Pretty terrible to be honest," croaked Marie, sitting down on the small stone steps and hugging her legs in an attempt to stop shivering.

"I've got one piece of news for you," said Gemma, continuing to nurse a sickly-looking maiden-hair fern.

"Oh, what's that?" squeaked Marie.

"Well, when I spoke to your mum last night, I told her all about the accident. She was shocked to hear about Charlie of course, but I assured her you were okay, just rather shaken. As it turns out, she's speaking at a motivational something-or-other this weekend, so I suggested you might like to stay here with me, so I can keep an eye on you. I think she was relieved. Anyway, she wants you to phone her when you've woken up."

"Thank you," said Marie. "I didn't know how I was going to handle seeing her this morning. I know she means well, but I feel so raw at the moment, I just don't want to talk about what's happened."

"I know, people sometimes hurt us even when they're trying to be well-meaning. Now, I've got some plans for us this weekend to help take your mind off things, if you're interested?"

"I am, but what have you got in mind?" asked Marie, yawning.

"The first thing you need to do is have a hot shower. You'll find some new clothes in the bathroom, then we'll have a nice breakfast and talk about it," said Gemma.

The house was too small to bathe inside, so Gemma had built a separate room across a series of stepping-stones that crossed the lawn at the side of the cottage. The little shed had its own fireplace, with a huge bath that sat up on a raised, wooden area in the middle of the room. The bath was splendid, but the shower was a work of art, with the entire recess made of different coloured glass, which had been skilfully framed and glued together. Marie stood beneath the shower's strong caress and watched the light change in the room as the morning sunlight sparkled through the rainbow panes. The scalding water cascaded down her body and she stood there for ages, transfixed by the prickly massage and the warmth that it instilled in her cold frame.

By the time she got out, her fingers were all prune-like and she needed to sit down for a few moments to recover from a sudden rush of blood to her head. As she looked around the room, her gaze fell on a hanger of clothes on the back of the door. Marie fell in love with the dark-green, embroidered jacket as soon as she put it on. The material felt like silk, but had the warmth of cashmere and was clearly much loved. By the time she left the room and had made her way across the stepping-stones towards the kitchen, she was feeling a lot lighter and had decided to keep the jacket on forever, or at least for as long as Gemma let her. As she went in the door, Gemma was pouring some boiling water into a coffee plunger.

"Perfect timing, everything's ready," she said, spinning round.

"Good. By the way, thank you for the loan of this outfit, it's beautiful," said Marie, closing the door

"It's not a loan, it's a gift," said Gemma.

"But I can't possibly take it. It's obviously very precious and I would never."

"Shhh, I want you to have it. Yes, it has been very precious to me and I have worn it in pretty much every country in the world. But now it's yours and knowing you're wearing it will give me as much pleasure as any of those memories. Besides, I've shrunk in my old age and it's far too big for me now."

"Okay, if you're absolutely certain. Thank you, thank you for everything," said Marie, giving Gemma a hug.

"Now, come on. I've prepared a rather beautiful breakfast for us, if I do say so myself, and I'm starving. I've been up for hours."

The table was covered with enough food for ten people. There were scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and wilted spinach, drizzled with hollandaise sauce. Mangoes and paw paws that had been dissected into bite-size pieces in a glass bowl that was sculpted in the shape of a swan and four or five different handmade cereals.

"How many people are you expecting for breakfast?" asked Marie, surveying the feast before her.

"Well, I only eat two meals a day, so I always make the morning meal a good one," said Gemma, sitting down and stabbing a big piece of mango with her fork. Marie grabbed herself a bowl and it was some time later, as Gemma rocked back in her chair nursing a second cup of coffee, before anything more was said.

"Yum, that was good. Now, I've been thinking," said Gemma.

"That sounds dangerous," said Marie, smiling wickedly.

"Yes, well be that as it may you cheeky thing, it would be a good idea for us to get away from the nursery for the weekend. If we stay around here, I'll get constantly interrupted and you'll get upset by being here. I want to spend some special time together, while we have a chance. I thought we could spend tonight in a small cottage I own fairly near here. What do you think? If it's a nice night, we could even camp out under the stars."

"That sounds great, but will I need anything from home?" asked Marie.

"No, I think I've got everything we need, but if we're going to make it to Halsey cottage before dark, we'd better get a move on."

"Where is this Halsey cottage? I haven't heard you talk about it before."

"The cottage is on a large property I bought some time ago to keep as a remnant from the past. A time that saw this region prosper under the stewardship of a wise and powerful lord. He built an extraordinary castle on the land I own, which housed the combined libraries of all the major mystics of the time. The manuscripts were hidden in the cobweb of underground rooms that lay beneath the mansion. He cared about his subjects and regarded himself as their servant. He had travelled extensively and sourced many alternative agricultural practices, which he instituted with great success in this county. He defied the feudal system that dominated Europe at the time by giving equal land rights to a whole cross-section of his community. In the end, he paid dearly for his egalitarian practices, which united the other landowners in their hatred of him."

"So, what happened to him?" asked Marie.

"Well, they slaughtered his family in front of him, having removed his eyelids to ensure he could see it properly. Then, they roasted him in his own fireplace, before burning the house to the ground."

"Oh my God, that's hideous," gasped Marie.

"Well, you asked. They were brutal times, but enough now, I must concentrate this old brain on our needs for the next two days, or I am bound to forget something. I'll tell you more about it this evening if you want. Now, you phone your mum and let her know you're okay and I'll get my head around what we need to take."

"Okay captain," said Marie with a smile.

As it turned out, Marie had to leave a message on her mum's mobile and after half an hour of preparation, they had all their gear in the back of Gemma's old Mercedes station-wagon and headed off. They drove for about two hours, before Gemma swung the old car into a tiny laneway that was almost invisible from the main road they were on. The ancient beech trees on either side of the lane spanned it with a ceiling of intertwined arms, which muscled their way towards the sunlight. The road had no name, but about a hundred yards up from the junction they came to a gate, which had the words PRIVATE ROAD written on it. The car came to a stop and Marie quickly unbuckled her seatbelt and jumped out to open the gate.

"Thanks," said Gemma.

The lane had high sides, with wild thorny hedgerows that obscured the view of the fields beyond them. Under the beech canopy, there were thousands of wildflowers and ferns that swayed in and out of the dappled light that the trees kindly let pass. Tiny birds whisked in front of the car, surprised by its brutal arrival into their quiet world and Gemma only just missed three rabbits who were startled from their chat in the middle of the lane. Marie noticed a gradual change come over Gemma's face as she travelled further. Her eyes changed colour, from blue pools of light to deep green wells that glimmered darkly with a different type of natural wisdom. The transition was subtle in its occurrence, but startling once complete.

"Don't worry about the change in my eyes," said Gemma, seeing the look on Marie's face. "I'm an elf at heart and whenever I come to this place, where the magic is still strong, it always affects me."

"It doesn't worry me, it's just the change is so radical, it took me by surprise."

"We've nearly made it to Spinner's hill. Once we're at the top, we're only a couple of minutes from the house," announced Gemma, choosing not to engage the subject any further.

"Is that where your land is?" asked Marie.

"My land started when we came through the gate back there. You see, I'm very old and I've had a long time to accumulate it," answered Gemma, winking.

"You must own hundreds of acres," continued Marie, in a gentle attempt to learn more.

"Yes, I do, but it's actually a few thousand, not a few hundred," corrected Gemma quietly. Marie was going to say something, but she thought better of it and Gemma didn't offer anything further on the topic. Before the silence could become uncomfortable, they rounded a sharp corner and a small white cottage stood before them in a clearing that was dominated by an enormous fig tree. The top of its chimney came nowhere near the uppermost branches of the tree and the small walled garden in front of the house seemed tiny in context with the huge fig. Marie reckoned that the tree must have been five hundred-years-old, but before she could ask about it, Gemma hopped out the car and skipped over to the tree, hugging it as if it was a long lost relative.

"This is Capantash, which in the elfin language means 'clear one'. Don't you think she's gorgeous?" enthused Gemma, as Marie wandered around the car to take a closer look.

"Yes, she's beautiful," said Marie, patting her trunk lightly.

"My tiredness disappears when I'm near a tree that's as special as this one. Do you know, you're the first person I've ever brought here in all the years I've owned this property, I've normally come here to get away from everyone," she said, leaning into the back of the car to retrieve their belongings."

"Am I really the first? Well I feel honoured, this is a special weekend," said Marie.

"Yes it is, but I don't think we'll be sleeping out tonight, judging by those dark clouds that are heading this way," said Gemma, handing Marie one of their bags. Marie looked up and, sure enough, a huge bank of threatening clouds were drawing closer.

"Ouch, they've crept up pretty quickly, it was sunny a minute ago," said Marie.

"Well, let's collect some kindling to make a fire, then we'll be nice and snug while it passes. I love a good storm," said Gemma.

They scurried around like two squirrels trying to beat the approach of winter and, within fifteen minutes, they were in the cottage with all of their stuff and a large bundle of twigs. As it turned out, they were only just in time. Two huge claps of thunder heralded the beginning of a downpour that started so violently that they were deafened by the noise of it on the tin roof.

In the rush, Marie hadn't glanced around the cabin at all, and as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, another part of Gemma's history was coming into view. There was a large fireplace in the middle of one wall, with a soft-leather sofa sitting in front of it. A great big rug covered most of the floor and an old wooden desk covered with letters was pushed up underneath the window that looked out over the garden. Apart from that, there was very little else in the room, except for a small sink and work bench, an old copper-looking stove and a tiny dining table that was wedged in one corner and had obviously not been used for quite a while. As Marie looked around, a collage of photographs caught her eye and she was instantly drawn to the images, like a fly to sticky paper. Even from across the room, she could make out Gemma standing with her arm around the Dalai Lama in one of the pictures.

"You don't miss a thing, do you," said Gemma, observing the direction of Marie's stare.

"Nope," said Marie, marching over to the photos. "How can this be?" she asked eventually, turning towards Gemma, who was standing right behind her.

"Is this some type of a trick? It must be a present you've made for someone's birthday. It can't possibly be real, can it?"