Chapter twenty-one, Thursday:31thoctober2013, journeyers landed
Lazy thin rain is sprinkling down on us as we get into the car to the airport. A hushed tone falls over this crew of almost strangers as we all consider what journey into the unknown we are about to embark upon. The grey sky feels cold now, and I’d put rain macs on my horses this morning very early before I left, their neck covers on for added protection. I have left an extensive list of instructions for Jinni and several phone numbers to call in case of emergencies, I suspect we may have signal problems, and plan for it.
TC: “Jinni, remember you can call me any-time day or night” please do.
JG: “Thanks, you're not my only neurotic customer you know?” she does this for a living, true story.
TC: “I know I’m bad J, but I love those boys” another true story.
JG: “I know, don't worry, they'll be fine” hope so.
Actually she's brilliant with them, but that doesn't stop me getting tight across the chest with anxiety when I have to leave them, you can just never tell what they'll get up to can you? Girls? Poker?
Bloody hell, I don't want to think about it.
On board our aircraft, a rather swanky private plane, I sit in my seat, lip balm, iPhone, Bose headphones, bottle of Evian, Asimov Foundations Trilogy, everything I need within a grasp away including a man I rather like.
TC: “Turning off my phone now, see you when I’m home.” see? I can be a good daughter.
EC: “Don't forget to switch it back on, I may need to call you” OK
TC: “Love you” true.
EC: “Bring me back a fridge magnet” bloody hell, llama shaped I bet.
EC: “You know, I love llamas” did she tell me that already?
Mothers!
The whole plane at our disposal and Daniel sits next to me. He smells incredible and I wonder what twenty hours flying, with stoppages and refuelling, sitting so close to this amazing man, this sexy creature, will do to my usual long-haul plan of sleeping the whole way. It’s because I get bored, not that I like to sleep…..but I really do like to sleep. He stretches for his water and the shirt he’s wearing strains over his body, I can’t stop looking, at him, he’s so gorgeous.
Enter at C collected trot.
A tide is turning, a storm is coming, I can feel it, a current in the air and a change in atmosphere. Crackling with static and a warm feeling of sedation too. He smiles at me as he takes a seductive mouthful of water, actually it's just a mouthful but the nuance is in the eye of the beholder right? And I suddenly hurt in my body with pleasure, I want those lips on me too. I can’t shake the feeling; I sit and try to suffer the feeling lapping over my senses as if to tease me more. Get a grip Tharie, for heaven’s sake.
Halt at X salute.
During the very long flight we have a large blanket over our laps, it's quite chilly as both of us like the blowers on, I’ve never met anybody else who does. Trying to be discreet we fondle each other throught the whole flight, it feels amazing, getting away with it, plus, usually plane journeys are quite tedious! ...apart from the tea of course.
But that depends on the airline.
And whether it’s ceramic or a plastic cup.
So many things to consider.
How did life get this complicated?
Peru is hot, humidity is high, the food at the airport is terrible and the officious simp checking our visas smells bad too. I am weary to my bones. We don’t speak much once we land either, we are all suffering with fatigue, and barely manage grunts and nods as we pile into the vehicle. Our flat-bed truck pulls round a corner, keeping in the dried ruts of the unmade road, it must rain heavily at some time in the year. We rattle about over the rough terrain for three and a half hours, until our driver slows and pulls into what to a casual observer looks like a track no wider than a footpath. But tearing through the bushes and overhanging branches I notice there is once a wider path here, another illusion, and it's just overgrown from lack of use.
The driver and his companion speak in Spanish to each-other, one nods and as the vehicle slows over a mound in the way he jumps out and closes the door behind him. Our car stops, the little man reaches out of the window and outside brushes away some foliage from what looks like a wooden box mounted eye height for him on a post. Inside a glowing button is depressed and ahead of us, totally invisible to any of us a massive section of forest slides smoothly away to the left. Our guide finishes and we drive through and onto a wide sweeping gravel driveway fronting what I would describe as a huge colonial looking house with white wood fascia. Needs weeding that driveway, but I keep my horticultural expertise to myself.
“Wow,” from Liza in the back, Daniel, this is your family’s house?” She asks in awe, leaning forward in her seat for a better look.
“Yes, there's been a house here in my family for centuries, we come here now and then. I used to come a lot when my tattoo mystery freaked me out and I needed to disappear.” Daniel leaps out before the car is perfectly stopped and begins letting us all out, looking quite relaxed and happy, and gorgeous of course.
Nigel grabs his old taupe canvas bag, shoves it under his arm, the strap is long broken. “I’d like to start by getting all my research organised.” He slides his spectacles back up his nose, “and everything I need packed for our search if there's somewhere for me to work Daniel?” asks the Professor. He's tired like all of us and I make a mental note to remember he's older than the rest of us and may need more time to recover from the jet-lag. I'll be wrong about that too, wait and see.
“Yes Doc, you can use my study.” Daniel offers pointing to its position in the house, “and I’ll make us all some tea?” There are whoops of joy all-round at the mention of tea, we haven’t had a descent cup since leaving London, the refreshments at the airport were unspeakable. So we don’t speak about it.
The front door opens with a smaller version of Daniels 'universal' remote. “Don't you like keys?” I ask him, shaking my head and smiling. Boys and their gadgets eh? Inside it's quite dark as the forest has begun taking over the outside of the house and leaves and branches grow over the windows.
“Keys are fine, but this can do lots more than just open doors.” Daniel tells us. Can it make tea? I ask to myself, likely not.
Its dim light outside because of the jungle creeping close to the building, but as the door swings completely open the whole place lights up. Like a dot to dot picture the sunlight hits a complex series of mirrors all around the ground floor before it heads upstairs. I try to remember the speed of light but fail, the whole inside of the house is now gleaming white and bright. It bugs me and I Google it: 299,792,458 metres per second, happier now.
“Amazing,” says Liza “energy free lights.”
“Yes, my father installed these years ago, we often lose power out here, and they are controlled by computer that has its own generator, directed by motors to point them in the right direction. They are everywhere, so no matter which way the sun is facing, there’s a group of mirrors plotted around the house to reflect the free light all over the inside.” Sounding so proud. “Of course it doesn’t work after nightfall, that’s when the power generated by the solar panels take over.
“Genius.” said the professor, “though, he could have just used the generator to light bulbs instead of power motors eh?” Exactly what I am thinking, spooky. “But, that wouldn’t be as much fun. Wonder if your Dad watched too many Indiana Jones movies? ....me too.” he laughs nodding. It feels calm and we all seem to have arrived in good spirits despite the lengthy journey and the possibility that all this planning and packing will amount to nothing, as every previous search has done. Just being in this extraordinary country is like an adventure in itself.
TC: “Landed and safe, hot and sweaty” true story.
PF: “Glad, having fun so soon, I’m proud” nut-case.
TC: “You have a filthy mind” who doesn’t?
PF: “Your Mum called me” oh god.
TC: “I’m sorry, you’ll have to get a new phone, and change your number” it’s like a spy game.
PF: “No need, she wanted me to know she worries about you” of course she does, that’s her job.
TC: “Always worrying about something” does she know what Henry gets up to on tour? I hope not.
PF: “You know, even I’ve shagged your brother!” How does she do that? ...and what!?
TC: “We’ll discuss this when I’m home” they would make very beautiful children, is all I'm saying people. Stop thinking about it Tharie.
The elders are right, ignorance is bliss.
I shut my phone down once more, and connect with the living bodies around me, not those intangible entities from text land. We sit together around a huge wooden table on the patio running along the whole back of the house, drinking tea, and making plans. Stan is naturally in charge of safety and survival all his moves seem automatic and practised. Comfortable with being in charge, he is packing all our equipment and checking our car is in good condition. The professor is packing his maps and sketches, cleaning his glasses periodically, and collecting and sorting his many photos of Daniels body.
Note to self, get a copy of those photos. Porn with a personal touch. Bloody hell Tharie, stop it!
He also has plans, maps, notebooks and the photographs of the drawings left to Daniel when he was young, overlaid onto his body to complete the picture. The professor had discovered the drawings, sketched in ink on very old but quite transparent paper, had a further meaning. He had quite accidentally overlaid the flimsy sheets onto the photos, and became another puzzle piece. After much study he overlaid all the drawings together on a light box with a few printouts of Daniels tattoos, and he found a link. But only by placing them over Daniels living 3D body was the whole tale told, as it matched with designs on his neck. The drawings fitted perfectly over Daniels skull and face, traced down his neck and arm, then onto the fingers of his right hand palm up, they made a good guess at how Daniels body would grow.
This gives us the definite starting point and a stone landmark we are looking for, which tells of a journey in darkness. “Indiana Jones” I laugh out loud, and immediately regret as Nigel swipes me a pitiful look.
“Tharie and I will wander out after lunch for an hour for a re-con, whilst you all prepare for tomorrow. We’ll start early, we don’t want to get caught in the dark.” Daniel tells everyone, not a question. Stan is about to protest and Daniel shuts the conversation down.
“No arguments,” he addresses this at Stan, “I just want some time alone with Tharie, hope that's not too much to ask?” He smiles at everyone, and they all agree. Especially me. What knickers am I wearing? God no! Bloody hell.
Note to self: change before you go.
I get a message on my phone, once again the little piece of tech vibrates, demanding a response, I hope for a pleasant distraction but all it does is perplex me. Daniel notices my attention on the tech in my hand and the corresponding mood change. “What’s up?” He asks me quietly, “anything wrong?”
I shake my head slowly, “nothing wrong exactly,” not quite knowing what to say. “It’s my neighbour’s daughter, she wants to be a lawyer.” He shakes his head in dismay, precisely. Clearly she lacks imagination, and just follows her father’s footsteps, “I thought she'd end up going to art school honestly.”
Daniel responds amusingly, “not damming in itself but I thought all youngsters wanted to be rock stars or tattoo artists.” True story, or so I thought. I snort an agreement, “so, why the screwed up face Tharie?”
“Well...” how can I put this? “You'll think I' mad? She hunts Daniel” I point my phone at him, not sure why.
“And you are friends with this girl?” A very good question. One I ask myself every hunt season.
“Not friends exactly, she's a neighbour.” you know the type of thing?
He looks at me in sadness. “Well?”
“I’m not sure someone who takes the life of another living creature for their own entertainment” shaking my head in disbelief, “has a firm grasp on what’s right and wrong.” True bloody story. “And wouldn't that be a key driver to becoming a lawyer?” (I'm told afterward that this in fact, is not necessarily so.)
“And she wants to practice law?” I nod, Daniel puts his arm around me, “I have to agree.” He says, I am relieved to hear that naturally.
“What should I tell her, she’s looking for encouragement?” It’s hard being a mentor.
Daniel scratches his head, his thinking face is on, “suggest she travels the world first,” he strokes my hair to calm me, “she’ll come back home a different person, everyone does.” He kisses my head, “she’ll have been on her own, she’ll have to grow up, learn to make her own choices.”
I'm thinking: she could just get a pony, that'll teach her about life. “Then what?” Happy there's a new plan.
“She’ll be a rock star or a tattoo artist!” He is of course, absolutely correct, who wouldn’t?
“Perfect” I tell him, “Her parents will be thrilled.” happy I'm out of the country, there's guns in their house.
“Do you care?” He understands, I’m glad.
“No, they’re only interested in money, and those who have it.” quite boring.
“Sounds boring.” Daniel hits the nail once again.
“It is.” And I look up at him, my feelings growing with every word, I love him don't I? Don't forget to change your undies Tharie I tell myself. I roll my eyes and reply to the text suggesting backpacking around the world to discover herself. She immediately responds that this is the new plan, a good thing about having rich parents, they can afford a round the world ticket. And I feel happier for all those poor villains who in all likelihood now won't get her as representation, this pleases me.
Later we have dinner on the decking, a stew of shallots and beetroot, with squash and pumpkin and charlotte potatoes and leeks, with an amazing bottle of Château Neuf Du Pape, and for dessert, poached peaches and cream. “Not bad for the middle of nowhere, what a lovely meal.” Says Nigel, we all sit looking like we've just had a Xmas feast, rubbing our bellies and groaning with pleasure. “Thank you so much Tharie” to nods of agreement all-round.
“Tharie, you didn’t tell me,” pointing her fork, “you can cook.” says Liza amused. “I assumed we'd be eating cheese on toast or Catharine's speciality, peanut-butter sandwiches!” Everyone seems amused, and Liza is clearly pleased with herself, for imparting new information.
Proceed in collected canter to H. This may be the last time I help you learn your dressage tests Liza Cartier!
“What's wrong with peanut butter sandwiches?” Complaining I stand to begin clearing dishes, half-heartedly, “it’s power food.” Liza winks at me, and helps me collect all the dishes up. I can’t let it go, “it's the only thing I can eat when I’m at an event, everything else gives me nausea.” I say as if an explanation were necessary, but nobody was asking, just smiling.
“I happen to love them.” pipes up Daniel in my defence. “Crunchy or smooth?” He asks provocatively.
“Crunchy of course” I reply coyly.
“Come on Tharie, fancy a stroll before bed?” He winks at me and I blush, must be the company.
“Let's go then, but I’m driving.” I shake the keys already stashed in my pocket for a hasty departure.
“Oh god, really?” Liza giggles, she knows my driving of course, Daniel the control freak trying his hardest to be OK with me. Who does everything for myself and can't help it. Yes, really Mum, I can’t help it. You taught us to think for ourselves and be independent, what did you expect? Ask for help? Never?
“Can't I be the man and drive just once?” Everyone is enjoying this light-hearted dialogue between us.
“No, and we're taking the Wolf, I’m not trusting my survival out here in the back and beyond to that tiny piece of junk built in Japan.” I gesticulate with my head toward the brand new and twinkly clean 4x4 parked out front. Some people have no taste, it's not even black.
Daniel holds up his hands as if in mock surrender, “Wolf?” And takes my hand and we leave the rest of our odd group of intrepid explorers to prepare for the morning. “Everyone has bedrooms, please help yourselves to anything you need, my home is your home.” He means it too, and we hear happy mumblings as we walk away. He looks in horror at the old Landrover sitting behind the Japanese shiny frame. “That old thing?” If he was expecting support from the crowd he didn’t get it.
“Well, I like them, mine has never let me down once,” well, that's a lie but it tries very hard. “I trust it to look after us.” I gaze appreciatively at the old army Landrover, and jump in, this is going to be fun.
Daniel whole expression is one of 'not convinced', “this was our emergency back-up vehicle,” he puts on sunglasses, “not our first choice transport.” Daniel jokes. I'm guessing this was once a military vehicle, it's lightweight, no bumpers or fancy trim and the inside is stripped of all the comforts it would have been built with (which won’t have been many, luxuriously comfortable they are not), including a radio, and padding on the seats. It has clips and straps for attaching equipment to the outside and a side mounted spare wheel, in good condition I notice. Always check you're tack before you mount. Pony club remember? The engine starts first time and there’s a familiar vibration of a ticking sound of the engine that rocks the whole car. It rattles the equipment Stan has already stowed in the flat bed open back, fold up shovel, shackles and strops. If we get stuck, we’ve got recovery equipment, I am satisfied. There’s an electric winch bolted to the front where a bumper would have been, but even that's gone. We have everything we might need for a little adventure, including a flask of tea.
Let’s go.