chapter twenty-four, Friday:1november2013, it begins
Assembled around the vehicle after breakfast, we grab our bags from the open back of this old Landrover to recheck we have everything we might need, we have a lot of gear. “Better to have it and not need it,” Stan tells us, “than to need it and not have it.” We all had to agree it makes perfect sense, and I recall hearing something similar in a film? I check the batteries in my torch, so heavy it doubles up as a possible weapon, I hope I won’t need to use it I correct my brain hastily.
Check my phone, yep, fully recharged, messages waiting, this is my life.
PF: “Having a hard time sleeping” I sense a trick, but play along.
TC: “Expect you’re overdoing it again Pete” and…?
PF: “That’s it exactly” glad she’s finally found someone to match her energy.
TC: “You just need a lie down…Tx” baiting her for information, it’s not really fair, but I need details.
PF: “You mean don't get on top?” Bingo!
TC: “Filth” I am so proud.
PF: “James has me upside down and back to front” nice, very nice indeed.
TC: “Don’t exercise on a full stomach” that’s good advice too.
PF: “And f*cks me five different ways before work” I know the feeling.
TC: “And you start work very early, that’s good going” the boys in that family, all have great staying power.
PF: “Stamina I hear you say, babes, I’m going to have to go to the gym to build my core strength” it must be bad.
TC: “Tell me everything when I get home” need to share.
PF: “We’re going on a little trip, no idea where, it’s so exciting” that’s smooth work, I need to find out more about this man.
Note to self, grill Daniel about his Brother.
I slam the passenger door after a pre-flight check of my iPhone cable and it doesn't shut true, it has a shallow dent from a previous adventure, not ours. Daniel looks at me, “we could have hired a Jeep you know, and nice new one....with air conditioning.” I shoot him a sarcastic glare that shuts him up for a while. We all clamber in the car, me driving, Daniel in the middle of the bench seat and Liza next to the window. Stan and the professor in the back where there's loads of room and they sit on a sleeping bag I found in the house propped up on our backpacks. “We could have all had seats you know, comfy ones, with reclining facilities, seat belts and lumbar support.” Daniel chatters on, taunting me. The others just carry on collating their own stuff in the car, checking and rechecking, looking at their phones, pretending not to notice. But smiling nonetheless as Daniel kisses me, holding my back in a tender way. We all need to begin our unusual journey. We follow the same route from yesterday, so I know where I’m going. An unusual sensation for me.
After some needless trepidation from the others at the hill top I know this as chattering stops, and silence once more prevails, and some words of warning, Daniel grips the hand bar and said “off we go we’ll be fine.” He reassures everyone, and we tip over the edge as before and descended down the steep bank in an almost impossibly slow and leisurely pace. Stan and the Professor thoroughly enjoying themselves in the back. I'm certain I catch them discussing Landrovers. We stop in the exact spot we had yesterday before shunting an about turn and heading onward, “keep your elbows and hands in the car.” I negotiate an enormous rut twisting the car up onto a bank.
“This old thing isn't all bad.” Says Daniel, except we could use some air-con.” He complains wiping his arm across his forehead.
“The windows open, and there's no roof, that’s air-conditioning.” I sulk. “You can’t beat a Landrover in my view, they never let you down.” Not exactly true, but the sound-bite is good.
“You're amazing Tharie” Daniel tells me, obviously not used to being impressed.
“Besides,” I continue like an enthusiastic toothy-smiling salesman, “I can work these things, it’s just like my car.” I look around me, “Well, not like exactly, but not unlike either.”
“I’ve seen your car Tharie, it belongs in a museum.” Daniel laughs, but I'm secretly offended.
Even Stan has to laugh, “sorry,” he adds quickly as we both look over, “Landrovers might look trashed, but underneath they are gems, and you can fix them with a hammer and some simple tools too, which is just as well” he glances over at me, “because those old ones quite often break down.” We continue our conversation as though there was nobody else about.
“Not everything top of the range with a button for going down hills (for heaven’s sake), and brand new is better. And what's with all the tinted windows...you’re not famous!” I jest.
“What’s wrong with my car, it's still Landrover” he tells me, “though it's never roved any land except tarmac.” He giggles.
“You can find one on every continent; they’re as well developed as cockroaches.” I remind him.
“You win, let’s get moving, we only have half a day before it gets dark, and I really don’t fancy being out here in the dark...even with you Tharie,” he adds quickly as I pout. I wink at him, take a deep slurp of water from my chrome bottle with a screw lid, add it to my backpack between our seats, I am not looking forward to hauling it on. I hate backpacks, if my Burberry was deep enough I’d have brought that, backpacks are synonymous with hairy armpits, cereal bars and Birkenstocks, Yuk! I shiver at the thought!
Apologies to any of you who match this description, but this is my story....please pick up a Vogue next time you're out!
Stopping in a opening at everyone’s request, a beautiful spot, we all have our phones out taking photos and group shots, like were on holiday. The scene is quite stunning and we’re finally having a tea break.
Daniel has the map spread out on the series bonnet and he and the Professor are perusing the texts and routes. He has the translation of his tattoo imagery sealed in a clear plastic Ziploc pouch and they discuss a heading... “According to my directions...and I’m not even going to consult you on this matter Tharie, you’re rubbish at directions!” He kisses the end of my nose. “We head in a westish heading once the Prof. translates the standing stone and discovers its meaning. We're guessing it's a marker to lead us to another similar stone marker.”
“Westish…?” I giggle, “That’s not even a real word!”
“Fine,” he admits, I fake hurt, and points, that's better, toward that mountain.
“Then when we get lost and no one finds our poor starving long dead bodies, clinging to each other, it’ll be your fault...westish!” I check the signal on the satellite phone Stan has procured for us, clearly not the rented kind, it's too new, too complicated, it's likely from an unknown military source, I do like intrigue in my story don't I?
HXF collected canter.
Certain Stan himself is from similar sources, I look over at him and he's checking all the equipment, again. Yep. Nigel cleans his glasses and Liza unties and reties her ponytail several times. We all have our coping mechanisms don't we?
Free walk along the long side of the arena.
Five almost complete strangers heading out for an adventure, a motley crew I’d have to admit. I look around at us all, but a more dedicated and knowledgeable bunch you couldn’t find.
“This is incredible.” We hear the Professor calling. He has already reached the tall stone and is studying it's markings over his glasses as before. “It's a key to our destination, it's the missing link and gives us a slightly new heading, watch out here.”
He gestures with his hand gripping the map tightly, “Might be a matter of hitting our target or being shy of it by about seventy miles.” He looks again at the stone's surface. “This is odd though.” he says.
“Odd in what way Prof.” asks Liza.
“It talks about walking in darkness, and only when I lay this section of your own tattoo over this part here, you see where these birds match up?” We didn’t notice it at first, but once we creep closer we can see clearly.
“Yes, we do see.” Liza adds, flicking her pony. (That's hair, not small horse of course).
“It talks about 'under the great mountain', walking in darkness.”
The Professor looks up at all of us. My brain is not happy about the sound of that at all, and an ache begins to bloom up there.
“That's why no one ever found the hiding place before you see?” He pushes his glasses further over his nose and continues reading the hieroglyphs as before. Almost forgetting there's people with him hanging on his words like there's nothing more important.
“Prof.?” I say, “We don't all see, perhaps you could explain it for us.” I check my watch, its 8am, we are ahead of schedule, we planned at least an hour at the stone to understand its meanings, we have only needed 20 minutes.
“Yes of course, well without the information inked on Daniels body anyone reading this would get a heading but the key would be missing don't you see?” We all looked at each-other. “What we're looking for isn't on the ground.” He straightens up as if speaking to a lecture hall of students, “it's underneath it!”
Suddenly we do see, a wave of uneasiness sweeps over me, I don’t like the sound of underground at all, my brain was right, it usually is, bloody hell.
TC: “Mum, it's hot in Peru” true story. Bloody hell, underground.
Mummy.
EC: “What did you expect, silly girl?” I can always trust her to make me feel good about myself.
TC: “Thanks Mum” true story.
EC: “Be safe Catharine” I will.
I re-join the conversation, hoping all the chat about going underground is finished...“a vast cavern it says, twenty men tall, leading under the mountain, which must be that one behind us.” Bloody hell again.
Did I free walk along the long side of the arena HK?
Liza can sense I’m on high alert, she knows exactly why. “So, it's a huge airy space then?” She asks for my benefit, stroking my arm affectionately.
“Yes, Dr Cartier, I believe that's what I said.” He huffs, he doesn't like having to repeat himself, but Liza just winks at me, I kind-of feel better. Slightly relieved to learn there's to be no potholing antics or squeezing through rocks, or even worse the Poseidon adventure!! Who could forget Shelley Winters and having to hold her breath underwater to swim to freedom....I was getting myself all tight in the chest.
Change rein across the arena diagonally KXM.
What had Dr Shrink told me to do? Big gulps of air slowly and puff it all out through my lips, rinse and repeat. It is working. Daniel looks at me oddly “you OK?” I snap the band around my wrist, feeling instantly better, he runs his fingers through the front of his floppy hair, taming it back into a quiff, that’s his mechanism.
I nod emphatically, “Hope so.” I take his warm hand, and feel instantly better. I wish in an instant we were alone. Stop it! I tell myself, were in company, I snap the band again, my wrist is beginning to smart, there'll be a red mark later if I dwell on the underground visit.
“So, we head that-away,” Daniel points our new slightly new heading.
“Let’s see how far we get in the car.” I venture. Everyone agrees though they all look like it’ll be unlikely to get very far. Red flag to a bull, and determined to prove them wrong, having a car somehow gives us added courage. And we all get back in. Last to arrive is the Professor, he has taken hundreds of digital photos of the stone, every piece of carving every detail, image and marking have been recorded.
“Well?” answering a question none of us has even asked him, “we may need to recall some of this imagery,” but we were all wondering. The Landy creeps through the forest, making a path where none has existed for hundreds of years, at the speed of a walk.
“Everyone OK?” I ask to the crew. They all mumble an affirmative and we carry on, Liza is handing out the KitKats. Oi! Where's mine? Daniel has programmed our new destination or rather our start point into the GPS Stan has given him. It's not a commercial model but a military one. I am amazed anything works out here at all. He readjusts my steering to match the new heading and where possible I comply, but there are many obstacles in the forest and it's a juggling match between moving forward at all then getting back on track. Our trusty car keeps going. And we head toward the base of the mountain. We stop after about an hour as we reach the edge of the tree line, and I pass around the peanut butter sandwiches and flask of hot dark tea much to everyone’s delight. They are all hungry enough not to tease me about more peanut butter sandwiches. We chatter as we eat and learn that Stan was in the SAS and was married once but not any-more, we don’t press him on this, He begins to look uncomfortable, checking the batteries in his torch for the fiftieth time in an hour.
The Professor had never married “who'd want a crusty old Professor who practically lives in a museum, you think I look like this because I’m 74? I’ve looked like this since I was 30!” We all laugh so hard we send a group of tropical birds flying into the canopy above us. I chance a contact, will she be awake, what time is it at home? God knows. I check my Dad’s watch, surely with all these dials and knobs there’d be a setting to give me a multiple location world clock? It’s a peculiar looking time keeping device, if it only tells the time, I wonder what all the other settings are for? Dad never did satisfactorily explain it to us did He? Strange, because he loved to explain things. I miss him.
TC: “Eating dinner in Peru, at least I think that’s where we are” better?
EC: “Don’t forget fruit, your skin is already pale, you need healthy eating” why do I bother?
TC: “Mum. I’m vegetarian, all I eat is fruit and vegetables” deep breaths, how many times.
EC: “Keep forgetting, be careful” I will.
TC: “Bye Mum” she’d love it here.
Biting into crunchy Braeburn apples for dessert, and swigging more tea, we guess we're another forty-five minutes to the base of the mountain. “I can see another standing stone.” Stan calls from the back of the Landrover, he's standing on the back bumper holding some covert operations, high powered binoculars to his face. “And there’s three of them this time.” He steps down. “That way.” He gestures, and we all get back in the car. The route toward the stones is clear to see once we're out of the dense forest, I’m just adjusting my speed and trajectory according to the rocks, bushes and mounds of dense grasses, I call it a 'scrubbery'.
“So, Doc, what else do you do when you're not searching the worlds for lost antiquities and languages?” Asks Liza, “We don’t talk much in the museum about our private lives.” She says, “It’s where the past is important and the present not so much.”
Makes sense. Though I'd be very surprised if she didn't chat about Mousse, he is her first love, and if you ever meet him, you'd have to agree, he is quite something that horse.
“Well the past is my life, I don’t really have time...” I sense there's more but keep quiet.
“Oh, come on, there must be something.” We all giggle at Liza's tenacity at getting information out of her boss. He smiles as if he's reluctant to say, but he will.
“Well I play chess,” not a surprise there, off come the glasses again as a distraction, “with an old university buddy of mine,” the handkerchief comes out of his pocket, he flicks it in the air to unfold it. “He teaches anthropology.” He wipes the surface of the lenses and returns them to his face, picking up the last piece of apple, “at Cambridge.” The professor tosses his apple core out onto the ground. “I read a lot of course,” we had assumed that of course, and all nod. To us all that pretty much goes without saying. But he's not finished, “and I love the music of Lonnie Donnigan.” We don't ask any-more, needless to say. Sometimes, it's just better to not know eh? That last fact stops us all from wondering any-more about each-other, some things are just better left unsaid! Ignorance being bliss after all, how could we have forgotten?
And, not quite knowing how to follow that, we change the subject accordingly, until we reach the three new markers at the base of the mountain. “Clement weather we're having, what?” That sort of thing, most amusing. “More biscuits? That's the ticket.”
Did he say he likes skiffle? We approach the three stones.
More tea anyone?