chapter thirty, Sunday:3rdnovember2013, discovery, the 'found' type
“But that's impossible, it can't be from Dad!” Says Kurt. “But he always signs Dr GP, Dr Graham Pearse”
“Signs?” Present tense, I thought they assume he is dead, that's interesting.
“Signed,” Kurt corrects himself, “I always do that.”
“What does it mean Daniel?” I ask quietly, looking over at him whilst I get the kettle on the fire.
“I…we all promised not to pursue this legendary treasure, many of our family have died trying, as you know.” He tells us with a disinterested far-away expression. Speaking like an automaton, bland and singularly toned. “But our ancestor had help, it seems possible that this spice trader could be related to the man who inked my body?”
“And he was trying to lead us to the treasure?” From Kurt.
“...and?” I ask impatiently, “what about the ‘she’ part, is someone watching over us Daniel.”
There’s a great heave of breath behind us, amplified by the space, but it sounds like a deflation leading to an admission, “me!” Stan finally speaks. “It is me.” We all turn to look at him in surprise, “I promised your Father I would watch you Daniel.” He looks from face to face looking for any gesture, “and you've been under surveillance for a few weeks.”
“A few weeks!” Daniel exclaims, “How?” He shakes his head as if clearing the disbelief from his ears, “since when?”
“Since Tharie.” Looking at Daniel, not me. “And I’ve been watching them watching you, to keep you both safe.” He appears frustrated but it’s likely because he couldn’t tell us anything. I forgive him.
“Why,” asks Daniel, “why now?”
Stan looks proud. Proud of doing the job he was given, and succeeded, we are all fine aren’t we? After all, we have survived. “Then something changed?” I conclude, “Anything happen recently Daniel?”
“My tattoo?” He's right, it is that reason alone we are all here now, isn't it? Now, I’m not sure.
“No Daniel” I tell him shaking my head slowly, trying to work it out, “your tattoo was a consequence of the something happening.” I am certain I’m right, my instincts tell me. Stan is shaking his head, he knows something, my instincts turn out to be right about that too.
He looks at Daniel. “You met someone that changed everything.” Stan looks taller than I remember, imposing even, a real protector, I can see it now.
“And how has this someone changed everything?” Daniel asks looking directly at me, into my eyes and not leaving my stare. Staring back at him, I know don't I? Yes. It's me. We know, but we say nothing, stand perfectly still, like a theatre piece, waiting for the curtain to fall. And someone to appear with a lighted little tray full of ice creams.
I'd prefer tea please.
“It’s Tharie, Daniel.” He breaths a long breath, “she is the new person in your life.” Stan tells us. He’s been watching after us all along, and somehow I am not at all surprised, somehow I knew. Liza has her hand over her mouth, nodding, somehow all this makes sense to her too.
“Me? What has this to do with me, I’m a denim designer!” I cry, but something in my neural network tells me I am the missing link. It’s my abilities, my odd brain, its mechanisms are unique and my talents well documented by Dr Shrink. I don’t know how it works, it just does.
“Because,” Stan continues patiently and soothingly, “Tharie has a very rare gift, maybe even unique, her brain makes connections nobody else can.” I stand suddenly wishing I wasn't hearing this all over again. “Her mind can visualise complexities and map ideas like no one alive today.” My temples begin to throb, something's happening up there. “She sees a pattern, where we just see chaos, it's a gift.”
“And a curse!” I say rubbing my forehead as another headache blossoms inside my skull, beginning to throb to a drumbeat, its Nitzer Ebb, this is going to hurt. “Will someone pass me my flask please?” That'll help.
“Hip or tea?” Kurt asks gently.
“Tea.”
“Tharie is the person who threads strings of random thoughts together to form a tangible idea, she will find the key to all this, I’m certain of it.” He look at our faces one after the other,“ and the dangers we have all been feeling, in the background, watching us from a distance, breathing down our necks, means other parties believe she will too.”
God no!
We all look at Stan, “and if I’d been in Tokyo you’d never have gotten abandoned Danny, I’m so sorry.” Daniel smiles up at Stan to totally forgive him, even though there’s nothing to forgive. Everyone else is looking at me in shock. Faces with questioning looks, like little birds waiting to be fed, and I have a juicy wet worm in my beak.
What do I tell them? “Liza knows how this works, “I begin to try to explain, “feelings come and go, they work by themselves, it’s completely uncontrolled and totally random.” well not always random. I open my flask and pour myself a large steaming cup of tea. Take a long refreshing gulp, breathe, then another, god, it's good, and a very, very dark brown. I feel almost human again, not comfortable with attention, I’d like to walk away, put my headphones on, but that's not an option.
“I can see things,” I try to explain, “but the price is my head hurts,” I sit on my rock, “pieces of the universe, random signals meet in my brain, and each 'voice' as I call them, speaks at once, it's deafening sometimes.” Daniel takes my hand in his and kisses it.
“And tell them the feeling you get Tharie, when you face something that isn’t right.” Liza wraps her arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a friendly hug. I nearly spill my tea she pulls me hard into her, because she knows how this affects me.
“My allergic reaction you mean?” Liza nods affirmative, “it’s an uncomfortable itch and tightening of the chest.” I take another soothing swig of plastic tainted tea, “sometimes, if I’m seeing an outfit that’s wrong for example or hear a song out of rhythm, it’s hard for me to breathe and, it feels like the prickling of a rash.” I haven't really explained it very well, because I feel lightheaded too, but I’m tired of talking about me. I just want to be by myself. Liza lets me go and stands with Kurt, looking up at him. Letting him know she's there for him, it's very sweet. Wait until he wants her to do something on a show day, then we'll see about the 'sweet' side.
Daniel holds me tight around the waist, pulling me close to him, reassuring me. “OK,“ we hear, “and my Dad?” Kurt asks Stan. Stan just stares conflicted between a promise and the love of those boys he's been watching over since they were little. “Stan?”
“I don’t know anything Kurt and Danny” and he sits on a rock nearby “that’s the truth” going through the routine of checking and rechecking the climbing equipment for safety and delivery. It's his coping mechanism to have routine, as it is mine, I wonder if he likes loud music too?
“Well I’ll be...” we hear a cry from behind us, happy it's not about me any longer. The Professor has spread the knotted string onto the floor of the cavern, he has switched his torch for a smaller version attached to a soft elastic strap and fits around his head. I fumble for my headphones, I need quiet. “You see here, these knots aren’t just random, they are…” too much information....?
“The constellation of Orion the warrior,” I interrupt, putting my Bose’s on my head and plugging in my phone. I don't sit along with the others, instead I play very loud Marilyn Manson to quieten my head.
A little irritated at the interruption but continues nevertheless, “yes, Orion.” Looking up at my retreating form, “see?” And his audience nods in amazed agreement. “Now watch what happens when I overlay this onto this from Daniels old drawings.” He arranges the string piece over the paper carefully, “some of the stars line up with this image,” straightening the mesh finally, “and do these lines look familiar to anyone”?
I see much waving of arms and pointing, animated conversations, Nigel lecturing, Daniel listening, Kurt yawning.
I sit quiet for two songs, sipping more tea, feeling calmer about being me. The group are hunched over the map still and pointing and talking excitedly amongst each-other. I see flashes from photos being taken and assume something interesting must be afoot.
I can see something, I take my headphones off. “It’s a contour map,” I say with a definite tone, the once animated group now still and quiet looking up at me. Bloody hell.
Suddenly everyone sees it! “Exactly” Nigel says “it’s contour of the mountain.”
“And the river that runs on the surface!” Says Kurt. We have all stared at the map long enough in the past few days we know it inside out. Except me of course, it just looks like a jumble of wavy lines to me. “I’ve got a headlight like that,” I say to Nigel.
That’s another thing I can do, my mind will put complex problem solving to one side, while it works on it, and I can be my usual random self. So coming finally over music turned off, happier now, and quieter now. “I use it for doing the horses in the dark.” I glance quickly at the Professors discovery laid out on the ground. “X marks the spot after all then?” I ask.
“What?” Says the Professor.
“The map you have found, it's a location.” I drink my tea, it's not tasty but it's good nevertheless.
“Location?” He peers up at me not understanding. They haven't noticed then? Bloody hell.
“About twenty miles down from here.” I say matter of factly, pointing to what I mean as down, since down is not a legitimate geographical form of reference, “I judge to be significant because it must have taken a great deal of time to lay this clue out.”
Everyone is now staring at me, and I’m beginning to wonder if I am speaking in a foreign language. I can’t speak those. A plain looking girl with horses and a peculiar way of looking at the world, nothing special. “What location, where?” Nigel asks me.
“I thought that’s what you'd found?” I’m sorry, I say aloud frustrated but used to it, I begin to explain the thread that only I can clearly see.
“Please tell us what you see, because all we see is the shape of the mountain and river with a star map on top.”
“Yes, but look at Orion’s sword, it's pointing to a specific location, it's the next clue.” Thank you Marilyn Manson.
After a few seconds Daniel face begins to show a flicker of understanding as his brain catches up, “it definitely does Tharie's right.” Daniel says, “Let’s plot a course tomorrow as soon as we're clear of this place. I check my phone whilst they make their plans, I don’t do plans, I’m more of a now, seat of my pants type of girl.
TC: “How’s the love life?” What time zone am I in?
PF: “Have you any idea what time it is!” Oops!
TC: “Why are you sleeping with your phone?” Good one.
PF: “I’m on a plane, one where we can use our phones, it’s awesome!” Just like Daniels plane.
TC: “Where did you two decide to go after all?” Paris? NYC? She loves to shop.
PF: “Somewhere unpronounceable but Jim told me to pack sunblock and shorts” sounds nice.
TC: “Jim now is it? Ever thought he just wants to see you in hot pants and smear you all over with cream?” Sounds great doesn’t it?
PF: “It’s what I’m counting on honey” I have taught her well.
TC: “Take care darling, see you soon” and tell me everything.
PF: “I’ll tell you everything” bingo!
Putting my phone away my brain has finished the first part of the task I set it. And once I can work out the correct leg and seat position for a flying change from H to C, which will be resolved too. I am in a trance state, I am looking, and trying to see. A notch here, a marking there, some scratches and a placement of stones, there's a connection. It's vague, it's like something just out of reach, then suddenly I can grasp it, it's tangible to me.
Standing up and moving away from everyone noiselessly and unnoticed, I begin to climb some of the layered pancake stones headphones back on, Soft Cell. The rocks are more massive up close than I’d realised, but I hold onto the overhanging lips of warm smooth stone and heave myself up. It would have been an incredible sight once, swirling with erosive water, with this little island proud of the surface. Looking once behind me, everyone is engrossed in the Prof's discovery, I am on my own. It's how I roll. I reach the first notch, run my fingers along it, and inside invisible to the naked eye, I can feel with my fingertips a succession of smaller notches, I’m doing maths in my head, that'll give the brain something to concentrate on! Bloody hate maths.
PF: “Who said a Martini should be a glassful of gin waved in the general direction of Italy?” OK, she's either doing a quiz, a crossword or just being random?
TC: “Famously, Noel Coward, I’m scared to ask” maybe she's had too much vermouth?
PF: “Jim’s barman puts too much vermouth in it” thought so.
TC: “That'll be the newer recipe then I expect” I read it in Harper’s Bazaar, I prefer a tea.
PF: “Thank you, and always stirred too eh?” With an olive, yes.
TC: “Yes, Mr Bond ruined Martini's for an entire generation” true Bloody Mary story.
PF: “Thanks petal,” petal? Pissed! I was right.
Along the wall a certain number of paces and another mark, this one longer with further tiny notches I can feel inside. More counting, up another level of stone three from the top. A tiny version of a standing stone, a crouching stone I say to myself.
More markings and notches. My head takes me up another layer, I am now standing on the penultimate layer, eye level with the top most stone.
HX half-pass to the left.
I edge round the perimeter looking, noticing, and there a certain amount of finger lengths distance is an almost imperceptible opening under to ledge between the two huge rocks. There is a feint marking here, you wouldn’t see it unless you were right up here where I am. I take a deep breath and reach in, my fingertips touch something cold and smooth. I explore its surface with my fingers, I may just be able to extract it from this crevasse with millimetres to spare all round. Whoever put this here, didn’t want it found. Slowly I wrap my fingers around the object and pull it out. It slides easily despite its weight, its heavy, and as I pull I get a quiet feeling in my head, finally the voices are asleep! Shhh, don't wake them please.
I recover the item and hold it for ages in my hand moving it around in my palms, it's very heavy but I’m quite strong for my size. I put it down after a while to appraise it, gaze at its intricate detailing. Feeling the surface, the temperature and texture is surprising, I have never held such a great chunk of solid metal like this, and surprised at how much it weighs. A third the size of a house brick, solid bright yellow gold, quite soft and pure, a religious icon? Not having the necessary experience to judge the artefact, I put it in my back pack and climb back down with some difficulty because the extra load I’m carrying is heavy.
I wander over to the professor, and pulling the object out of my bag it catches the light quite dramatically, so shiny and reflective is its surface. I hand it to him, “what do you make of this Nigel?” Casual and disaffected, it's just another beautiful thing, not worth the lives it has cost, or those put in harm’s way either, thinking of course about myself and that bloody tunnel. If they'd been sitting on chairs we would have heard loud scraping and wooden seats falling over, they all stand up in astonishment.
“Where?” He shakes his head like there’s water deep in his ear canal, “where did you find this?” Asks Daniel. I give him a disappointed look, he should know by now how surprising things happen around me.
“Where the clues led me, up there hidden in the rock.” I tell them calmly, not really understanding why everyone is so excited. It’s hardly a rosette.
True story people, true bloody story.
I can see it clearer now every torch available is pointing directly at it, bored already. I'll go and fix dinner. “Nice chap though isn't he?” I say over my shoulder, “a golden eagle I think, don’t you?” Silence. They didn’t notice that either, what must it be like in their heads I wonder? I try not to think about it.
I build a great fire and when dinner is ready we all sit round and marvel at the last twenty-four hours.
“What a great team!” Kurt says. With a mouthful of stir-fry. I have fried up some cooked chopped potato with peas and bean shoots, chopped leek and red pepper, mushrooms and some sage I gathered from outside as we came into the cavern. I sloshed some white wine in there too and we drank the rest, a Cloudy Bay I had sitting in the river to cool. It might be like camping we must remain civilised eh? We sip from our flask mugs, but it still tastes good, really good.
Tomorrow we climb.
And real tea properly brewed, in a pot is promised in my future, this thought makes me happy.