chapter thirty-nine, Wednesday:6thnovember2013 the Chachapoyas house
We decide to drive to the Chachapoyas house the next morning, and split into teams, it's like Pony Club camp all over again, but with a lot less ponies.
The fog sits on the land in the early morning, it's chilly and visibility almost zero. As the sun rises the heat burns off the vapour, it's quite beautiful actually, the sky starts in an orange dawn water coloured across the aqua blue, softening by the minute to a pale peachy white.
My team (team Tharie), in the camel trophy Landrover since I’ve been dying to drive it, and Kurt’s team (team Liza), in the Wolf. I'd like to take that home with me if I could, maybe I’ll speak to Daniel? We pack as much bottled water and food as we can, because we can’t remember how much is left at the other house, though I’m certain there’s at least a packet of Cadbury's chocolate fingers, so that's OK
TC: “Back in a couple of days honey” can't wait.
JG: “Your boys will be happy about that, apparently I don't give them enough treats” they communicate their needs quite readily.
TC: “Don't let them boss you around” like she'll have a choice, they are very persuasive.
JG: “They are very sweet about their requests” true story, they're very nice well-behaved lads.
TC: “Boys!” Indeed.
Our plan is to head for Kurt’s borrowed plane so he can fly that there too, I’m not certain why, but the very fact that we don't leave it abandoned out there is tidier isn't it? Liza offers to go with him, magnanimous of her I think, and wink at her, she blushes and smiles. I know that look, she's smitten with that larger than life hunk of a man. He'd never win a tack and turnout I think to myself, he's more of a Ladies Heavy Hunter type, but she doesn't mind, she's not Pete after all.
Who would blame her? He's into her too, always fawning after her and asking if she's OK, he's her tall male protector like a young, fit and model-gorgeous, Indiana Jones. And in all the years I’ve known her she's never tossed her ponytail at any man so readily. That's a clear sign in my view. If she lets him drive her lorry once we're home, it's as good as a done deal.
James and Pete hold hands, she sneaks the odd look at Liza but only I notice it, they don’t actually know each other that well. She loves her new toy, obviously proud of how great they look together. James is stunning to look at, I have to agree, all the boys in that family are very pleasing to the eye. James is clean and sharp dressed, well mannered, will look great at events and be great in photos too, attached to her designer sleeve. He'll know the right cutlery to use and the best champagne to order. What red goes with what food, and have priority tickets to all the classiest events, and that's just the ticket for 'life on the front row' Pete Fraser. Plus, those kids will be gorgeous.
Its early afternoon by the time the ‘who goes with whom’ conversation is resolved. We begin packing freshly refilled flasks of tea into the vehicles, and some spare clothes too. I'm still wearing the jeans, strange, but I always knew denim would be the key to all the great mysteries of life. Locking the house behind us I wonder whether anyone will ever come back here, likely not.
In my car I have Daniel in the front with me, James and Pete and Stan in the back. In the Wolf driving is Kurt driving with Liza in the front, Nigel and Graham and Barbara in the back, they have lots to chat about, we all sense it. It appears the grown-ups aren’t at all happy that the one person they trusted to take care of Daniel allowed him to come here, but that’s just the feeling I get. Unlike most people, I listen to mine.
The sky is a pale aqua now, almost white at the horizon and white tailed eagles are souring in the thermals above our heads, it’s really quite a beautiful place. I appreciate the scenery now all fear of death or injury has passed, was that dramatic again, yes, and I’m not apologising for it. The air smells warm and dusty, yesterday's light breeze is increasing in strength to a strong wind that whips the stringy trees and my hair about in its wake.
Tumbling the dead brush and sticks around on the ground, swirling around in the whirlwinds. In the distance the sky grows darker and greyer, and the air spits with static. My window is open and my hair whips around my face, maybe my Mum has a point. I try not to think about it, she can't be right, no, no, no. It’s a welcome relief to the muggy warm air temperature. The sky clears of birds except a few carrion buzzards, their feathers tatty from a hard life out here in this harsh environment. It's dusty and hard, soft sun baked colours but a struggle to survive for these animals.
We follow the same track we took getting here and we're soon at the aircraft. Unmolested this light aircraft sits where it was parked, surreal, waiting. Kurt takes his Mum and Dad, Stan and Nigel in the plane and we all watch as it takes off, happy that we won't have to be party to that conversation. The aircraft is followed by a whirled trail of dust and loose vegetation. He is flying directly into the storm but Kurt hopes to beat it to the house.
We collect the left bag at the entrance to the cave, because we're tidy, and follow him across the plain of scrubby bushed arid silty ground toward the forest. As we enter the dense vegetation the temperature drops sharply, some fog still hangs in here, and we are driving in dim light. I of course have all the lights switched on, including a row of nine across the front of the roof rack, and the extra six on the bumper, I think I’m so cool don't I? I have my iPhone playing Green Day in the car, and were singing along happily, making up the words of course because most are indiscernible, well you're of course familiar with the band?
Great drumming though.
But if we're speaking of great drumming, you can't beat Joey from Slipknot. True bloody story.
Our old trail is easy to follow and we find the steep hill quickly. “Do they know how to drive that thing Daniel?" He gives me an 'are you kidding' look. I shrug and carry on in great British spirit. We stop briefly, and I instruct them on the correct gear and we decide since it started to rain the terrain will be slippery and difficult to drive, especially where vehicles have made ruts previously, diff-lock engage and low box, and the car pulls through easily as I expect. Slowly and steadily the Landrovers pull up the steep hill without any effort at all, and at the top I change from second to first gear, still in low box and let it take us downhill. Through the filthy path the back end slides to a safe place along a trench and we continue down.
My phone rings:
TC: “Hello” the car answers via Bluetooth, very crackly, but this is an old Landrover, but surely a new Bluetooth? Anyway.
PF: “This is fun Tharie” I can hear laughing from the other vehicle.
TC: “Even without a Martini in your hand?” I ask her.
PF: “Babes, not Martini, but I do have your hip-flask in my hand” cheeky bugger, but then she did buy it for me in the first place.
TC: “You're drinking?” I ask astonished by her lack of safety.
PF: “Yes, but I’m not driving” thank goodness.
TC: “Good” I mean it.
PF: “I’m holding on tight, wow that was a steep hill” her car would have stayed at home with a sick note from its Mum. True turbo-charged story.
TC: “Will you be swapping your car after all then?” She'll give it a five second consideration.
PF: “Blimey no!! I love my Porsche” true story, when she first took delivery, she spent the night in it.
TC: “You're so performance driven” she does everything quickly.
PF: “It’s all about the speed Tharie” I like to take my time.
Daniel giggles beside me.
The other car follows me and it does the job it was designed to do. By the time we pass the standing stone it's raining warm rain quite steadily, and the forest comes to life and appears greener than before. The smell of the fresh rain on the vegetation is sweet and clean and I have memories of being in Hawaii, which was a great holiday. We follow the track, glad for differential locking because the cars jolt and tilt in the deep, hard and slippery ruts, knocking us all about, it's pouring rain now, clean and sweet. I slide too with the momentum, but at least I have the steering wheel to grip onto. Daniel has his hand lightly rested on my thigh, not interfering with me in any way, just a gentle reminder that he's there, and he can take me any time he wants too, people around or not, the thought excites me.
We finally drive the path leading to the house use our remote to open the way, the Camel has one too, and drive up the sweep and park in front of the house. The plane sits in the back of the garden where a flat grassy area has been well kept, double parallel flattened pathways appear silvery in this light.
And heading indoors we relax finally, our bodies tell the tale of our adventure and tired, we take it in turns to bath and shower, there are three bathrooms, with heat-as-you-go hot water thankfully. This house is much larger than the one we just left with lots more rooms too. Clean and rested from napping and dinner we all sit around the living room satisfied by great food and the unusual mix of company. I hear music coming from the library, it's beautiful and vaguely familiar, someone’s playing a CD? Outside the wind and rain are whipping around at speed, it’s exhilarating. “I always loved this song,” Barbara tells her husband, “remember?” He nods and stands, takes her hand asking her to dance.
I follow the delightful sound of the piano and discover Daniel sitting at a little old upright walnut Steinway sitting against the back wall of the room filled to the ceiling with shelves of books. The sunset is bright pinks and corals low in the sky a great view from the libraries floor to ceiling windows.
“What lovely music Daniel.” I tell him softly so as not to disturb, he just nods smiling and carries on playing.
“It's Mozart “he whispers. I sit on the battered old leather reading chair, and close my eyes and listen. “Do you want to live with me?” He asks quietly, never missing a note, never falling behind the tempo. Daniel plays with passion and skill, the instrument finely tuned must be difficult out here in this hot and humid environment. Daniel morphs the Mozart into a boogie-woogie and bashes away in true Joules Holland style, turning it then into Chopsticks and finally Moonlight Sonata. Then all of a sudden even my brain stops thinking to enjoy the music. Yes I do want to live with him, but that conversation can wait. “OK” is all I can offer. The energetic playing changes again to rock and roll Elvis style, He's clearly pleased with my reply. “But don't mess with my stuff.” I'm serious, then the melody changes again to a blues number, sweet and soulful, and melancholy as blues often is. Strange, I always thought of blue as a cheerful colour, it's the colour of jeans after all.
Daniel and I share a room, it suddenly occurs to me we've never actually spent a night together like this, sex yes, but not sleeping. Stripped down and fresh from the shower, his hair towel dried and still wet, he runs his fingers through it to tame his locks. It’s so seductive, so sexy, he catches me watching and smirks. His body is perfection, his muscles tight and sculpted and he stands there perfectly naked for me to study. Slimmer as we all are from our adventure holiday and still incredibly hot.
“See anything you like?” He asks me, smiling, and turning around slowly so I can look at his tight arse and beautiful strong back. Whoever tattooed him knew the shapes it would make on his body, and they placed them with great erotic effect, a woman perhaps?
My sex stirs, and the chain reaction of sensitive nerve endings begins inside me, urging me, I want him, I’ve never been surer about anything my whole life. This naked, playful, powerful, beautiful, f*cked-up man, I want him all to myself. Getting in-between the white sheets, he spoons me from behind I smell clean Daniel I take a lungful of it, pulling me tight to his body. He is hard, but he just wants to hold me, and I am happy. Speaking into my neck he whispers to me “baby, I want to hold you.” He kisses my nape, “I want to keep you forever.” Then nibbles my lobe, “keep you close.” His arms band around me tighter still, “know you’re mine.” I can feel his breathing is shallow, his heartbeat slows, and he is asleep. Moved by his words, and released myself from the tension this trip, and the last few weeks has built up in me, and for the first time, in a long time, I sleep.
Did I agree to live with him? Bloody brain, messing things up.
George and Harry are galloping around in a sweet smelling meadow, (its summer then), happy and shiny, kicking their back ends high in the air in a buck. The sun is shining, and….what!? It’s December, no November, I forget!?? Dreaming, yes, I’m dreaming. I miss my lovely bay Trakehners, I want to go home.
We all sleep peacefully in real beds, even I manage to get a few hours nap time. I dream fitfully of people in jeans chasing us into the dark in yellow Landrovers, and George and Harry galloping around the desert looking for grass which doesn't grow there, and Daniel, far away I can’t reach him. Why are they always galloping? I can't answer that now, and the universe isn't helping either. I wake and we lay in the same position we fell asleep in, Daniel still grips on tight to me, and his eyes flutter open, and beautiful soft gooseberry grey winks at me. It’s very light outside, and like me he doesn’t like curtains, and prefers the sun to wake him.
Barbara and Pete cook an incredible breakfast feast to ready us for the flight home, scrambled eggs, fried mushrooms and tomatoes, Linda McCartney sausages, potatoes sautéed with onion and heaps of hot buttered toast. A massive teapot that holds about twelve cups of tea sits steaming in the centre of the table and we all sit chatting like it’s a normal family event and we've just been on vacation, and I sit missing my boys.
I feel the need to send a message,
TC: “Hello Mum, hope all OK with you!” I’m going to regret this aren’t I!
EC: “Surprised and shocked, is everything OK!” See?
TC: “Fine, just missing home.” True story.
EC: “Are you coming back soon? Love to cook you dinner, Henry will be in town” sounds good.
TC: “Really? That’s great, let’s get together.” I miss my family even more because I’ve spent ages with someone else’s, I long be amongst my own people.
EC: “I’ll cook dinner, do you eat fish, I forget?” How many times?
TC: “No Mum, just vegetables” I forget how many times I have told her, over how many years…I give up. And she's only just learned not to put tomato on Henry's plate, he hates tomato, always has done. He's 27.
EC: “Shame, call me when your home, love you.” Lovely.
No comment on my outfits or my hair, what’s wrong with Mum?
TC: “Love you Mum,”
EC: “Shall I book you an appointment at the salon, Gail is back?” There you go, that’s better, all’s well in the world.
“Is there any more tea in that pot?”