The Haven, page 15
‘Is there anything this man doesn’t know, Cass?’ said Dad. ‘They don’t teach you this stuff at school, do they?’
‘He’s the best.’ I grinned at Mo. Dad wasn’t concerned with my opinion. He was trying to make sure I was good with him after what had happened earlier that morning. That was how he made us complicit in his shitty behaviour. While Dad searched in vain for ladybirds, Mo stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me.
‘Why did you take so long?’ I immediately regretted the question because it made me sound so needy. Bad Labrador.
‘Time doesn’t exist for those who are meant to be together,’ said Mo. A tiny part of me imagined Joe’s bullshit detector ringing off the scale but I wanted to believe more than I wanted to be right. I looked up at him and decided that if he tried to kiss me I wouldn’t care if Dad saw or what he thought. In fact, I wanted everyone to know about us.
‘Where were you?’ I whispered. Bad, bad Labrador.
‘We had some problems with growers in the northern area of the forest on the other side of the lake.’
It was then I spotted the rifle lying on the ground beside him.
‘Why do you have that?’ I asked nervously. I’d never seen a real gun before.
‘It’s my Remington 700. Your dad wants to learn to shoot with it in case his vegetables are being eaten by rabbits.’ My heart sank.
‘That’s not a good idea,’ I blurted out. Of the many things I didn’t understand, it was obvious to me that one of life’s great certainties was that someone who couldn’t reverse a van into a parking space should emphatically not be in possession of a gun.
‘If you like, I can teach you too,’ he offered. He picked up the gun and casually slung it across his shoulder.
‘Right now?’ I hesitated.
He pointed towards the woodland that marked the boundary between the field and the dense forest beyond. I got it. He was trying to find a way for us to be alone. We traipsed across the withered vegetables, kicking up a cloud of dust. Dad gradually faded from view. Mo steadied my nerves with his constant chat.
‘When you’re hunting deer, always stay downwind. Their vision isn’t up to much but upwind they can smell you a mile away … If you keep the wind in your face, you’ll always be the hunter. Never the hunted. Got that, Cassia?’
I nodded a little too eagerly and he grinned at me. ‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ he said.
My stomach somersaulted. I couldn’t stop smiling. When we reached the trees, he paused and handed me the gun. It felt awkward and heavy in my arms. ‘How do I even hold it?’
‘Like this.’ He stood behind me and pressed himself against me, lifted the stock into my right shoulder and demonstrated exactly how to balance the barrel between my left thumb and swollen index finger. Then he raised the gun to my right eye and put his finger on top of mine on the trigger. The air around us became thick and syrupy with desire. Every tiny movement of his body triggered a disproportionate reaction in mine. His breath on my neck sent shivers down my shoulder, between my breasts, down my stomach and straight between my legs. I remembered a line from a poem we’d learnt at school and understood it for the first time. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.
He pulled the trigger. Click! It was a tiny noise, but it was so unexpected that I reeled right back into him. He caught the gun and roared with laughter. I turned to face him.
‘Don’t look at me. Look into me,’ he said. He took my hand and pressed it against his chest so I could feel his heartbeat. We must have stood like that for almost a minute. His green eyes burnt into me. I felt as if he’d turned me inside out so that every nerve was exposed and every dark secret I’d ever hidden inside me was visible to him. For the first time in my life, I’d met someone who totally accepted me.
‘So, where have you been all day?’ he asked casually. ‘I’ve been waiting here for ages.’
Remembering the terrified look on River’s face at the ceremony I held back for a second. And then I weighed up the importance of honesty in relationships at the Haven.
‘I went into the forest …’
The rest of my words were drowned out by the terrible sound of Maudie screaming. It was a harrowing noise that pierced the still night air. I understood right away that she wasn’t having a tantrum. It was the sound of someone in terrible pain. Mo untangled himself from me, Dad stopped massacring aphids and we all sprinted to the front of the cabin. I’m ashamed to say that I couldn’t help feeling irritated that yet again Maudie had managed to divert everyone’s attention back to her. If ever there was a moment that was meant to be mine, then surely this was it.
As soon as I turned the corner I saw Maudie kneeling on the ground, writhing in agony, cradling her left arm. The saucepan, which had contained boiling water, lay empty beside her. The fire was still burning and a couple of logs smouldered on the ground. Maudie’s head was tilted skywards, and her eyes were wide open as she wailed like a banshee. Every so often she gulped for breath and made horrible gurgling noises that were even more unbearable because she sounded as if she was choking. Mum was crouched beside her, gripping Maudie’s good arm to still her. But Maudie screamed even louder.
‘Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God,’ Mum cried over and over again. I’d never seen her at such a loss. She generally had a solution to every problem.
‘What should I do, Mum?’ I shrieked.
‘Cold running water! We need cold running water!’ Mo yelled, over Maudie’s screams.
There was running water in the cabin that came out cold, but only in a trickle, because the water pressure was so low, or there was lukewarm rainwater in the big orange winter storage butts that sat in the porch. I dithered pathetically, unable to decide if I should hook up the hose to the tap in the cabin or run to the river at the bottom of the vegetable field to collect a big bucket full of ice-cold water.
‘Attach the hose, Rick,’ Mum bellowed, ‘and, Cass, fetch Aida. Tell her it’s urgent.’
‘Why do you need Aida when you’ve got me?’ questioned Mo.
‘Because Aida always knows what to do,’ roared Mum.
I glanced from Mum to Mo, conflicted about who I should listen to as Dad frantically fed the hosepipe through the window of the cabin.
‘Look at me, Maudie!’ Mum tried to tilt Maudie’s face towards her, but she kept howling at the sky. She didn’t blink once.
‘Mauds, I need to cut the sleeve off your dress!’ Maudie was in too much pain to take in what Mum was saying. Still dithering about whether to fetch Aida, I stepped forward and bent down to try to get through to her. I almost gagged at the smell of burnt flesh and realized that, as well as tipping the saucepan of boiling water over herself, she’d burnt her arm on the open fire. Her hand was a horrible shiny purple colour.
‘Please let us help you.’ I couldn’t bear to see Maudie in such a state. She was the bravest of us all. I stretched out my arm towards her good hand. ‘Give the pain to me, Mauds,’ I pleaded, remembering how Mum and Dad used to do this when we were little. ‘Squeeze my hand.’ But she didn’t look at me or anyone else. She was trapped in her own private hell of shock and pain.
‘Shall I get the scissors, Mum?’ She gave me a quick nod. Dad ran over with the hose and started spraying it over Maudie’s arm. She desperately tried to turn away from him.
‘Stoooop!’ she cried, in a single long moan. ‘Stoooop!’
‘I’m so sorry, Maudie, but we have to,’ said Dad.
‘It will stop the burn getting worse and make it feel cool!’ Mum put her arms around Maudie’s waist to hold her in place. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Mum’s voice was almost a whisper.
I headed into the cabin and closed the door behind me to muffle the sound of Maudie’s screams, feeling guilty that it was such a relief to have time out from the crisis. I suddenly remembered how Dad had hidden his mobile phone from Piper the day we arrived. I lurched into my parents’ bedroom, threw myself onto the dirt floor and used one hand to lift the mattress, the other to search for the phone. The floor was a graveyard of dead insects, mouse shit, dustballs and feathers, but the phone was there. I pulled it out and miraculously turned it on. Emergency calls only. I touched the screen. Nothing. My heart sank.
‘What are you doing?’ Mo was in the room with me.
‘Trying to dial nine-nine-nine!’
‘There’s no signal, Cassia.’ God, I loved the way he said my name. ‘You look beautiful when you’re scared.’
He put his arms around me, leant towards me and kissed me hard on the lips, his tongue pressing my mouth open. His lips were soft and he tasted exotic. Smoke, coffee and a hint of patchouli. I’d kissed boys before but there had been something more mechanical about their tongues inexpertly sweeping back and forth across my gums, like windscreen wipers. This was different. He ground against me and grabbed my T-shirt, twisting it in his hand until he could reach my breast. There was a hungry impatience to his approach that made me falter, and a kind of disinterest in my reaction. I froze in confusion. This wasn’t what I’d imagined.
‘We need to help Maudie,’ I floundered. But when he pulled away, I felt almost bereft.
‘Don’t worry, Cassia, the community will deal with Maudie’s injury. We always do.’ He gave me a reassuring hug. ‘Your dad shouldn’t have kept his phone. It’s a transgression.’ He held out his hand. I’d like to say I thought for a moment before handing it over. But I didn’t. I gave it to Mo unquestioningly and he slipped it into his pocket.
I found Mum’s scissors in the first-aid kit beside the bed. Mo grabbed a container of cooking oil from the shelf in the kitchen and we rushed back outside. Maudie was still kneeling on the ground crying, but her voice was quieter and throatier. She looked paler too, and even though it was so humid that I was covered in layers of sweat, I noticed she was shivering.
‘She’s in shock,’ wailed Dad, who now looked really shaken.
‘Hold her still, Cass, and I’ll try to cut off the sleeve,’ Mum instructed.
Mo stepped towards us, undid the lid of the cooking oil, and tilted it towards Maudie’s arm.
‘What are you doing?’ Mum yelled at him. It dawned on me that no one really knew what they were doing. We were all flailing around.
‘It’ll help ease off the sleeve,’ he barked.
‘Stop!’ a voice ordered. I couldn’t see where it came from. Mo squinted towards the composting toilet as Aida emerged from the bushes and headed towards Maudie. ‘If you put oil on a burn, it retains the heat and makes it worse,’ she yelled. ‘Keep the hose on it, Rick. Cass, give me the scissors.’
I glanced at Mo and saw a shadow pass over his face. Aida calmly bent down beside Maudie, put her hands on either side of her shoulders and tilted my little sister’s chin towards her. She was half sobbing, half groaning and trying to say something indecipherable. I could see the terror in her eyes.
‘Do you trust me, girl?’ Aida asked. Maudie bobbed her head. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do. We need to get this sleeve off or it’ll stick to the burn and cause an infection. You need to count to twenty in your head and keep as still as you can while I cut. Can you manage that?’
To my astonishment Maudie nodded again. I noticed that the hand that emerged from the sleeve had turned into a bubble wrap of blisters.
‘You help her count, Cass,’ said Aida. We all knelt in a semi-circle around Maudie, as if we were worshipping a living god, and began counting together. Only Mo didn’t join in.
‘One – two – three …’ cried Maudie. Every number was an anguished scream.
‘You’re doing great, Maudie,’ said Mum.
‘My brave girl, my brave girl,’ said Dad, on repeat. He looked awful, ashen, even beneath his deep tan. Aida made slow progress with the scissors up the sleeve of the dress. As the material parted, the true extent of the injury was revealed. The burn started on the inside of Maudie’s arm, just below the elbow, coursed all the way down her forearm as far as her knuckles and edged into her thumb and index finger.
When Aida had reached the shoulder of the dress, she efficiently cut off the sleeve and threw it onto the ground. Dad put the hose back on the burn and Maudie started screaming again but, compared to the horrible gurgling a few minutes earlier, her high-pitched shriek was almost a relief.
‘Keep going with the hose for at least half an hour and then we’ll seal her arm in a plastic bag to stop it getting infected,’ said Aida.
Maudie’s screams turned to tears of pain. She sobbed and sobbed, and when I touched my own face it was damp with tears. I couldn’t bear to see my brave little sister suffer so much.
‘We need to call an ambulance,’ Mum babbled.
‘How? There’s no Wi-Fi or phone signal,’ I pointed out.
‘Then we need to get her to a hospital,’ said Mum, frantically.
‘How are we going to do that?’ panicked Dad.
For the first time since we arrived it occurred to me how vulnerable we were. With Rory dead in a ditch, the only way to get medical help would be to cart Maudie through the forest to the road and pray that a passing truck might pick us up. I remembered how we hadn’t passed a single vehicle on our way here. Besides, it was beginning to get dark and there was only a feeble crescent moon to light our path.
‘We need to carry her to the road,’ insisted Mum.
‘It’s a two-hour walk and that’s in daylight,’ said Dad.
‘Could she ride on Gaia?’ I suggested.
‘Noooo,’ wailed Maudie. ‘Too sore. Too sore.’
I was encouraged that she was responding to what everyone was saying.
‘She’s not going to hospital,’ said Mo, firmly.
‘What do you mean?’ shrieked Mum.
‘We can look after her here,’ said Aida. ‘We have our own medicine.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ shouted Mum.
‘She’s young. She’ll heal.’ Mo took my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
‘This is crazy!’ cried Mum, looking at Dad to back her up.
I didn’t know what to think or who to believe or what to do.
‘Why don’t we see how she gets on tonight and if she’s not any better we can take her at first light?’ suggested Dad.
‘We can’t afford to wait,’ yelled Mum.
‘She can’t go to hospital,’ repeated Mo, more firmly. ‘They’ll ask too many questions, Eve.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Mum.
‘They’ll get social services involved. They always do if a child has an accident at home. They’ll want to know how she hurt herself, where it happened, who she was with. They’ll send people to look for us,’ he explained.
‘It could put the Haven at risk, Eve,’ said Aida. ‘No one must know we’re here.’
‘Especially when we’ve had so much trouble with outsiders recently,’ added Mo. ‘That guy in the microlight has filmed us before.’
‘A decision of this magnitude would have to be discussed in processing and the community won’t agree to you taking her,’ said Aida, a little more gently. ‘There’s too much at stake.’
‘It’s Maudie’s life at stake!’ shrieked Mum. ‘There’s no time for discussion.’
‘We’re like the bees, Eve. We have to focus on the collective good, not individual need,’ said Mo. ‘Juan must have told you this.’
‘Couldn’t we go to the hospital tomorrow morning and pretend it happened somewhere else?’ Dad pressed them. He was trying to find a middle road.
‘We could say we did it on a camping holiday, somewhere closer to town?’ Mum quickly interjected.
‘Great idea,’ I said. I couldn’t help thinking how Mum and Dad’s absence would make it easier for me to hang out with Mo. Then Aida threw a curve ball.
‘If you leave you can’t come back. And if one of you goes, you all have to go. Every time someone arrives or leaves the Haven we attract unwanted attention and increase the risk of being discovered.’
God, she was annoying.
‘That’s fine.’ Mum shrugged. ‘We’ll all leave now.’ I couldn’t believe this was happening. There was no way I was going to bail just when Mo had finally returned, and I could tell Dad felt the same. And Joe wasn’t even here.
‘Don’t want to,’ burbled Maudie.
‘I think Maudie would prefer to be treated in the community,’ Mo observed.
‘She’s eight years old! She doesn’t know what she’s talking about!’ snapped Mum.
‘Why don’t we give it a couple of hours and see what happens?’ suggested Dad, putting his arm around Mum in an attempt to soothe her.
Mum was having none of it. She stepped away from Dad and shot him a look of pure hatred.
I hesitated for a couple of seconds, then said, ‘That sounds like a good plan, doesn’t it, Mum?’ If it felt like betrayal, that was because it was. Mum looked at me in total shock as it dawned on her that no one was going to help take Maudie to hospital and that she couldn’t even rely on me to back her up.
‘Where’s Joe?’ Mum kept asking. She knew Joe would side with her.
‘Gone walkabout,’ I said.
‘As usual,’ Dad chipped in.
‘Being self-sufficient means dealing with the good and the bad on your own. You can’t just run for help the first time something goes wrong,’ said Mo, smoothly. He pulled a blister pack of pills out of his backpack. ‘These will help with the pain.’
It took me ages to get to sleep that night. Every time I breathed in the muggy night air the smell of burnt flesh filled my nostrils. Maudie was in Mum and Dad’s room, doped up to her eyeballs on the painkillers Mo had given us. My thoughts churned into a thick soup of worries about Maudie’s burnt hand, the way Mo hadn’t made a plan to see me again and the fear on River’s face when she saw me at the ceremony, until they congealed into a single fat-berg of heavy immovable worry.
Daydream drifted into a vivid nightmare about River. Wherever I turned, her face stared back at me. I saw myself tugging the sleeve of her white dress, begging her to answer my questions. Who is Mo? Does he love me or hate me? She said nothing and kept beaming at me with her strange enigmatic half-smile. She allowed me to brush her hair and I discovered that the antlers weren’t part of a headdress but were growing out of her skull. What are you? I screamed at her. Tell me what you are! She said nothing and instead took my hand and pressed my fingers to my temples: I could feel hard bumps beneath the skin where my own antlers were growing. We are as one, she said. As she opened her mouth, a swarm of bees flew out. I screamed but there was no sound. I couldn’t breathe. Someone’s hand was covering my mouth.
