The Haven, page 7
One by one, we hauled ourselves up towards the door, climbed out and jumped to the ground. Dad stood below us, arms wide open, ready to catch our bags, as if he was the hero of a disaster movie. Maudie insisted her rabbits didn’t count as a bag, draped their cage in the wedding dress and persuaded Joe to carry it, which meant she got to bring everything apart from her plastic bags of stuffed animals. Maudie, it struck me, was the most adaptable of us all.
I turned around, trying to work out the route back to the road, but everywhere looked the same. The trees and bushes that the van had forced apart were once again locked together in their companionable embrace. It was as if the forest had closed ranks around us.
Gripping Maudie’s hand, Dad advanced with a sideways shuffle along the shallower of the two ruts to protect Maudie’s crazy dress from being torn apart by the brambles. I cursed my choice of shoes as I tried to stick close to Dad and Maudie. The wedge heels sank into the soft ground, throwing me off balance, and the bare flesh around my toes and ankles was soon peppered with nettle stings and insect bites. Occasionally Joe nudged me forwards. He and Mum were so close behind I could feel their breath on my neck.
‘What’s that?’ asked Joe, after we’d been walking for about half an hour. He squeezed my shoulder and pointed into the forest. I squinted at the shape-shifting trees. He turned my head towards a tree with a trunk so wide that even if we all held hands around it, they wouldn’t meet. ‘Can’t you see?’
‘Stop it, Joe,’ I said angrily, assuming he was winding me up with one of his horror-film moments. But as he held my head in place, I saw three willowy girls slowly step out just a few metres away and stand stock-still in a line staring at us. They had similar flat faces and long tangled dark hair with badly cut fringes and were wearing variations of the same voluminous long-sleeved shift dress in a grubby brown shade, which had probably once been white, over trousers with flowers painted on them and leather boots. They all had the same tattoo of a triple spiral on their arm, although the tallest girl had several others, including a cross inside a circle surrounded by black dots. They looked improbably cool in a grungy sort of way. Even without the lookalike outfits it was obvious they were sisters.
The youngest one picked up her headdress and jammed it back on. She was wearing a necklace made of animal teeth and three blue feathers. I saw them eyeing my cuts, the torn denim dress, the shoes, and felt the hot burn of their pity.
‘Are those angels?’ asked Maudie, untangling herself from Dad and stepping towards the girls. She wasn’t even scared.
‘Welcome to Heaven,’ said the eldest girl, who I guessed was more or less the same age as me. She slowly lifted the floaty shift dress above her head and flapped the corners, seemingly unaware or not caring that we could see her bare chest.
‘Look at my wings!’ She laughed. She turned around and showed off her double-jointed shoulder blades, then pirouetted back to face us again.
Dad turned around so he didn’t have to look, and I loved him for that. Joe, on the other hand, was transfixed by the girl. He didn’t even stop gawping at her when I nudged him in the calf. I could hardly blame him because she was staring straight back at him. In the end Mum stepped forward and walked towards her, wordlessly took the corners of the dress from the girl’s hands and covered her again, without embarrassment, in the same efficient way she might tuck a sheet into a bed. The youngest sister giggled.
‘Shut up, Skylar,’ warned the girl in the middle, slapping her hand over her sister’s mouth to smother her laughter.
‘Who are you?’ asked Maudie.
‘We’re the Vivian sisters,’ said the one in the middle. I frowned. Mo hadn’t mentioned anything about these girls in any of the hundreds of messages we’d exchanged since Maudie’s party.
‘We’re very pleased to meet you,’ Dad replied awkwardly.
‘We’re looking for the Haven,’ said Mum, politely, as if nothing had happened. ‘Perhaps you could guide us to Reception?’
‘Reception?’ repeated the oldest girl.
‘So they can direct us to our eco-cabin,’ explained Mum.
‘Eco-cabin?’
I wondered if she was taking the piss, but she just looked confused.
‘Maybe we should take them to the Spirit House, River?’ asked the middle sister.
‘No, Lila. I’m not doing that,’ said River, firmly.
‘As you like.’ Lila shrugged as if we’d failed some test and were no longer interesting. Her billowy top slipped down revealing a shoulder that was as shiny and hard as a marble.
‘What else can we do?’ asked Skylar. ‘We can’t just leave them here. The growers might find them.’
‘If we take them with us, we’ll get into trouble,’ warned River. ‘You know the rules about outsiders. It would be a transgression.’
It was weird the way they spoke about us as if we weren’t present. At the time I thought they were being rude. Later I realized it was because they’d been cut off from the outside world for so long that they were only tuned in to each other.
‘Piper!’ called Skylar, hugging a man who’d emerged from the trees. Dad stepped forward to introduce us, but Piper wasn’t interested.
‘What is your purpose?’ he interrupted. His question could have sounded aggressive or challenging but his tone was peculiarly formal.
‘Our purpose is to get out of here as fast as fucking possible,’ growled Joe, from behind me.
‘We’re booked in to stay at the Haven,’ said Mum, trying to pull the situation back to centre. ‘And I would really appreciate it, Piper, if you could direct us to the people who run the eco-retreat because, frankly, it’s been a really long day, our van has broken down and we all need to get a good night’s sleep if we’re going to be on form for tomorrow’s activities.’
He shot her a quizzical look. I took advantage of the lull in conversation to check him out. He was wearing a long jacket with colourful tassels that hung from the collar and sleeves. It was decorated with bells, strips of leather and feathers. His hair was in dreadlocks tied at the back with red wool and he had a thick beard. He had a kind, ruddy, weather-beaten face and when he smiled his wrinkles smiled with him.
‘I’m sorry but I don’t quite understand.’ Piper paused again. ‘How did you know about us?’ He sounded almost fearful.
‘Mo invited us to spend the summer with you,’ Dad explained. I was suddenly aware that none of us knew his surname.
‘Hmm,’ said Piper, noncommittally.
‘He told us about the retreats you run to allow people to experience life in an environmental community. We’re very eager to get started. Aren’t we?’ Dad turned to us for back-up.
‘Can’t wait.’ I nodded enthusiastically.
‘I mean, it’s not exactly what I was anticipating but now we’ve made it here, I’m very curious to learn more,’ said Mum. She gave my hand a quick squeeze. Piper didn’t reply. I could tell he was one of the few people who were immune to her balm for the soul.
‘Did Mo tell you how to get here?’ Piper asked.
‘Yes, yes, exactly,’ said Dad, beaming broadly, as if now we all understood each other, and everything was going to be fine. ‘He sent us a map with directions, although I have to say we weren’t sure we were going to make it because my son spilt milkshake all over it!’ Dad gave a forced laugh, and Piper reciprocated with a quick smile that didn’t quite connect with his eyes.
‘Maybe you could take us to Mo so he can explain,’ proposed Mum.
Piper frowned deeply. Dad started talking again and Piper put up his hand to tell him to stop. Amazingly, Dad fell silent.
‘Mo isn’t with us at the moment,’ said Piper. ‘And he didn’t mention anything about you coming before he left.’
‘Where is he, then?’ I cried, unable to disguise my disappointment. It hadn’t occurred to me that he might not be here. None of his messages had suggested this. Just yesterday he’d said he’d see me in a few days and described all the things we’d do together when I arrived, like showing me his tree-house and taking me to the lake to swim.
‘Why would Mo leave when he knew we were arriving today?’ asked Maudie.
‘He always has a lot of stuff to do,’ said River, vaguely.
‘What kind of stuff?’ asked Joe. I didn’t think he was particularly interested in the answer to his question. He just wanted River’s attention. She opened her mouth to reply but Piper shook his head and she fell silent. He plucked leaves from a bush beside him, rubbed them vigorously between his hands until they disintegrated, and threw the pieces over our heads, then closed his eyes. The smell was intoxicating.
‘Here’s what we’re going to do,’ he said finally.
He explained he would take us to Mo’s old cabin for the night. There would be food in the store cupboard, and we could refill our water bottles from the river. He would communicate our presence to the other members of the Haven. I waited for Dad’s response. To either disagree with Piper’s plan or suggest some amendments. But instead his eyes went watery. ‘So be it,’ he said calmly. ‘Thank you, Piper.’
For me, the let-down of Mo’s no-show was slightly softened by the prospect of staying in his old cabin. Joe was less enthusiastic, especially when Piper told River and her sisters to go home. He took Mum aside and tried to convince her that we should take our chances and find our way back to the road. ‘There’s something weird about this place,’ he whispered to her.
‘It’s just one night, Joe. Then we can take a rain check.’ Mum was neither agreeing with him nor disagreeing with Dad. ‘It’s not what we signed up for but we don’t have much choice right now.’
We followed Piper deeper into the forest. It was getting dark, and with only the torch on our phones to light the way, our progress was painfully slow. Maudie’s flamenco dress kept catching on the undergrowth and Piper ended up giving her a piggyback. At some point, she fell asleep, her cheek nestling in his dreadlocks. Eventually we came to a cluster of buildings in the centre of the community and walked past a group of seven or eight people playing Johnny Cash round a fire. A couple lying in a hammock sat up and stared at us as we passed, but not in an unfriendly way.
‘At least it’s not “Kumbaya”.’ I nudged Joe.
We then trudged uphill for another half an hour or so until we reached an enormous oak tree that Piper said was called Old Big Belly. He turned right, and twenty minutes later, at the bottom of the valley, we arrived at Mo’s cabin. By this stage, we were all exhausted. We dumped our luggage inside the door and huddled together while Piper carried Maudie into a small bedroom and laid her on a grubby mattress on the dirt floor. He pulled out some musty-smelling blankets from a cupboard, tenderly covered her up until only her frizzy red hair was visible, then came back into the kitchen.
‘Welcome to Drift Ridge Cabin,’ said Piper.
Drift Ridge Cabin. In spite of the calamitous day, I felt a shiver of excitement. Finally, I was here.
While Piper tried and failed to get the solar-powered electricity to work, Dad used his phone to illuminate the tiny room. Shadows danced across the wall, but I could make out a wooden table with five stools made from tree stumps on one side, and on the other, a countertop with a hob, a sink with a tap attached to a hosepipe and a shelf with saucepans, pottery plates and mugs, all neatly lined up. There was a mezzanine with a makeshift sofa built out of pallets with room for one person. It was small but perfectly proportioned.
‘I’ll share the bed with Maudie,’ I offered quickly, because there was no way I was going to sleep on the mezzanine alone.
‘Bravo,’ said Dad.
Joe headed towards a cupboard in the corner. Inside were jars of honey, pickles, dried beans and kimchi.
‘Interesting minibar,’ said Mum, under her breath.
‘Welcome to the luxury eco-pod,’ declared Joe.
‘It has a certain rustic charm, doesn’t it?’ Dad said hopefully to Mum.
‘Ten out of ten for authenticity, but I think we should ask for an upgrade tomorrow,’ she whispered back.
The cabin smelt of so many things: dust, damp, pine and sweat. But it was Mo’s scent, a heady blend of smoke, patchouli and coffee, that lingered in the air. I recognized it right away and breathed in with my eyes closed, grateful for the way it instantly brought me close to him. He must have been there recently, which surely meant he’d be back soon. I looked for other signs of him around the kitchen and saw the knife he’d brought to Maudie’s party hanging on the wall.
‘He comes here to dress his kill,’ said Piper, watching my face. He missed nothing. ‘It’s too difficult to carry the carcasses up the steps of his tree-house.’
‘Where’s the bathroom?’ asked Mum.
Piper pointed outside into the forest. ‘Composting toilet. Ten metres to the left. There are two buckets. Piss in the right and shit in the left. Cover your shit with sawdust to help it decompose. There’s a bucket shower in the outhouse.’ He shone his torch outside and we could just about see the outline of a small shed-like structure. ‘Do you have any other questions?’
‘Might it be possible to move closer to the centre of the community tomorrow?’ Mum asked hopefully. ‘Or do you have a family glamping field? I feel this cabin is a little isolated. And unloved.’
Piper looked at her blankly.
‘Where do the other guests stay?’ she persevered.
‘Outsiders don’t usually come here.’ Piper spoke slowly and deliberately. ‘Mo should have consulted us before inviting you. All decisions at the Haven are reached by consensus. Everyone who has come of age has to agree. I’ll call a processing session to discuss and let you know what we decide as soon as we can.’
‘What’s a processing session?’ asked Joe.
‘It’s how we resolve problems between us,’ he answered vaguely. Piper was halfway out of the door when he turned around.
‘Apologies. I almost forgot,’ he said in a kindly tone. ‘Do you mind giving me your phones, please? It’s one of our rules. To prevent outsiders tracking us. And they don’t work here anyway. There’s no coverage.’ He gave a broad smile.
‘I’d like to keep mine to take photos,’ said Joe.
‘Taking photos is a transgression,’ said Piper. Joe looked puzzled. ‘It’s against the rules of our community.’
Dad immediately gave him Maudie’s pink brick phone, which made it difficult for the rest of us to put up a fight. One by one we reluctantly handed them over. Only Mum said anything; ‘Will they be kept in a locker?’ Piper nodded and gave one of his enigmatic smiles before closing the door behind him.
‘We’ve just handed over thousands of pounds worth of iPhones to a complete randomer,’ said Joe, clearly wondering if we’d become victims of a sophisticated scam. Dad warned him about cynicism being the ninth deadly sin.
I couldn’t be bothered with another argument and climbed fully clothed into bed with Maudie. Even though I was dog-tired, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t believe that I’d finally made it to the Haven. And I was confident that as soon as Mo heard I was here he would come and find me. By tomorrow everything would fall into place. For so long I’d felt like Maudie’s spilt milkshake, leaching in and out of other people’s lives, but now, finally, I was someone of consequence.
9
Now
I wake with a jolt and my body snaps into action. I hear rain manically tap-dancing on a roof above me and the howl of the wind outside. The entire room seems to be swaying but somehow I manage to crawl to a broken window. The wind roars so hard in my face that it sucks the air from my lungs. The creaks and groans of this room aren’t familiar, and cloud shrouds the almost-moon. When I turn on my head torch to look outside, I’m astonished to find myself high in the tree canopy buckling and bending alongside the kings and queens of the forest. And then it comes back. I’m in Mo’s tree-house … I came here to look for him … to ask for his help … Mo always knows what to do … He always protects us. If anyone can find out what’s happened to my family, it will be him.
I pull myself upright. The tree-house lists from side to side. I stumble slowly around the tiny space longing to find Mo grinning back at me. But the hatch is bolted and the rope ladder lies in a tangle on the floor beside me. I’m all alone. I feel the tears coming and this time there’s nothing I can do to stop them. The beam from my torch spotlights the kitchen area with its small Primus stove, a couple of saucepans and a shelf of food. There’s a jerry-can of water and a pile of plastic boxes, each one carefully labelled. Clothes. Tools. Batteries. Crockery. Sleeping-bag. The police haven’t been here. But judging from my lonely footprints in the dust, neither has Mo.
The sight of his green backpack in the corner of the room puts me on edge. No one from the Haven ever goes into the forest without their pack, which means he left in a hurry too. I hold his bag tight to my chest, smell it and close my eyes, willing myself to pinpoint the last time I saw him. I remember us dancing round a fire … hurtling down a mountain track in his truck … running through the forest. But the edges of these memories are blurry and float away, like clouds, before I can make sense of them.
I touch my uncooperative head. The injury burns red hot and the throbbing seems higher-pitched, maybe because the stitches are too tight or because I didn’t clean it properly and it’s getting infected. I kneel on the grubby mattress to catch my breath and spot a large red-brown stain on the floor. I touch it. It’s damp, and when I lick my finger I know that it’s fresh blood.
My throat constricts and my breath thins, like I’m in the dead zone at the top of a mountain. Something bad has happened to Mo. There can be no other conclusion. And in the gap where memories should be I start to wonder what role I played in all this. I’m wild with fear.
My eye is drawn to a makeshift bookshelf constructed from crates the other side of the mattress. I crawl over and frantically start pulling out books and magazines. The Complete Guide to Medicinal Plants. Carlos Castaneda, The Teachings of Don Juan. Understanding the Radical Environmental Movement. Poisonous Plants. A faded Spanish magazine falls out of one of the books. The pages in the middle have been carelessly ripped out. I barely have time to consider why Mo would have this when I come across his beaten-up notebook with the brown leather cover.
