The Power of Forgetting (39 page)

It was a little
cooler under the trees and about ten minutes along the path, Marcia
called a break. We drank some water and marked our position on the
map as well as we could manage. I reminded myself that Davey and
Oliver had walked this way twice already. They seemed less
interested in this path than we were. Everyone else kept looking
around, marvelling at the scenery.

We only stayed
still a few minutes and Marcia began to speed up. We had to be over
the hill and down the other side in half an hour. The window of
opportunity was very tight for us to get round the fence while the
tide was low.

We reached a
grassy upper to this hill, where the forest gave way to hawthorn,
and brambles and other hedgerow plants. A profusion of flowers and
green spikes lifted their tongues to us and brushed out legs as we
passed. Bees buzzed, and the chirrup of small birds could be heard.
The country side had given way from sub-tropical to something so
much akin to an English countryside that I began to think I was on
the cliff walk on the east coast, near one of my favourite seaside
towns.

We rounded a
corner and there beneath us was the sea. Spread out like a
sparkling line of silver and blue on this iridescent day. It was
the perfect day for an afternoon stroll, and the shame was that we
were in such a hurry that we couldn't stop and enjoy the fresh
breezes while sitting in the long grass.

We came to a
fence. No the one we had to find a way across, but an old broken
wooden one. I began to get the feeling, like one does in some
dreams that I had been there before. It had a curiously odd quality
to it. Just as if I really had slipped sideways and was walking
somewhere above Bridlington looking down the coast towards the
North Beach.

Marcia dropped
back to join me. Davey took the hint and joined Janey just up
ahead.

'Now then
Captain…. don’t day dream. We'll be there in a few minutes.'

'What? Oh….' I
stared, as she shaded her eyes and looked at me again.

'Before we get
there…. just remember. I had to.' she sounded strained.

'I know.' I
said and slid my arm around her waist, 'please tell me it is okay.
Then it will be…'

'It's okay
Jared.' she said in a lighter tone.

'I'm glad of
that.' I brushed her hair out of her eyes with my other hand.

Just Ahead
Hanson and Joe stood perfectly still staring downwards. We quickly
caught up with them. Our little team were treated to an incredible
sight…. seabirds diving and wheeling on thermals above the sea.
There was something perhaps attracting their attention.

'They are like
seagulls.' said Joe who seemed permanently attached to the
binoculars. Hanson shaded his eyes for a moment, and then for some
reason looked hard at me. The others were staring upwards.

'The path
divides a little way ahead,' he said, 'that is the way we came
yesterday. But for now we'll take the route by the shoreline.'

'How far is
it?' Marcia asked.

'About ten
minutes' walk.' Hanson said, while still looking at me.

We set off
again. This time proceeding cautiously. Joe walked at the back now,
and much as Adam had once done, he kept looking back. I was
thinking of Adam on the beach. I could see his face in my mind's
eye. I remembered his eyes. He was trying to warn me. Something was
wrong…. I could feel it. There was nothing about our plan that was
ill advised in the ordinary sense of the word. It was just a
feeling of disquiet. Oliver walked next to Joe. Marcia was with
Hanson at the front. Janey followed. Then Davey and myself.

'How far to the
fence?' Davey asked me.

Involuntarily I
looked at my watch. Gone six o'clock, 'I don't know…ask Hanson
that.'

'I just thought
you might know something.'

'Why?' I asked
suddenly suspicious, 'how could I possibly know? I've never been
here before.'

'No…I mean, of
course not.' He turned away then. What was going on?

We reached the
sand line. It was a broad belt of flat even sand that had no mark
except for the footprints of seabirds. We walked along the grassy
thin belt, looking all the while to our left of any sign of the end
of a fence.

The ground rose
over a small sand dune. We slid and scrambled down the other side.
The sand was deep, soft and fine. It held the warmth of a whole day
soaking up the sun's warmth. We were all very warm and thirsty by
then so we stopped at the bottom. Just ahead there was a spiky
green line that transversed the landscape in front of us. I had
been thinking of fences of varying sorts all day; perhaps imagining
some high metal thing with spikes on the top. This looked quite
innocuous, and not very tall.

Marcia saw me
looking. She put the water bottle to her lips again, all the while
staring at me and glancing sideways towards this new obstacle.

'It must be
electrified.' said Davey.

'You bet,'
Hanson sounded impressed, 'enough to cook at chicken. I think that
there must be way of bypassing it. But I don't know how.'

'I do,' said
Davey, 'but I suspected that it might be alarmed too.'

'Lighting up
the Christmas tree of fairy lights on the main computer
display?'

'I certainly
won't be something they don't notice.'

'So where is
the end?' said Janey, practical as ever.

We turned left
and started to follow the line of the fence out onto the sand,
keeping a safe distance from this unpleasant "live" hazard.

'There is it!'
said Janey, as Hanson pointed at the same moment. They glanced at
each other and laughed. I saw Davey scowl. He saw me watching him,
and his expression quickly smoothed back out again.

We came to the
end of the fence. The last bit was a neat sloped top that buried
itself in the sand. The sea was about ten feet away. We all filed
round this thing, one at a time, being careful not to touch the
fence; while all the time trying not to get our feet wet. I
wondered at the reason for our careful circumspection; clearly the
electrical charge would not extend to the shoreline. Even I knew
that water and electricity don't mix. I sensed that Oliver was
watching me. He was quieter than usual - if such a thing is
possible. We climbed up a rough banking bedecked with spiky grass
and other resilient vegetation. We got to a dusty incline that took
us right up if we traversed it at a diagonal. No one spoke for
quite a while. It was the feeling of being exposed on this stretch
of beach. I reckoned that it was more by sheer good fortune, than
any skill on our part that we weren't detected going into the
camp.

Ahead was a
line of mixed trees, and shrubby bushes, mixed in with these a few
taller bushes with heavy heads of flowers bending multi-roseate
stalks. We entered the thicket and pushed deeper in. Pretty soon it
was clear that we would have to stay in the thinner and more spread
out parts, as the trees and other strange to identify plants are
growing too close together for us to pass without forcing a way
through. This would be unwise. We needed to leave a little trace of
our presence as possible. The time now is near to half past seven
in the evening. It is that peculiar time of day when everything
seems to go quiet.

'Tide is
turning.' said Oliver and sniffed. Joe looked to our left towards
the sea, and lifted the binoculars to his eyes again. He glanced at
me and looked away, as if to pretend he hadn't been checking me
every five minutes or so since we left camp this morning. Ten
minutes later we have come to a narrow stream. After a brief check
we splashed across quickly and continued on a leveller, grassier
part.

It is nearly
eight o'clock and the sun is setting over the sea. We were glad to
be told by Hanson (who had said nothing at all for hours) that we
were only a twenty-minute walk from the chalets that were set back
slightly from the grassy meadow.

There was a
shady little walkway; rather like a small inlet- clearly tidal, and
for the moment baked in little ridges and swirls. Not far away we
could see the sea foaming and boiling as it raced its way across
the shallow incline of the level part of the beach. Our imprints in
the semi dried sand would be erased inside the hour.

Entering
Lorraine's chalet was an unceremonious act. We stepped in through
the open double door from a little porch area. Inside was an
enormous sitting room, with huge ethnic looking rugs and Javanese
wood furniture with a lot of multi-coloured cushions. I brushed
past a wind chime as we entered. Almost immediately I heard a voice
from the back parts of this luxury abode.

'Well it's
about time! I really thought you were going to be here an hour ago…
was the stream full already? Did you have to walk round…...?' the
speaker came into view head turned still rubbing dry those tumbles
or red ochre hair; then she froze with her mouth slightly parted
regarding the scene of us lot stood four square on one of her rugs.
I was at the back of the group and I think it was Joe who spoke
first:

'Good evening
Ms Addis. We are sorry for the intrusion. I hope that we are not
too alarming.'

Hanson stepped
forward and quickly led her by the arm and through, I supposed,
into the room she had emerged from. We looked at one another, as a
hastily worded apology and explanation was furnished by Hanson in
soothing tones that I hardly thought he was capable of expressing.
They both came back a moment later. And giving credit to Lorraine's
sense of practical adaptability, she seemed quite at ease with us
all. She held out a hand to Davey.

'Charming.' she
said as he took it in speechless awe at this magnificent creature.
I suppose I never mentioned that Lorraine was a stunning looking
woman. You forgot this, when you were away from her; supposing
wrongly that her looks matched her quality of character and were
therefore mediocre; but not in the least.

Half an hour
later, we were all sat around in the comfortable chairs with
glasses of cool cocktails. Our packs were stacked neatly to one
side, except for Oliver's; which he kept at his feet. He looped a
headset over and listened to the earpiece in his left ear; 'Nothing
doing.' He said. The radio signal was unobtainable here; and we
could not find any strength in the relay from our vehicle, too low
down as it was in the jungle area by the tidal causeway.

Marcia and
Janey both got up at the same time and vanished through to the
kitchen area, where Lorraine was concocting something fabulous for
us all. Hanson had gone to "Help"; but I knew that look. He was
more interested in admiring what she looked like form the rear than
any duties of the preparation of the food that Lorraine so
precisely would lay out. I wondered if we would hear yowls of
anguish as someone interfered with her careful laid out place
settings. But no… from a distance we heard amiable chit chat, and
something akin to a friendly atmosphere began to permeate into the
whole situation.

As we sat down
to dinner, I marvelled at the organisation that so invested such
care in the provision of luxury and comfort; and yet had such
twisted ideals and purposes. It was so seductive. Not perhaps, in
the way Lorraine herself could be, but it did fog the issue on
whose side one ought to be on; if anything like moral ambivalence
had darkened your heart in the intervening time between the idea
first being mooted and the few milliseconds after that; that is the
time in which it takes the weaker willed person to decide to
succumb. I was only enjoying one evening of this special treatment.
And yet it seemed to last for ages. Dinner was truly gorgeous; with
fish, and salads, and various dressings. And we each had a glass of
wine at our right hand. How could one not be content?

I suppose I
knew that Lorraine was saving me until later. She had glanced at me
sure. But to really look, to hold my gaze and to call back from the
dead the moments we had once shared; that would be done later as I
sneaked out onto the porch for a smoke. I sat in the rocking chair
and breathed the night air. The light flared briefly and I drew it
into myself again. With something like a sigh of relief I exhaled.
I could hear music from within. Everyone was relaxed, and for the
moment safe. The tidal inlets would ensure it; as well as the thick
Jungle beyond.

I gazed upwards
into the star splattered sky, and the night flowers broke out the
scents from their cups and blended with the sharper taste of the
Russian.

'Jared….' she
said down on the porch, legs elegantly curled to one side. I found
myself looking down at her, and not liking it much elected to sit
beneath her on the step. I regretted this almost immediately. She
draped herself over my shoulders, and kissed my neck. I carried on
smoking.

'I'm glad
you're here.' She spoke very softly. I thought perhaps she was
gaging the difficultly rating of this ex, in the light of all the
co-factors that might influence the evening's progression in her
favour, and against it.

I blew out a
stream of tobacco haze and turned towards her then; she was waiting
for something. Some clue, some reaction, some recognition of what
we used to have. I realised that I did feel kind of drawn to her.
When you haven't had any sort of really fulfilling physical action
with a woman in such a long time; you can't help thinking about the
last time it was good.

Lorraine was
that good. She was unbelievably good; as good as they get…. It was
a solid miracle of mind over matter, getting away from her; or as
other college buddies suggested, the victory of idiocy over
opportunity.

I could not
stomach the fact of others being there. It wasn't even a moral
thing; it was just a sense of revulsion against the proprieties not
being observed in the duvet department. I felt that she could at
least have changed the sheets. Then, if I had been less particular,
she might have still had me in her clutches, despite my broken
hearted regret.