CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Summer 1961.
Sausages sizzled in the bottom of the old, battered frying pan,
sending up a delicious aroma that combined with the pine and oak
twigs that hardly smoked at all as they burnt in the little circle of
stones.
‘Sausages is the boys,’ Colin said, snij§€ng the tang of crackling
fat. He was stirring the embers on the other side of the fire to make a
flat space for the equally battered little saucepan that was filled with
baked beans.
‘I’m starving, ’ I said. ‘I haven ’t eaten for hours. ’ That wasn ’t true,
but it sure felt like it.
‘Real commandos can go for days without food, and still fight, ’
Colin asserted. Today he was a commando. Today, we were on a
three-man mission of derring-do. Our gang hut was now our
foxhole beside the stream. Sausages and beans were iron rations.
My bow was a rifle. Colin ’s spear of rowan was a bayonet. Barbara
was so far unarmed, because her father had confiscated her slingshot
after he’d lost a pane of glass in his greenhouse. That miss-hit had
almost put paid to our adventure in the woods at Strowan’s Water.
Doctor Foster disapproved of his daughter hanging around with the
likes of us kids from down the hill, but we kepta diplomatic distance
between ourselves and him, and the one and onlies were still a
threesome.
‘They live off the land, ’ Colin said. ‘You can send them anywhere
and they can find their own food, rabbits and deer and everything. ’
‘And berries and mushrooms, ’ Barbara said. ‘I can find berries
and mushrooms. ’
‘Berries don ’t go with sausages, ’ 1 chipped in.
‘But mushrooms do, ’ Barbara said. ‘I know where there’s plenty.
I could live off the land. ’
‘They’re probably poisonous Toadstools,’ I told her. Barbara
was already starting off down the path.
‘Some of them can kill you just by looking at them, ’ I said.
‘Naw, you have to touch them first, ’ Colin refuted. ‘And then you
can make a cut where you’ve been touched and suck out all the
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poison. ’
‘What about the poison in your mouth? ’
‘That’s easy. You just spit it out. ’
‘I don’t fancy that much. 1fy0u touch one of them, you can suck
your own poison out. ’
‘Some commando you are, ’ Colin snorted. ‘They’re supposed to
defend each other to the death. ’
‘What if your tongue got poisoned when you sucked it out? ’
‘Then you’d go dumb, dummy, ’ Colin said, laughing at his pun.
‘And then you wouldn ’t be able to ask a lot of silly questions. ’
He got a slender stick and started rolling the pink sausages over,
exposing the dark brown, sizzling undersides. Then with the same
stick he stirred the beans. They were just starting to bubble.
‘Look what I ’ve got, ’ Barbara called from a little way down the
track. ‘There’s hundreds. ’
She came striding up, bright and smiling, her hair bobbing with
her gait. She had an armful of big oatmeal-capped mushrooms.
‘They’re toadstools, ’ I said. ‘They’ll make you dumb. ’
‘Don’t be daft, that’s only after you suck the poison out, ’ Colin
retorted.
‘No, they ’re mushrooms, ’ Barbara said. ‘They’re just the same as
the ones my mum gets. Isn ’t that right, Colin? ’ she added, looking to
him for support.
Colin stood up, backing away from the jire, and he wiped the
smoke out of his eyes. His face was streaked with the tears that had
poured down his cheeks when we first lit the fire and the smoke had
billowed into all our faces.
‘Let me see, ’ he said. Barbara kneeled down and let her load spill
from her hands on to the grass.
‘They look all right to me,’ Colin announced. ‘My Aunt May
picks mushrooms up here, and they ’re just the same as them.
They’re OK.’
To prove it, he picked up one ofthe big mushrooms and sniffed it,
then bit a piece off chewing quickly, like an expert tasting truffles.
His tongue didn ’t go black at all and that settled it.
I used my penknife and sliced up the caps and we threw a lot of
them into the fat with the sausages. They quickly went from white to
grey, fat mushroom steaks that added their tantalising smell to the
already mouthwatering mix.
We ate the lot, along with the beans and the sausages, scooping
them out of the pans and on to the enamelled tin plates that formed
part of our survival cache in the little hidden lean-to. Every
mouthful was a delight. Afterwards, Barbara brewed up some tea in
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a dried-milk tin that we had punctured at the t0p t0 take a wire
handle. We debated as t0 h0w much tea we sh0uld put in, because
n0ne 0f us were experts in that field, and there was a brief argument
0ver wh0 f0rg0t the milk, but the argument faded as we sat in the
shade 0f the huge beech tree and scalded 0ur m0uths 0n the tarry
brew.
We decided t0 wait until it had c00led dawn. The plates were lying
at the edge 0f the stream, lightly c0vered in the gravel which w0uld
help sc0ur them clean 0f 0ur 0utd00rs dinner. C0lin asked t0
b0rr0w my knife and I warned him n0t t0 l0se it and he pr0mised t0
guard it with his life. He str0de d0wn t0 the stream edge and cut 0ffa
stem 0f saxifrage that swayed 0ver the still water 0fa sunlitp00l, and
br0ught it back t0 where Barbara and I were gingerly taking sips 0f
the sm0ke-blackened tin.
‘Making a peash00ter? ’ I asked. C0lin cut the c0rrugated h0ll0w
stem int0 a little 0pen—ended tube.
‘N0pe.’
‘What then? ’ I asked.
‘Wait and see, n0sey,’ he said, cutting the fragile tube with the
sharp blade. Barbara and I watched curi0usly as he t00k a piece 0f
bread fr0m the slices I ’d hlched fr0m the kitchen and nipped 0ff a
m0rsel between his jinger and thumb. This he jammed int0 the base
0f the tube.
‘Right, n0w watch this,’ he said. C0lin t00k the bag 0f tea and
p0ured s0me 0ut int0 his hand. I c0uld see his t0ngue — still un-
damaged fr0m the mushr00ms — sticking 0ut 0f the c0rner 0f his
m0uth as he c0ncentrated 0n the delicate task 0f funnelling the tea
int0 the 0pen end 0f the tube. When he was d0ne, he reached 0ver t0
the fire, shielding his face fr0m the heat 0f the flame, and stuck the
thing int0 the red base where the c0als gleamed red. It immediately
started t0 sm0ulder and he hissed t0 himself as the heat started t0 sear
his hand. He pulled back quickly.
‘Right. Watch this,’ he ardered, and sat back against the b0le 0f
the tree and put the end 0f the saxifrage stem in his m0uth. Fr0m
where I sat, 0nly a f00t 0r s0 away, I c0uld smell the aniseed ar0ma
0f the sm0uldering plant, and an0ther, bitter—sweet smell which I
assumed was the tea. C0lin sucked hard thr0ugh the plug 0f bread,
and we watched in amazement when he blew 0ut a thick cl0ud 0f
blue sm0ke.
‘Great sm0ke, ’ he said, and then c0ughed a little.
‘Where did y0u learn that? ’ I asked. ‘I didn ’t kn0w y0u sm0ked.’
‘Trade secret, ’ C0lin said. ‘Want t0 try it?’
Barbara screwed up her n0se, then reached 0ut and t00k the
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smouldering stem from Colin. She sucked in hard, and then went 0n
to a paroxysm of coughing.
‘Too much, ’ he said, and started beating her on the back. As far I
could see it wasn ’t helping the cough any. It took her a few moments
for the coughing jit t0 subside. Colin took back his extraordinary
cigar and said, ‘Watch this. ’ He put it to his lips and pursed them
around it, and his cheeks caved in with the vacuum. Then, to our
astonishment, he blew out two blue plumes of smoke from his
nostrils. It reminded me of a picture in a book where a dragon
puffed out jets, and I started to giggle.
‘Here, you try it, ’ he said, and handed it to me. I did. There was a
dejinite liquorice—aniseed taste from the smoke, and another that
was strange, and not at all unpleasant. As soon as the smoke filled
my mouth, I could feel saliva welling up, and when I blew out the
cloud, I had an immediate need to spit it. It landed on one ofthe hot
stones that ringed the j$re and sizzled loudly and satisfyingly.
Barbara had another try, and this time she didn ’t cough, then we
all had shots each, passing it around like I would much later in
sociable company.
‘Right. Take in some smoke. Not too much, ’ Colin said,
demonstrating. His voice was wheezy when his cheeks were full of
fumes. ‘Then, ’ he said, smoke dribbling out as he did so, ‘suck in. ’
He took a big breath and it all disappeared inside him. When he blew
it out again, it was grey, not blue. I wondered how that happened. It
took Barbara three tries, and me jive, to get the hang of it. The
smoke burned my throat, and I could feel my lungs starting to swell,
but it was a nice sensation. The saliva ran, and we all spat
intermittently into the fre and on to the hot stones, relishing the hiss
as it evaporated.
I blew a smoke ring, and the other two fell about, helpless with
laughter. I tried, but I couldn’t repeat the action. We giggled
together, sharing the tea-filled steam, and didn’t notice at all that
everything was getting hazy.
‘Great shmoke, ’ Barbara said, and Colin nearly wet his jeans.
‘Trij§‘ic, ’ I agreed, to another gale of laughter. Colin laughed so
hard he fell over, and lay staring up into the trees, his belly shaking
in spasms. I leaned back against the tree and wondered why
everything went in and out of focus. Barbara, who had been sitting
on a gnarled root, slowly slid off landing with a gentle thud on the
dry grass, and that set us all off again.
And a few moments later, the world started to sway and spin and I
shot away from it in a blaze of colour that swirled and sparkled in
front of my eyes and ....
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I squatted at the edge ofthe stream, watching the sunlight catch the
expanding rings from where the fish had risen t0 dipple the surface.
Rings of gold, ever moving outwards. I was in a glade where the sun
shone between the tops 0f huge trees. In front of me, the field was
gone. Instead there were big—boled beeches and massive firs, wide
and monstrous, marching up and 0ver the hill and 0n for ever. I
could see between their great trunks, but only for a little distance into
that forest, for it was gloomy in there, dark and shadowed. The sun
shone where I sat by the edge of the water, watching the slow
movement of trout, big and fat, lazy in the pool.
I looked around me, curious, yet accepting that I was alone. This
was a strange place, yet not strange. Familiar and unfamiliar. The
big stone where Barbara had sat like the little mermaid was still
there, but the stream was different. The trees were tall and mighty,
bigger even than the gnarled beech that we’d been sitting under.
Somewhere downstream a bird called, a hooting cry that echoed
among the trunks, and there was a reply from further away. Behind
me, something crashed through the trees, and I turned to look into
the forest behind me, but there was nothing but shadow. I sat still for
what seemed an age, and then a movement caught my eye, a flash of
dark in peripheral vision. For some reason, I did not move, only
sliding my eyes to where the movement was. Out of the trees, slowly
and majestically, came a huge stag, the king of all stags, bigger even
than the huge Clydesdale that towered over the hedges up at
Kilmalid Farm. If I had stood up, my head would not have even
reached its belly. I stayed rock still, and so did the deer, standing like ~
a huge dark shadow as it surveyed the glade. Its nostrils flared like
black tunnels as it sniffed the air, and its ears turned and twisted,
quartering for danger. Satisfied, it slowly emerged from the gloom,
one slow step at a time, grand and dignified, and as it came out into
the light I almost gasped in wonder. For on its head it bore an
impossible spread of antlers that I hadn ’t noticed in the background
shade and tangle of branches. They were immense, a great two-
handed sweep of pronged bones that were almost, to my eyes, as
wide as a road. The far edge of one of them lightly scraped against
the trunk of a fir tree, cutting a neat gash that started to drip resin.
Out into the light, one silent step after another, the giant stag came
towards the stream. And behind it followed another huge beast,
though by comparison much smaller. Walking carefully behind the
second beast was a slender fawn, tawny and speckled, picking up its
dainty hooves with light, jerky motions of its impossibly spindly
legs. The stag was magnificent, the fawn simply beautiful.
It followed its parents down to the waterside where the stag drew
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itself and its great antlers up high t0 scan the clearing, then, satisfied,
bent down t0 drink, snuffling noisily at the clear water. The doe and
the fawn followed suit, lapping thirstily. They drank copiously, then
something seemed t0 startle the baby. With a smooth, clean jerk, it
raised its head up from the water, its ears fanning like radar, and it
looked round. Then 0ne huge black eye, infinitely gentle, found
mine, and stared. It was like looking into a pool. For long moments
we watched each other, the fawn standing stock still, and me afraid
t0 breathe, then it bent back t0 drink. Finally, the stag lifted its
magnnicent head and shook its thick mane, sending droplets of
water scattering, then it walked across the bed 0f the stream, its
hooves clattering 0n the hard rock. The doe and the fawn followed
and the three animals moved into the forest and were lost in the
shadow.
Only the glistening water that their hooves had splashed 0n the
stones 0f the stream, now quickly evaporating in the sun, marked
theirpassage. For a long time, my eyes were fixed 0n the spot where
they had entered the shadow, hoping that they would come back, but
they must have been far away. From somewhere in that general
direction, far in the distance, a deep, bellowing roar, that kind 0f
rumbling, numbing growl that y0u hear from lions in the zoo, came
rolling through the trees, muffled by distance, but powerful and
hard. There was a tearing screech and another bellow, this time a
lowing, high and despairing. The lowing sound suddenly stopped,
cut off Then there was a silence that seemed t0 go on for ever, and
then the birds in the trees started singing and twittering again. I
turned back t0 the stream and looked into the water again, and in the
water I saw a shape, dark and looming, wavering 0n the surface. It
was a reflection, and when 1 looked up, there was a man standing
there, staring at me with black eyes. Tall and broad, with a ragged,
hairy animal ’s pelt that had a hole cut in it where his grizzled head
popped through. A strip of different skin cinched the garment
together at the waist, and there were other strips that formed boots
with leggings. He carried some sort of satchel and in his hand was a
long curved bow and a straight spear. The man ’s hair was long and
straggly and tangled, just like his beard, and his arms were matted
with a thick pelt.
Our eyes locked. I felt no fear. For some reason this was not a
man to be afraid of He looked at me, right into the back of my
mind, reading all of me that there was to be read. Then he nodded
big and broad, and as digndied as the stag that had glided out ofthe
gloom.
With one hand, he took the spear from the clutter of bows and
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arrows and hefted it. The sun sent shards of light from the long,
black head. He stared at me, without malice, but with an expression
of infinite wisdom; then he swung his arm up high. I could see the
muscles on his forearm bulge as he gripped the shaft tightly — then his
whole arm flashed in a blur as he launched his spear towards me.
And still I was unafraid. The wind from that spear tousled my hair in
the passing, and I heard the hissing as it cut the air. There was a loud
thud and I didn’t turn round. I could hear the shaft of the spear
thrumming as it vibrated with the impact. I kept looking at the man ’s
eyes, and he kept looking at mine for a long time until the reflections
ofthe sun on the water made them water and the world blurred in a
riot of gold and green and then went right out of focus.
Everything slowly started to emerge from grey and I opened my
eyes again. The sunlight was dancing up from the ripples the tiny jish
were making, bright sunlight that came from the direction of the
trees. But the trees were gone. The field, with its short, cropped grass
and the buttercups and clover, was back, with its hoof-tracks and its
cowpats. And I was back again.
Colin was sitting with his back against the big gnarled root of the
beech tree. His sloppy-joe had risen up as he’d slid down against the
bark, exposing a slice of his tanned belly. There was a dark blue
patch on his jeans at the knee, a deeper shade than the rest of the
weathered and well-washed denim. His feet were splayed out and
one baseball boot, black and white and red and wearing thin at the
sole, was slowly swaying from side to side. Colin ’s eyes were half
shut, and I could see a glimmer in the dark where his iris was
throwing back the light. There was a half smile on his face.
Barbara was lying down, spread out on the short grass next to
him, her arms wide and her feet together. There were leaves in her
hair and, though her eyes were closed, there was a radiant smile, an
expression of joy that lit up her whole face. Her jeans, newer and
better kept than Colin ’s, had muddy patches on the knees.
My head felt hill of cotton wool, clouds that were very slowly
dispersing. There was a buzzing in my ears, a deep tickly vibration
that was more of a feeling than a noise, as if a bee had got into the
back of my head and was busy spreading honey in there.
Colin muttered something, low and jumbled, the way children do
when they talk in their sleep. I couldn ’t make it out, but as I turned to
look at him, his eyes flicked wide open. His eyes were glazed at first,
then seemed to find their focus. He shook his head, and put his
hands up to his temples and screwed his eyes up tight, very much the
way a man with a bad hangover does at the moment of awakening.
‘Jeez-O, ’ he said softly. He took his hand down from his head and
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looked around him, looking a little shaken and a bit bewildered.
‘Where are we?’
1 was about to answer, still feeling as if the white clouds were
drifting about inside me, as if my voice would come out all soft and
cottony, if it came out at all, when Colin said: ‘At the gang hut. ’
He nodded, confirming it to himself getting his bearings. ‘The
gang hut. Jeez—O. 1 must’ve fell asleep. ’
‘Me too, ’ I said, and my voice was all cottony, sticking at the back
of my throat. My lungs felt stiff.
‘Weird, ’ Colin said, this time with vehemence. ‘What a dream! A
knight in shining armour with a big gold sword. Like Lancelot. Or
Galahad. A black knight. He was terrible. ’
Colin stopped and looked around. Barbara had made a noise,
and she was trying to raise her head up from the carpet of green. It
slumped back sleepily at first, then she too seemed to shake her head
to clear it. The radiant smile was still there.
‘Ooooh. Beautiful, ’ she murmured with a sigh. ‘She was
beautiful. ’
‘Who was? ’ Colin said.
‘The lady with the flowers. ’
‘What lady?’
‘She came to me with flowers. Golden flowers, just like her hair.
Didn ’t you see her? ’
‘Nope, ’ Colin and I said together.
‘You must have,’ Barbara said. ‘She was there. Right thcrc. ’
Barbara pointed at the bank ofthe stream. There was nothing there.
‘You’ve been dreaming, ’ Colin said. ‘We must have fell asleep. ’
‘Fallen asleep, ’Barbara corrected him absently, her voice still soft -
and dreamy.
‘Oh, she was so beautiful and kind. She put the flowers round my
neck, like a daisy chain, and smiled at me. ’ Barbara’s hand slipped
up to her neck, feeling the skin.
‘It was thcrc,’ she said, and her voice lost the dreamy quality.
Now it had the tinge of ache of a lost dream.
‘I dreamed I saw a knight with a sword. And he was riding around
waving it and shouting at people. He was fighting everybody and
chopping at them with the sword and they were screaming. He was
terrible. ’
‘The hunter, ’ I said, and they both looked at me. ‘A hunter. That’s
what he was. He came here, to me, out of the trees, over there. ’ I
pointed.
‘What trees? ’ Colin asked.
‘There was trees. Big forest there, ’ I pointed across the stream.
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‘He came 0ut and st00d there and l00ked at me, and then he threw
s0mething at me. ’ I paused. That wasn ’t right. ‘N0. He threw
s0mething t0 me. A spear. ’
I had been sitting d0wn. In my mind ’s eye, the man in the furs and
skins was still standing 0n the far bank. I heard the swish and felt the
wind again as the l0ng spear raked the air. I heard the thud and the
thrumming vibrati0n, and I knew where the spear had hit.
1 scrambled 0n t0 my knees and crawled a few feet away fr0m the
0thers t0wards the bank. The turf was dry and hard.
‘It landed right here, ’ I said, feeling the grass and earth with the
palms 0fmy hands.
‘What did?’ Barbara asked. The dreamy t0ne was g0ne fr0m her
v0ice. C0lin was just staring at me as if l’d g0ne crazy.
‘The spear. He threw it here. He wanted me t0 have it. ’
‘It was just a dream, ’ C0lin said. ‘1’m n0tsm0king any 0f that stuff
again. It gives y0u scary dreams. ’
‘Mine wasn ’t scary, ’ Barbara said, alm0st dejiantly. ‘And it must
have been the mushr00ms. They give y0u a belly—ache and y0u get
dreams. ’
‘That’s cheese,’ C0lin said. ‘Cheese makes y0u dream. ’
‘And mushr00ms t00, ’ Barbara argued. ‘1 saw it in 0ne 0f my
dad’s b00ks, s0 there.’
All this was g0ing 0n in the periphery. 1 was still 0n my knees, and
there was s0mething inside 0f me that knew, with clear certainty, that
I had t0 rip up the turf right here where I was kneeling. I struggled
with that l0ng ruler-p0cket in the leg 0f my w0rking-man ’s cut d0wn
jeans and w0rked my 0ld penknife up the material until the h0rn
handle p0ked 0ut. I grabbed it and pulled 0ut the big blade and
started cutting a square 0f the turf
‘Y0u’ll break the blade, idi0t features, ’ C0lin said. He’d
rec0vered fr0m whatever was scary in his dream. I hadn’t quite
rec0vered fr0m mine. Barbara’s was real en0ugh f0r her t0 watch
me n0n-c0mmittally.
‘D0n’t care. It was here. I saw it, ’ I said, sawing away rapidly, up
and d0wn, n0t caring if the 0ld treasured blade was rasped d0wn t0 a
blunt nubbin. When the square was cut, I grasped the grass at the
edge 0f 0ne 0f the lines and started hauling, feeling my nails bend
backwards under the strain.
‘Oh, let me, ’ C0lin said resignedly, as tfhe’d decided he wanted t0
hum0ur me. The tw0 0f us tugged and then the turf came up with a
rip, like wet cl0th rending, and we fell backwards. The red square 0f
earth underneath was just earth. N0thing m0re. I started t0 dig again
with the blade 0f my knife, but C0lin st0pped me.
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‘That will break the blade. Here, use a stick, ’ he said, handing me
the 0ne he’d cut f0r an arr0w. He ’d whittled a sharp p0int 0n 0ne end
and I t00k it and started t0 h00k the dirt 0ut 0f the h0le. In a few
minutes I’d g0ne d0wn ab0ut six inches, and there was n0thing
there. C0lin and Barbara were watching me, and I felt a flush 0f
embarrassment. The image in the dream had started t0 slip sl0wly
away, and suddenly I started t0 feel as if I were making a f00l 0f
myself
‘Let me at it, ’ C0lin said just as I was ab0ut t0 st0p digging t0 spare
myseU” further ridicule.
C0lin’s tanned arms jabbed up and d0wn, h00king at the h0le.
Within minutes he was panting with the eff0rt. Then the rasping 0f
the stick in the dirt st0pped and there was a little clicking s0und and
C0lin’s arms seemed t0 jar all the way up t0 the sh0ulders.
‘Ow, ’ he yelled as the stick br0ke halfway up and he lurched
f0rward, b0th hands plunging right int0 the dirt. Barbara and I
scuttled acr0ss t0 the h0le. The br0ken arr0w had reached r0cks,
tw0 big quartz st0nes that w0uld bec0me white when the rain washed
0ff their c0ating 0f dirt. Between them, jammed upright, there was a
thin, black, sm00th st0ne, l0dged in the narr0w space between the
tw0 r0unded b0ulders.
I reached past C0lin and grasped the st0ne and tugged. It didn ’t V
budge and I had t0 w0rk it back and f0rth ab0ut nine 0r ten times
bef0re it gave up its grip and came free.
‘That’s it! ’ I yelled. ‘That’s what he had!’
‘What is it? ’ Barbara asked.
‘Just a stupid lump 0f r0ck, ’ C0lin said. ‘N0t w0rth all that hard
w0rk. ’
‘N0. Y0u’re wr0ng, ’ I said c0ldly. It had been there. I walked t0
the stream, right t0 the edge where I’d been sitting, mesmerised by
the sun in my dream, and knelt d0wn with that flat st0ne in my hand.
It was l0ng and sm00th, and rimed with caked-0n dirt. I plunged
b0th 0fmy hands int0 the clear water and rubbed at the black st0ne’s
surface, watching the water g0 cl0udy and br0wn as the earth
washed 0ff It t00k 0nly m0ments 0f rubbing the st0ne with my
thumbs t0 clean it, f0r the dirt had n0 crevices t0 cling t0. Then I
lifted it fr0m the water and turned triumphantly t0 C0lin and
Barbara, h0lding the st0ne in b0th my hands like a tr0phy.
The sun ric0cheted 0ff the p0lished surface, making it gleam
bright and black.
‘Hey man, ’ C0lin wh00ped. 'It’s a st0ne—axe. A real cave—man’s
axe.
‘N0, it’s a spear. A p0intf0r a spear. And that’s where he threw it
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in my dream. ’
‘I d0n’t believe it, ’ said C0lin.
‘Me neither, ’ 1 said, and although I held the weight in my hands,
marvelling at its sm00th surface and beautiful simplicity, I didn’t
believe it.
‘But it’s 0urs, ’ I said.
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