The Next Adventure

by Janice Horton

  Even though he was marching way ahead of me, I could just tell from the way he was stamping his feet as he walked, that the expression on his face must be set to livid.

  He’d been further aggravated by my refusal to leave the monkey behind.

  ‘But it’s just a baby!’ I implored him.

  ‘Exactly. There will be a mum and a dad and a whole family troop out looking for it.’

  But the poor thing is clinging to me like a dependent child and is so adorable.

  I insisted on carrying him until he recovers. He’s still quite lethargic in my arms.

  I made a carry sling for him with a sarong that I had with me and he settled into it.

  As we walked, I kept thinking about how stupid I’d been not to listen to Tom.

  We’d only been on the island a few hours and he’d already saved my life.

  I really did need to stop being so stupidly impulsive.

  Like Tom, Ethan would have been appalled with me today. He’d have called me TSTL.

  This was the acronym that we used to describe some of the less able rookies who managed to slip through the selection nets and join the GGF conservation programmes.

  TSTL: Too Stupid To Live.

  We whacked our way along what remained of the overgrown trail path. Tom was ahead swinging his machete back and forth and I used a stick to tap the ground while keeping my eyes meticulously on where I was stepping because every branch and vine in my path looked exactly like a snake to me. When we stopped for a short break and a drink of water in a clearing, we were suddenly invaded by a troop of small monkeys. They must have been following us discreetly, but despite Tom’s warning, these were not the same type of monkey as Monty – as I’d named my new friend – so they can’t have been related to him.

  Monty has black hair and a flat white face and a long tail. But this troop were smaller with brown fur and they had yellow and grey flecks around their black faces. There was at least a dozen of them. They looked cute but as soon as we’d opened our packs, they came in thick and fast to snatch anything they could get their thieving hands on.

  One stole a butterfly net and ran up a tree with it. Another grabbed a full box of breakfast cereal bars from Tom’s pack. I immediately shut my pack and sat on it while holding on firmly to the holdall with our caterpillar collection boxes in. Then I watched in both horror and amusement as Tom flew into a complete panic. He was waving his arms and screeching and swearing. Not so much like a pirate but like a dramatic drag queen. He fought furiously for a while with a monkey who had grabbed an item of clothing from his pack and I watched as a t-shirt with ‘I’m a social butterfly’ on it was reduced to shreds.

  Only when it was beyond repair did Tom actually let go.

  ‘I really hate monkeys!’ he told me adamantly, as Monty, who was a much bigger primate than these naughty little rascals, bravely chased the last of them away.

  When we reached the place that Tom had decided was the best place to camp for the night, we hurried to get our tents up before darkness fell. We each had the same type of small one-man tent. We set them up next to each other in an open area for safety and so we wouldn’t have to deal with continual drops of water or anything else that might fall on us from the trees.

  Tom had his tent up in no time at all and while I was still looking at the instruction leaflet.

  It’s not that I’m totally useless, but it’s now almost dark and a helping hand would’ve been appreciated. Especially as he knows I haven’t ever put up a tent before. Of course, this example once again makes me appreciate how much Ethan does for me when we are on our expeditions.

  Ethan is old school when it comes to being a gentleman. He still opens doors. Offers his seat. Insists on opening the wine and pouring it too. I suppose I’ve just got used to that kind of support. Oh, how I miss him and dearly wish he was here right now. I tried to imagine what he was doing right at that moment. Maybe he was erecting a tent in a snowy blizzard?

  I stropped about cursing loudly until my tent looked something remotely like Tom’s.

  Tom had set about lighting a fire and putting the kettle on to boil.

  I did feel better and more appreciative towards him when he handed me a mug of tea.

  We sat next to each other in front of the fire on a log but soon discovered it was crawling with fire ants – so called because their bite is painful and burns – and we’d jumped up and leapt about slapping ourselves silly to knock off the tiny offending creatures. Then we rolled away the log and we were now sitting primly on two hard rocks on opposite sides of the firepit.

  Not for the heat of it but certainly for the light and comforting ambiance it gave out.

  Of course, I’d first had to check that our stones weren’t harbouring anything like a snake.

  The surrounding forest is in full shriek as dusk falls and as the birds and animals claimed their perches or other resting places for the night and the nocturnal ones did their waking up rituals. I cradled little Monty in my arms and fed him a mango. Now that he’d been cleaned up a bit (I’d brushed the mud off him with my own hairbrush) he looked so cute with his shiny round expressive eyes and he clearly loved being groomed and cuddled.

  When I’d thought Tom was looking the other way, I fed Monty some cake.

  For some reason, cake had been allowed in our supplies as it was ‘high energy’.

  Whereas, in my expert opinion, so was wine and chocolate.

  ‘And don’t feed him our supplies!’ Tom snapped at me. ‘And, by the way, your hairbrush is now so full of fleas it should be thrown in the fire!’

  The little monkey hissed at Tom and showed him some incredibly sharp teeth in response.

  I tucked Monty into the sarong hammock I’d made for him and rocked him to sleep. During this time, Tom informed me that this island is not quite uninhabited after all. It is apparently home to ‘tribes of rabies-carrying primates’ who all came here on the first trading ships.

  He claims that they move around the forest in organised raiding parties.

  And again, he warned me that Monty’s family troop were likely to be out searching for him and when they find him, they would surely attack us thinking we were his kidnappers. As a result, he assured me he would be keeping his machete close to hand all night.

  After the kind of day that I’d had, I was thinking I could do with a nightcap about now.

  If Ethan were here, I told myself, he would certainly have produced a bottle of wine. Or at the very least, a bottle of rum, for which he’d have cracked open a fallen coconut and made me a cocktail for sundown. I glanced over the flames of the fire at Tom and willed him to at least produce a hip flask. He didn’t. So, I tugged off my boots, squeezed out my sopping wet socks, and saw that I had a large angry looking burst blister on my heel. A little sob escaped my throat.

  Tom looked over at my foot. ‘You need to clean that before it gets infected.’

  He handed me the first aid kit. When he saw that I was out of socks, he redeemed himself as a gentleman by kindly giving me his last dry pair, insisting the pair he’d worn today would dry out overnight by the fire. He remarked on the scar I had on the top of my foot and I explained how I’d once cut myself quite badly while on an island in the Andaman Sea just off Thailand and how everybody I met had warned me about it getting infected.

  ‘Of course, in the heat and humidity, my foot soon turned a grizzly-looking green.’

  ‘What did you do? That can be a really serious situation.’ He asked me in concern.

  ‘Oh, Ethan came to my rescue. He cleaned my foot, administered antibiotics, and pain relief in the form of a cold beer.’ I smiled sentimentally at the memory.

  ‘Is Ethan the boyfriend you’ve mentioned?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes. He might be my husband if I decide to accept his proposal.’

  I don’t know what made me blurt that out so suddenly. I suppose it’s something to do with feeling vulnerable and being out here on an island and so far from everyone else
. In many ways, it feels like we’re castaways here. There’s always the worry that we might be if Captain Edwards didn’t return as promised. I fixed a clean dressing to my heel and frowned not with pain but in anxiety.

  ‘And so, will you marry him? Tom asked me bluntly.

  ‘I’m really not sure.’ I answered him honestly. ‘I’m still thinking about it.’

  Tom shrugged. ‘In my experience, you either know or you don’t. It’s usually that simple.’

  I shook my head. ‘My life is not simple. It’s very complicated.’

  ‘You follow the teachings of Buddha, don’t you?’

  I laughed. ‘Yes. I try. Only you corrected me earlier over a quote.’

  Tom laughed. ‘Don’t feel bad. I’ve often heard people quote John Lennon and credit Buddha. One of my favourite Buddha quotes is: “time decides who you meet in life, but your heart decides who you want in your life”. It tells us to trust our heart. Maybe that will help?’

  I looked at Tom as he poked at the fire with a stick and orange flames leapt up.

  The damp air around us glowed and felt warm and ambient against the darkening forest.

  I saw him grinning. A coy grin. As if he too was considering sharing something with me.

  ‘What? What is it? Come on, tell me!’ I begged.

  ‘I’m getting married myself soon.’ He told me proudly.

  ‘Oh, wow, congratulations! So where is the lucky man right now?’

  ‘He’s in Mexico. I’m going there for Christmas and we’re getting married on the beach.’

  ‘That sounds so romantic. I wish you both every happiness.’ I said to him sincerely.

  ‘So, Lori. How long do you have to make up your mind?’

  ‘I have until New Year’s Eve when Ethan promises to return from his latest expedition.’

  ‘Not long, then. I think we should talk it through. Tell me why you are hesitant?’

  ‘No. I can’t.’ I tried to laugh it off and make light of it.

  ‘Why not? Come on, Lori. I’m a very good listener. I promise you that what you say on this island stays on this island. Imagine how much better you’ll feel once you’ve made a firm decision. Because right now, if you don’t mind me saying, you seem a bit uptight about everything and I guess that now I know why. This is important. Is it not?’

  ‘Thank you, Tom. Yes, it is important. But it’s a long and incredibly complicated story.’

  My voice sounded breathless and exhausted just thinking about it all.

  ‘That’s okay. We have all night and no TV. I’m all ears. Start at the beginning.’

  So, slowly and surely, I told him about my life and all that had happened over the past year.

  Every. Single. Moment.

  I told him what had caused me to leave my family and my home. My journey through Thailand. Meeting Ethan. Volunteering at a turtle sanctuary. Travelling around the world on a conservation ship. Missing my family. Dashing back home thinking I’d lost my mum. The guilt. The awful feeling that I’d abandoned my sons. Then I told him about how everyone already had their Christmas plans in place.

  ‘Which despite me being there, didn’t include me.’

  How everyone was far too busy to see me or each other for more than a few minutes.

  ‘I honestly felt like I had to make appointments to see my own family.’

  And, of course, I told him about Waterfall Cay and eventually, I got to the part where two complete strangers end up being the only two people on a Caribbean island that smelled of rotten eggs in search of an extinct species of butterfly.

  Tom listened to my story in silence and by the end of it he seemed quite stunned by it all.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Tom. I really didn’t want to burden you with all of this!’ I wailed.

  ‘Actually, I’m kind of honoured that you’ve included me in your mission. I had no idea what you were dealing with or the events had brought you here. But now I totally get it. But, as you’ve confided in me, Lori, I’m going to offer you some advice.’

  ‘Okay. I’m listening.’

  ‘I think you’re being way too hard on yourself.’

  ‘You think so? Really?’

  ‘Yeah. You can love your family from near or far these days.’

  ‘Because love knows no bounds?’ I offered.

  ‘No. Because there is the internet and with it there are ways to message and to see your family any time and it’s all free wherever you are in the world. Obviously, not here, but this is the exception. And you’ve already proved to yourself that within half a day – or a day at the most – you can jump on a plane and be there for them. Your family won’t love you any less because you choose to be happy. Trust me, I know. And you aren’t choosing him over them. And, if they don’t realise that straight away, then give them time and they will surely come around.’

  Tom was like my sounding board. The angel and the devil on my shoulders personified.

  ‘Maybe it’s not just my family.’ I admitted to him and perhaps finally to myself.

  In talking this through with Tom I knew I had touched on something far deeper.

  ‘Maybe it’s because over the past year I’ve lost and found myself. I’ve discovered, perhaps for the first time, who I really am. I’m not just a wife and a mother. Not anymore. I’m me. I’m Lori. And, during the process of finding myself, I have made a promise to never lose sight of the person I truly am ever again. I suppose that is what makes me hesitant to marry again.’

  Tom smiled at me reassuringly. ‘I know exactly what you mean. I’ve had those same fears. Losing my identity. Living my life for him instead of for myself. All of that.’ But then he shook his head and adopted a dreamy expression. ‘But I now believe that being acutely aware of who you are and what you can bring into a marriage, means you can go into it as a partner, not as an acquisition. It’s important to respect each other as individuals.’

  Tom was clearly a very soppy and romantic soul.

  ‘Maybe. All I know is that there are things in this life I still want to achieve and they amount to more than just being married to the great Ethan Goldman. One of those things is taking the island back.’ I reiterated, reminding Tom of the important task at hand.

  ‘I agree. And now, more than ever, knowing what I know about why we are really here, I too want us to find the Green Morpho, so we can go and slap a protection order on that island!’

  We both stared into the flames again and focussed our thoughts on our plans for a full day on the island tomorrow. ‘There’s a waterfall to tackle tomorrow.’ Tom explained to me. ‘We’ll have to climb up the side of it. But, as it’s part of the established trail, I’m expecting there to be some ropes and climbing supports to aid us. I should warn you that it still might be tough.’

  ‘If it gets us up to the part of the segment where your friend thinks he saw our butterfly, then we’ll do it.’ I said, my voice sounding just as determined as I was feeling right at that moment.

  ‘Yeah, that’s where I believe we have our best chance of spotting the Green Morpho and finding our Butterfly Pea plants full of caterpillars and in the cocoon stage of their metamorphosis. We should have packed up our camp and be ready to go at first light.’

  ‘Yes. Because by around midday, whatever stage of the trail we have reached, we really should be prepared to turn back to meet with our flight out of here at 6pm.’

  Tom nodded. ‘My fear is not getting back to the airstrip in time.’

  I stared into the flames of the fire and realised my fear was going back empty handed.

  Chapter 14

  I woke just before it was light and lay in my tent in darkness, tucked up in my sleeping bag, with the sounds of rainforest all around me. Tree frogs chirruped and geckos clicked. I imagined the high-pitched squeaks were probably fruit bats and the loudest calls were monkeys. Branches creaked overhead, but conversely; I didn’t feel afraid.

  Zipped up in my small tent, I felt safe. I felt like a butterfly wrapped up in a
cocoon.

  I sincerely hoped that when I emerged from my cocoon today, that we’ll find our Green Morpho and a butterfly pea plant full of chomping caterpillars. That the tarot would have been right and, despite all the challenges we will face today, that we would have found our prize.

  As the first rays of diffused jungle light hit my tent, I heard Tom moving about. Then I heard the sound of his tent being unzipped and him making his way into the jungle to relieve himself. I crawl out of my tent and do the same thing only in the opposite direction. On my way back, I manage to collect some bananas and stuff my pockets with ripe mangoes for our midmorning energy snack. It sounded like we might need extra energy today, as I reminded myself that this section of the trail consisted of steep terrain, dense forest, and fast running rivers that cut across our path on our way to the island’s waterfall and our journey’s end.

  I was just contemplating this when I heard an unearthly scream. It was undoubtably Tom.

  I ran back through our camp with my heart pounding as the screams kept coming and I leapt over branches and vines and jumped through bushes until I found myself dashing into a clearing where Tom was hysterical and doing some kind of frenzied dance.

  His partner in the dance was Monty, who had taken possession of Tom’s machete.

  It seemed the faster Monty wielded the weapon the more Tom screamed and leapt about.

  I didn’t mean to laugh but it was so very funny. Monty didn’t look to be threatening Tom. He looked to be having fun. But, of course, poor Tom didn’t appreciate the game and he was quite terrified as he danced about with his arms and legs flailing in the air.

  ‘Help! Do something Lori. Save me!’

  ‘Here Monty.’ I said gently. ‘Here … have a banana!’

  I threw one onto the floor and it landed between them. Monty immediately stopped swinging the heavy machete and turned and looked at me and then the banana. Remembering how last night, Monty had loved sucking the mango, I repeat my call and threw a mango into the same spot. I looked to Tom’s terrified face and nodded to him in collaborative sympathy.

  Poor Tom was dripping with sweat and was a quivering wreck.