Bear Witness

by Mandy Haggith

  ‘Yes, yes, Petr, of course,’ Valentina nodded vigorously. ‘What you want to eat?’

  ‘To eat? Um anything is fine, really.’

  ‘Sausage? Cheese?’

  ‘Do you mean for a meal, or…?’ Callis was baffled.

  ‘I take you to hunter cabin. There you need food. We stop in Rasnov, go shopping. Yes?’

  ‘OK. And how long will I be at the hunter’s cabin?’

  ‘I think you go away on Thursday at seventeen o’clock. Yes?’

  ‘Yes, I think so, back on the train. So I’ll be at the cabin until then? When will I meet Professor Scazia?’

  ‘The professor? I don’t know. I am just pick you up, take you to hunter cabin. I am told get food. That’s all I know. You have money?’

  ‘I’ve cash euros.’

  Valentina nodded.

  ‘So, I will be at the cabin for three nights?’ Callis said.

  Another nod.

  ‘And, um, is there a phone there?’

  ‘I think you have cell phone. Yes? Here.’ She screeched to a halt at the start of a row of inauspicious-looking buildings, remnants of the Soviet era, concrete stained with damp. Valentina burst out of the car. Callis struggled with the handle, the door creaked open and she clambered out. It was surprisingly hot in the May sun.

  ‘Market, this way.’ Valentina strode up the street, disappearing down a cutting. Callis followed, and sure enough, the alley was lined with stalls. Headscarved women were selling vegetables under red-and-white-striped awnings: lettuces in all their organic variation, glossy radishes, baskets of muddy carrots and potatoes, strings of onions and clusters of garlic.

  ‘What you like?’ Valentina said. ‘Grow here. No chemicals.’

  ‘This is great! I’ve not seen a real food market like this for years.’

  Early cherries, boxes of individuals, gave off sweet smells of sunshine. The nearest stall holder waited patiently for her to begin choosing, smiling a gap-toothed grin as Callis beamed over her vegetables.

  Valentina grabbed a handful of green pea pods. ‘You want?’

  ‘Oh yes, I love peas.’ She stuffed them into a paper bag proffered by the stallholder. Callis grabbed a large and succulent-looking cabbage and Valentina chuckled as she handed it over.

  ‘Good,’ said Valentina, smiling. Callis took a bag and started loading up courgettes, potatoes and bunches of herbs.

  ‘Good food!’ she repeated. Valentina laughed as if she had grown it all herself.

  After the market they went to a grocery and stocked up with local cheese and sausages and several plump loaves of bread.

  ‘Vodka? Wine?’

  ‘Yes, yes please.’

  They staggered back to the car laden with sufficient food to fatten up a bear for hibernation. Valentina’s retail-fuelled good humour retreated behind her driving frown. She set off again at a breakneck pace up a narrow road out of town, past a big factory belching fumes.

  ‘What’s that?’ Callis asked.

  ‘Paper factory.’ They drove alongside the mill and the unmistakeable rotten-egg whiff of sulphurous emissions from the wood pulping process began to percolate into the car. Valentina switched the car ventilation from inlet to air conditioner to ward off the stench. As they reached the main gate a sign read, “RomFor Ecopaper”.

  ‘Centre of Eco-Crime,’ said Valentina.

  ‘Are they having a big impact on the forests here?’

  ‘Terrible,’ she said. ‘We fight them. They buy permit for destroy everything.’ She rubbed her first two fingers against her thumb to indicate cash. ‘Our politicians want one thing only. Our forests all for sale. It terrible.’

  They slowed behind a tractor with a trailer full of hay rakes and swarthy people in checked shirts and jeans. Valentina blasted on her horn for it to pull over and let her past. The haycutters stared sullenly as the car overtook them.

  ‘People cut hay by hand here still,’ Callis remarked.

  ‘People here very poor.’ Valentina took a sharp left turn off the road on to a rough track that forced her to slow down at least enough to avoid the worst of the potholes. They drove between fields with stooks of hay.

  ‘It’s early for hay,’ Callis said.

  ‘No, May is normal first time.’

  ‘How many cuts each year?’

  ‘It depend on rain. Two, maybe three.’ Valentina gesticulated to the right. ‘Bears.’

  Callis looked around, excited at the prospect of seeing a bear so soon, but all she could see was the track, lined with fruit trees.

  ‘Look, trees broken.’ Valentina pointed out where branches hung, snapped from the trunk, whole sections of the tree reduced to smashed wreckage. ‘Bears eating plums, later, July, August.’ The trees, Callis eventually understood, were planted for the bears, to try to keep them away from the fields of maize and beans.

  The fields ended in an abrupt line and forest stretched onwards to the high horizon, up the steep-sided valley and beyond, layer upon layer of green, hazing out into misty mountains. Valentina pulled up in a sloping compound and stopped the car beside a cabin sheltered by a huge beech tree. The wooden building appeared big enough to house a modest conference of hunters.

  ‘So. You are here. I pick you Thursday at fifteen. OK?’ She pointed to her watch, tapped the three. Callis nodded. ‘Here Theo.’

  A khaki-dressed brown man with a gun on his back was wandering towards them. Callis could see another wooden cabin further off into the woods, down the track. ‘Theo,’ Valentina announced as they got out of the car.

  ‘Hi, I’m Callis.’ She shook his hand. He eyed her town boots, jeans and patchwork jacket, then looked her in the eye and gave a shy smile.

  ‘Vy govorite po-russki?’ he asked.

  ‘Po-russki nyet, sorry.’

  ‘Français? Allemagne?’

  ‘Français, un peu. Pas bien.’

  ‘Moi aussi! Vous voulez voir l’ours?’

  ‘L’ours. Oui. Grrrr.’

  He grinned. ‘Bon. Nous allons marcher à huit heures. D’accord?’ He did a walking sign with two fingers and pointed at the eight on his watch.

  ‘Huit heures, oui. Bien. Er, Professor Scazia?’

  ‘Petr? Oui. Il est là-bas.’ He pointed up beyond the cabin, into the woods.

  Valentina was unloading bags and food and dumping them unceremoniously on the ground. She got back in the car. ‘I sorry. Going now. I late. Bye bye,’ she said, out of her window.

  ‘Thank you,’ Callis said. ‘See you on Thursday.’

  ‘Yes. Good luck for bears.’ She smiled a warm smile. ‘Ah, water.’ She said something in Romanian to Theo, who nodded.

  ‘Le bain,’ he said to Callis. ‘Viens.’ He picked up the two heaviest bags and led her into the cabin. There were several dormitory rooms, one showing signs of occupation.

  ‘Petr,’ said Theo, pointing to an empty bed.

  Callis dumped her luggage in another room and continued to follow Theo around. A massive wooden table dominated one room, another contained some basic kitchen items: a two-ring gas hob, wood stove, cupboards, sink. Theo turned the tap. It sputtered, dribbled, then gushed into the grimy porcelain. Next to the kitchen was a small tiled bathroom with a ceiling-height wood-burning stove to heat the water for a primitive shower unit. A toilet with no seat and a small pink sink completed the mod cons.

  ‘Parfait,’ she smiled. He took her outside to show her the shed where firewood was stored, and another with a diesel generator.

  ‘Lumière,’ he said, grinning at who knows what private joke. He shrugged when she clearly hadn’t got it, then took her by the elbow back into the house, showing her a cupboard with a stack of candles, firelighters and matches. Another cupboard beside it contained blankets, sheets, towels and pillows. He filled her arms with everything she might need to sleep comfortably and waited while she took them to her chosen bed. Then he left her to it. ‘Huit heures,’ was his parting shot.

  Callis sat down on her bed, exhausted.
It was three o’clock, time for a nap before dinner. She liked it here. It was quiet, just a mutter of birdsong and a distant sound of water. All the sharp edges of her life seemed softened here; Diana, Yuri, her father, all seemed far away. An old tune came to her, one of those mournful Highland melodies her mother used to sing, like a lullaby. Listening to the thread of notes, she lay down and let thought slip away.

  She woke to a sound of breathing so close she was awash with terror. She opened her eyes. A dark-haired man was standing next to the bed.

  ‘You must be Callis,’ he said. ‘Sorry, I alarmed you. I didn’t know you were here. I was snooping about to see where all the food had come from. You shouldn’t leave it lying around. Bread especially, the bears love bread. We try to keep them out of here.’

  ‘I feel a bit like Goldilocks,’ she said, sitting up. It was a stupid remark, she realised as soon as it was out of her mouth, but he just smiled.

  ‘Excellent. We’d better find you three bears.’

  ‘Professor Scazia?’ Callis guessed. Feeling rather compromised to be making his acquaintance in her T-shirt and knickers, she held her hand out.

  ‘Petr, please,’ he said. ‘Sorry. I’ll leave you to your snooze.’

  ‘No, really. I’m awake. I’ll get up.’

  ‘You must be exhausted after your journey.’

  ‘It’s a long way from Oslo to Brasov.’

  ‘Brashoff,’ he corrected her pronunciation. ‘Would you like some tea?’

  ‘I’d love some, thanks.’

  ‘I’ll go make some, then.’ He paused at the door. ‘I like you already.’

  She got dressed and met Petr properly in the kitchen. He pointed to the kettle on the stove. ‘Nearly boiled. Go out on to the deck. I’ll bring the tea out.’

  They sat side by side on the bench outside, backs against the cabin, looking out across the Strimba valley, a green luxuriance of oak, fir, beech, willow and fruit trees of all persuasions, all in spring finery, their blossoms fluttering in the late afternoon breeze. Callis breathed in the warm fragrance and listened to the hush of leaves, birdsong, a distant chatter from the river. Her head was ringing from the journey, but each mouthful of air breathed her back into herself, tension dropping away as the green soothed. She nursed her tea, revelling.

  ‘It’s lovely here.’

  ‘Yes, it’s a special place,’ Petr agreed. ‘I’m glad you could come. It’s important for people to come here and see this. I think the world has mostly not heard of us, of what we have here, but I don’t know any better place, not for bears anyway, except possibly west coast Canada.’

  ‘Russian Far East?’ Callis suggested.

  ‘Hmm, maybe.’ He looked sideways at her, then away. ‘I prefer here. The birds don’t sing in Russian here.’

  They chatted easily. He was a comfortable man to sit beside.

  ‘I need to understand where bears love to be,’ she said.

  ‘Anja filled me in. Don’t let’s waste time. Tell me what you think you need to know, I’ll help in any way I can. For what it’s worth, I think you simply need to watch some bears. Ask them what they like. They’ll show you far more than I could ever tell.’

  ‘I think I need to see maps, know some basics, numbers.’

  ‘Satisfy the left side of your brain. Later. Let the forest whisper to you first, go and smell some blossom, watch the butterflies, feel the snow-melt water on your skin. Be a bear for a couple of days. Trust me. You look like a woman who needs to growl awhile.’

  She looked at him. His gaze was smooth, green, luxuriant.

  ‘You sleep in the afternoon. That’s a good start,’ he said, with an elfin smile. She began to fool herself that research and seduction could be combined, but then she thought of Yuri.

  ‘I think I’ll go for a little stroll,’ she said.

  He nodded approval.

  ‘Is there a phone signal here?’

  He pretended affront. ‘What would we want with a phone signal? Bears don’t use phones.’ Then he relented. ‘Is it urgent?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not really. Tell my dad I’m safe and sound.’

  ‘Will he worry? You’re an adult.’

  She shrugged acquiescence. ‘Three days off the hook. What a treat.’

  ‘That’s the spirit.’

  ‘How do you speak to Anja?’

  ‘I have my ways and means. Go for your walk. I’ll make some food. Did you meet Theo?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Did he give a time?’

  ‘Huit heures.’

  ‘Bon. Déjeuner à sept. Vous voudrais baigner, Mam’selle?’ He spoke French like his mother tongue.

  Instead of agreeing that she wanted to bathe before dinner she invited him to use the informal ‘tu’ form of address. ‘Tu peux me tutoyer, Monsieur.’

  He laughed. ‘Of course, all the bears use “tu”.’

  He studied her and she couldn’t resist his gaze.

  ‘Hot water would be great,’ she said eventually. ‘Three days on the train. Better smell sweet for the bears.’

  ‘Your wish is my command.’ He gave a little bow. ‘They don’t like perfume, though, so don’t get too clean. I’ll put the stove on. Go walk.’

  She walked. Breathed. Smelled. Watched butterflies. She considered bathing in the snow-melt water from the mountains, but after testing it with one hand thought better of the idea and contented herself with listening to the river’s chorus as it wound down the glittering leaf- and blossom-festooned glen. The woods were rich with curved fernheads unfurling, strawberry flowers and wild garlic among deep leaf litter. She returned to the cabin curious, hungry and full of anticipation of what huit heures would bring.

  Shortly before eight o’clock they set out. Dusk was falling. Theo was in front, gun slung over his back, a huge flashlight in his hand. Petr brought up the rear, armed only with another torch. Both had the footsteps of cats, silent on the track. Callis’ boots crunched and clicked on the stones. She tried to stay on the verge but sometimes the herbage was too thin and she would be forced back into the vehicle ruts. Even on the grass her feet seemed to be noisier than both of theirs put together. The more she tried to quieten her steps, the more chunks of stone seemed to get in the way, clattering as she kicked them. She endeavoured to divide her brain between her feet and observation of what was around her.

  They were walking between trees, down towards the hay meadows where crickets scratched their evensong. The river chattered on their right, bickering as they approached, reducing to a murmur as the track wound away from it. Out in the forest, night sounds began. An owl screeched. Bats fluttered, their squeaking so high it seemed illusory.

  Theo stopped and raised his hand. Callis halted behind him.Something scuffled in the bushes a few feet away, then huffed and moved away.

  ‘Wild boar,’ Petr whispered. ‘Sow.’ Theo shone his light but Callis saw only swaying vegetation. The invisible pig rustled away. They walked on.

  Callis was electrified with attention, all her senses stretching into the dusk. Night was emerging from the earth, rising through the undergrowth, up into the canopies of trees. Between their leaves the first stars gleamed. An owl swept past like a gloved hand brushing away cobwebs.

  As they walked, Theo stopped from time to time to swing his beam around. Once, he flashed up a roe deer standing just out from the wings of the forest, frozen on a meadow stage, its eyes gleaming pearly in the torchlight. Later, he caught a fox trotting on some night errand. It was like watching the action on some urban closed circuit television: grainy glimpses of nocturnal happenings, snatches of inexplicable other lives.

  Theo was flashing his torch with increasing regularity, becoming agitated. Petr stepped past her, tapped Theo on the shoulder and murmured in Romanian.

  They turned back up the path, retracing their footsteps. Callis tried to resign herself to not seeing a bear that night. Any bear for miles around would, presumably, have fled from the combination of their smells and noise a
nd glare. She concentrated on her feet. The zen of quiet walking, she reflected to herself, was one of many skills she had yet to master.

  The river rewound its story on their left. The herbs on the verge gave up sweet smells as they trod, and a heady fragrance of blossom wafted down from a tree. Callis stared into the darkness and fought back her disappointment, but it seeped up and out of her eyes into a grieving trickle. She trudged along between the two men, letting tears fall, not wiping her eyes so that Petr behind her would not notice. Her inner voice chanted in time with her feet, ‘I am too sad for this, I am too sad, too sad, too sad, too sad.’

  A shape welled out from the shadow of a willow thicket and loped into the path ahead, trailing a pungent musk. Petr grabbed her upper arm. Theo pointed with a beam. Her finger followed. The animal crossed into shadow on the riverside. They stood, frozen. It reappeared, moving in a fluid shamble up the path ahead of them, its big feet padding over gravel without the merest wisp of sound, swift and sure and… gone. Back into darkness.

  Callis exhaled. The spotlit rump was indelible on her mind’s eye. She strained into the black for another glimpse. The bear’s scent hung in the air.

  Theo’s torch scoured the night, and then once again caught the bounding body, crossing a clearing up towards the edge of trees. There it stopped and turned its head, nose up, taking one last dismissive sniff, before plunging into the forest.

  Petr reached for Callis’ hand and gave it a quick squeeze. She turned towards him, beaming, then realised her expression would be in shadow. She felt Theo touch her arm. He gave the thumbs-up sign in the light of his torch. She thumbed back.

  Now her feet were light. The way back to the cabin was a blur, her mind filled with the images of the hairy body and the rhythm of its steps.

  After they returned and Theo headed home, Petr and Callis shared a bottle of wine on the cabin deck, looking out across the stretch of darkness that was the river into the deeper dark of the forest beyond. The moon rose, a dented lantern. It turned the black sky to grey, paling the stars.

  Callis didn’t want to talk. She sat back, listening to the night noises, indeterminate scufflings out there in bear-land. In her imagination, she followed the animal back into the forest. She pictured it poking its way through the night woods, foraging, taking any opportunities that might arise for food, browsing on juicy green vegetation, crunching on a squirrel’s hoard of nuts, rooting for tubers of ferns. The forest was a great feasting hall to a bear, full of the season’s specialities: a frog here, slugs there, perhaps a mouse, a rich mixture.