He nodded and smiled, and it was sad and good at the same time. Memories and visions of a fire in the circle of ancient trees; and of a young woman with flashing hair and flashing eyes, stamping and twirling and twisting and jumping, and laughing and spinning her wide skirts, showing her long, long legs and clapping and shouting in Romany; and dwarfs forming a large circle around her and the fire, and clapping hands and laughing with her, shouting in a dozen more languages… And Orson mooning at her with eyes like a Basset hound’s…
‘She called her horse Samuel and she loved snow,’ Joshi said softly, and Ariana looked at him with surprise. ‘Of course I remember her,’ he said. ‘I remember her very, very well.’ Then, softer, ‘Who can forget?’ He jumped to his feet suddenly, and said, in a voice strangely choked and urgent. ‘I have to walk, Ariana. I have to think.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Concerned.
He shook his head, and then the dwarf, ignoring the footpath, walked into the long grass behind the Talking Rock. It made way for him.
Ariana, troubled, let him go. She had known Joshi for centuries and had seen him like this only once or twice before. He started singing again as he moved further away and she returned to her own memories.
*
There had been many gypsies over the centuries. They had “windows” of their own and seemed able to come and go as they please. The first time Rose appeared was on the day Orson turned thirty-five. They woke up that morning, and the yellow wagon, with “Gypsy Rose” - painted in a curved half-moon shape on its side, had been standing under a copse of trees. As if it had always been there, as if it belonged there. A gleaming black horse, untethered, was grazing on the lush grass growing on the bank of a small, secondary stream; and next to a small fire, on a small, fold-up stool, sat a young woman. She was wearing a checkered shirt and corduroy pants and cowboy boots, and a straw hat so frayed it would have made a scarecrow proud. A mass of curly dark hair tumbled from under it; a blackened old kettle stood steaming to one side.
Annie had gone down from the cave, and the visitor, six or seven years her junior and drinking coffee from a chipped yellow enamel mug, seemed not the least bit surprised to see her. Or for that matter: being invited into a cave lined and riddled with gemstones, or being treated to a huge English breakfast with all the trimmings. (It was Orson’s birthday, and he was still living in the cave then).
Gypsy Rose, or Rose - as the grown-ups called her; or Rosie - as the children did, became one of them and part of Rainbow’s End. She went everywhere and was everybody’s friend - even into the Petrified Forest, which was supposed to be taboo - except to dwarfs and Travellers. She was offered a room in the cave on several occasions, but she was a loner, and preferred her wagon and her horse, whose name was Samuel.
Annie loved her. Rose was her best friend. She was someone to talk to and to confide in, a good listener; someone you could laugh and cry with… But always with that… aura of mysteriousness about her.
Ariana loved her. They were both tall and dark-haired and beautiful, and the (original) age gap between them, small. The one time she had dared enter the Gypsy girl’s memory, she discovered Royal lines and Shamans and memories going back many centuries; some so deep and… magical, that Rose herself did not understand them… Yet. (Ariana never entered Rose’s memory again).
She remembered the milky-blue moonlit nights on which they swapped and tried on each other’s dresses - Ariana once a pair of Rose’s denim pants; and making a fire on Talking Rock; and Rose teaching her the Romany’s wild and sensual dances: twirling and whirling and stomping and stamping around the fire….
She remembered talking until daylight, and sharing dreams and secrets. And letting it snow on Rose’s birthday… And the beautiful, wonderful Gypsy, lifting her skirts and running barefoot through it...
And then, the next day, she was gone - as if she’d never been…
Two years later, she came back; two more and she was gone again; staying away three, before returning once more - by now thirty-seven years old. This time, it seemed she would stay, and for almost seven years, Rainbow’s End was a happier place than it had ever been.
Rosie’s horse, Samuel - by now very old - ran wild with the others on Rainbow’s End, and she took him lumps of sugar and shiny red apples and carrots every day. She also took a room inside the cave. It was next to Orson’s, and the ugly little man, who had been in love with her since day one - who became glum and withdrawn every time she left - became happy and smiling again.
Ariana remembered many more moonlit nights, and talks and dances and secrets. And holding her, and crying on the now much older Rose’s shoulder. Because she knew they were nearing the end of an era...
She remembered the last time she made it snow… And Orson and her watching a childishly happy Rose lift her skirts high and with her long, long beautiful legs run through it; and then sitting down in its crunchy softness and crying as if her heart would break.
And then Samuel died and they buried him where the other old horses lay, and Rosie left again. This time she didn’t come back and Orson eventually moved out of the cave and into Joshi’s old cottage - which he thought smaller…
Ariana returned to the present when the Magari sat down next to her again. She looked at him expectantly but he took his time, and a long minute later said, ‘Ariana, have you thought about this? Really thought about this? About what this might mean?’
The young woman frowned and shook her head, puzzled. ‘What do you mean, Joshi? Thought about what?’ she asked.
The dwarf - frowning himself - asked, ‘The boy is eleven?’ Ariana nodded.
‘And he told Annie his mother had just turned twenty when he was born?’ Joshi received another nod.
‘That’s thirty-one years Ariana. Earth years. Fifteen cycles and a bit. Which was when Rose left here.’ Joshi was quiet for a minute, gathering his thoughts, then continued: ‘If my calculations are right; if my old brain’s not too addled, Rose was pregnant when she left Rainbow’s End. Thomas’ mother had been conceived here…’ Ariana sat staring at him - too stunned to speak.
‘If I’m right,’ he said, ‘it would mean two things.’ He held up a long-nailed finger, ‘One: That women on Rainbow’s End can fall pregnant again; the gods alone know for how long already…’ He sighed softly. ‘So much heartache… so much hurt.
‘Two,’ another finger, ‘there can only be one father to Rose’s child, and that would explain why Thomas’ life-force is so strong. His grandmother was a Roma Princess; his grandfather, the most powerful Traveller ever…’
Ariana’s eyes went wide as realisation dawned. ‘Orson,’ she breathed, and Joshi nodded.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Orson. Orson is Thomas’ grandfather.’
12
‘Try to come back as soon as you can Izzy.’ A flimsy layer of mist drifted on the still water of Ariana’s Pool, otherwise it was as crystal-clear as ever.
The gangly old man made some calculations in his head, then said, tentatively, ‘If I leave early, I can spend today and tomorrow, and maybe the next morning at the office. I could be back here by late afternoon, the day after tomorrow.’ He added, ‘If there is sunshine.’ Then: ‘It’s important?’
‘It’s very important,’ Ariana said. She paused, giving weight to her next words. ‘I am going to call a gathering, Izzy.’
The Traveller’s eyebrows beetled with surprise. It would be just the second time in his life that he would attend such an event.
They spoke for another few minutes then: about Rainbow’s End’s finances, Izzy’s life in London, the little girl he’d brought back with him, the orphanages…
*****
Breakfast was cereals, and ham and eggs and toast, and fresh fruit and juice. Arnold’s T-shirt showed a picture of a man with a huge stomach and writing that read: “Good Muscles Need Good Food!”
Thomas and John were both early and sat talking while the boy finished his juice and the man his coffee.<
br />
‘Did you enjoy the rest of your day, yesterday?’ John asked.
Gary had invited Thomas, and the two of them had gone fishing. Thomas had caught three, and a much more practiced Gary, eight catfish.
‘Horrible things,’ the other boy said when they packed it in for the day. He was releasing the whiskery, grunting fish from the holding net. ‘But so much fun,’ he added, grinning, and before a stunned and unsuspecting Thomas could react, had wiped his slimy, smelly hands on the boy’s straw-coloured hair. It started a chase and they both ended up taking a swim in the Fishing Pool, and then lazing in the late afternoon sun and discussing future adventures and explorations…
‘Thomas?’ The young man returned to the present and nodded. ‘Very much,’ he said. ‘I enjoyed it very much.’
John’s eyes were serious and they cared, and he looked at Thomas for a minute, trying to find the right words. Then - not finding them, he plunged right in.
He said, ‘Thomas, we are friends aren’t we?’ The boy nodded, puzzled, and John continued: ‘Thomas, the children here, at Rainbow’s End, they only stay six months, before returning to the Earth. Nobody stays longer than that. Six months and they leave - they have to.’
‘Why?’ asked Thomas. ‘Why just six months?’
‘Timelines,’ Big John said. ‘We are six months ahead of the Earth, so if a child comes here, he or she steps six months into the future. They have to return before Earth time equals the time they got to Rainbow’s End… Also, if given a choice - after having been here for six months - how many children do you think would want to return to the Earth?’
Thomas shook his head. ‘None.’
‘Right,’ John nodded, ‘and in thirty or forty years from now, Rainbow’s End will have many more adults than children, and that will defeat its purpose, wouldn’t it?’
Thomas nodded and looked at Big John expectantly, knowing there was more to come. The huge man leaned across the table, and with one huge hand gripped the boy’s shoulder, firmly - as a father would.
‘What I’m trying to say Thomas…’ He searched for words again. ‘What I’m trying to say is - make friends. Make good friends. But don’t make friends for life. Don’t make bosom friends. Because - sooner or later, all children have to leave here.’
*
Just then Izzy came into the dining room and pulled up a chair. He told them that he was leaving shortly, but coming back in two days - three at the most. Then he turned to Thomas.
‘Ariana asked me to give you a message,’ he said. The boy nodded, waiting, and Izzy felt himself again disconcerted at the very green of his gaze. ‘She said that she knows your appointment is for tomorrow night, but wondered: could you spare her another hour or two this afternoon? Say… fourish?’
Thomas gave another nod, but looked troubled, and Izzy said, reassuringly, ‘There’s no need for worry, Thomas. She just wants to see your photos. She asked that you please bring your album with...’
*****
He’d been waiting for her - the same as every other morning. And when Frieda came through the dining room door, Arnold stood straighter and pulled in his ample stomach. As usual, to Arnold in anyway, she looked lovely, and greeted him with a shy “Good morning, Arnold”. He squirmed and felt his heavy legs go weak, and could only reply with a nonsensical something that sounded terribly much like a squeak.
Frieda looked at his stretched but spotlessly clean T-shirt; she smiled and he was lost in her hazel-brown eyes.
‘What a nice shirt,’ she said, and with another squeak, the large cook of Rainbow’s End turned and blundered back into his kitchen. As every other morning, Frieda’s food was long ready; all sprigged up and arranged by the love-struck Arnold, and what he reverently placed in front of her, would have put a chef at the Ritz to shame.
A small bowl of cereal was ringed by sliced bananas and strawberries, and topped with fresh cream; the honey for her usual two slices of toast, gold and syrupy and bottled only four days ago. The sugar cubes for her coffee had been painstakingly carved into little hearts…
She thanked Arnold and complimented him on his obvious artistry; he squirmed again and they both blushed furiously. Then she sat down and started her meal, while Arnold nonchalantly retired to another table, pretending to read a newspaper while surreptitiously watching Frieda finish every last crumb.
*****
Izzy stood on a solid, hard-packed piece of ground on the bank of the Rainbow Pool and wondered to himself how many times before he had done this. He looked down the lush valley, at the grassy fields speckled and dotted with thousands of flowers and clumps of trees and it made him breathe deep in wonder and fulfilment. The mountains and hills - surrounding all but the bottom of the valley, towered high and protected the jewel that lay between them; like rows of blue and green and brown sentinels.
Behind him, the high waterfall fell through a succession of ledges, at last landing in the pool with hardly more than a low, rumbling shhhhh. The rainbow - up close - was a series of wide pillars stretching high and straight up, before curving over and then vanishing behind the cliff and the waterfall.
He sighed, and like every other time before, felt sadness at leaving this magical place. No matter, he thought. He would be back in only two days, maybe a bit more. The morning sun was soft and warm on his face, and he took his keys from his jacket pocket, then, by its golden chain, swung the plum sized crystal above his head.
The yellow leg of the Rainbow widened and bent towards the lone human figure; and then Izzadore Greenbaum was gone.
*****
Thomas had brought a blanket, and it was spread on - and hanging over - the end of the Talking Rock. Ariana sat looking at the first picture of Rose. The one that had immediately grabbed Annie’s attention.
The flashing eyes, almost black… And her hair - thick and curly and with a life of its own (the grey streaks pulled at Ariana’s heart). And that smile - at times so happy, at others, enigmatic or laden with all the world’s sadness…
And could she laugh. Ye gods. Rose’s laugh could grab you and shake you; infect you and make you shudder and roll and gasp for breath, and then laugh some more.
She had the driest wit and would sometimes say something, then wait a minute, the innocence on her face angelic. And then, if the others haven’t caught on yet, suddenly and without being able to hold back any longer, let loose a loud, uninhibited guffaw, and bring the house crashing down… Screaming with laughter.
Ariana turned the page. Rose’s daughter had Orson’s eyes. And his hair. Nothing else - thank the gods. She tried looking behind them, but couldn’t. Still - that look: self-centred maybe…?
The photo of Rose in hiking gear made her smile. Rosie had always loved nature, and preferred the outdoors to the in, any day. She had loved Rainbow’s End, totally.
If only, Ariana thought. If only…
She turned some more pages: Images of a baby Thomas - progressing until the present. A white house with a red roof, a small mustard-coloured car in front of it. Rose with her students in a class photo. All of the pictures, the images - they all looked at Ariana, they spoke to her. And told her that Rose had been happy. Most of the time, at least.
The last page showed a young and very beautiful Rose - every bit the Roma. With golden hoops in her ears and her hair piled high; and more gold on her arms and fingers and a medallion around her neck. She wore a starkly white man’s shirt, a multi-coloured skirt and boots. The man with her was almost two heads shorter: he wore an expensive suit and his hair was neatly trimmed; his shoes shone like mirrors and he could have been a carnival’s ugly man. Ariana, who had known him almost all his life, recognised Orson at once.
The wagon behind them was painted yellow; its red lettering said “GYPSY ROSE”.
Ariana sat very still and was quiet for a long time, and when Thomas started fidgeting, turned and gave him a sad smile. It was getting dark and she said, ‘Thank you, Thomas. Thank you for sharing your life with me.’
Thomas nodded and got to his feet, clutching the album to his chest. ‘Do you still want to see me tomorrow night?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ A small nod from Ariana. ‘Yes, please.’
He said goodnight and turned to leave, but Ariana stopped him.
‘Thomas,’ she said, you’ll be seeing Orson tonight…’
‘I don’t know…’ he began, but she stopped him.
‘I know, Thomas.’ A soft smile and her eyes were dark blue pools. ‘Everything, remember.’ He nodded and she said, ‘Please ask him to come see me tomorrow. Tell him it’s important.’ A last smile. ‘Goodnight, Thomas.’
*****
It was another wonderful night - soft and silver and Thomas didn’t know he was barefoot, or where he was going, until he felt the first slippery-cool mud of the small stream squelch between his toes. The Magic Forest…
It was magic… The moon hung very low in the sky and seemed to touch the canopy of the massive old trees, leaving them gloamy lower down, and filling their upper branches with an ethereal, misty gleam, alive with secrets and shadows and fluttery things. Some of its beams penetrated lower down, turning the gossamer ropes of moss - which hung like hairy curtains between the lower branches and trunks of the aeon and century-old trees – ghostly green. Their trailing ends brushed the boy’s cheeks, arms, and legs like stealthy spider legs. The night was alive with its own sounds: bats and owls and other birds, and small rustly things. It smelled rich, loamy, and wet.
Rainbow's End - Wizard Page 12
