Fall of the Cities: Planting the Orchard

by Vance Huxley

  “Gross bitch, but what can I expect from a woman who thinks sweat is classy?”

  “Hmm. Yes, a bit over the top. I‘m in a good mood today and can’t think why. Now sod off before you spoil it.” Harold walked away with a big smile. Liz was definitely on top form and still Liz. He was in a damn good mood himself, or was until he thought of Gabriela.

  Harold really didn’t want to see her laid out. He asked Sal at the door about the timing, and if there was anything special he had to say.

  “No Harold. I’m a failed Catholic so I’ll see to that part. That mish-mash I whispered was from when my Gran died and being forced into confession until I rebelled. What are you saying at the pyre?” Harold explained and showed her. “Nicely non-religious. Perfect. I’d rather you just used Gabriela Mary and no surname this time. She wasn’t married to Abraham but wouldn’t want that made clear. That’s my opinion.” Sal gave a little shrug.

  “Good enough and thanks.”

  “No, thank you, Father.” Sal gave a little smile. “Really thank you for that, and sorry for lumbering you. There aren’t any female priests so I couldn’t fake it.”

  “It’s all right as long as that was a one off, and more to the point because it worked and helped Gabriela.” Harold headed home to copy the wording and then learn it.

  * * *

  The weather was right, as was the timing. Both suited the sombre mood of the mourners as they gathered. Early evening, with ragged grey clouds scudding across the sky and a cold wind whipping light rain against everyone. Truly everyone because Rob was there on his stretcher, and the children were standing with Sharyn. Only fifty mourners, now Gabriela was gone. Ten men and women carried the board with Gabriela laid on top, and placed it on the huge pyre of mainly dry timber.

  The pyre was carefully built and the centre, the part that Harold would light through a slot, was packed at the last minute. There was precious petrol in there so it caught and oil to help the fire take hold, as well as dry kindling. The main timbers were from roofs and the whole edifice was at least twice the width of the actual board and corpse. Some internet research said a truly fierce blaze was needed, so one was provided.

  Several people spoke of Gabriela, of before the troubles, of her and Abraham, and her grief, and some spoke religious passages. Then Sal handed Harold a length of timber with wadding around the head. A plastic bag was pulled off and an electric paint remover applied intensive heat. Moments later the torch was blazing fiercely. Harold had been warned that it was very flammable and wouldn’t last long, so he walked straight out to the pyre and stood alongside, facing Gabriela.

  “Fare thee well, Gabriela Mary.” The torch went in and flame licked eagerly at the centre. Harold stepped back two paces and turned to everyone.

  “Atoms reborn into grass

  Fire and passion stilled at last

  Clouds of happy what might be’s

  Scattered clouds of grief and tears

  Fading memories, not quite true

  One day, my friends, this will be you.”

  He gestured towards the pyre on the last words. Then Harold marched as steadily as possible back to join the rest. There were some assessing looks, maybe wondering if he’d been taking the mickey, but more were pressing Harold’s hand or patting his back.

  He joined Sharyn at the back, and lifted Daisy as asked, and watched the flames roar up. Flames and smoke from the wide sides that hid Gabriela for which Harold was really grateful. He had been assured that the construction was designed to do so, but still worried. He really didn’t want to actually watch Gabriela’s body burn.

  After fifteen minutes Sal called out that if anyone wanted a warm drink or food, there was something waiting in number six, and the crowd gradually dissipated. Not all left. Sal and Holly stayed. Many went to number six, some gathered elsewhere or just went home. Harold went home and had an interesting evening trying to explain what had just happened to Daisy. He tried very hard to explain death and beliefs to a four year old without sticking preconceptions into her head.

  Daisy seemed to conclude that Gabriela had gone to a special place that was made by everyone she loved. There she would meet them all again someday, because love is magic. Near enough for four years old and the special place Daisy described included bits from various fairy tales, including fairies and a unicorn. Harold assured Daisy that Daddy was in a place like that while Sharyn went in the kitchen to cry. Harold and Daisy tried to draw special places with lots of rainbows and flowers, until a red-eyed Sharyn came back in.

  * * *

  “But I wanted a real pumpkin like last year.” Daisy was practicing her pout.

  “There aren’t any. Sorry. We could draw one?” Harold was flummoxed because Halloween hadn’t been much of an event in Kuwait. Anything like that, or Christmas, triggered riots, bombs and showers of rockets.

  “But I can’t put a candle inside a drawing. We had one with biiiig eyes and gnashy teeth.” Daisy was drawing them in the air as she spoke.

  Sharyn gave a stage cough and when Harold looked up she was waving a big empty container and mouthing ‘tin’ at Harold. Harold looked at what she was holding. Probably the catering size for coffee or drinking chocolate. “It doesn’t have to be a pumpkin. We could use something else with eyes and scary teeth?”

  “What? Where? Can we do it now?” Daisy turned. “Oh, that’s not scary.”

  “Just wait until we get the paper off. Then it’ll be shiny and we’ll make a shiny metal head monster face.”

  At least half the next thirty minutes consisted of Harold trying to avoid stabbing Daisy as she helped. “Come on, Uncle-Casper will have a candle and Aunty-Liz will put a handle on it for hanging up.”

  Uncle-Casper produced a pink candle when asked. He really did love clichés. Then Aunty-Liz set into making a handle. “I hope your Uncle is ready for trick or treat.”

  Harold stared while Liz continued bending wire. Then she glanced at him with a little smile. “Though he’s going to have a problem deciding on trick or treat. Both are likely to be a bit more personal than the usual.”

  “I’m not allowed to do trick and treat until I’m older.” Daisy was swinging the result of Liz’s efforts back and forth. “This is definitely wicked.” Wicked was a new word.

  “Your Uncle’s trick and treat will be as well.” Liz smiled happily at Harold and stuck out her tongue. “It’s probably best your mum doesn’t answer the door.” Then she shepherded Daisy out of her workshop without another word.

  The lantern was hung at nightfall and duly admired, and then admired several times after tea. Harold walked Daisy down the road before bedtime so she could get the full effect in the dark. There was definitely music and laughing from the girl club, and two windows were opened to shout ‘trick or treat’ at him. Though it wasn’t until the TV went off that Harold heard laughter outside.

  “Trick or treat, trick or treat.”

  “That’s for you. With all that giggling I’m certain that a sister shouldn’t even see who’s on the doorstep.” Sharyn was grinning as she pushed Harold into the hallway. “I was warned. Please try not to wake the kids.” Sharyn closed the door into the lounge.

  “Well, which do you want?” Liz opened her coat. She had ‘Trick or Treat’ written on her white tee with black marker so that each breast was labelled, with ‘or’ written in her cleavage.

  “Naughty. If I wasn’t a gentleman, and didn’t know how you despised me, I might be tempted.” Harold sighed. “Then you’d break my arms and leave me to the rest.”

  “Ooh, yes please. Leave him armless and defenceless.” Sal pouted. “I wanted that tee shirt.” She sighed to make sure everyone could see where the words would have been. “Instead I had to settle for this.”

  “Which is?” Harold was eying the really tight top and tight, short skirt, with huge high heels. Sal was also wearing what looked like a homemade Viking hat with cardboard horns.

  Sal turned to waggle her bottom. Which demonstrated the
length of cloth with a point on it coming out from under her skirt. “Devil of course.” She smirked. “The angels are coming later because they’re shy.”

  The group broke up laughing. The devils included a few who were definitely non-devilish. Louise was usually quiet, but tonight she was wearing really tight jeans and a blouse that had been glittered. Trish was rarely seen outside of work parties. She was thin and frail but did her best at scavenging. Now she had on a red dress and more of the homemade horns. Both of the latter two looked decidedly embarrassed as did a couple of others.

  “So what is the trick, because I’ve got a suspicion what treat is.” Harold looked along the smiling faces. “Hugs, perhaps?”

  “Oooh, a bit more than hug. We want to practice for the mistletoe.” Harold wondered if Sal had been at the beer. They wanted kisses?

  “What’s the trick?” Harold was grinning as he asked. He really had been set up this time but in a bunch so it wouldn’t get out of hand.

  “We kiss you. Now you’ve got to decide which one will be nicest.” Sal licked her lips very slowly. “Fair warning, soldier boy. I’m going to be kissing you either way.” The rest dissolved in laughter again and Harold wondered how much beer had been imbibed.

  “Oy you lot, get on with it.” That was shouted from the girl club.

  “Me first, just to get him warmed up. Not only that but he can’t resist. Come here wimp.” Liz hugged and so did Harold. Then she planted a very firm and slightly beery kiss. Liz put her head forward to whisper in Harold’s ear. “That was trick, so if you don’t find a blacksmith in time, I’ll want the treat.” Then she turned and high-fived the rest. “OK girls, he’s all warmed up.”

  Trick and treat got a bit confused since both meant hugs and a kiss. Louise kissed Harold very lightly and hugged quickly and chastely. Trish hugged hard but kissed Harold on the cheek. There was a bewildering variety working up to Sal, who waited to be last. “This has got to be memorable so you remember after the angels have been.” She licked her lips thoroughly while the rest gave her hints on making it memorable.

  Harold was a bit worried because Sal was decidedly unsteady on her heels, and he thought that might be drink. He was a lot more sure when Sal’s lips swallowed his and her arms wrapped around his head. The cheering from behind was egging her on. As he had with the others Harold started by kissing back. Then he tried to check a bit because Sal was going for a full lip lock.

  She had plastered herself up his front and then her tongue started. Harold might have welcomed that if she was sober, but not on the doorstep with witnesses. When he pulled away, or when Sal finally let him, both were breathing heavily. Harold smiled. “That should do it.” Sal did the high fives and then tottered. Two of them caught her and Harold raised an eyebrow at Liz in a question. Liz grinned and made the sign for lifting a bottle to her lips, then helped the rest steer Sal home.

  Harold went back in, bemused. Had Sal got carried away because she’d had too much drink, or had a drink to get over her nerves and get serious. In Liz’s words, cripes. “At least that’s not a smug smile. That might have meant losing my tea.” Harold’s head came up to meet Sharyn’s smile.

  “It was Sal. She, well, I’m not sure. Cripes, this is awkward.”

  Sharyn laughed. “Cripes? You’ve been around Liz too much. What did Sal do?” Harold stared at her and Sharyn struck her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Silly me. Why would I want to know that? Yeuk.”

  “Not yeuk, but maybe beer.”

  Sharyn laughed. “Oh, that sort of cripes. I’m sure you’ll find out on Guy Fawkes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the silly sods are dressing up again then and want a bonfire and dance, with potatoes in the embers and toffee apples.” Sharyn smiled. “Or dried apple and banana slices dipped in melted toffee the last I heard.”

  “Sal won’t be dancing in those heels.”

  “She might if she’s sober. You’d be surprised what a girl can manage in high heels. Oh, yeuk.” Sharyn mimed putting her fingers down her throat. “I’ve just realised why she’s worn them. Were Emmy, Berry, Liz and Holly there?”

  “Only Liz, the angels are coming later. Oh.” Those four were tall enough to get lip contact with Harold without heels or him bending.

  “Emmy, Berry and Holly are angels and are coming later? Please, grim reaper, take me now?” Sharyn waved at the settee. “You’d better rest up. So what was Liz dressed as?”

  “A bloody tease of course.”

  “I’m not asking about any more.” Sharyn turned up the music on her MP4 player. “I could hear some of that, and I really don’t want to hear the angels.”

  The angels left it all of five minutes. They knocked and started singing trick and treat, not angelically. When he opened the door, Harold found that most angels wore white but the amount varied. He was really startled to see Celine there, in a long white dress. A real evening style one down to the ground. Celine gave him a little smile. “All the rest came, so.” She gave a little shrug.

  Harold was very, very careful to barely hug Celine, and even then she tensed a little. Celine had been raped on her way home from work a month before Harold arrived in the flats. The man put a hand over her mouth, a knife to her throat, and pulled Celine into the ruined children’s playground within sight of her flat. Now Celine pecked Harold gently on the cheek and then stepped back with two tiny spots of colour in her cheeks.

  Alicia couldn’t manage a real smile. She had become very withdrawn so seeing her here in a flared white dress and a halo was a real surprise. Her kiss was quick but on his lips and her hug was brief. Berry had a big smile of course. She was dressed in white jeans and a long sleeved white blouse. Berry produced something close to a bear hug but her kiss was quick.

  Emmy grinned and did a twirl. She was wearing a short white pleated skirt and a white tank top, and the effect was stunning against her dark skin. Emmy definitely went for a proper kiss without getting really serious, and her hug was firm and held on a bit. “No soggy this time.”

  That left Holly who looked startled and then apprehensive that she was last. Holly was wearing pink, a tutu but without tights. She had a pink tee on top with Fallen Angel across the front. Harold had already noticed that the regular exercise was toning up the girl club. Now he realised that either Holly had been covering up before, or really had got in shape recently. Oops, he’d looked a bit long, maybe. Harold opened his arms. “Last but not least.”

  That meant Holly actually smiled though she looked startled again when Emmy said “Now live up to it. Honour of the girl’s club.” Then pushed her friend forward. Harold was very gentle given Holly’s apprehension, but both her hug and kiss were decidedly firm. The kiss wasn’t sexy, or rather it became sexier because the soft, warm contact kept going.

  Harold had started to pull away when the pressure lessened, but Holly must have been taking a breath. Her lips came back firmer and Holly tightened her hug. When they parted she wouldn’t meet Harold’s eyes, and then went scarlet. That was because all the rest had turned away and were covering their eyes. When they turned back laughing, they all hugged her.

  They’d set Holly up. In that case. “You missed that, Emmy. But for the record, the honour of the girl club is intact.” Holly high-fived all round, and started into pretending to beat them all, and the laughing group left. Now Harold really was confused because Holly didn’t show any interest in blokes normally. She was still angry about Brodie dying, and it wasn’t booze because he didn’t taste any.

  He wasn’t less confused when Matthew phoned to ask if Harold had been trick or treated. He’d had four women on his doorstep asking if he preferred devils or angels. The following day all the younger men had been visited by a group, and all were trying not to talk about who or what the women wanted. Though they were all definitely intrigued about what Bonfire Night would bring.

  The general mood as everyone, male or female, set into their tasks was definitely happy. Casper complained
about the lack of male devils or angels. Harold grinned at him. “It was a superb exercise in morale boosting. The MOD should employ that lot to go round the Army units.”

  “Yes, but I doubt they’d put as much into it. Just so you sleep at night, Sal had a drink for her nerves and got a bit carried away.” Casper smiled at Harold’s face.

  Harold had to ask. “What about Holly?”

  “Holly?” Casper was definitely curious. “They all turned away because it was planned. She’d been a bag of nerves about hugging you in that getup.” Casper smiled. “So what about Holly?”

  “Just that, the turning away.” Harold shrugged. “She went scarlet.” He smiled. “That getup, as you called it, was definitely eye catching.”

  “She only put the tee on at the last minute, when someone said the cold air would make her stand out a bit. That would have been even more eye catching.” Casper gave a huge mock sigh. “So when do I get to trick or treat someone?”

  “When I can kidnap a lumberjack?”

  “Cripes, yes, Liz really wants her trees for charcoal. Aargh, she’s got me started with cripes.” Casper rolled his eyes.

  “Me too. Liz can have trees when we’ve got all the food we can find, and the wall is built.” Harold yawned. “Now I need some beauty sleep because I’m off out tonight after a bakery. We need the flour and any yeast, because Berry’s Beer yeast is the wrong type.”

  “Are you still finding enough to warrant the risk?”

  “Yes, especially since only six of us go. Though I’m having a night off soon to ride herd on Daisy at the bonfire.”

  “Cripes, Daisy and a Guy Fawkes bonfire. That’ll be fun.”

  “Definitely cripes.”

  * * *

  “That is what, exactly?” Harold eyed the handful of what looked like rags. “Stuffing for the Guy?”

  “This is your fancy dress, since you blokes didn’t dress up at Halloween.” Sharyn grinned. “The girl club produced the Guy for the fire. This is a Rambo costume.”