by Shane Dunphy
‘Why does none of them have jackets?’ Rufus asked.
‘Well, I think rabbits only really wear jackets in storybooks,’ I said.
‘So is that book a lie?’ Gus asked.
I had not expected this line of questioning. ‘Well … it’s more like using your imagination,’ I said. ‘If you could understand what a rabbit said, what might that be like?’
‘So the Potty lady maked it up?’ Mitzi said.
‘She did, but all the animals she drew were based on animals she had as pets or who came to her garden. So Peter was a real rabbit.’
‘Was he her friend, then?’ Rufus asked, his face contorted in serious concentration – he was trying hard to make sense of all this.
‘Yes, he was,’ I said. ‘Beatrix Potter lived in the country, just like here, and she was fascinated by all the animals and plants she saw. She didn’t just draw and write stories – she used to write books about nature too, and scientists and teachers read them and thought they were very good. So she was a very clever lady.’
‘Why’d she write them kids’ books if she was so brainy?’ Milandra wanted to know. ‘If’n I was a real brainy woman I wouldn’ write no books for no dumb kids.’
‘Why not?’ I asked. ‘I have books at home that I’ve had ever since I was younger than you, and I still read them. They’re some of the most precious things I have. I’d much prefer to write books like that than some boring old science paper that people read because they have to.’
‘And you can learn stuff from stories,’ Ross said, his eyes locked on a big rabbit that was sitting, seemingly dozing, maybe five feet from him.
‘That’s very true,’ I said. ‘What did you learn from the Peter Rabbit story, Ross?’
‘If you don’t do what your mammy tells you, you can get in bad trouble,’ Ross said. ‘And not trouble like being gev out to, but trouble like where you can get hurt.’
‘Peter nearly got caught by Mr McGregor, didn’t he?’ Susan said. ‘And we all know what would have happened then.’
‘Dead,’ Ross said gravely.
‘Maybe Peter went into the garden because of what happened to his da,’ Gus said.
We all looked at him.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked him.
‘Well, when my daddy goes out, my gran always says to me, “Gus, you de man of de house now.” See, Peter is the only boy left in his house, isn’t he?’
‘He is.’ I nodded.
‘Maybe he was goin’ in that garden to get food for his mam and his sisters. Like his dad done.’
‘To be the provider,’ I said.
‘Yeah. De man of de house,’ Gus said. ‘But then he got scared, and he forgot to bring any food home.’
‘Do you think it would be scary to be the man of the house, Gus?’ Lonnie asked.
‘Well – you wouldn’t get to play much, I s’pose,’ Gus said. ‘You’d have to work and make money an’ stuff.’
‘Would that be fun?’ Tush asked.
‘It might be,’ Ross said. ‘If you was a soccer player or in a band.’
‘Yeah!’ Jeffrey said. ‘Me guitar!’ And he stood up and played a mean air guitar, providing some sound effects that sent every creature in the clearing scattering. None of us minded, though – in that short time the children had touched on some interesting and quite difficult ideas. I watched Jeffrey and Gus rock out, and it was then that I noticed Tammy had disappeared again.
15
It’s funny how rapidly things can fall asunder, and how completely an afternoon that has been, up to a certain point, going swimmingly can transform into a nightmare.
As soon as I noticed Tammy had slipped away I proposed a treasure hunt. I didn’t think she had gone far, and thought that the promise of finding some sweets might flush her out of wherever she was. While Lonnie hid the little bags of sugar-free jellies at various fairly easily spotted locations about the clearing we all sang a few verses of ‘She’ll Be Coming Round The Mountain’. Lonnie gave me the nod that the payload had been delivered, and I announced loudly that the hunt was on. The kids scuttled off, squealing with delight.
‘Tammy’s gone,’ I said to Susan, discreetly, as soon as the kids were busy.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
‘I’m going to have a scoot around and see if I can find her,’ I said. ‘I won’t be long.’
She nodded, and I jogged off into the trees.
I kept within a radius of around a hundred yards of the clearing. I called to her quietly, checked under hedges, even looked down what must have been the entrance to a badger’s sett. I was gone for fifteen minutes, and could hear from the noise that carried in the still forest air that the group had finished the treasure hunt and had moved on to hide-and-seek.
Cursing my own stupidity I began to move back towards the group. Then the screaming started. I broke into a run.
When I got back to base camp, Lonnie and Tush were lying on the ground, trying to reach beneath a large bush that seemed to be part bramble, part laurel. Susan was organizing the rest of the kids into lines for a relay race.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked.
‘Mitzi,’ Tush said.
‘What has she done?’ I sighed.
‘Sweets were just about the worst thing we could have used for the treasure hunt,’ Tush said. ‘During the hunt she managed to snatch bags from Gilbert and Jeffrey. Then she took a run at Julie.’
I glanced about the group – Julie was absent, too.
‘Arga tried to stop her,’ Lonnie said, ‘so, like some monster out of a horror movie, Mitzi grabbed Julie and dragged her into this bush.’
‘What?’ I asked in disbelief.
‘Had to be seen to be believed,’ Lonnie agreed. ‘But she did it.’
I was losing my temper now – never wise in this line of work – but everything Susan had warned me about was happening, and I felt an idiot. I was worried about Tammy – and Mitzi, I decided, was a spoilt, over-indulged child who needed to be brought into line.
‘Mitzi, that’s quite enough nonsense. Leave Julie alone and come out right this minute,’ I said sharply.
‘Oh, he’s such an arsehole, such an arsehole,’ a high-pitched sing-song voice drifted out.
I could just hear Julie sobbing.
‘Nice job,’ Lonnie said. ‘Maybe we should threaten to give her a whipping when she comes out.’
‘Shut up, Lonnie,’ I snapped.
‘Yessir, boss, sir,’ he said, effecting a salute.
Tush sniggered.
I lowered myself to the ground and peered under the bush. ‘Can we get in there?’ I asked Tush.
‘No,’ she said. ‘If we had a machete or something we might be able to cut our way in, but she’s managed to wedge herself into some kind of a hollow.’
‘We could smoke them out,’ Lonnie said. ‘Shall I start gathering brushwood?’
‘Shut up, Lonnie,’ I reiterated.
Julie screamed again. I dreaded to think what Mitzi might be doing to her in there.
‘Going to hurt the little retarded girl, oh, yes,’ Mitzi sang. ‘Shouldn’t have made me walk like that.’
Julie screeched. The bush shook slightly, and then the sound stopped abruptly, as if it had been choked.
‘Would you call this a Mexican standoff or, to borrow a term from the wacky world of chess, a stalemate?’ Lonnie asked nonchalantly, and walked off into the trees.
I ignored him and began to try to squeeze into the space. If I pushed the scrub up with both hands I could just about make out a patch of darkness where the children must have crept. If I could get near it, I might get my arm in and haul them out. I figured that Mitzi might bite me or jab me with something sharp, but I could put up with that if we could get Julie out of her clutches.
The flaw in my plan was that a network of thick brambles and thorns had snaked its way across the entire distance I had to traverse, creating a kind of prickly spider’s web. Wi
thin moments of attempting to shove my way through I was badly scratched and inextricably entangled. Driven by sheer panic, I decided to rely on brute force, and tried to haul the tendrils out by the root. Useless. Things were not looking good.
I had all but given up, and was just lying there in the dark, listening to Mitzi humming the theme music of Hannah Montana when someone grabbed me by the ankles and hauled me out in one swift movement.
‘Stand aside and let the grown-ups work,’ said Lonnie (for it was he).
He was holding a long, thick stick with a branch on the top turned in, like a hook. He bent down to the space he had just wrenched me out of and thrust the pole inside. He shoved it as far as he could, then took a deep breath and scooped it back out, bringing the brambles and vines with it, caught about the hook. He repeated the exercise three times, and cleared the space.
‘Well, I’ll be …’ I said. Tush applauded.
Mitzi had become notably quiet during this exercise. Lonnie got down on his hands and knees, then lowered himself in a sort of half push-up. When he had satisfied himself that the passageway was safe, he scooted in.
‘He’s quite a guy, isn’t he?’ Tush said.
‘He is that,’ I agreed, though my voice belied the jealousy I felt – Lonnie was behaving confidently and assuredly while I looked like a bumbling fool.
The sounds of a scuffle emitted from the gap, and then Lonnie emerged, grubby, his hair flecked with leaves and bark. Julie was wrapped about his neck.
‘Can I suggest we leave Mitzi in her fort for the moment?’ he asked. ‘I think she may come out of her own accord before too long.’
I watched as he trudged over to the rest of the group, Julie clinging to him for dear life.
‘The little one will pay,’ Mitzi sang in her hideout. ‘They will all be sorry.’
‘At least she’s consistent,’ I said to Tush.
We followed Lonnie. Tammy was still missing, and it was almost time to go back to Little Scamps.
16
The group reconvened a short distance away from Mitzi’s hideout, minus Tammy and the by now solidly entrenched Mitzi.
I felt terrible. Everything that had happened was my fault. I had blundered into Little Scamps and experimented recklessly with the children’s wellbeing, selfishly jeopardizing their safety and happiness.
I stood with my head bowed, at a loss as to what I should do and feeling very sorry for myself. I was aware that Susan and Tush were organizing the kids into their two-by-two line, and I could vaguely hear Lonnie talking quietly to Julie, who was still nestled into his shoulder. I was suddenly aware that, as things had progressed, my jealousy and anger towards Lonnie had grown. While my first few days at Little Scamps had closely resembled a bull’s progress through a china shop, he seemed to exude authority and flair. Somewhere at the back of my mind I heard a voice muttering that I was supposed to be the qualified, experienced one. I was meant to be guiding him. I was ashamed of these thoughts immediately, but I couldn’t unthink them.
‘What are we going to do about Tammy?’ Lonnie said.
I was so wrapped up in my misery that I did not respond.
‘Shane, snap out of it, will you?’
‘What?’ I turned to look at him.
‘Tammy’s still out there somewhere.’
I rubbed the back of my neck, where I had been particularly badly mauled in my abortive attempt to get to Julie and Mitzi. The trees about us were silent. No animals frolicked hither and yon; the entire place was cold and uninviting.
‘Let’s head back to the road, and see if she follows,’ I said, devoid of any other ideas.
‘That was kind of my idea for Mitzi, too,’ Lonnie said, winking. ‘Come on, everyone,’ he said loudly, directing his voice at the hole into which the child had disappeared. ‘Let’s go back to Little Scamps and have some tea and biccies before home-time. Did I see you had some chocolate ones, Tush?’
Tush blinked, uncertain what was going on, but then she caught up with Lonnie’s train of thought. ‘Oh, yes. There might be some at the back of the press in the kitchen.’
‘Oh, good!’ Lonnie said. ‘They’ll be nice, won’t they, Shane?’
‘Lovely,’ I replied, without inflection.
This entire conversation was shouted, to ensure the words carried into the bowels of Mitzi’s lair. Lonnie proceeded to stomp down the path, Susan, Tush and I did likewise. The kids, seeing our exaggerated movements, laughed and copied us, and we goose-stepped along, like a bizarre army of Fascists. We had gone perhaps twenty yards when a strange squeaking caused me to stop. There, waddling down the path as quickly as she could, her clothes crumpled and soiled, her hair a tangle of twigs, leaves and bark, was Mitzi.
‘Wait for me, children, don’t leave little Mitzi behind,’ she panted.
When she finally reached us, she plonked herself down in a heap on the ground.
‘I’ll be needin’ that wheelchair now, dearie,’ she said to Tush, who was pushing Ross.
‘The walk might do you good,’ Tush said sweetly.
Mitzi blanched visibly.
It was the first time I had ever heard Tush refuse a child anything. I saw her exchange a knowing look with Lonnie, who was beaming from ear to ear. I felt another wave of resentment. Things were not working out how I – or Tristan, I felt sure – had planned.
When we got back on to the main road I stopped. I was in a foul mood and desperately worried about Tammy. I considered myself of no use to anyone.
‘I’m going to stick around until I find Tammy,’ I said to Susan, who was bringing up the rear of the group.
‘Okay,’ she said, unimpressed by the news.
‘Look,’ I said, knowing it needed to be said, ‘you were right. The kids weren’t ready for a trip like this. I fucked up.’
She sighed and patted me on the shoulder. ‘Shane, I’m actually really surprised at how well most of them did do. We had a pretty good afternoon.’
I didn’t know what to say.
‘I’d bring them out again.’ Susan trotted off after the others. When she had gone a short distance she called back: ‘Tammy is up a tree just near where we were sitting. She climbed it about two minutes after we arrived. If I know her, you’ll have to haul yourself up there too to get her down. Good luck.’
And then she was gone.
The woods were shady and cool as I retraced my steps. Somewhere in the distance a pigeon made a sound like an engine shuddering into life. I stood in the little clearing and felt like an alien invader. I walked slowly from one tree to another, peering upwards into the branches. I had to do the circuit three times, and was beginning to think Susan had been making fun of me – payback for my earlier grumpiness – before I spotted Tammy, a good thirty feet up among the branches. She was clinging to the trunk of the oak like a koala bear, and was completely motionless, as if she had somehow melded with the tree. My mind shot back to my conversation with Lonnie earlier that afternoon about the krasnoludek – the spirit of the wilderness. Tammy fitted the description. As I circled the base of the tree, trying to work out how to get up to her, I thought about how closely Lonnie seemed to identify with the children, while I was at constant loggerheads. Such thoughts were not helping me in my task, so I set them aside. For the moment.
I examined the branches and footholds I might use to get up to where she was perched, and was utterly befuddled as to how she could have scaled the ancient giant at all. I was certain I was going to have dire difficulty.
‘Tammy,’ I called. ‘Tammy, it’s Shane. The bus is going to be picking everyone up soon, so we have to go back to Little Scamps. Can you come down, honey?’
She didn’t move. I wondered if she might be asleep, which filled me with even greater dread. If she woke up suddenly, she might easily fall and be killed or seriously injured.
I started to climb without thinking. I let my body do the job, trusting that pure instinct and physical memory would carry me unharmed to where I needed to go. As a
child I had been an inveterate tree climber – most of the kids around the area where I grew up were – and a challenge of this sort would have been seen as a treat. From a lengthy career working with children I was acutely aware that the rules of adulthood quashed our delight in exploration. I just hoped my tree-climbing skills were not buried too deeply beneath layers of civilization.
As I moved I felt something come awake in my muscles – a sort of warmth and electricity. A trickle of sweat rolled down the small of my back. Was I enjoying myself?
Within a remarkably short time I was just below her – a tiny foot in a grubby off-white trainer dangled at my nose, and I could have touched her leg if I’d so wished. I worked my way around to the opposite side of the trunk and settled down more or less beside Tammy, but not too close.
She was not asleep. I could see clearly that her eyes were open, and her knuckles were white from the force of her grip on the bark of the tree. Tiny beads of sweat stood out on her forehead, which was stained green with moss and grime. She seemed almost catatonic.
‘Tammy,’ I whispered. ‘You’ve given me quite a fright this afternoon, do you know that?’
No change in her.
‘I thought you’d run away on me, and I was very worried about what I was going to tell your mam and dad. I don’t think they’d be very pleased if I lost their little girl, would they?’
A twitch, right across her body, almost like a ripple on a pond.
‘I’d feel pretty bad if I had to go on out to your house and tell them you’d taken off and I didn’t know where you were. What do you reckon they’d say to me?’
Her eyes slid in my direction. The woods seemed to have become very still – even the wind had dropped. I could feel the weight of my body on the branch, the rough texture of the bole beneath my hands. I could smell pollen, soil and my own sweat. I reached out my hand to her. ‘Will you let me take you down, Tammy love?’
She shook her head – two deliberate movements, left and right.
‘I’m not mad, baby. I was a little bit before, when I was worried, and you might have heard me being cross with Milandra, but I’m not cross now.’
